A few dozen feet in front of them, the crystalline enclosure looked dull and lifeless, a passing cloud momentarily blocking out the sunlight. The sky was a patchwork of drifting clouds that late afternoon; no pegasi managed the weather out here in the middle of nowhere.

Shining Armor was projecting his shield, his horn almost invisibly glowing. This shield barely impeded the flow of magic, not that there was much flow where they were standing. The Mirror had yet to suck out the magic even this close. When Twilight had flown from the Zephyr to the enclosure earlier that day, even at the door she could still remain in the air.

That was no longer true, of course. The flow had diminished somewhat in the past two hours, as she had hoped, but it was still much higher than before the move. She had left her measuring devices with Agent Fowler and instructed her on their use, and she was on Meg’s borrowed phone right now, ready to receive immediate feedback.

“Okay, now shrink the shield—slowly—to half its present diameter.”

Her brother complied. The slightly shimmering and nearly invisible shield slowly shrank, the two ponies moving in lockstep to remain at the boundary. Twilight reinserted a probe through the shield and kept an eye on its meter; a second probe was placed just outside.

Nothing happened at first. From her earlier measurements, this was the point at where the field strength started to drop sharply.

The two probes’ measurements began diverging, the inner one dropping a bit faster than the outer one. The shield, as weak as it was, had begun to have an effect, blocking maybe five percent of the flow.

There was no point asking if the shield was holding up. There was still too much magic on the other side for it not to. “Now try to block half of the flow.”

His horn brightened to a dull glow. The effect on the probes, this time, was immediate and substantial. The field outside the shield strengthened, replenishing faster than it was being drained; the field inside at first dropped sharply, but then slowed its descent. After a minute had passed, it stabilized at about a quarter of normal.

“Any change on your end?” The phone hovered in Twilight’s telekinetic field, set to speakerphone mode.

“Nothing yet.”

It was unknown how long it took the magic to flow between the realms. Much of the mechanics of the flow was a mystery. All she really knew was that it left her realm at a high-speed and low density, and entered the other at a sluggish speed and extremely high density. If nothing else, these experiments should illuminate some of those mechanics.

“How’s the shield holding up?”

“So far, so good. I don’t sense any decay.”

“I guess we hold at this level for a while and see what happens.”

It took a few more minutes, but finally Fowler said, “It’s starting to drop.”

That wasn’t too bad. Conceivably it might have taken days, or even longer.

“Let me know when it stabilizes.”

On the one hoof, this was good news. They could try more variations as they didn’t have to wait too long to see the effects. But on the other hoof, it didn’t really change anything. The day was getting late, and she needed to get everypony back to Ponyville and to return the car to the other realm; the shield could not be maintained overnight. The flow will go back to where it was.

That probably wouldn’t be a problem. It was already slowly diminishing on its own, back to the pre-move levels, and if it wasn’t high enough to cause a catastrophic failure now, it wasn’t going to do so before tomorrow.

Still, if only there had been a way to drag the magic-free zone along with the mirror, so that there wouldn’t have been an accelerated flow.

Twilight’s eyes went wide. Could it work?

“Hey, Shining, do you think you can use your shield to push magic away from the mirror?”

“Uhhh… you mean by expanding the shield?”

“Yeah. I want to recreate the magic void that existed back at the palace, to get the flow back down to where it was. Unless you want to stay awake out here all night.”

They hadn’t planned on doing that. Taking turns wasn’t an option, since she had to leave, and they both needed to be fresh and wide awake tomorrow, when she’d focus her attention on the doll.

“I suppose that would work. It is impermeable in one direction to magic—partially impermeable, right now, I guess. I don’t know if half-impermeable is enough.”

She didn’t bother pointing out that the term “half-impermeable” was nonsensical. “Is it holding up? Any signs of decay?”

“Nope. Looks like it’ll last indefinitely at this strength.”

“Then let’s try something stronger, once the flow stops dropping at the doll, to see how far we can go. At the first signs of decay, gradually scale it back.”

“Okay, I’ll block two-thirds next.”

