Glitched

by Golden Vision

Chapters

• Chapter One: Zero Index
• Chapter Two: Debugging
• Chapter Three: Syntax Error
• Chapter Four: System Breakdown
• Chapter Five: Recompilation
• Chapter Six: Modular Logic
• Chapter Seven: Binary Code

Chapter One: Zero Index

"You can run, but you can't hide!"

The great dome over the city groaned, cracks spiderwebbing across its sides. The changelings above squealed as the force field shocked their chitinous flesh but continued to smash it, pounding with great force. The horde let out a cry as the shield finally shattered and dove into the city.

Their jet-black bodies wove between high towers and spirals, flying over pavilions and fountains. Yet they had no attention for architecture, as grand as it may have been. They had only one focus: a certain six ponies running across the ground far below. As one, the changelings screeched like a great bird of prey and dove.

Take them.

Flashes of light lit up the sky as the Hive sped to the ground, trails of green fire flickering in their wake. They hit with the force of small meteorites, gouging out chunks of dirt and rock. Each changeling hissed as their prey dodged over and around the assault. With the Queen's command echoing in its mind, one snarled and swooped around a brick building to land on the other side. Two dozen of its brethren followed, the wind whistling through the holes in their skin.

The changeling was there, waiting as the ponies climbed the steps. It hissed in amusement as they froze in place, and its kin echoed its mirth. The ponies backed away but soon found retreat impossible: they had been cut off from all sides.

There came a flicker of green flames to the changeling’s right. A blue pegasus now stood in the place of one of its brothers, a colorful mane on its head. The changeling bared its teeth and let the transformation take it as well. Its flesh rippled as it grew with new height, muscle, and strangely enough, a bright pink coat. It took a step forward, a motion echoed by the others around it.

With a shout, the ponies leapt forward, their hooves poised to fight. In the back of the changeling's mind, its Queen was laughing. Did the ponies really think that they could win? The changeling snarled and leapt into the air beside its brethren, teeth and hooves bared.

The ponies attempted to resist, but it was hopeless. The changeling watched with glee as their foes were cut down one by one, unable to overcome the horde. A huge cloud of dust erupted from the center of the courtyard, kicked up by the struggle, but it proved no trouble to the changelings. Some fell, yes; the Queen watched with sullen disapproval as a dozen of her subjects fell to the magic of one purple unicorn, but she rejoiced when that same equine was taken from behind, disappearing beneath a pile of changelings. Her children were ultimately replaceable. The defeat of her foes, however, was priceless.

The last of the ponies fell to the ground unconscious, bruises covering its colorful skin. The changelings’ harsh laughter echoed through the streets of Canterlot. Finally, the city had fallen.

Back in the castle, Chrysalis threw back her head and laughed from deep in her throat, a rich, dark timbre permeating her voice. "It's over," she whispered. She grinned down at Celestia's unconscious body. "I've won!"

The changelings in the courtyard looked down at their prey. They were hungry, and there was no more love to be found here. But they had lived off of meat before, as they had in the Badlands before coming to this rich, spoiled land. With a flicker of glee, the first changeling noted one of the ponies stirring, an expression of pure terror dawning on its face.

And then they attacked.

With a single cry, the horde attacked. In that instant, the changelings discarded thoughts of tact and orders: this was prey, and the Hive was hungry. They fell on the ponies like a starving beast. Fangs flashed in the light, ripping, tearing, shredding.

When they were finished, there was nothing left.

Twilight woke up screaming.

She jerked up straight in bed, her breaths coming in dry gasps and her heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes fluttered, hooves shaking as they clutched at the covers. Her thoughts spun madly, and for a single, terrifying second, all she could hear were the screams.

“Twilight! Are you okay?”

She jumped, strands of her mane flying in every direction. Darting about wildly, her eyes caught onto a small, purple shape. She squinted, and the image blurred into a more familiar one.

“Are you okay?” Spike repeated. He looked down at her from his place on the bed, biting his lip. “You look like you were having a pretty scary nightmare.”

“Where did the changelings go?” Twilight whispered.

Spike blinked. “The what?”

She shook her head. “The changelings!” She swallowed, her eyes flickering over Spike’s stubby frame. Could he be one of them, sent here to fool her? She shuddered and let out a cough. With a hacking gasp, she lurched forward with one hoof over her mouth.

“Whoa! Here, drink this.”

As her chest shook, Twilight felt something being pushed against her lips. She made a halfhearted attempt to nudge it away but gave up when she felt cold water against her mouth. She licked her cracked lips and drank greedily.

Spike sighed as he lowered the now-empty glass. “Now Twilight, what the heck were you talking about? What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Twilight looked straight at him. “Changelings have invaded Canterlot! Princess Cadance, Shining Armor, and Princess Celestia are all in terrible danger, and you’re asking me what’s wrong?”

“What?”

“You heard me!” Twilight felt her fear fading to be replaced by something else entirely: anger. Her nostrils flared, her gaze intensifying into a fiery glare. She took a step forward, her eyes narrowed, and Spike stepped back a gulp.

“Look! Nothing’s wrong!” He reached back and seized a curtain, pulling it open to let light stream in. “See?”

Twilight flinched back, the brightness searing her eyes. “Spike, what are you—”

“I don’t know what weird nightmares you had last night, but you need to wake up.” Spike frowned down at her as she held her hooves over her eyes, the light still burned into her retinas. “Everything is fine.” He gave the last word a firm enunciation and eyed her carefully.

After watching her for a few more seconds, he gave a satisfied nod, hopped down from the window, and headed for the door.

“I’ll be waiting in the dining room,” he called back over his shoulder. “I heard the Princess’s chef is making pancakes this morning!”

“But...” Twilight put a hoof to her forehead as the door slammed shut. “The invasion—the wedding!” She felt bile rising in her throat. Okay, Twilight. Things might seem strange, but everything will make sense soon. It has to. Now, just stand up, and—

She glanced out of the window, and froze.

Canterlot stood glimmering in the sunlight, with not a single charred brick or blemish marking the walls of its spiraling towers. On the streets far below, ponies went about their business as usual, adding to the din of the city.

She shook her head and looked up to the sky. Shining Armor’s shield still held the city in a gigantic bubble, its surface glittering with energy.

There were no changelings.

There was no panic.

There was no invasion.

She stumbled back, bumping against a table and sending a vase tumbling to the ground with a crash. A shiver crept up her spine as she looked around the room. For the first time since waking up, she took in the full extent of her surroundings.

A four-poster bed occupied most of the space, its covers in a jumbled heap on the floor. Elegant silk tapestries and oil paintings were strewn about the walls. She trotted up to one, recognizing it almost immediately.

Within the painting, two alicorns stood emblazoned on a field of red and blue. One was a deep purple, and the other pure white. A streak of viridian green ran through the center, splitting it like a bolt of lightning. She remembered this picture. This was her room: the one Celestia had given her when she arrived in Canterlot. The one she had seen crumble to the streets below when the changelings had wreaked havoc on the city.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, memories flickering across her mind. There was only one possibility: she had had a nightmare, and a particularly vivid one at that.

But it seemed so real!

She smiled nervously. Get a hold of yourself, Twilight. Yes, it seemed real, but dreams always did, didn’t they? That was the point: dreams were just that, and couldn’t affect reality. She took a few steps toward the door. There was nothing to worry about.

And yet she remembered each part of it perfectly—the changelings, the wedding, and Canterlot—with each detail as pristine in her mind as though she’d seen it just an hour ago.

With a deep breath, she set off after Spike.

Twilight stepped through the door and into one of the castle’s many dining rooms. Her stomach rumbled as she noticed a large table, piled high with platters of food, sitting in the middle of the room.

“Good morning, darling.” Rarity waved her over from her place at the end of the table, and Twilight smiled weakly in return. “Come have some breakfast. We were starting to wonder if we’d ever see you again!”

“Mornin’, sleepyhead.” Applejack winked as Twilight padded up to a chair and took a seat. “You should try the flapjacks. They’re hoof-lickin’ good!”

Rainbow Dash yawned, stretching her wings and legs. “And with that...” She curled up against the back of her chair, her eyes sliding shut. “You all know where to find me.”

“You’re a real trooper, you know that?” Applejack snorted. She emptied a bottle of maple syrup over her plate, and her face brightened. “Mm-mm!”

“The cooks here are great!” Pinkie cheered. She buried her face in a bowl of oatmeal.

Twilight scanned the table. Everything looks perfectly normal in here… She looked out of a window and frowned. From this angle, too, the Canterlot skyline remained pristine and untouched.

“Hey, Twilight. Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Pinkie beamed, her own face dripping gray mush over the stained wood. “You look really, really focused on something.”

Twilight shook her head. “It’s nothing, really.”

Pinkie leaned in closer, eyeing her suspiciously. “Hm…are you sure?” She stroked her chin, and Twilight shifted on her haunches, sweating beneath Pinkie’s shrewd gaze. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Dash pop open one eye to watch. I guess she thinks this is funny.

After a second, Twilight leaned back in her chair, still squirming. “Erm… Yes?”

“Okie-dokie!”

“Good morning, everypony.”

Twilight looked up, feeling a touch of warmth in her heart and mind that banished some of her worry. “Princess Celestia!”

“And a good morning to you, Twilight.” A warm smile played across Celestia’s face. “Did you all find your rooms comfortable?”

“Quite charming.”

“Oh, they were very nice…”

“Comfier ‘n a bed of feathers!”

Celestia chuckled. “I’m very glad to hear that. I suppose you all have your itineraries ready? I know I’m quite busy, myself.” She rolled her eyes and offered a conspiratorial smirk. “My secretary has me working from sunrise to sundown.”

“No worries, your Majesty,” Applejack said with a bow. “I’ll make sure to help get that kitchen in tip-top shape!”

“And I’ll be off practicing my awesome flying skills!” Rainbow Dash saluted, striking a pose before her cheeks flushed pink. “Oh…and helping with the weather, of course.”

Rarity put a hoof to her chest, beaming. “And I have already begun designing the finery to be worn at the ceremony.”

Twilight put a hoof to her mouth to conceal her smile. Each of her friends was puffed up with pride, and in her mind, they had every right to be. Idly, she poked her leg with her other hoof and then pinched, just to make sure. She winced at the sharp stab of pain. Yup. She was definitely awake.

“Excellent news,” Celestia said, smiling down at them. “I’m sure the royal couple will be very happy to hear about that.”

Twilight grinned. Shining Armor! She made little effort to hold onto the dark thoughts that had clouded her mind only moments before. By now, she could barely recall the specifics of her dream; its memory was little more than a vague collection of sensations. The bad mood she’d been in faded further with each passing second. There’s no need to focus on nightmares when reality is so much nicer.

She tilted her head, looking up at Celestia. “Princess,” she began. “Have you seen my brother anywhere today?”

Celestia put a hoof to her chin. “I believe I saw him taking some new recruits down to the training grounds earlier this morning for some drills.” She shook her head. “That stallion works himself too hard.”

“Is it because of the threat?” Dash piped up.

Celestia nodded, frowning. “Sadly, yes. I hope that nothing comes of it, but I will admit that I was the first to ask him to implement extra security measures.”

“So would that be the East Grounds, or the West…?” Twilight pushed her seat away from the table, waiting for an answer.

“East.”

She took a short breath and got to her hooves. “Thank you, Princess. I think I’ll go see him now.”

Pinkie gave her a wide-eyed stare. “Wait, aren’t you going to have anything to eat?”

“You really mustn’t start the day on an empty stomach, darling,” Rarity said, her magic surrounding a bowl of fruit. It drifted over the heads of the others and landed at Twilight’s side.

Twilight shook her head. “No, really. I’m fine.” She pushed the bowl away. “I’ll grab something later.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “If you insist.”

Twilight trotted to the door and nodded up at Celestia as she passed. “Thanks again, Princess.”

Celestia winked back. “You’re quite welcome.”

Twilight picked up her pace as she exited the room. For some reason, something tickled at the back of her mind as though there was something she’d missed: something she’d forgotten.

With a small snort, she pushed it aside and continued on her way.

As she cantered down the castle hallways, Twilight yawned, pausing to rub her eyes.

Seeing the large double doors to the East grounds in the distance, she resumed walking and increased her pace to a brisk trot. She nodded to a passing group of sweating, dirt-smudged guardponies, and one or two saluted in reply. After she’d passed them, she walked up to a window beside the doors and, hearing voices, peered out to the courtyard below.

“Ha!”

The clang of metal on metal rang in her ears, and she looked down at the scene with wide eyes.

Shining Armor stood in the center of the dusty courtyard, a spear levitating beside him. He was sweating, his eyes focused on a wooden target standing against the opposite wall.