They waited patiently.

“It’s about leveled off at half the previous flow,” Fowler reported fifteen minutes later.

That was his cue. His horn glowed brighter, and the shield shimmered a bit stronger. It was still way below his limit, so that wouldn’t be a problem. The probe measurements confirmed the increased effectiveness of the barrier.

Again, after the passage of several minutes, Fowler reported, “It’s dropping again.”

Repeatable behavior was a good sign.

This continued for the next one and a half hours. They were up to blocking nine-tenths of the flow when Rainbow Dash and Meg glided in to a landing.

“Hey, guys,” the prismatic pegasus said. “Almost done here?”

Shining Armor looked at her in mock shock. “Are you actually bored with flying?”

Meg answered for her. “It’s not her, it’s me. My wings feel ready to fall off.”

Rainbow Dash must have been putting her through training exercises. I’m overdue for another of my own.

“Besides,” Meg continued, “shouldn’t we be leaving soon? It’s getting late.”

Twilight looked at the western horizon. The clouds couldn’t hide the low sun. Even if they left right now, it’d be dark by the time they got back to Ponyville. Everypony else aboard the Zephyr were probably getting anxious to leave too.

“One more thing, and we’ll go. We’re going to try and push the magic away from here, to get the flow back down to where it was before we moved it.” She turned to her brother. “How’s it holding up?”

“Still good. I think we can do much better.”

That was good to hear. The smaller the flow, the better, for what she was going to attempt tomorrow.

She retrieved the probe poking through the shield and floated it next to the other one. “Okay, start expanding the shield.”

Her brother backed away from his shield and his horn grew brighter. The shimmering shield began expanding, at a moderate walking speed at first, but it got harder and harder. Sweat started soaking through the fur on his forehead as he slowed to a crawl.

Finally, he stopped. “I have to rest for a minute.”

The shield hadn’t even doubled in size. They were not going to clear out enough magic like this. Twilight walked to the shield, a probe in front of her. It was as she suspected. Magic had piled up in front of the shield, like a snow plow pushing snow, increasing the force needed to push it further away from the enclosure. This was temporary—the magic was already dispersing, flowing like cold molasses to the lower density regions further away—but it was slowing things down too much.

Fortunately, this magic pileup can be put to good use. “Try standing just outside the shield. Magic is very dense there, and that’ll help you.”

“Worth a shot.” He walked up the the shield, almost touching it. His horn flared, almost unbearably bright, and he walked backwards, seemingly pulling the shield back by a direct physical connection. It was working.

But he was now grimacing in pain. After going maybe another dozen feet, the pain became so bad he was forced to back away as if the shield was red hot.

“The magic’s too intense,” he said, shaking his head.

Twilight approached the shield with a probe. It was off the scale. The sheer power there made simple telekinesis challenging. She could handle it—being an alicorn had its advantages, not to mention magic being her special talent—but this clearly wasn’t going to work, not unless there was some way to lower the viscosity so the magic would quickly spread out into the distance.

She didn’t know of one.

She walked back to Shining Armor. “It’s better than nothing,” she said in consolation. “Just keep it here for a while until the magic has a chance to flow away from here. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, it’s not a problem if it stays the same size. How long?”

That was a good question. “I’ll take another measurement in a minute and extrapolate from that.” She brought the phone closer. “Agent Fowler?”

“Yes?”

“I think we’re done here for today. I’ll be there tomorrow morning to continue the experiments.”

“Okay, see you then. Bye.”

Twilight placed the phone on Meg’s foreleg, then walked over to the shield and took another measurement. It was still off the scale, but she could tell it wasn’t quite as strong; alicorn or no, it still wasn’t exactly pleasant. She returned to the others.

“I’d say give it a half-hour, a full hour if you can manage it. When you lower your shield, do it gradually over a minute.” She considered his ride back home, a pegasi-drawn chariot. “It’d probably be best if they were farther away before they tried to take off.”

“I’ll let them know.”

“And don’t get any ideas about keeping that shield up all night,” she warned him. “You need to be fresh and recharged tomorrow.”

He responded with an exaggerated bow. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Twilight gave him a mild punch with a hoof. “I mean it.”

“Okay, okay, I got the message.”

She turned to the other two mares, rolling her eyes, then looked up at the Zephyr. “Let’s go home.”

Meg was checking the news the next morning when Twilight appeared in their home office. She preemptively answered the question the alicorn was about to ask. “He’s still sick and not seeing anyone.”

After returning home last night, the subject of when Twilight could expect a communication from the President came up. Meg obviously had no idea, but she did notice in the news that he had come down with a bad case of the flu. All meetings and appearances had been canceled.

Their car had been returned home as well, but not before the tracking device was located and removed. It was now in Canterlot, being used to test the detection spells under development. Meg had made it clear that the FBI would demand their device back sooner or later.

“No real rush, I suppose,” Twilight replied. “We got higher priorities right now anyway. Speaking of which…”

Meg got up from her chair. “Right…”

But before she could leave the room, Steve came in. “We’re out sick today,” he informed her. How much longer can they come up with excuses?

He hung his saddlebags around his neck. “I’m ready.”

Meg did likewise. “Me too.”

Twilight transported them to the field outside the Crystal Empire. “I’ll be back in a second with more pills,” she told Steve. “The Zephyr’s up there,” she informed Meg, and she launched into the sky.

Meg followed at a more relaxed pace. It always felt good to stretch her wings after not having them for a while. The door to the lounge was already open. By the time she reached it, Twilight already had the pills and was on her way out, giving the pegasus a mysterious smile.

Wondering what that was about, she entered and, to her surprise, saw Princess Celestia resting on a pair of cushions.

“Captain Shooting Star, we shall be departing now.”

The captain was at the panoramic window gazing at nothing in particular. He turned around to address his diarch with a bow. “As you wish, Your Highness.” He purposefully left the lounge and into the interior of the ship.

The Princess of the Sun serenely focused on the other occupant of the lounge. “Please take a seat, Meg.”

“I… didn’t expect you to be here.” She laid down on a cushion that wasn’t too close to the princess. What was she doing here?

The Zephyr began turning, the view of crystalline buildings being replaced with distant snowcapped mountains.

“You requested a private audience, did you not, to discuss your concerns about my faithful student?”

Oh, right, and Luna did say she’d pass it on. She had to give them credit. They arranged this meeting with Twilight being none the wiser, if the young alicorns’s mysterious smile was any indication. What did she think was going on?

So here they were. Now what? It was incredibly difficult to read Celestia’s face.

Sensing her apprehension, Celestia tried to put her at ease. “But first, let me offer our appreciation for your role in saving the Crystal Heart.”

“I’m glad we could be of assistance,” she replied reflexively.

Meg didn’t know where to start, or if this was even a good idea. Granted, Celestia seemed to have an open mind, that she wasn’t looking for an excuse to proverbially banish her to the moon, but how could this not be treading dangerous waters?

Her resumed silence did not go unnoticed. “You may speak freely, I assure you,” she said with a gentle smile. “I am under no illusions my protégé is without flaws. I’m sure I’ll find your rather… unique perspective informative.”

The elder alicorn’s ears were at full attention, eager to receive her observations.

“Yes, I know about the Smarty Pants incident.”

Assuming that really happened. By now, though, Meg knew the odds were very good it did, certainly in the ways that mattered.

Celestia nodded in confirmation.

“Nothing that bad, at least.”

Clouds in a hurry drifted by outside. There wasn’t that much time before they arrived.

Might as well cut to the chase. She took a deep breath. “Twilight views this as yet another test she’s supposed to pass. When she nearly got my husband in serious trouble with our authorities—completely unintentionally and from ignorance of our world,” she hastily added “—she became depressed, convinced she had failed for the first time. I tried to talk some sense into her, and let me tell you it wasn’t easy.”

That got a chuckle out of the diarch. “No, it isn’t.”

So this isn’t something you didn’t already know. That was a relief.