With a click, dozens of small, black projectiles flung themselves forth from the wall behind the target, flying at high speeds toward his unprotected body. Twilight froze, watching in horror as her brother seemingly prepared himself to be skewered.

Shining narrowed his eyes, and the spear beside him came to life. It spun round at his command, twirling like a whirling dervish. He dodged around the projectiles and deflected them to the ground using a combination of his own martial skill and quick flashes of telekinesis.

Like drops of rain, the objects fell from the air and crashed to the ground. Shining drew a deep breath, pulled his head back, and flung the spear forward with a grunt. It sped forward like a flicker of wind, splitting through the air in a silver blur.

Twilight swallowed, her eyes brimming with awe. Whoa…

There came a loud crack. Down below, Shining slowly breathed out, his chest steadily rising and falling. His mouth curved into a satisfied smirk, his eyes still fixed on the spear quivering in the center of the target.

From above came the unmistakable sound of applause.

He did a double take, and the second spear that he’d been reaching for clattered back to the ground. “Twilight?”

She beamed as she pushed open the door and rushed down the stairs. “That was amazing! How did you do that?”

Shining chuckled and rested a hoof on the back of his neck. “It’s nothing. I just needed something to get my mind off things, especially after the drill session I just ran.”

“Why?” Twilight frowned, her hooves touching the cobblestone floor of the courtyard. “Did something happen?”

Shining paused and licked his lips as he stared off into space. “Well… No, not that I can think of.” He shook his head. “It’s just that with everything that’s been going on, I guess I needed to let loose a bit.”

“I can see that.” Twilight peered down at one of the projectiles: a black, polished rod with a sharpened end on one side. She prodded it with a hoof. “Are you sure these things are safe?”

He lifted one off the ground, tossing it up and down with a fond look on his face. He gave her a toothy grin. “The worst they’ll do to anypony are a few cuts and bruises. It’s the first drill that any new Guard goes through.”

“Defense?”

“Agility training.” Shining smiled at her but then faltered, putting a hoof to his head. “Ugh.”

Twilight’s eyes widened, and she jogged over to him. She touched his forehead, feeling for a fever. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Is it another one of your headaches?”

Shining gave her a strange look. “Wait, how did you know I was getting headaches?” He blinked a few times and ran a hoof through his mane. “I don’t remember telling you about them.”

“Um.” She grinned up at him innocently. To be honest, she wasn’t quite sure herself. It just seemed…obvious for some reason. “Lucky guess?”

Shining staggered, still holding one hoof to his forehead. “It’s—ugh. It’s okay; I’ll be fine. Just need to rest, or see Cad—”

“My dear Shining Armor!”

Twilight’s ears perked up, and she turned to search for the source of the voice. Her eyes traced over the castle walls before finally settling on the landing where she herself had entered the courtyard. “Cadance!”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” Cadance glided down the stairs and into the courtyard. “I was worried; I hadn’t seen you in so long.”

Shining grinned weakly. “I just saw you this morning, though.”

“Do you know what’s wrong with him, Cadance?” Twilight bit her lip. “I don’t know what could be causing these headaches. Stress, maybe?” Even as she saw Cadance coming over to them, fussing over Shining Armor, she let herself relax. With her here, everything would be—

“Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, please.”

Twilight’s eyes shot wide open. “Sorry?”

“I would prefer if you called me Princess Mi Amore Cadenza.” Cadance frowned down at her and pursed her lips. “Though I believe I’ve already told you that. Thank you for finding Shining Armor. I should be able to take it from here.

“I—“

“Now, if you would please excuse us for a bit…”

Twilight swallowed. “Cadance, you know I want to help, too.” She turned to her brother. “Shining—“

“Ahem.”

He chuckled, giving her a thin smile. “It’s fine, Twily. Cadance knows what she’s doing.”

“Thank you, dear.” Cadance stared her down for a moment more. For an instant, Twilight could almost swear that something dark had flickered in those bright eyes.

She coughed. “Right. Sorry. I’ll just be going, then.”

As she turned to begin the walk back into the castle, she couldn’t help but hear the murmured, and then slightly raised voices over her shoulder. She reached the top of the landing and hung her head.

The double doors shut behind her with a thud.

"Ah, Twilight. How good of you to visit! I've only just begun, you see."

Twilight gaped as Rarity shooed her into her tower workshop. Over the past forty-eight hours, the room had been transformed from a stuffy old keep into a glamorous boutique filled to bursting with wedding costumes of every shape and color. She took a moment to admire a particularly striking stallion's jacket as Rarity busied herself making a cup of tea.

"Only just begun?" Twilight felt her jaw drop as she looked around at the huge expanse of cloth, jewels, and dyes, her mind reeling at the sheer scope of it all. "Rarity, this is incredible! How could you do so much in such a short amount of time?"

Rarity raised a hoof to her mouth, stifling a giggle as a small cup of tea floated to Twilight's side. "Oh, dear; those are nothing. Trifles, really, although I do hope that my sister and her friends will enjoy the gowns I've prepared for them." She gestured toward a trio of neatly trimmed, filly-sized dresses but then pursed her lips, her smile fading into a determined frown.

"My largest and most difficult project," she said carefully, turning to face a back corner, "I've barely begun."

Twilight followed Rarity's eyes until they settled on a large, simply fashioned mannequin. She gasped. On the figure's shoulders rested one of the most beautiful gowns that she had ever seen.

Sprinkles of white gold glittered from its gleaming train, curves of amber spiraling along the sides. A small band of fabric covered the neck, crossed with stripes of purple and a bright, cheery yellow that evoked memories of sunshine and sweet-scented buttercups. Twilight let out a soft sigh as the edge of the bridal veil caught the light just so and burst into an assembly of colors.

"It's incredible," she whispered. "Rarity, I've never seen anything like this! This is for Cadance?"

Rarity sniffed, trotting up to the arrangement. "But of course! The bride—a member of the Canterlot Royal Family, even! —shall receive no less than my finest work." Her hooves trembled as she gazed up at the dress, a faraway look in her eyes. "Yet it is unfinished. It needs something, but every time I ask myself what, my muse is silent.”

Twilight gazed down into her tea and sniffed. Mint. As she took a sip, something tugged at the back of her mind. Now that she'd heard it, she could definitely see that the dress wasn't quite complete. It was missing something.

"Why don't you add a gemstone to the necklace?" she blurted.

Rarity stopped in place, an army of needles, threads, and other sewing tools halting in their dance about her head. "I beg your pardon?"

"A gemstone. Heart shaped." Twilight trotted up and pointed to the center of the colored band. "Right here. It should be blue, to offset the rest of the colors, and to serve as a clasp for the rest of the dress."

Rarity's eyes widened until they were as big as saucers. "Oh, my." She levitated a measuring tape and a spool of gold-trimmed thread, poking and prodding at the place that Twilight had pointed out. "Twilight, I cannot imagine what gave you the inspiration for such an idea, but that is perfect! I should have at least one Heartstone left in my collection."

"And here," Twilight said, pointing just above the neck. "You should add something to brace it. Maybe some kind of golden frill." Her mind was filled with pictures and colors, swirling as though they'd been only just out of reach. "And a floral pattern on the veil."

"Of course." Rarity worked frantically to scribble down each word that Twilight had said into a pastel notebook. "How could I have been so blind? That's perfect!" She snapped the book shut and set her quill aside, gazing at Twilight with adoration. “Dear, however did you stumble upon such inspiration?"

Twilight flushed a bright red, her eyes tracing over the dull wood grain of the floor. "Oh, please. I'm sure that you would've gotten it eventually."

But wait—hadn't she?

She shook her head to get rid of the thoughts bouncing around inside. There was no doubt in her mind that Rarity would've come up with something just as good, if not magnitudes better, on her own time. She was Twilight Sparkle, after all, a mere student and librarian. Rarity was a professional and a self-acclaimed fashionista! What could Twilight know that she didn't?

Yet standing there, looking at the gown as it began to take shape under Rarity's elegant hooves and magic, she couldn't help but feel the strongest sense of recognition. The image in her mind that had suddenly seemed so clear was now faded, like a memory, old and used.

"Oh, Twilight, darling," Rarity called from over her shoulder, a half dozen bobby pins sticking out of her mouth. "Was there something that brought you up here in the first place?"

Twilight opened her mouth and then quickly shut it. She'd made a lucky guess, and that was all. She yawned to push away a small wave of fatigue. Looking up, she offered Rarity a weak grin and shook her head. "Nothing, really."

"Oh, that's just fine. A friend's company is always more than welcome." Rarity reached out to take hold of a pair of scissors and neatly snipped off a square of pink fabric. "Now, what do you think of the puce?”

"Spike, I'm scared."

Spike looked up from his place on the bed, his stubby dragon legs swaying over the side. "Whoa. Where'd that come from?"

"Things just feel...wrong." Twilight paced beside the window, her hoofsteps echoing on the hard wood floor. "I can't pinpoint why, exactly, but it's this feeling I've got in my gut and it just won't go away."

"Well, that's helpful." Spike rolled his eyes and flopped back onto the bed. He let out a muffled yelp as Twilight lifted him back up with a flicker of magic and looked him right in the eye.

"Spike, I'm serious." She shook her head. "It started with Cadance. We've always been so close, but now she's acting so cold and distant toward me! It's like we've never met!"

"Rarity already said it," Spike pointed out. "It could just be stress."

Twilight rubbed her eye and groaned. "I know, I know. But it just feels completely wrong. She's not like this! She shouldn't be acting like this!"

"Ponies change, Twilight." Spike lifted his hands in a half-hearted shrug. "What can I say?"

"But not like this," she insisted. She took a deep breath and glanced out of the window. She bowed her head. "Not like this."

Spike was quiet. He fidgeted with his claws and stared at the ground.

"And it's not just Cadance." Twilight lowered her head from the windowsill and gave him a glance over her shoulder. "It's a lot of little things, all coming together."

"Such as?" Spike tilted his head, one eyebrow rising up into his forehead. "Care to expand on that?"

Twilight pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to ignore the small ache that had begun to throb there. "Ugh—little things. You know. Somehow guessing that Shining's been having headaches, when he hadn't so much as hinted at it before. Or this afternoon, when I met with Rarity."

"And helped her with making an awesome, beautiful dress?" Predictably, Spike's eyes had gone wide at the mention of Rarity's name, his smile stretching from ear to ear. Twilight smacked her head but then recoiled at the stab of pain.

She took a moment to calm herself down. "But that's just it, Spike. I don't know fashion. It's just not me. That's Rarity's job."

"But she says you got 'inspiration,' or something like that."

Twilight shook her head even more vigorously, not even caring about the sense of vertigo it gave her. "Barely. One minute, I was clueless as ever, and the next, I somehow had the entire image of the dress in my head, like a picture. Like some kind of..."

"Like a memory?" Spike offered.

Twilight's mouth went dry. "Like a memory…” A boiling, rolling sensation began to rise in her gut.

She blinked a few times before her vision cleared up. She noticed that Spike had put a clawed hand over her horn, eyeing it with his tongue between his teeth. "What?"

"Nothing," he muttered. He blushed but didn't remove his hand. "Just checking to make sure you're okay."

She took a breath, exhaled, and then repeated the motion. Another deep breath, and another deep sigh. "It's alright Spike," she said quietly and pushed his claw away. "I'm fine. Just a little bit—"

"—Stressed out?"

She smiled and raised a hoof to her mouth, stifling a chuckle. "Yes, Spike. I'm stressed out. Maybe as much as Cadance has been."

"You shouldn't get so worked up, Twilight." Spike gave her a sidelong glance as he plopped down on the chest at the foot of her bed. "You're not much fun to be around when you're like that."

"Oh, Spike." Twilight didn't stop the giggle that escaped her this time. She lifted him up with a levitation spell and gave him a light peck on the cheek. She didn't laugh as his cheeks flushed more brightly than Pinkie's mane, though: pointing that out would be too much for the poor baby dragon. "I'll make sure not to get too bad about it.”

"Well, good." His face returning to a more normal hue, Spike shoved himself off of the bed and onto the floor. He dusted off his knees and shoulders. "Now, I think the Princess wanted someone to help with mail, so I'm gonna be up helping in the rest of the Palace for the next few hours. Anything else I can help you out with?"

Twilight waved a hoof dismissively. "No, you're fine. Thank you, Spike. Really."

He turned to see her beaming right at him. The corners of his mouth turned upward into a smile.

"Alright! Time to get to work!" She could still hear his voice bouncing off the walls as he walked out of the room and slammed the door behind him. "Time for a horde of paperwork. Better than facing Discord again, at least!"