“Is this all another test of yours?”

Celestia responded with mock shock at the accusation. “You mean, did I cause this magic leak, placing both our realms in mortal danger, just to see if Twilight could manage relations with another realm?”

Meg just blinked.

“No,” she sighed, “this is not one of my tests. The tests ended when she became a princess—which is not to say I’m not looking for ways to increase her responsibilities, to help her grow into a ruler of Equestria that I know she can be.

“Unfortunately, the difference between that and a test is mostly lost on her. I must assume some responsibility for that, I’m afraid.”

The audience was going better than Meg could have hoped. It emboldened her to ask questions she would never have dared to ask before.

“I know this may be way out of line, but maybe she wasn’t ready yet to become a princess?”

Celestia looked away from Meg, to gaze out at the passing cloudscape. “I did grant you permission to speak freely,” she conceded, as she continued staring off into infinity. “And you wouldn’t be much of an advisor if you couldn’t say what you thought.”

She faced Meg once again, her trademark serene expression not quite as serene as before. “I had my reasons for her to ascend when she did, and that is all I’ll say.”

Message received loud and clear: don’t dig any deeper.

But the point still remained, that Twilight was not up to this task.

“The leader of my nation has become aware of your existence. I don’t know when, but eventually there will be negotiations to establish relations between us.”

Celestia didn’t miss a beat. “You’re concerned Twilight isn’t up to that.”

Meg nodded. “I think it would be best if you handled that. This is too important to be treated as a learning exercise.”

“I’ll take that under consideration.” She gave a warm smile. “And thank you, Meg. I treasure advisors who tell me what I need to hear, not what they think I want to hear.”

The Zephyr began descending.

“I have a request,” Celestia said, changing the subject. “When Discord enters the portal to fix it, I would like you to accompany him inside. If you should encounter my former student, please send her outside to me.”

“You mean, Sunset Shimmer?”

Celestia silently nodded.

Why not ask somepony else? Why her, specifically? Maybe because there wouldn’t be an analog of her in there? But why not have Discord do that? Didn’t she trust him now?

She obviously was trusting him with me.

And what would Discord look like in there? He was absent from Equestria Girls, not so much as a cameo in the background. Was that significant?

She was curious, and she had no real reason to refuse. Never mind Discord, how would I look inside there?

“Okay, I’ll do that.”

But on second thought, there was something else odd about Celestia’s request. She made it as if there was no doubt it was going to happen today. That seemed optimistic, to say the least.

“Do you have visions?” Meg blurted out.

She got a practiced titter in reply. “I choose not to answer that question.”

The pegasus scrunched her muzzle. “You know that’s as good as a ‘yes.’”

“If you choose to believe that.”

Fortunately, Meg had an ace up her non-existent sleeves. “In the cartoon, you had a vision of Tirek, which led you to send Discord after him.” Let’s see you get out of that!

The Princess of the Sun was not fazed. “Then wouldn’t I have known that Discord would join forces with him instead of capturing him?”

According to Twilight, yes, and you would have also known what would have happened as a consequence, though you are omitting that part.

“Anyway, does that cartoon not take poetic license with certain events?”

There was little point in playing mind games with an alicorn who has been perfecting her game for millennia. Except… what if she was in one of those visions. Was that the real reason she was appointed an advisor? Was that why she needed to accompany Discord into the portal?

Except nothing. It didn’t matter. Celestia was not going to admit it. Assuming the visions were an actual thing. Which they might not be. The possession of such incredible experience could be mistaken, to those who lack it, for the possession of knowledge of future events.

The Zephyr had landed. Celestia gracefully rose and headed to the door. But when she reached it, instead of opening it, she turned towards Meg.

“I did have a chat with Discord, by the way, about his reason for not telling you how he knows so much about your realm.”

That got Meg’s full attention.

“He lacked tact in explaining it to you, there’s no denying that, but I can’t say I disagree. Some knowledge does require… how to put it… a certain level of maturity to handle.”

Meg’s jaw nearly hit the floor. This was the last thing she expected. “Humans don’t live that long,” she flatly said.

“And neither do ponies,” Celestia added, “apart from alicorns.”

The princess opened the door. “It is what it is,” she said with compassion.

At least Twilight would find out one day, though it may well be academic—literally—by then.

Celestia stood at the open door, remembering something. She looked back at Meg. “What’s a ‘conversion bureau’ and why would I establish one?”

Luna told you about that?! What else about her dream did she mention?

“I’ll, uhm… I’ll explain later.”

She accepted that answer, for the time being anyway, and walked out the door. Meg followed, stepping out into the expansive grasslands. The enclosure was distant; obviously, the Zephyr wasn’t going anywhere near it. A chariot was nearby, and Celestia took the time to greet the pegasi standing by it.

After that, the princess took wing and flew to the enclosure, staying low to the ground and no faster than a gallop. Probably a good idea, Meg thought, as she did likewise. Who knew the point where flying magic would fail?

As they got closer, a shimmering bubble surrounding the enclosure became evident. Shining Armor was already there, projecting his magic-not-quite-blocking shield. Had he been there all night, despite Twilight’s wishes?

They were able to stay in the air the entire way. Cadance was also there, standing beside the prince. Meg half expected Discord to be there too, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Hello, Shining Armor; hello, Cadance,” warmly greeted Celestia. “You are making good progress with the shield, I see.”

The former Captain of the Guard turned away from the shield, though his horn remained glowing. “Indeed I am,” he replied enthusiastically. “I got it up to ninety nine percent effectiveness, and it’s still holding up fine. It really doesn’t take much leakage to keep it from falling apart. I think it can go even higher.”

“I’m sure Twilight will be pleased to hear that, but I imagine she’s already noticed. Speaking of Twilight, Meg?”

“Uh, right.”

The pegasus sat on her haunches, freeing up her forelimbs, and made the call. Steve answered it. “Putting you on speakerphone.” Meg did likewise with hers.

Twilight’s voice next came over the phone. “The flow’s been reduced to a trickle. Can you keep it up?”

Meg held the phone up to the unicorn.

“I can do even better.”

If the flow was cut much more, their magic containment bubbles would switch on. Twilight had already made sure they wouldn’t go invisible if that were to happen.

“The more the better,” she said into the phone resting on the table.

She stared at the doll in front of her, feeling optimistic for a change. Steve and Agent Fowler were also seated at the table, their eyes glued to the doll.

“I’m going in.”

The alicorn closed her eyes and focused. Without the overwhelming “glare” of the previous flow, it was relatively easy to locate the center, the tiny spherical volume from which flowed the magic.

Using the spell she had researched the previous night, she applied a compressive force to the region, trying to shrink the junction.

Something wasn’t right.

The junction did seem to shrink a little, but the stuffing it occupied also compressed, adding its own resistance. That shouldn’t have happened. This spell should completely ignore any physical substance.

Even worse, when the spell stopped, the stuffing, released from the pressure, sprung back to its original size and took the junction along with it.

She tried again, and the same thing happened.

Her eyes opened, her mouth grimacing. “Something’s not right here and I don’t know what.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say the junction was physically tied to the stuffing of this doll. I can’t squeeze one without squeezing the other, and the stuffing doesn’t want to stay squeezed.”

The air conditioner switched on, already having to fight against the outside heat.

“Well, isn’t that obviously the case?” Fowler asked. “I mean, it does follow the doll around when we move it.”

Well, duh. How could she not see that? That still begged the question, though, of how it was bound to the doll.

A quick look at the probe showed the flow was falling rapidly again. The magical glare would be even lower now.

Twilight closed her eyes once more. It was time that question was answered.

It was getting easier and easier for her senses to examine the region of the junction, looking for anything out of the ordinary, magically speaking, that could be responsible for the bonding.

And gradually, as the magical glare continued to fade, she spotted it.

Her head slumped onto the table, eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t believe it.”

“Don’t believe what?” the unicorn next to her asked.

Twilight lifted her head and sighed. “It’s not important,” she lied. “What matters is I know what to do about it.”