Twilight shuddered, but couldn't quite tell why. She shoved the cold sensation back down without acknowledging it. With a final glance in the mirror, she pushed her mane into something vaguely presentable and then set off out the door. Her hooves echoed in the marble corridor after Spike's hopping footsteps.

"Don't they look just adorable?"

"Rarity, shush!"

"I could just squish their little cheeks!"

"Rarity!"

Rarity scowled at Rainbow Dash. "Is it too much to ask for a sister to be able to pride herself over her younger sibling's appearance every now and again?"

"Not now! Look!" Dash jabbed a hoof toward the twin doors that marked the entrance to the wedding chamber. The first chords of the pipe organ rang throughout the room, soft, melodic tones opening up into a much richer timbre. Everypony watched as the doors creaked open.

"There he is!" Fluttershy whispered to Twilight. She flushed, fanning herself with one hoof. "Oh, my. He looks so handsome!"

Twilight beamed.

Shining Armor slowly cantered past the pews that filled the wedding chamber, the light glinting off of the badge on his chest. The sash crossing his uniform was a deep royal blue, set against red satin. Twilight felt her eyes well up with tears as he marched down the aisle and through the crowd. In the row ahead of her she could see her mother weeping into her father's shoulder. Twilight wiped away the moisture in her own eyes. He was more than handsome: he was regal.

As Shining took his place at the foot of the dais, he gave a formal nod to Celestia, who stood ready to preside over the marriage ceremony. She nodded back, smiling from ear to ear. Twilight felt her heart fluttering like a storm of butterflies in her chest. For an instant, she thought she saw Shining flinch as his gaze met Celestia’s. She dismissed it as a trick of the light and settled back into her seat.

With a resounding hum, the organ's music reached a breaking crescendo, echoing like a thousand trumpets in the hall. When the doors opened this time, a round of sighs and gasps went up around the room.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza strode down the aisle, her presence enveloping the room in an aura of awe. Her hooves moved daintily across the carpet, her head held high with pride. As she crossed beneath a stray beam of sunlight, another sigh went up from the crowd. Her dress glittered like the stars, and the veil swirled around her head like a fine mist. She ascended the dais and Shining turned to gaze lovingly into her eyes. Twilight felt herself tear up again, sniffling as silence settled over the chamber.

In that moment, there was no more suspicion, no more jealousy. Celestia began to read aloud the prelude and vows, but Twilight found her mind drifting among a sea of dreams and stars. Watching this magical ceremony take place, she realized that this wedding was more than special. It was perfect.

Celestia's oration came to a close, and Shining Armor reached in for the kiss. Before his lips touched his bride's, though, a tinkling chimed through the great hall, followed by a low rumbling noise.

Laughter.

Twilight noticed her parents and friends looking around in an attempt to spot the source. She was soon able to find it herself. When she did, her jaw dropped, and her eyebrows shot up into her forehead.

Princess Cadance wiped her eyes, seemingly unable to stop the few chuckles that escaped her. She gave a smirk and strode to the front of the dais. Shining turning to face the crowd alongside her, his eyes dazed, distant, and illuminated by a dim, green glow. Twilight felt her breath catch in her throat.

No…

"I must thank you all for coming," Cadance said, her voice much more highly pitched than normal. Her body shook with laughter and, after a few seconds, she let out a loud snort. "But, I am afraid the ceremony must be cut short."

A low murmur echoed through the crowd. Twilight noticed her parents looking at each other with wide, confused eyes.

"This day has been just perfect, you see," Cadance purred. "And though I'd prefer not to see it go just yet, I am afraid that I must. I've held this charade for long enough. For you see, I am not Princess Cadance."

A gasp went up through the hall, and Twilight felt her heart try to jump through her throat.

With a sound like a whiplash, each of the stained glass windows of the wedding hall cracked straight down the middle. Cadance beamed out over the crowds, a smirk the only expression on her face.

A dim, green mist washed up around her hooves, and began to rise. "Shining Armor was the one true hurdle to my plans, but it was simple enough to take him from you." The mist rose up her knees, and Twilight gasped: Cadance's legs and hooves were gone. In their place was a set of black, sticklike limbs filled with holes and cuts. "Laughably so, even."

The mist continued to rise, revealing a scarred torso and neck beside two insectlike wings. Twilight watched in horror as "Cadance" continued to disintegrate into a nightmarish monster She barely registered that Shining seemed not to react at all.

"That sound you just heard?" the creature asked, putting a hoof on its chin. Twilight shuddered. The juxtaposition of Cadance's face alongside that insectlike leg put her hairs on end, raising goosebumps and casting shivers down her spine. "That was the sound of the barrier—your precious, precious shield—falling into a billion pieces. Canterlot's last defense is broken."

The mist reached the top of the creature's head, and two eyes snapped open. They were a virulent, toxic green, dotted with purple and black. A fanged mouth opened, and a deep, low laughter rang through the hall once more.

"No."

The creature whirled, its blue mane flaring out behind it. "Oh? Princess Celestia. I suppose I would have to consider with you."

"This is my city; my kingdom," Celestia said quietly, in a voice more dangerous than Twilight had ever heard. "I will not allow you to do this."

"You won't, will you?" The creature threw back its head and laughed.

"Really, I suppose I have you to thank." The creature tilted its head and looked out at the audience. Its tongue tasted the air in a single, flickering motion. "You and your inane, pointless stupidity. You never noticed anything out of the ordinary, did you?" It smirked. "Of course not. Now, to business."

Twilight felt her throat constricting as she looked up at the monster standing there upon the dais. In a single, terrifying heartbeat, she knew her.

The creature's voice echoed through the hall in a tone colder than a glacier.

"Come."

Each window shattered into a million pieces, and all hell broke loose.

The guests screamed as smaller, similar-looking creatures burst through the windows, their translucent wings blurring with a droning buzz. They were everywhere: snarling, tearing, and trapping their prey in clumps of a thick, green ooze.

"No!" Celestia screamed, and took flight. Her horn glowed with a golden radiance, and Twilight flinched back as the light seared her eyes.

"Twilight!"

With Applejack's scream ringing in her ears, she whirled around. She was instantly tackled by a snarling creature.

A changeling.

She bucked outward with her back hooves, hard, and was pleasantly surprised when the creature flew back with a screech. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Celestia rising higher into the air, the light around her horn warping the air with its pure heat—

Another changeling slammed into her side, and as if by reflex, Twilight spun her head around and flung it back with a telekinetic shove. It tumbled head over hooves into a wall, landing with a satisfying crunch. Before she had the chance to catch her breath, though, a barrage of small, stinging green lights on her hide forced her to stop in place.

A dozen changelings hovered over her friends, their eyes glinting with an alien glow. Fluttershy let out a small yelp and hid behind Pinkie Pie, Rarity curled up in a fetal position beneath them both. The buzzing felt like broken glass on Twilight's ears. In that instant, she remembered something else: something that, just barely, she was sure she'd already done.

A warm feeling welled up in her chest, building from the center of her magical font. She molded that energy into tiny, bulletlike projections of force and, with a grunt, hurled them at the mass of changelings. Dozens of purple spheres sped through the air and collided with chitinous flesh, sending nearly all of the changelings to the ground. The others fled to the sky with a frightened chorus of screeches and squeals.

Twilight's gaze drifted over the room and met Rarity's trembling eyes. She gave a quick nod and turned in a quick, fluid motion. Her eyes roved over the pews, combing the crowd for her brother.

Most of the other ponies—guests, guards, and family—had already either fled or been taken. She felt her heart ice over, watching as a trio of changelings carried a weeping unicorn into the distance. Shining Armor was nowhere to be found, and her parents were long gone. She swallowed, readying another spell, and then froze in place as a thunderclap sounded through the room.

There was a grunt, a small, tinkling sound, and then a loud crunch. She nearly shut her eyes but forced herself to look.

The changeling queen—for Twilight was now sure that that was her identity—stood over Celestia's fallen body. The Princess's crown had been crushed beneath the creature's feet, and her horn was blackened and singed as though it had been burned.

"Even a goddess could not defeat me," the changeling crooned, though she was breathing heavily. She drew herself up and gave the rest of the room a satisfied look. "Canterlot has fallen."

With a single cry, Twilight launched herself at the dais, summoning every ounce of magical power that she could.

In that same instant, a horde of changelings descended upon her, flinging themselves over her body in a grotesque pile. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and magical force exploded from her horn, throwing them in all directions. Within seconds, though, dozens more had come to take their place. She felt her vision begin to go dark.

The changeling leader looked shocked at first, but the expression faded into a much more subtle smirk. Twilight watched helplessly as the creature spread its wings, gave a final look to the rest of the room, and took flight out of the topmost window.

No. Twilight shook her head as her thoughts clouded over and her circulation slowed down. "This isn't how it's supposed to happen."

The weight on her back doubled, and Twilight thought she heard something crack.

"No," she whispered, and then she was falling, falling, falling—

My dream.

It was never a dream.

It happened.

Twilight sat up straight in bed with her breath caught in her throat. Her chest heaved up and down, a cold sheen of sweat covering her face. Almost hesitantly, she removed a hoof from beneath the covers and raised it to the light to watch it in a bizarre fascination.

"It wasn't a dream," she whispered. "It was an event. Something that already happened.

"And it happened again."

She looked out of the window, seeing the sun rising over the city just as it had the past week—no: two weeks, she corrected herself. Rise and set. Day and night. An endless cycle: a loop.

And so it will happen again.

In that moment, the sunlight falling on her bed seemed unnaturally cold.

And again.

And again.

Chapter Two: Debugging

For centuries, the Canterlot Archives had been a fixture of the Royal Palace. Books said to be as old as Equestria itself filled shelves of enchanted mahogany, their pages lined with the script of the Old Speech.

It was here that the great philosopher Aristrotter gave his speech on the nature of life. It was here that the head of the Blueblood clan was crowned heir to the monarchy as a prize for his devotion to the arts. It was here that, according to legend, Celestia had uncovered the secrets of the Elements of Harmony hidden in a chamber containing tomes of the Old Magic.

Much of the original library had burned in the Great Fire of 243 AS (Anno Solaris). There was one building, however, left untouched by the flames. It still stood to this day, a proud yet inconspicuous monument to one of the greatest ponies that had ever lived. Within was a collection of mystical magics, arcane incantations, and universal insights that had never been surpassed, even by the most learned unicorns of the day.

With a confident grin on her face, Twilight stepped into the Star Swirl the Bearded Wing of the Canterlot Archives and let the gated doors swing shut behind her.

“The origins of time as a separate dimension can be traced back to the beginning of the universe, during which the five fundamental forces were established: gravity, electromagnetism, the strong and weak nuclear forces, and magic. As magic and causality are intertwined, the fourth dimension of time was, in essence, created to run in a manner perpendicular to the previous three. It is unknown from a theological standpoint how—”

“Twilight, must you read that at the dinner table?”

Twilight paused in the middle of the page and looked up, blinking innocently. “What’s wrong with it?”

Rarity sniffed and smoothed her mane over. “Really, dear. This is Canterlot—the center of high society!” She squealed, though muffled it under a quiet cough. A ladylike cough, Twilight corrected herself. Rarity was never one to be overt in public. “Why wouldn’t you want to take in the sights? The city is quite beautiful in the dusk.”

“And the food’s real good, too!” Rainbow Dash offered, chomping on a double-decker sandwich. “Man, I never knew they made stuff this good in fancy old Canterlot!”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I did grow up in Canterlot, you know. I already know most of the city.”

“But can you really say that you know a city when you’ve spent half your time in it with your nose buried in a book?” Rarity raised her hooves in a half-hearted shrug. “Darling, I don’t mean to imply anything, but...”

Twilight frowned. “Hey! There’s nothing wrong with a bit of reading!”

“A bit?” Applejack snickered. “Twi, you’ve been readin’ ever since you got up yesterday mornin’.”

“So what’s that book about, anyway?” Rainbow Dash piped up. “If you’ve been reading it so much, it’s gotta be good.”

Twilight groaned. Maybe I’d be better off just staying in my room, in the castle.

“Dimensional Theoreticals,” she said, flipping to the next page. “It’s an encyclopedic collection of theories purporting to explain the origins of the four dimensions.”

Dash blinked. “Um. What?” She shook her head and laughed into one hoof. “Yeah, I’m guessing it’s probably not the next Daring Do book. You can hold onto that one.”

Twilight scowled.

“What does that mean, anyway?” Pinkie Pie asked, scrunching up her nose. “Four dimensions? I thought there were only three!”