Nopony could know about this, certainly not before she could to talk to Celestia about it. Once again she closed her eyes and concentrated, focusing on the junction and carefully dismantling the spell that bound it to the doll’s substance. She would have to rebind it once she was finished, to keep it from drifting loose. That would not be a problem; there wasn’t a pony alive more familiar with Star Swirl’s work than she.

The implications were horrendous. Who cast this spell? It had to have been done shortly after she had caused the damage in the first place. Somepony had to have known about that, was able to find the terminus in this realm—knew about this realm—and chose this doll to bind it to. Why would they do that?

Discord was an obvious suspect; but even if he lied about being able to exist in this realm, this spell was not his work.

The junction was unbound from the doll, now held in place only by her magic. She began applying pressure to it, and this time it shrank as expected. It’s working!

She opened her eyes and checked the probe. The flow was still falling. Their bubbles must have come on by now. She continued upping the pressure, and that reduced the flow even more.

It soon reached the point of diminishing returns.

“Shining,” she said to the phone, “I need you to block the flow as much as possible. Push it. I’ve succeeded in shrinking the junction here, but I need the flow to be reduced as much as possible to shrink it even more.”

She was on the clock. Now that she was on the plaid pill’s magic supply, she needed to finish this as soon as possible.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Which was not inconsiderable. It turned out the flow could be cut much further while maintaining the shield integrity. And once that point was finally reached, he tried using a perfect shield, backing off when it began failing, letting it recover, then resuming full blockage once more. After several cycles of this, the pressure at the junction had become a shadow of its former self.

Even that reached diminishing returns. Twilight switched to maintenance, rebinding the junction to the doll and applying only enough pressure to keep it from expanding.

“I think this has gone as far as it can. Relax the shield—gradually!—say, to nine-tenths, and see what happens.”

“Will do,” her brother acknowledged.

Nothing happened for several minutes, but that was to be expected.

The flow started climbing again, then began leveling off; it would remain far too low to turn off their bubbles. There had to be more magic than this flowing through the shield, which meant…

“Cadance, could you please take a measurement just inside the shield?”

“I knew you could pull it off!”

“Is that Discord I hear?” asked a surprised Fowler.

Meg looked at the bouncing draconequus that had materialized beside them, excitedly clapping his… paw and claw together. “Yep, you sure did.”

Celestia was unperturbed, seemingly no more surprised by his sudden appearance than by the Sun rising in the morning.

Cadance had poked one of Twilight’s probes through the shield. “It’s climbing…” she said in disbelief. “It’s actually climbing.” She walked through the shield, carrying the probe with her. It did not fall. “There’s enough magic to support levitation.”

“Are we going inside the mirror now?” asked Meg.

Discord raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“At my request,” Celestia calmly said.

The draconequus rolled his eyes. “Oh, very well,” he said in a huff. “Just don’t get in my way.” He stayed where he was. “We’ll wait until the magic reaches its peak. The more there is, the easier this will be.”

“Wait. That’s your plan? Have Discord fix it?”

A bemused smirk grew on Discord’s face. “Well, well… it appears someone’s been kept out of the loop.”

“I’ll explain later,” Twilight quickly said. “Shining, I can’t keep this up forever. Lower the shield some more to speed things up.”

“I’ll keep lowering it, gradually, until it’s gone.”

No objection came over the phone.

Cadance was standing in front of the enclosure’s door, still levitating the probe. The door had a combination lock, something that could be manipulated by hoof even without magic. She did not use a hoof.

The door having been opened, she stepped inside, her eyes on the meter. “I can’t go any further, not yet.” She poked her head outside. “But it won’t be long at this rate.”

Meg watched, along with the others, as the shield’s shimmer slowly faded, until it could no longer be seen.

“It’s down,” Shining Armor confirmed.

Meg lifted off the ground and carefully drifted over to the door. She was still in the air by the time she arrived, hovering without difficulty. Setting down, she walked inside.

Cadance was at the mirror, touching it with the still-levitating probe. Upon noticing the pegasus, she said, “The magical field has reclaimed The Mirror, and is gaining strength.”

“I think it’s enough to get started.” Discord was inside the enclosure with them. The other ponies were staring at him, the contradiction of his earlier statement not going unnoticed. “As Twilight said, she can’t keep it up forever.”

One could hardly expect the Spirit of Chaos to be consistent.

“I can keep it up long enough,” the alicorn protested. “The pressure is definitely building, but the junction is so small right now it doesn’t take much magic to keep it from growing.”

Which reminded her… Meg removed the phone from her leg and presented it to Cadance. “Probably not a good idea to take it inside.”

“I wouldn’t disagree,” the princess said as she took it in her magic.

“But then you can’t take pictures!” Fowler protested.

“Have Twilight draw you some crude pictures while you wait for our return,” Discord helpfully offered.

The alicorn’s glower was almost audible over the phone.

Discord ignored her, sauntering up to the mirror. With a snap of his talons, it ceased reflecting their images and took on a pearlescent glow. Just before stepping through, he looked back at Meg, who had not moved any closer. “Are you coming?”

The pegasus blinked. Have faith in Celestia. It was a mystery what the elder alicorn knew or how she knew it, but Meg couldn’t just disregard it. She stepped forward.

Taking that as a ‘yes,’ the draconequus stepped into the mirror. With one last brief hesitation, Meg did so too.

The imposing Canterlot High stood in front of her, with numerous pastel-colored, bipedal and fully clothed students walking about. They looked realistically human enough, apart from the coloration and their rather eclectic fashion sense.

Pastel colored.

Meg held up her hands and inspected them. They looked like her human hands—apart from the faded orchid coloring. She grabbed some hair about her neck and pulled it forwards. Not surprisingly, it matched her pony mane in color.

She looked down and found clothes, nothing that matched anything in her possession but not dissimilar either. Her cutie mark was probably on them, somewhere, but she didn’t care enough to search for it.

“I can conjure a mirror for you, if you’d like.”

At the sudden interruption of her thoughts, Meg jerked her head up and… “I didn’t expect you to look like that.”

Discord took mild offense. “What’s wrong with the way I look?” Suddenly wearing a crown and sash, like he’d just won a beauty pageant, he added, “How do you improve on this?” He went through a series of absurd poses.

How about symmetry? For the draconequus looked exactly as he always did. He had not become a humanoid reflection of himself.

“I thought using magic was a no-no here.”

With a dismissive wave of a paw, he said, “I’m a professional; I know what I’m doing, unlike certain amateurs.”

A professional what, a thought she kept to herself, as it wouldn’t do to piss off her ride home.

“What in tarnation are you supposed to be?” asked an orange-tinged girl with blonde hair and wearing a cowboy hat.

“I’ve never seen you around, either!” challenged a cyan-tinged girl with rainbow hair.

While Meg had been distracted with Discord, not to mention her own appearance, two of the Mane Six’s counterparts had found them, ready to defend the school against this new threat. Just what we need.

Discord was not in the least bit concerned by this turn of events, even going so far as to conspicuously yawn. It wasn’t helping.

She considered her options. They don’t have their memories, but the events of that movie did take place, more or less.

“Applejack, Rainbow Dash—” they showed surprise at their names being known “—Twilight Sparkle sent us. We came through this portal.” She waved her hand at the statue’s base for emphasis.

That wasn’t convincing enough. “I dun know how ya know all that,” Applejack said, glaring at them, “but I do know this here portal won’t open for at least another year.”

“I’m getting the others,” Dash said, as she turned around and sprinted away.

“Good!” Meg shouted after her. “Be sure to get Sunset Shimmer!”

That got Discord to give Meg a curious look.

“Why don’t you try telling the truth this time,” Applejack threatened.

Your lie-detection abilities fall short of the original’s. Meg didn’t say anything. She simply stuck her hand into the base of the statue and waved it around.

“Huh.” The cowgirl had trouble believing her eyes. “Look at that.”