Twilight felt a familiar rush come into her voice. This was something she knew how to do. Studying could wait another minute: there was lecturing to be done. “Well, it’s true that there are three dimensions of space—length, width, and breadth—that most ponies are familiar with. However, there’s also a fourth dimension: one of time.”

Pinkie’s mouth formed a circle. “Ooh. So wait—if we can move through the other dimensions, can we move through time, too? Like you did, Twilight!”

“A time-traveling Pinkie Pie,” Dash whispered to Applejack. She snickered. “Not something I’d ever wanna see.”

Twilight ignored her and gave Pinkie a nod. “Yup! I think that Star Swirl actually based that spell off of the research that he did into dimensional magic.” It was a shame that it had been a one-use item, tied to a unicorn’s magical signature, she thought with a frown. Think of all the studying I could have used it for!

“I read a book about time travel once,” Fluttershy piped up.

Dash gave her a skeptical look. “Really? I didn’t think you liked that science-y stuff.”

Fluttershy smiled. “Oh, but it was such a nice story. It was called The Best Night Ever, and it—”

“Oh, I simply adored that book,” Rarity put in, beaming. “The lone stallion, forced to live a single day over and over again until he is able to muster the courage to propose to his true love!” She sighed. “Such romance. I wouldn’t have thought the genre capable!”

Twilight froze. “Wait—The Best Night Ever?” She remembered reading that once when she was still a student in the Canterlot Academy of Magic. Something about the book tugged at the back of her mind: something about the resolution of the plot.

“Why, yes,” Rarity said. “The protagonist is trapped in an endless recursion until he is able to fix his life and set right what once went wrong.” She sighed again. “Wonderful.”

Set right what once went wrong! That was it! Twilight licked her lips, her gaze flickering over the cover of Dimensional Theoreticals. So far, she hadn’t found any reference to a time loop in any of her research. Oh, there had been notes on the possibility of a “backward” stream of time, but such things remained firmly in the hypothetical. Besides, time travel was a singular, nonrepeating, controlled magical phenomenon. A looped contortion in time, like some kind of temporal Moëbius strip, was just unheard of anywhere in the literature.

Anywhere, it seemed, except within popular literature.

“I remember reading that book,” she said. “I really liked it, actually.”

Dash snorted and waved her hoof in the air. “ ‘Course you did. You, not liking an egghead book? Not gonna happen.”

Twilight forced a grin to her face. “Heh. I guess.” Inside, her mind was churning, working overtime to assimilate the new information. She’d usually dismiss this kind of literary fantasy without a second thought. But this situation was so alien to her experience that drastic hypotheses were starting to look ever more attractive.

Maybe this loop of time had a purpose. She hummed to herself, running on autopilot as Applejack began talking about the catering for the wedding. She was an Element of Harmony, after all: a unicorn who had defeated both Nightmare Moon and Discord once before.

Twilight shook her head. She’d had her friends with her both times. If this was related to the Elements, why weren’t they looping as well?

Yes, but you’re the personal student of Princess Celestia herself, a sly voice whispered from the back of her mind. The sister of the Captain of the Royal Guard, and the owner of the Element of Magic.

Twilight bit her lip. That raised an interesting question. The Elements were strongly magical artifacts. Once or twice she’d suspected that they might have something approaching sentience. Would it really be beyond the impossible for such powerful objects to have created a loop in time, undoing destruction and disharmony until such a point as they could be corrected?

Disharmony such as an invasion, perhaps?

“So what’d you think of ‘em, Twi?”

Twilight blinked, her train of thought derailing. “Wha—?”

Applejack grinned at her. “I asked what you thought of the apple crumb cakes that AB sent along with us. Mighty tasty, right?”

“Oh—right.” Twilight gave a strained smile and let her calculations fade into the back of her mind. I remember this conversation. “They were really good. Red delicious apples, right?”

Applejack nodded happily. “Yup! Lemme tell ya, she was mighty proud of how those critters came out of the oven. Why, Fluttershy, did I ever tell you ‘bout the time when Apple Bloom decided she wanted to get a Cutie Mark for oven cleanin’?”

The rest of the evening proceeded exactly as Twilight remembered it, just as it had the last two times.

That night she lay in bed and looked at the stars past the fluttering curtains in her room. She squirmed as images flashed through her head of Princess Celestia, unconscious on the floor with her crown smashed into a thousand pieces.

She shook her head and tried to banish the doubts from her mind. There had to be a way. Given enough time, any problem was solvable. That was the basis of the scientific method: predict, experiment, conclude, and form a new hypothesis until a successful conclusion was reached. From this point, though, success looked a long way away.

Her dreams that night were fitful and restless.

To Twilight’s eyes, the tunnel gouged out of the wall looked like the gaping maw of a beast.

Glittering shards of sapphire littered the dusty, gravel-covered floor. Its depths seemed to stretch forever into the darkness.

From what little she could remember, her original escape from the cave system had lead the two of them—Twilight and Cadance—to an exit concealed by a well placed, oversized wardrobe. With the piece of furniture now moved aside and the tunnel laid clear for anypony to see, there was no denying it now. Her memories were as real as the ground beneath her hooves.

Twilight took a few deep breaths to steady herself. For all her arcane knowledge of time spells and magical theories, she had no ultimate explanation for this. She was almost tempted to put the wardrobe back where she had found it: to forget all about her knowledge of the future, and go back to life as usual. But she knew she couldn’t. Not even if I wanted to. I have no choice.

She exhaled and let her shoulders drop. As she stepped into the tunnel, she let the wardrobe slide back into place behind her. It slammed against the wall with a dull thud. The darkness rushed in around her, but she pushed it back using a light spell that flickered to life on the tip of her horn.

Gazing down the tunnel, she nodded to herself and began the long trek down.

The tunnel led deep under the castle, beneath the roots of the mountain upon which Canterlot was built. The ground was dusted with the shards of ancient rocks and gems. As she descended further, the scattered sapphires became more prevalent, appearing as larger and larger pieces and soon even small outcroppings growing from the walls.

Eventually she came to a crossroads. Here the crystals glittered on the ceiling and walls, giving forth enough ambient light that she could put out her own spell without sacrificing any real sight. On a whim, or perhaps a flicker of paranoia, she checked over her shoulder to see if anyone had followed her. The last thing she needed now was some curious caterer—or maybe even the imposter herself—coming down here after her.

With the tunnel behind her clear, she turned a searching eye to the caverns ahead. There were six separate branches, each leading in a different direction.

If there was one thing that Twilight could remember, though, it was a map. Closing her eyes, she summoned up a mental image of the caverns, each twist and turn outlined in her trained memory.

Her eyes snapped open, and she quickly identified the correct pathway. She took a moment, though, to place a few sapphires in an “X” pattern before the tunnel that led up to the surface. Though she was sure she could find her way out again, something about this place put her on edge.

She set off at a brisk trot and then a gallop, pointed like an arrow straight toward Cadance’s location. Whatever had happened, she had been given a second chance. She would do this. She would rescue Cadance.

And hopefully, all of Canterlot with her.

A gaping chasm proved no problem for her, a teleportation spell seeing her off to the other side. She weaved between clusters of gemstones and crystals, ignoring their glimmering shine. Running up the track of an old mining cart, she barely spared it a thought as she galloped toward her destination.

She finally came to a skidding halt before a giant formation of shimmering amethyst. Her chest heaved up and down as she eyed it up and down, recognizing it from her original memories. A few minutes spent prowling around the sides proved her suspicions: the place was airtight, sealed off more securely than a bank vault. She’d have to force her way in.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to pinpoint the most vulnerable area. As a small aura gathered on her horn, several jagged crystal stalactites floated up beside her, their sharp ends pointed toward the gemstone formation. Two bulky rocks also lifted off the ground to swirl lazily over her head.

Within a minute, she had found a weak spot: a small, concave dent in the very center of the wall.

The two boulders flew forward and impacted with a giant crash. Dust flew into the air, and debris of amethyst and sapphire flew out and out onto the ground. She took a deep breath and pulled her makeshift bludgeons back. A huge chunk of rock had been smashed from the wall, leaving a deep gouge at about eye level.

Whistling through the air, the team of crystal spears cut across the space before her and embedded themselves in the wall one by one. Needling the rock like a horde of wasps, they chipped away at the crater she’d made, clearing away dirt and cutting open the wall. Slowly but surely, they carved out a small hole that opened up into the dark interior of the crystal prison.

Twilight wiped her forehead and once more levitated one of the giant boulders above her head. After taking a moment to make sure of her aim, she sent it flying forward to crash into the wall. It sped through the air, its shadow stretching along the floor, and smashed into the exact center of the crater.

Shards of crystal flew in all directions as the rock face exploded, the floor shaking beneath her hooves. She dove to the ground and took cover behind the remaining boulders. Luckily, the barrier shielded her from the brunt of the explosion. A few bits of rock, though, slashed across the side of her face to leave thin, red cuts. The cavern shook violently for a few moments more, filled with a thick cloud of dirt.

She coughed into her shoulder as the dust fell to the ground. The debris and dirt were everywhere: in her mane, her eyes, and even her mouth. Wheezing, she managed to crack one eye open to stare into the gaping hole that she'd created in the crystalline wall. Once she’d rubbed the grit from her eyes she trotted right into it, walking through the settling dust.

“Twilight!”

Her eyes widened, and she galloped forward. “Cadance!”

“How did you find me?” Cadance rushed up and embraced her in a hug. Her coat was mattered with mud and dust, but she was beaming brighter than Twilight had ever seen her. “I didn’t think I’d ever get out of here!”

Twilight smiled back and hugged her tighter. “I’ll tell you later. Right now we need to get out of here.”

“Wait.” Cadance shook her head, looking worried. “There’s something you have to know—there’s a strange pony who’s impersonating me.”

“She’s the leader of the changelings,” Twilight said grimly. In the back of her mind, everything from her dream slid into place: the changelings were still ready to invade, Cadance had been trapped down here, Celestia was none the wiser, and Shining Armor was—

She paled. “Oh, no! Shining Armor!”

“What happened?” Cadance demanded. “Is he in danger?”

Twilight smacked her forehead. “The imposter could have his mind completely dominated by the wedding. Who knows what’s happened to him by now!”

Cadance’s eyes narrowed. “Then we’ve got to get to him. As soon as possible.”

Twilight nodded. “Let’s go. I know the way out.”

“Are you sure this is the quickest way out of here?” Cadance galloped after Twilight through the twisted caverns, weaving between crystal outcroppings as her hooves pounded on the ground.

“Almost definitely,” Twilight said. “Believe me, I don’t want to leave him alone and vulnerable any more than you do.”

Cadance nodded, evidently satisfied. “So how did you know about all this?” she asked, eyes still focused on the path ahead. “And how were you able to find me?” A drop of sweat beaded on her forehead, but she seemed to ignore it, instead pressing on by Twilight’s side.

Twilight glanced back, giving her a wary look. Should she tell her? Would she even believe me? Weighing her options, she decided to give herself a moment to think. “It’s a long story.”

Cadance gave a silent nod, and galloped on. Twilight turned around, troubled at having to conceal the truth—or at least what she believed to be the truth—from her old foalsitter. She was also relieved. Time travel was the last thing she wanted to discuss right now. Shining Armor needed their help, and every second they were away from Canterlot was another moment that the changeling had unchecked, free to do as she pleased with his mind and body.

They soon came to a stop at an intersection with several tunnels facing in all directions. Cadance stopped in place, looking around with a frown. “So where to now?”

Twilight brightened. “Aha! Right here.” She walked over to the small pile of sapphires that she’d left by the exit. “Here’s the last tunnel—we just head up, and the exit’s only a few minutes climb away.” As she looked past Cadance and back into the dark tunnels, the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She bit her lip and pushed the sensation away. “You coming?”

Cadance nodded. “Let’s go.”

Twilight poked her head out if the tunnel and peered down the corridor. “The coast is clear,” she murmured.

“Right.” Cadance coughed as her hooves raised a small cloud of dust, but nevertheless followed her out. She watched as Twilight moved the wardrobe back into place.

“Come on,” Twilight said. “Let’s go.”

“So now what?” Cadance swallowed, trotting alongside her. She looked around with a wary eye, as though the changelings were watching their every step already.

Twilight thought for a moment. “We can’t let her see you just yet. Otherwise, she’ll know that the game is up, and she’ll either flee, or put up a fight.” She shook her head. “We need to be careful. From what I’ve seen, she might be powerful enough to take down Princess Celestia in a magical duel.”

Cadance’s eyes widened, and she paled several shades lighter. “How is that even possible?”

Twilight gave her a weak smile. “I guess Shining Armor’s love for you really is that strong. Changelings feed off of it, after all.”