Now that she had her attention, Meg tried to explain the situation. “We’re here to fix something. We don’t have much—”

As she was explaining, Discord rolled his eyes, and with an impatient sigh snapped his talons. Applejack vanished. Everyone vanished. “We don’t have time for this,” he said, his annoyance coming through loud and clear.

Meg looked around, frantically searching for someone, anyone. “H-how could you…”

“They’re not real,” he casually pointed out, not seeing what the problem was. “The only ones real here are you, I, and Sunset Shimmer—speaking of which…”

He snapped his talons again, and Celestia’s former student appeared in front of them, freaking out. She widely looked around until her eyes locked onto Discord. “I-I recognize you… you’re that stone statue—”

Discord had a point: they didn’t have time for this. “Sunset Shimmer, look at me!”

She did. “Who are you,” she demanded to know, “and why are—”

“Princess Celestia is on the other side of the portal,” Meg interrupted, pointing at the statue. “Go to her.”

She looked between Meg and the statue, confused. “It won’t open—”

Enough! Meg shoved her hand into the base.

Sunset was at a loss for words. “I… don’t understand.”

“Just go.” Meg was getting tired of this game. “The Princess will explain everything. She wishes to see you.”

“Princess Celestia w-wishes to see me?” Uncertain what to do, but lacking any better alternatives, Sunset Shimmer tentatively made her way to the portal, and stepped through.

A golf clap sounded, breaking the silence. “Finally! I’d have simply shoved her through, myself.”

Not for the first time, Meg was glad she was in the presence of a reformed Discord. “How are you doing on your friendship lessons?” she snarked.

To her surprise, that barb hit home. “Could be better,” he admitted. “It’s not easy for me.”

There was no transformation, no props. Unfortunately, there was no time for this either. “What’s next?” she asked, trying to get things back on track.

“We find the damage.” He began walking away in no particular direction, looking for who knew what. “Preferably before Twilight runs out of magic—unless you want to be stuck in here with me.”

The pressure was building, requiring ever more magic to keep the junction from growing. That didn’t stop the flow from increasing in proportion to the pressure. Unfortunately, it increased at a rate slower than Twilight’s expenditures.

At least Sunset Shimmer was back home. She had a chance to briefly talk to her before she left the enclosure, which only left the dazed and confused unicorn with even more unanswered questions. Celestia would provide them.

A thumping sound made itself known above the drone of the air conditioner. It was coming from outside. Fowler reached over to open the curtains, letting in the harsh desert sun. A helicopter was arriving, possibly the same one they had made use of yesterday.

Twilight shot Fowler a questioning look; she gave a shrug in return. “I don’t know.”

The helicopter landed. It faced away from them, so they couldn’t see who was inside. After a minute, the engine was off and the rotor had stopped turning. The door slid open and Agent Reubens hopped out.

Why has he returned? Does he have a message for me?

Her attention was momentarily diverted as she upped the magical force on the junction. Once that was done, she observed the agent helping an elderly man to the ground, a man who did not actually need the assistance.

“I’ll take care of this,” Agent Fowler hurriedly said as she bolted to the door and went outside.

The newcomer was rather tall, and carried a little bit too much weight; yet despite that and his apparent age, he was fit and energetic. His clothing was nothing special by the standards of this realm.

“The illness was a ruse,” Steve deduced.

“Huh?”

Fowler had reached the arrivals and was saying something to them. The drone of the air conditioner made it impossible to hear what was being said.

“That’s the President. The stories of his sudden illness in the news must have been a ruse, so he could come out here without the press catching on.”

Fowler hadn’t even bowed to the man. She barely acted deferential at all—by Equestrian standards. And Steve’s explanation made it sound like the press were a predator and the ruler of this land its prey. How could that be true?

She hadn’t studied their institutions, how their government worked. It wasn’t her intention to deal with this until after the immediate crises was resolved. She wasn’t prepared for this. And right this instant she had her hooves full with the doll, a reality driven home as she had to up the magical confinement yet another notch.

Fowler was leading the others back to her.

What am I going to do?