“So what do we do if Auntie might not even be enough to take her on?” Cadance pursed her lips, frowning.

“Our best bet is to go get both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna together, and to try and take the imposter by surprise.” Twilight stared down the corridor, trying not to imagine it as it could have been: covered by the changelings’ greenish goop and filled with the screams and sobs of helpless ponies. “We can’t let her know what’s going on until it’s already too late.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They walked on through the empty halls, moonlight streaming in through the windows. Suddenly, Twilight’s ears twitched, and she pulled Cadance over to a small alcove in the corridor. She held a hoof to her mouth to let her know to be quiet.

“What is it?” Cadance whispered, eyes darting from side to side.

Twilight took a deep breath. “I thought I heard voices—raised ones.” She stood there for a moment, pressed against the floral-patterned wallpaper.

“—And I told you, it wasn’t going to be a problem!”

“Dear, you’ve been so obstinate about this. I told you, I don’t want your parents poking into our private affairs!”

“But they’re my parents! What am I supposed to tell them?”

Twilight gulped, not daring to move an inch. Her ears turned to the side to catch every word spoken. She exchanged a knowing glance with Cadance; it seemed she’d recognized the voices of Shining Armor and the imposter as well. The padding of hooves on the floor was coming closer.

“You tell them this: they can either back off and let us do things the way they need to be done, or they can simply not come to the wedding.”

“What? That’s crazy!”

A door slammed shut barely ten feet from the pair’s hiding place. Twilight turned around, her mouth still sealed shut, and noticed that Cadance’s hackles were raised. The princess growled quietly and took a step forward, a fire burning in her eyes.

“What are you doing?” Twilight whispered.

“Look.” Cadance peered out into the hall, and pointed at the nearest door. A steady, green light was pulsating between the cracks, and the soft sound of pained grunting was just barely audible from their position. Her face twisted in shock and anger. “What is she doing to my husband?”

“Cadance, don’t panic,” Twilight hissed. “We just need to go to the other Princesses, and—“

“We can’t wait! What if she’s already done something irreparable to his mind?” Cadance shook her head. “There’s no time. We have to—“

“No,” Twilight bit out. “We can’t act rashly.”

“But we can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

Twilight chewed on her lip as she eyed Cadance’s worried expression. After a few seconds of thought, she sighed and bowed her head. “All right. I’ll see what I can do to hold her off.” She looked up, her eyes dangerous. “But you’re in no condition to fight. You need to run as fast as you can to the Princesses and get them back here as soon as possible. We’ve got no time to lose.”

Cadance nodded. “Got it.” With that, she took off galloping down the hall, hooves padding softly on the carpeted floor.

Twilight watched her go and steeled her will. It’s okay, Twilight. You can do this. All you have to do is hold off a super powerful creature as strong as an alicorn. She swallowed. I’ve got this.

A murmured, angry voice leaked through the crack beneath the door. “That will teach you to defy me again.”

She saw red and burst through the door.

Beyond was a large storage room with a wide-open space in the center. Boxes and crates lined the walls, the greenish glow casting eerie, flickering shadows upon their sides.

Shining Armor knelt on the ground, eyes wide and vacant. He grunted as his chest rose and fell, his breath coming in harsh, sputtering gasps. His pupils were dilated, the veins in bloodshot his eyes clearly apparent. Above him stood the imposter. A beam of jagged green light ran from the tip of her horn into his as if blazing a path straight into his mind.

In that moment, Twilight forgot everything about strategy, tact, or discretion. All that mattered was that her big brother was hurting and that she was going to make it stop.

As Twilight ran into the room, the imposter turned with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open. “Who—?”

Twilight threw a crate at her.

The imposter went down hard, sprawling across the room. A quick spell sent several other barrels and sacks tumbling down onto her fallen form. Twilight growled and steadied herself on the wooden floor.

A soft, green glow surrounded the crates, and with a bang, they all sped away from her to crash into the walls. Twilight narrowed her eyes and summoned a purple shield to protect herself. The barrels and other objects bounced off of it and passed harmlessly to the side.

“Twilight?” the imposter said, her voice sounding softer and more innocent. “What are you doing? Why are you attacking me like this?”

Twilight snorted, eyeing her with disgust. Is she really stupid enough to think that will work? “The game is up, changeling. You’re going to lose.”

The imposter sighed and rolled her eyes. “Ah, well. It was worth a try.” Her eyes narrowed, and the door swung shut behind Twilight, several crates and barrels levitating up in place to block her exit. In a second, her face transformed into its natural terrifying visage. She snarled. “You, my little pony, are not going to get off easily for this.”

“Try me.” Twilight prowled around the edges of the room, the changeling mirroring her movements. Her horn buzzed with magical energy, and her step betrayed a tension that suffused the room.

The changeling was the first to make a move. A bolt of green energy crackled through the air toward her, sending her tumbling to one side to dodge it. Twilight felt magic building before she had even consciously focused it and retaliated with a purple bolt of her own. The changeling blocked it with a sack of flour.

The changeling growled and shook a cloud of flour from her mane. “You can’t run forever.”

“Neither can you,” Twilight shot back, a new spell crackling on her horn. She felt the power building up at the back of her skull, pounding behind her eyes, and released it. Dozens of tiny, magical “stings” shot from her horn, each one no more powerful than a small dart, but more than enough together to knock a pony out cold.

A team of emerald bolts met Twilight’s in mid-flight, dissipating them harmlessly into the air with a loud zap. The changeling’s lip curled, and she sneered. “Your attempts at offense are pathetic.”

“And yours aren’t?” Twilight frowned, calculating. She couldn’t let this come to a direct confrontation: this was the same creature that had been able to defeat Princess Celestia, after all. The changeling was playing with her, testing her defenses. Her best bet was to keep the changeling underestimating her, and then to strike her hard and fast when she least expected it.

She felt the variables and numbers coming together in the back of her mind. She needed to stall, and the best way to do that would be to incapacitate the imposter before she even knew what had happened. Her mind working like lightning, she began to piece together the components of four separate spells in the back of her thoughts.

The first spell matrix finished. It wove itself into a telekinetic net that picked up another team of wooden crates, leaving them hovering in the air threateningly.

The changeling threw back her head and laughed. “You’re trying that again? Foolish unicorn.”

Sweat beaded on Twilight’s brow; she dared not speak for fear of losing her concentration. Instead, she focused on the spell currently in her hooves and sent the projectiles flying toward the changeling in a whirlwind of wood and debris.

Sneering, the changeling let her own horn light up, a green glow building up brighter and brighter at the tip. “Perhaps it’s time to stop playing around. No one defies Queen Chrysalis.”

With a roar, a beam of burning, viridian fire burst from her jagged mockery of a horn. It smashed into the crates and ripped them into charred pieces. It sped forward, the air sizzling around it as the spell gathered a blast of concussive force—

The second spell matrix clicked into place, and Twilight’s form rippled and disappeared.

“What?”

The imposter looked around in confusion, wide-eyed. There was no unconscious body, lying scorched on the ground. There was no upstart unicorn, whimpering in pain at her hooves. Instead, the other pony had vanished before her eyes.

With tremendous force, Twilight reached out with her mind and pushed.

The telekinetic barrage sent the changeling flying across the room. Her torso was pummeled from behind with invisible blows, the sheer volume of spells flinging her off of the ground and into the air. Her whirling body broke down the door and part of the wall, crashing onto the ground beyond.

Still recovering from her teleportation spell, Twilight took an unsteady step forward as the imposter tumbled onto the ground in a jumbled heap. The changeling groaned, shifting on the ground. Twilight knew it was her only chance. She released her fourth and final spell.

The crackling beam of cold blue whistled through the air and smashed the changeling right in the chest.

Almost instantly, a wave of crystalline ice washed over her body from the point of impact, forming a hard, glimmering shell that froze her in place. The changeling struggled, but it was futile. The ice soon covered her limbs and face, leaving her frozen with an expression of horror and agony.

Twilight wheezed, her chest rising and falling as her heart beat like a drum. There was a steady throb beginning to thump in her head: no doubt a consequence of forcing herself to cast so many spells at one time. She shook her head. But it had been necessary. And for all intents and purposes, it had worked.

She swallowed, putting a hoof to her head as she walked forward to admire her handiwork. The changeling’s body gleamed and shimmered like diamond, the dim light of the torch-covered walls reflecting off of the surface of her skin.

I’ve done it. She’d incapacitated the imposter, and Cadance would be arriving any minute with the other two Princesses. Equestria was saved.

Something flickered in the changeling’s eyes.

Before she had the chance to react, a wave of green light burst forth from the imprisoned changeling. It vaporized the icy shell around her and sent Twilight flying back toward the wall.  She fell in a crumpled heap on the ground and moaned. Her ribs burned like they were on fire.

The changeling moved forward with a wildfire dancing in her eyes. Her chest heaved up and down as sweat dripped down her face. “Oh, you’re good. Too good, even.” She licked her lips. “I don’t think I can allow that.” A circle of green flames sprang up around Twilight’s hooves, flickering in the shadows.

Twilight groaned, struggling to get up. “It…won’t work,” she panted as she stared up at the changeling defiantly. “I’ve already released Cadance from her prison. Princess Celestia and…Luna are already on the way.”

The fire in the changeling’s eyes flared up monstrously. “What?”

Twilight smirked, though she found herself struggling not to betray her real emotions. Much as she might have liked to beg, plead, or even grovel, she refused to give this creature even the slightest bit of satisfaction. “Face it, Queen Chrysalis. You’ve lost. Your cover is blown, and soon all of Equestria will be safe from you!” She winced at the sound of a low scraping noise before realizing that it was the changeling grinding her teeth.

“You… You dare?” Chrysalis demanded, her voice strangled and twisted. “You have destroyed my plans, forced me to use my stolen power before ready, and even—” Her face contorted into an ugly snarl. “You will die for this.”

Twilight swallowed. She would not let this monster taste her fear. She would wear a face of bravery to the end. “Give me your best shot,” she spat and braced herself for the end.

Outside, she heard the sound of rising shouts and the galloping of hooves. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed. Oh, please let them make it in time—

Chrysalis seemed not to hear the approaching force. If she did, she gave no sign, twisted up in rage as she seemed to be. She spoke three words.

“Die, Twilight Sparkle.”

A beam of white-hot, emerald fire burst forth from her horn, crackling through the air as the smell of ozone filled the room. The light was so fierce as to be almost tangible. The flames flickered like demonic faces, rushing straight toward Twilight’s defenseless body.

She gave Shining Armor a helpless look as he stared back at her with empty eyes. Shining…I’m sorry.

And then all she saw was fire.

Ripples.

A beam of light struck the surface and shattered into an array of dazzling colors.

Twilight took a deep breath as she stared into the water. Her reflection glared back at her and she flinched, reflexively raising a hoof to her mane. Though they’d long since disappeared, she could still feel the burns that had covered her skin. Both times before, she'd been unconscious when the loop ended. This time, though...

Her breath caught in her throat and, for a second, the image in the pool wavered. Her mane became a lump of char and tattered grey, her lavender coat replaced with an ashen, bleeding mess of—

She shook her head and took another breath to steel her nerves. She forced herself to look her reflection in the eye.

This death had been...unpleasant.

She swallowed and turned away from the pool. Around her, bluebirds chirped from the trees. A warm breeze whispered through the flower bushes that crowded the Palace Garden.

She lacked firepower. That was the simple part. If she had been able to hold out for even a minute or two more, than perhaps Celestia would have made it in time. Maybe Chrysalis would have been stopped. Maybe Shining Armor would be safe.

Twilight scowled and flicked her tail behind her, kicking up a small cloud of dust. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

There was one problem, though, that towered above the rest. She looked up at the sun and flinched back, the bright color burning her eyes. Could she trust herself to go through that again? To risk herself, even if she had assurance that she'd be—in a fashion—resurrected at the end? To imagine the flames, licking at her hooves and burning her flesh?

Her jaw clenched. She'd have to.

It was her only chance.

Getting Cadance out of the caves proved once again to be fairly easy. Chrysalis hadn’t yet bothered to place guards around the entrance—which was admittedly well-hidden—and Cadance had been a bit easier to direct when Twilight pointed out that Shining Armor wasn’t in any immediate danger. It was true, this time at least: Twilight hadn’t set her plan into action until the loops restarted, giving her the maximum possible time to make sure things went her way.

Clearing her throat, she raised a hoof to knock on the door to Celestia’s chambers.

“Princess? Princess Celestia, are you there?”

“Twilight? Is that you?” Her rainbow mane preceding her, Celestia poked her head out of the door and into the hallway. “Ah, Twilight! Cadance! How have you been? Is there something I can help you with?”

The two exchanged glances. “You might say that,” Cadance said.

“So there is an imposter in the Palace.”

Celestia’s voice was calm but echoed in the stillness of the room. Twilight had rarely seen it before, but her mentor’s ire had peaked once or twice in her time as Celestia’s student and it was clearly being kept in restraint now.

Cadance nodded. “Yes, Princess. And not only that, but she’s trying to harm Shining Armor’s mind.”

“I see.”

Celestia’s expression was unreadable, but when she stood up there was a sharp edge to her voice. “You did the right thing in coming to me immediately. If what you say about the…power of this imposter is true, Twilight—,“ she offered a curt nod, “—then I will need my sister’s help to defeat her.”

“I don’t know if she’s managed to take enough of his love to become a real threat yet, but it can’t hurt to be safe,” Twilight said.

“Very well.” Celestia took a deep breath.

“And what about me?” Cadance asked. Twilight noted, with some surprise, that most signs of her imprisonment had disappeared. The remaining debris in her mane, though dusty and grey, did nothing to diminish the determined gleam in her eye. “I want to help.”

Celestia gave her a worried frown. “Are you sure? From what you’ve told me, you’ve been imprisoned for at least a week, with barely any food or water.”

“I’m sure,” Cadance said. “I won’t let that monster touch me or my husband ever again.”

“Very well, then.” Celestia smiled. “I will send one of my Guard to wake Luna from her sleep. She will understand.”

“And then?”

She turned to Twilight with a steely look in her eye. “And then, my little ponies, we will defend Equestria.”

It had been, Chrysalis reflected, a very good day.

She smiled from her place atop the soft bed of her Face’s quarters. She had taken many Faces in her time, but this was the first that had come with such…lush conditions.

She smirked. The ponies were soft—miraculously so, even—but that didn’t change the fact that their magic was strong. Luckily, the leader of their forces was proving more susceptible to her touch than she’d dared hope. She could occasionally feel something beneath the surface, still resisting her, but there had been no changeling in all of history as skilled in manipulation as she. He would surrender as all the rest had. Even now, from the other side of the castle, she could feel his mind yearning to reach out and feel her touch once more. He did need the occasional touch-up, but really, it was little fuss.

With her great army already in position outside of Canterlot and ready to strike at a moment’s notice, the Queen of the Changelings had never felt better.

This wedding is going to be perfect.

There came a knock at the door.

Chrysalis felt the innocence of her Face slide over her own features like melting butter. “Yes?” she asked, making sure to affect just the right amount of naiveté. Inside, she tsked softly. These ponies could never hope to recognize a good actress when they saw one.

Undoubtedly, it was a member of her “fiancé’s” Royal Guard, come to check up on her. They were always so cautious around their precious princess, the poor dears. Really: their devotion, although severely misplaced, was almost admirable.

“Princess Cadance?”

She recognized Celestia’s voice with more than a twinge of annoyance. What could the blasted Princess need that she wanted to speak with the bride, anyway? Her Face was Celestia’s niece, but surely the ruler of Equestria had more to attend to. Besides, hadn’t these idiots ever heard of privacy?

She let none of that irritation show on her face, of course. To the world, she was Cadance, the young and emotional princess of Canterlot Castle. Her disguise was perfect; there was nothing to worry about.

“Come in!” she sang out. Inside, though, she seethed. The sooner she could get Celestia away, the better.

The doors swung open, and Chrysalis froze.

Outside of the foyer stood Princess Celestia, her face a hard, stern mockery of her normally regal expression. Princess Luna stood there as well, something dark glittering in her black eyes. Beside them was a lavender unicorn; Chrysalis felt a bit of annoyance that she hadn’t done more research on the Princess’s apprentice yet. What was her name again: Dusk? Shimmer?

What she saw next, though, made her heart stop in place.

From the doorway, her current Face glared back at her.

“I believe there is no need to explain why we are here,” Celestia said quietly.

Calculations began to race through Chrysalis’s mind, and she grit her teeth. That was it; the game was up. Somehow, impossibly, they had found the real princess and now dared to confront her.

“Thou art under arrest for thy crimes against Equestria, changeling.” Luna scowled down at her. “Come quietly, or we will be forced to take more direct measures.”

“It’s over, Chrysalis,” snarled the apprentice—Twilight Sparkle, she remembered. Idly, Chrysalis wondered how she knew her name. Not a breath of her existence had been allowed outside of the Hive for more than one hundred years. To the world, the changeling race was but a disorganized mass of scavengers. “Give up. Soon, Shining Armor will be back to normal, and this whole invasion will be one big failure.”

With a sigh, Chrysalis let her grip on her Face fade. She might have enjoyed the ponies' looks of revulsion had she not been busy trying to keep herself calm. “A pity. I did so enjoy my little games.”

“Little games?” Cadance asked. There was something dangerous behind those eyes, Chrysalis noted: a burning fire that she hadn’t accounted for. For a moment, she wondered if the so-called Princess of Love had escaped on her own, but no, that was impossible. “You enslaved my husband with your mind control.”

“Thou hast plotted against Canterlot, and against Equestria itself,” Luna thundered. “Thy crimes speak for themselves.”

“Ah, but I got quite close, did I not?” Chrysalis smiled sweetly up at Celestia, letting her features ripple until they resembled those of the Princess’s student, staring into her eyes with mock adoration. “Tell me, dear teacher; did I do well?” She nearly laughed at the momentary rage that flashed across the princess’s face. Such emotional control. Tsk, tsk, princess. In the back of her mind, she began to reach out with her thoughts, probing for the flickering conduit that connected her to the rest of the Hive.

Celestia scowled. “I never thought the changelings to be as brazen as this.”

“Oh, come now, dear Celestia,” she purred. “All of the power of Canterlot, concentrated in a mind as weak as this?” Her form rippled and changed until it became that of Shining Armor. She gave a mock salute, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Emotional investment is never a good idea for a military stallion. Things tend to get…”

She smiled, letting one undisguised fang poke through the illusion. “…Messy.”

Inside, she was panicking. She loved her mind games, but the simple fact that she was outnumbered and very much outmatched meant that there was little hope for her own survival. With a sudden rush of triumph she felt her mental link connect, breaking through the barrier around the city. A familiar feeling of warmth washed through the telepathic connection.

Our queen!

Chrysalis sighed deeply, smiling as she felt the voices of the Chorus echo in her mind. She realized that she rather liked the surprise with which the ponies reacted to her relief. Overestimation could sometimes be a more powerful tool than its opposite.

I have been discovered.

She waited a moment for the shock to fade before speaking through her connection to the Hive once more.

I do not know how: only that I have been betrayed. Whether by myself or by another, I do not know. But there is no escape available to me, not now.

She let her Face fade and resumed her original form.

“By all means, dear Celestia; Luna; Cadance.” She gave the last name a little quirk: a small twist in the inflection, and was delighted when she saw the Princess of Love wince. Oh, yes. She remembered the “long talks” of their first few nights quite well. A pity she had to stop once her security detail began to watch her more closely. “Take me into custody. I shan’t resist.”

A wail went up through the telepathic link. We shall save you, Your Majesty!

Do not, she warned. Their magics are still strong, and my cause is lost. There is no hope for me now, not through blunt force.

“Really,” Cadance said flatly. If looks could kill, Chrysalis reflected, she would have been crushed beneath a mountain of pure hatred by now.

“Really,” she echoed. She put a hoof to her forehead and added a melodramatic flair to her voice. “I know when I am outmatched. Truly, you have won this day. I shall not oppose your efforts.” She sighed. “The two Princesses of Night and Day? The daughters of the Eternal Queen? What chance have I—a mere misshapen wretch—before such power?”

They lapped it up, of course. The caution was there but their stances were more relaxed, less hostile. As the two Princesses stepped forward, she turned all of her will to bear on the Hive. She had little time.

Then what will we do?

You will flee, she sent, feeling a tinge of worry for her subjects. You cannot hope to invade Canterlot now.

Take instead the other pony cities. They have few defenses and are ripe for feasting. Equestria must rue the day that Queen Chrysalis fell.

The mass of sentience within her mind was shifting; fear was fading, to be replaced with concern. And what of you, our Queen?

I will stay. Chrysalis eyed the guards entering the room with some disdain; admittedly, it came off as more of a squint due to the hazy magical field that had sprung up around her, sealing off her power. They will not kill me. They are too weak for that. Perhaps one day, I shall escape from their dungeons. Time is of no concern.

The telepathic touch of the Hive began to wane in strength, but the warmth of that connection still lingered. We will not forget you, our queen.

Chrysalis smiled sadly.

Thank you.

Twilight watched the door to the Canterlot Castle’s dungeon slide shut, the portcullis falling to the floor with a crash. She closed her eyes as a wave of relief washed over her.

“So that’s it, then.” Cadance stood up straighter.  “She’s done.”

“It would appear so, dear niece,” Luna said. She reached forward hesitantly before placing a hoof around Cadance’s shoulder. “Canterlot is now safe from the changeling menace.”

Twilight frowned, a stray thought tugging at the back of her mind. “I did expect her to put up more of a fight,” she murmured.

“What would she have done?” Luna raised an eyebrow. “She was outnumbered and overpowered. Her task of secrecy had failed.”

“I guess.” Twilight brushed the ground with a hoof, her tail swishing in the air behind her. “Still, I just wonder if—“

“The shield is safe.” Celestia walked into the room with her head held high. “I’ve seen to it that Shining Armor receive the best care for his condition, but it seemed prudent to leave the protection bubble in place for the moment. I’ve just finished reassuring the nobility; they seem to think that the city was already being invaded.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I swear, this will be a nightmare to deal with in the weeks to come. The paperwork itself for the extra security detail will be…unpleasant.”

“Worry not, sister,” Luna offered. “Tis a small price to pay for the safety of Canterlot against this changeling army.”

Twilight felt her heart freeze in her chest.

Wait.

“If we had not had your warning, Twilight, Canterlot may well have fallen.” Luna beamed at her. “For that, you have my thanks.”

Twilight’s throat constricted. “Princess Luna,” she croaked, barely trusting herself to say the words. “You said something about the changeling army?”

“Why, yes.” Luna put a hoof to her chin. “You did mention it when I was summoned to my sister’s chambers.”

A quick glance to Celestia’s features told Twilight that their thoughts were on the same track. “But we only captured the leader—their Queen.”

“And?” Cadance gave her a frown.

“Yet the army is still at large.” Celestia’s voice was quiet, but filled with a similar apprehension.

Twilight began to pace, her hoofsteps echoing in the empty hallway. “We focused on the leader: the corruption already in Canterlot. We took care of the head, but—“

“What then happens to the body?” Luna’s eyes widened. “Oh, dear.”

“They came to Canterlot for conquest,” Twilight murmured. She shook her head, her mane falling down haphazardly over her ears. “But the changelings themselves only desire food: love, as well as territory. There’s no reason they would only be able to come here to get it.”

“So we have a horde of changelings,” Cadance murmured, “freed from any semblance of organization or leadership, running amok over Equestria.”

There was a great crash at the other end of the corridor.

“Princess Celestia!”

Celestia’s head whirled to the side. “Captain Thunderfoot!”

The pegasus guard slowed to a halt, his armor clanking loudly. His chest heaved, and a thin sheen of sweat covered his face. “Princess, terrible news.”

“Speak.”

“We’ve just received reports from routine flyovers of Manehattan and Fillydelphia. Both have been swarmed by an unknown attacker.” His eyes were dark and worried. “Our scouts say that the cities are barely holding up, especially after much of their own security was removed to protect Canterlot. We’ve dispatched several squads, but their numbers may not be enough to protect the cities entirely.”

He knelt to the floor. “They cannot hold on for much longer.”

Twilight felt sick.

“Escort me to the War Chamber immediately.” Celestia’s voice sounded hollow, empty of any real emotion. When she spoke again, though, slivers of rage undercut her tone. “We will protect Equestria.”

“Manehattan is burning.”

From her place behind her, Twilight watched Celestia wince as if physically struck

“Princess, the squads have arrived at Fillydelphia and are holding in the Central Office.”

“Reports coming in from Los Pegasus—some sort of skirmish going on over there.”

From the bustle of the War Chamber, her haunted gaze stared out of the window and looked over the Canterlot skyline.

“I can still protect them,” she whispered, watching the sunset in the distance. “I should be there.”

Luna put a hoof on her shoulder. “Yet how much can you truly do? Sister, there is no single enemy to combat.” Her voice was heavy with regret. “Tia, there is no Nightmare or Discord to fight here.”

Celestia’s jaw trembled, her mane blending with shades of deep red and gold. “No. I will not allow my little ponies to fall without me.” She looked up, and a harsh regality returned to her voice. “I will protect my subjects.”

“Princess, I’ve finished organizing the Sixth through Tenth Pegasi Squadrons,” Captain Thunderfoot said with a salute. “We’ll be sending along our experimental team of teleportation-oriented unicorns; their magic, at least, should be useful in putting out the fires.”

“Good.” With a nod, Celestia moved toward the great window that opened up to the Canterlot skyline and spread her wings. She paused, stopping in place. “Twilight Sparkle.”

Twilight slowly turned to face her mentor as dread dripped down her spine. “Yes, Princess?”

Celestia looked back, her face twisted in grief and agony. “I am sorry.”

She leapt from the balcony, riding the winds toward the dark splotch on the horizon that was the city of Manehattan. As Twilight watched, her form faded into the distance and seemed to merge with the setting sun.

Luna stepped forward. “I will remain to govern in my sister’s absence.” Her eyes glinted like polished steel. “Captain! I want a full status report of Canterlot’s military strength within five minutes.”

“Yes, Princess!”

Twilight watched the chaos around her with horror. Canterlot was saved, but at what cost?

This…

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

With the voices of the Guard echoing in her ears, and smoke and fire filling her thoughts, she turned and walked away.

The dim light flickered, shadows dancing across the walls. The soft smell of melting wax filled the room. The only sound was that of a quill, scratching across parchment.

With a groan, Twilight crumpled up another piece of paper and flung it away to join a growing pile of trash.

She’d been wrong. Even worse, she’d overlooked a crucial variable. Chrysalis was dangerous, to be sure, but the Queen hadn’t taken the city the first time. Her army had. Twilight sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was likely that she'd felt a stronger emotional response to Celestia’s defeat and unconsciously made preventing it her only priority, but that was no excuse. She’d failed.

Again.

Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself from her seat and turned to the bookshelves lining the entrance to the Study Room she’d settled in. The Archives were filled with these rooms: they were quiet, peaceful, and good for thinking. Her eyes roamed across the shelves, but her thoughts were somewhere else entirely, swirling madly as she searched for a plan.

The changeling army had an overwhelming number of advantages in this fight, she realized. Not only did the Guard have to worry about both their own safety and any collateral damage, but each changeling, by all anatomical observations, was a miniature alicorn: horned, winged, and built for speed and power. Pegasi had no defense from their energy blasts and many unicorns were unable to hit an airborne target. It was the Equestrian Army’s worst nightmare—and, she noted with dawning horror, why Shining’s barrier spell had been so revolutionary in Canterlot’s protection. In this case, prevention was the best defense.

It was becoming apparent, though, that walling themselves off and hoping the problem would go away just wasn’t going to work. The changeling horde was an active and dangerous force, and needed to be taken care of.

So there it is, she thought glumly. The “to-do list” of saving Canterlot. Taking Chrysalis prisoner was easy enough, but she needed some way to shut down the army as well. The Canterlot Guard would be vital in doing so, but from what she’d seen, there’d need to be some sort of magical advantage on the Equestrians’ side.

A magical advantage...

She smacked her forehead.

Of course! How could she have been so stupid? Equestria had all of the magical firepower it needed, and it had been right beneath her nose the entire time! Heck, the first time she died had been in pursuit of that very thing!

She smiled, a shade of glee in her eyes. The first time, Canterlot hadn't been ready. She hadn't been ready. But this time...

This time, the Elements of Harmony would protect Equestria once more.

It was pretty lucky, Twilight reflected, that Chrysalis had gotten arrogant enough to gloat about her evil plans to her prisoner. In any other circumstance, that'd be useless; after all, Cadance had originally been locked up for so long that by the time she’d been rescued, it was already too late. But this time, it'd be different. Thankfully, she could pass Cadance off as an informant in order to avoid any awkward questions from the other Princesses about knowledge of the future. It was easier this way.

"We're here," she breathed as they reached Celestia's throne room. She glanced around warily. It was still early enough in the morning, though, that they were almost guaranteed their privacy.

"Good." Cadance shook her mane out of her eyes and reached up to shove open the doors. Twilight blinked at the anger that cut through her voice. "It's time to save my husband."

"Save him from what?"

"Princess Celestia!"

Celestia sat upon her throne, her crown glittering in the morning light. Twilight noticed, somewhat awkwardly, that the Princess was halfway through a yawn. There were circles under her eyes, and a coffee mug hovered at her side. She felt a strange pang of nostalgia in her chest. In all of her time since leaving Celestia's side, she had somehow forgotten that, godly power or no, even the Princess needed a little something extra to knock off the sleepiness in the morning.

“And a good morning to you as well.” Celestia smiled pleasantly and gestured for the two of them to approach.

Cadance slammed the doors shut behind them. "We need your help."

"With what?"

Twilight’s heard whirled to the side, and her eyes landed on a deep blue mane. “Princess Luna! You’re here, too?”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

"Indeed, Twilight Sparkle." Luna inclined her head in greeting before trotting to Celestia's side. "I was just about to leave for my quarters, having finished Moonset and left the throne to my sister.”

"Right,” Twilight said.

"So what is this problem?” Celestia asked. She frowned, her eyebrows furrowed. "Does it have anything to do with the fact that my niece looks like she's recently fallen into a hole?"

"Princess Celestia." Cadance stepped forward, the sound of her hooves echoing on the marble floor. "For the past week, until Twilight rescued me, I was being held prisoner beneath the castle."

Celestia's eyes widened at the same moment that Luna's narrowed with suspicion. "What do you mean?" Luna demanded. "I observed you with Captain Armor only last night!"

"That's an imposter." Twilight shook her head. "This is the real Cadance."

Luna's eyes widened to the size of Celestia's, and her voice became a quiet murmur. "Explain yourself, niece."

"It's true." Cadance's voice was steeled with determination. "There's a creature in the castle who looks like me. She imprisoned me in the system of caves beneath the castle, and she's trying to take over Shining's mind in order to bring down the barrier shield.”

"She's called a changeling," Twilight said. Celestia inhaled sharply. "She's the one that made the threat against the city, and if she's able to get through to my brother, then the barrier won't stop her."

"Stop her from what?" Luna asked.

"Invading the city with an army of changelings."

Celestia turned to Cadance, her eyes flashing. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Cadance said. "This...changeling took great pleasure in taunting me when I was her prisoner." She swallowed, and her voice wavered. Twilight put a hoof on her shoulder; Cadance gave her a weak smile and went on. "She gloated about her evil plans, ranting about how she would destroy Canterlot from within and then crush it until there was nothing left."

“From what the changeling told her,” Twilight added, “their army numbers in the thousands, or even tens of thousands.”

"Thousands," Celestia breathed, her pupils dilated. She exchanged a look with Luna, who nodded solemnly in return. "There hasn't been a militarized force of such size since—"

"Indeed." Luna stepped forward, her tiara glinting in the morning light. "What would you propose we do then, Twilight Sparkle, to defend Canterlot from this threat?"

"I think you already know the answer, Princess." Twilight turned to face Celestia with a fire burning in her chest. This was it. This was where she fixed the mistakes she’d made the first time around. "After all, my friends and I are more than familiar with the tools in question.” She watched her teacher’s eyes intently, waiting for the spark of realization to appear. Celestia didn’t disappoint her.

"The Elements of Harmony," she murmured. "Yes; that might work. They have dealt with similar threats against Equestria before."

"As with the Empire?" Luna offered. Celestia nodded, and Twilight noted down the word "Empire" for later study. She'd never heard of such a thing in all her studies of Equestrian history.

"Yet the Elements may only be used in the face of clear and present danger." Twilight thought she saw a flicker of shame in Luna’s eyes.

"Wait," Cadance said. Realization dawned on her face, and she glanced over at Twilight. "That means we'd only be able to use the Elements if the changelings were already invading."

Celestia cleared her throat. "The Elements of Harmony have always been, as their name suggests, a power for defense, and not a weapon. They maintain balance; they do not seek it out of their own accord."

"So, yes," Cadance said glumly.

"And there's still the problem of the leader, right?" Twilight leaned over and gave her a nudge.

Cadance nodded, her mane bobbing up and down. "Yes. I didn't believe her at first, but somehow, she's been able to steal away Shining Armor's love for me, and use it as a way to power and feed her own magic." She shivered, and Twilight recalled the burning, lustful glare in the changeling's eyes that had stared into her brother's face. "She said that she might even be stronger than you, Aunt Celestia."

Luna recoiled backwards as if slapped, her mane flaring up in agitation. "What? That's impossible!"

"Not necessarily," Twilight said grimly. "Changelings seem to feed off of love as both sustenance and a power source, and if Shining's love for Cadance really is that strong, then there's no doubt that given enough time, this imposter might be able to amass enough strength to overpower even an alicorn."

Luna and Celestia exchanged a glance. "I very much doubt that to be true," Celestia said slowly. "However, the circumstances under which I would be forced to use my full power would be...uncomfortable for the rest of Equestria."

"The ground would be reduced to a barren wasteland of smoldering cinders," Luna muttered. "Such is the power of the Sun—hardly a tame or subtle creature."

"That's enough, Luna." Celestia let out a long sigh. "It's certainly possible that I would be overpowered, should I be forced to limit myself for the safety of my subjects."

"Then we must both confront her." Luna slammed a hoof onto the ground with a snarl.

"But she needs to summon the invasion first," Cadance pointed out. "Otherwise, the changeling army won't be close enough for the Elements to work, and they'll be free to spread out over the rest of Equestria."

Celestia sighed again and gazed into Twilight's eyes. Twilight suddenly felt as though she was being evaluated by a dragon or ancient creature, unable to look away. She'd rarely glimpsed the full weight of years that hid behind the Princess's face. It was as if a mask had been shifted aside to let a sliver of the truth peek through, carrying an unfathomable and powerful wisdom in its stare. She shivered.

After a moment, Celestia spoke.

"Well?"

The silence was broken, and time began to move once more.

Twilight nodded, the adrenaline already rushing into her veins. "I've got a plan, Princess. Here's what we have to do.”

The changeling had no name.

He—not she, never she—had been born into the dark tunnels of the catacombs. He had chewed through the tough hide of the beast that had incubated his brood, bursting into the green, glowing shadows that marked the tunnels of the Hive's nesting grounds.

His Queen had been there, though he had not known it at the time. It was only hours later when he was first introduced to the Hive that he learned that she had been watching over him and his brothers as she did every group of young. She had watched as the horde of larvae tore their way out of the cow whose body had carried them for forty days, and welcomed them into the Hive with open hooves.

And then he had known no more. His life with his Queen's: his food, his hole, and his life were hers. His was an extension of her will, and so he carried it out for all his life.

The changeling had no name.

Their Queen called, and the Hive awoke.

Their eyes opened as one, legs drifting through the green gelatin that protected their nests and nourished their young. Slowly, they reached out of the thousands of holes dotting the caverns beneath the mountain that they now inhabited. Their exoskeletons shimmered in the dim light of the crystals growing in the tunnels.

Their Queen was calling them. She, finally, had need of their service. The Hive gave a rallying cry: a call to battle. They had been brought from the Outer Lands to this place of bounty at her command. Now, it was time to become the hammer that would shatter their prey against the Queen's everlasting might. One by one, the caves filled with a terrible, angry buzzing.

By the hundreds, and soon thousands, the changelings erupted from the dozens of entrances that hid beneath the roots of the mountain. They curled up beneath the glimmering city and waited for their Queen to give the signal. Through the link came a sense of cool confidence that soon pervaded the Hive. They watched the huge sphere that protected the city—their food and bounty—with hungry eyes. The Hive would wait. It would hunger—it had always hungered, and always would—but for now, at their Queen's behest, they would wait.

The changelings knew it not, but the sound that echoed through their heads, filtered through the telepathic link, was organ music.

With a triumphant cry, a single word rang out through the Hive, and the changelings obeyed.

Come!

They crashed upon the offensive sphere and cracked it into a million, glittering pieces. With a buzzing that filled the skies, they rushed into the city to seize their prey. Their Queen had delivered this bounty unto them, and the Hive was grateful. Below, the screams of ponies were already beginning to spread throughout the city. A wicked grin spread across each changeling’s face: it was time to conquer. It was time to feed.

And then, with a single scream, the Hive fractured.

Images flashed across the compound eyes of one changeling as he fell through the sky. He understood them not, but they were visions of his Queen, and so he watched in silence and awe. He saw an angry goddess: a creature born of heat and light and life. Another joined her, and his Queen shied back in agony, for just as the first shone with the light of the Sun, so did this one burn with the soul of the Moon.

And then there was pain.

The changeling stopped, feeling confusion, anger, and then confusion again—and then the link, for the first time in his life, was cut. The Hive was alone.

Canterlot erupted into an explosion of a thousand discordant shrieks. The Hive had not been untamed since before the days of the Queen, centuries before. They had come from beasts, and to beasts they would return. But just as the great cloud of black in the sky began to disperse, the first changeling saw something else.

A small group of ponies, clad in shining garb and metal, stood on the tallest point of the castle. They shouted a single word to the boiling skies.

"Now!"

With a deep hum and an explosion of color, a stream of light burst forth, swirling and dancing. The light—the horrible, terrible light—coalesced into a single sphere and began to expand, growing until it held the entire tower within its whirling depths.

And then it exploded outward with unimaginable force.

The changeling snarled, its snout contorting and its legs writhing in agony. It had not known pain before. This was pain, truer than any it had ever endured. It felt its form crushed beneath the ever-watching light—that huge, blinding brilliance—and cried out as it was judged unworthy and collected into a growing pile of its brethren. It tried to scream again and found it could not; its mouth was held shut and its wings frozen in place, powerless to escape.

And then, with a giant push, it found itself flying away at a great speed. The light was disappearing, its wings were returning, and the shining castle was vanishing into a speck in the distance—

The changeling hit the ground with a thud and knew no more.

Twilight watched the changelings disappear over the horizon with her heart in her throat. For a second, she'd been worried that it hadn’t worked. Now, as she saw the remnants of the invasion soaring into the distance, all doubt had been banished from her mind. The changelings were gone, and Canterlot was safe once more. They had won.

We’ve won.

Her chest heaved up and down, a trail of sweat running down her brow. Without really thinking about it, she raised a hoof to wipe it away. She shouldn't have been this tired out from using the Elements of Harmony, but she paid the thought no mind. Glancing around, she noticed the others around her: Pinkie Pie, bouncing up and down in glee; Rarity, standing still with a small, unassuming smile; and Rainbow Dash, looking a bit fatigued as well, but exchanging a grin and a hoof-bump with Applejack beside her.

"Oh, my," Fluttershy murmured. She looked up at the clear sky. "I hope they're all okay."

"Okay?" Rainbow Dash spun around and shot her a suspicious glare. "If they'd gotten the chance, they would've destroyed Canterlot! Just ask Twi!"

"It is indeed quite fortuitous that you managed to uncover this plot, dear." Rarity offered her a wink and trotted up to her side, giving her mane a quick nuzzle. Twilight's cheeks turned red. "If you had not, then where would we be?"

Applejack snorted. "Beneath ten feet of black monster beasties." She clapped a hoof on Twilight's shoulder. "I tell ya, Twi—without you findin' out about them changelings, I don't know what'd have happened."

You'd all be dead. The thought ran through Twilight’s mind like a venomous snake, and she shivered. She shook her head, doing her best to shake the thought from her mind. She was with her friends. They'd won. They were safe.

It was over.

With a flash of panic, she whirled back toward the Palace. The Princesses—

Yet there was no need. There was Celestia, proudly climbing the stairs to the top of the tower. Luna followed, ascending the staircase with a small smirk on her face. Beside them was a tall, black shape that Twilight recognized, with some surprise, as Chrysalis. Though she was once more in her natural form, the changeling’s wings were dented and scorched, and a scratch ran down her horn. Cuts and scratches covered her body, and light burns seared every other inch of her exposed skin. Twilight shuddered at the sight. It seemed like the changeling hadn't decided to come quietly this time. Still, it was better than the alternative.

"Princess Celestia! Princess Luna!" She galloped ahead and looked up at them with awe. "You beat her!"

"We did indeed overcome the foul beast," Luna proclaimed, looking down at Chrysalis with a curled lip. "She was powerful, but presented no real threat to my sister and I."

Chrysalis snarled, and Twilight noticed a sharp aura of fluctuating yellow and blue surrounding her horn. Undoubtedly, it blocked her from using magic or shifting form. "The 'foul beast' can hear you, you miserable old relic," she spat, and shot Luna a glare filled with loathing and disgust. With some surprise, Twilight noted that there was no more arrogance or self-assured confidence in her voice; instead, there was only hatred and the slightest hint of fear.

"Silence!"

A platoon of guardponies came up behind Celestia and bowed. One at their forefront stood back up and turned to the changeling with a stern glare. "You will not insult the Princess,” he growled. He offered Celestia a nod and waved a hoof in Chrysalis's direction. "Permission to take her to the dungeons and interrogate her, Princess?"

Luna stepped forward. "Granted. I will accompany you and maintain the magical shield." Chrysalis snorted loudly, and Luna turned back, a small smirk playing across her face. "Let this be a lesson to you on the 'softness' of Equestria, changeling. We do not respond well to those who threaten our security.”

As the platoon led the two of them down from the tower, Twilight looked up at Celestia and fidgeted with her mane. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Celestia laughed; to Twilight, it was like the sound of a rich harp, ringing through an empty room. "Of course I am. I admit, she was more powerful than I first expected, but by concealing Luna beneath a veil until you were in position, we were easily able to gain the element of surprise." She beamed. "You did wonderfully, Twilight."

Twilight felt something catch in her throat and she coughed to hide the tremor in her voice. "Thank you, Princess." She smiled back, at first hesitantly, and then with a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

"Oh, I almost forgot!"

She looked up at Celestia with wide eyes.

"Are there more changelings?" Pinkie asked, bouncing up to her side. She leaned forward and gasped. "Are we gonna have to kick their butts too?"

"I'd be down with that!" Dash flew up and landed on the ground beside her. She smacked one hoof into the other with a scowl. "I barely got to see any action as it is!"

Celestia threw her head back and laughed again. "Happily not, my little ponies. The guards have assured me that there are no more changelings in Canterlot."

"Then what is it?" Rarity trotted forward and paused, a hoof on her chin. "Have we missed something?"

Something twinkled in Celestia's eyes. "Not at all. I do, however, think that there's somepony who Twilight will want to meet."

Twilight took a sharp breath. "You mean—"

"Yes." Celestia gave her a small, happy smile and hummed quietly to herself.

Twilight made a run for it.

On she went, dashing down the stairs with the wind rushing through her mane and tail. She dodged past another platoon of guards, ignoring their cries of irritation and surprise. She had one thing in mind and one thing only.

With a joyous cry, she crashed through the doorway at the bottom of the steps and leapt forward.

"Twily!"

"Shining!" She galloped forward and held him in a tight embrace. He hugged her back, and she squeezed even tighter as if assuring herself that he was real. After a minute, she finally managed to stammer something out. "You—you're okay?"

"As I'll ever be." Shining smiled back at her, a goofy, boyish grin that she couldn't help but giggle at. "I was a bit out of it a few minutes ago, but Cadance knew a spell or two that could help clear my head out."

"I was so worried," she whispered, nuzzling his side. "I—I didn't know—“

“—If I was still in there?" He looked down at her and curled his neck around hers. "I didn't really, either. It felt like I didn't know who or what I was. For all I know, I would've been gone completely in only an extra hour or two."

Twilight shivered, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. "But you're better now." She said it carefully, as though trying to force herself to believe it. For all she knew, she didn't.

"Yes." Shining held her tight, and she hugged back with all of the force she could muster. "I'm sorry for leaving you, Twily."

"Thank you for coming back," she whispered.

She felt a touch on her shoulder from behind. When she turned around, reluctantly letting her brother go, she saw Cadance again. A tired but triumphant smile covered her face.

"Thank you, Twilight," Cadance said earnestly. "I don't know how we would have won this without you rescuing me and stopping the changelings."

Twilight shook her head. "But my friends—"

Cadance held up a hoof. "They did a great job." She looked up over her shoulder and winked; Twilight turned around to see her friends by the door, waiting for her. "But I think we can safely say that you did one too."

With a roar, the thunderous chiming of bells rang out through the room. Twilight jumped, looking around the room in a panic. Given the circumstances, she almost expected the bells to herald Discord’s return or some similar disaster. "Wha—?"

"Ahem."

Celestia stood by the door and gestured to the dais with a wave of her head. She gave Twilight a wink before turning to the rest of the huddled ponies, the guests already beginning to return to their pews. "I believe we still have a wedding to finish?"

"So they said they'll write whenever they can?"

Twilight gave Fluttershy a short nod as they got ready to board the train. "Yep! I think they were going to honeymoon somewhere up north. Shining's always liked the snow."

Fluttershy shivered. "Ooh. I think that might be too cold for me. Still, I hope they have a wonderful time."

"I'm sure they will." Rarity trotted up to them with a heaping pile of luggage levitating beside her. It took Twilight a moment to realize that the telekinetic aura holding the pile was orange, not blue; a gangly-looking unicorn stallion stumbled alongside her, doing his best to keep the suitcases afloat.

Rarity sighed as the doors of the train hissed open and the group began to board. "Ah, true love. Such a beautiful thing, like a delicate flower."

Applejack snickered. She stood up on her hind legs and shoved her carry-on bag over the seats. "I think you've read one too many of 'em romance books, Rarity."

"Of course not!" Rarity sniffed and sat down in her seat with a soft thud. "Is there anything wrong with being a student of romanticism?"

"More of a sap than a student, if y'ask me."

Twilight plopped herself down beside her, struggling not to giggle at the other unicorn's reddening face. "Relax, Rarity," she said with a smile. "Applejack's just poking fun."

"Poking fun? Can I join in?" Pinkie popped her up head over the seat and prodded Applejack on the back of the head. "Poke! Poke! Poke!"

Twilight laughed far louder than the others, and as the train pulled away from the station, realized that the weight was gone from her shoulders. Her brother was safe. Her friends were happy.

She was—or soon would be—free.

The train didn't pull into the Ponyville station for another two hours. When it did, the group of friends waved goodbye and departed to their own houses. As Twilight walked down the dark road, Spike at her side and the stars hanging overhead, she smiled to herself as if laughing at a private joke.

That night in the library's bed—the first time she'd used it for, in her mind, weeks—she slept soundly. She dreamed of light, hope, and the happy future that lay ahead of her.

The sunlight prickled at Twilight's eyelids and she moaned, muffling her ears and eyes with a pillow. As a yawn forced itself to her mouth, she leaned up in bed and let the covers fall away. After rubbing her eyes to get the sleep out, she stretched out and opened them.

And stared.

"Oh, no."

The hanging curtains of her four-poster bed greeted her, drifting in the breeze that came from an open window.

"Oh, no, no, no."

Great spires and towers leapt to her eye from beyond the glass pane. Their purple flags waved proudly beneath the morning sunlight.

"No, no, no, no."

She threw off the sheets and leapt onto the floor, her head spinning. No. This isn't happening.

The vase, once more whole and unbroken, stood in its place on the dresser. The painting, with the jagged green line running down its center, waited in its place upon the wall. The two alicorns on its surface spun, chasing one another in a never-ending circle.

This can't be happening.

Twilight thrust her head out of the window and ignored the chill wind that blew through her mane. As she stared across the cityscape, the brilliant viridian Palace grounds stretching into the distance below, she felt her heart shatter.

"It didn't work," she whispered and turned away.

Chapter Three: Syntax Error

"And the diplomats from Saddle Arabia?"

"Well fed and cared for." Silver Script smiled, bowing. "They've taken up residence in the guest rooms of the East Tower. We’ve done our best to give them every creature comfort possible."

"Very good." Celestia closed her eyes and leaned back in her throne, enjoying the warmth of the sunlight on her face. The throne room was strangely quiet this morning; it seemed that, impossibly enough, she'd managed to give out enough errands and chores that none of her staff had the time to bother her. It was a nice change from the normal pandemonium of the palace, let alone the hellish landscape of politics and money that she'd had to deal with while organizing the Wedding.

"There is one other thing."

She cracked open an eye and fixed Script with her steady gaze. "Oh?" She hoped it would make him flinch; she always loved it when they did that. For some reason, the stare of an immortal diarch seemed to make certain ponies uncomfortable.

It wasn't the most respectable way to pass the time, but given the circumstances of any given city council meeting, she felt that it was more than justified. Distracting her advisor from his next droning report was only an added bonus.

Of course, Script went on regardless, as unruffled as ever. She sighed as he merely rearranged his glasses and removed a quill from his saddlebags. It seemed he'd decided to bring up the latest inflation problem. Lovely.

She was pleasantly surprised when, having resigned herself to another lecture the Royal Treasury's policies, the doors to her throne room creaked open, and Twilight Sparkle trotted through.

"If you'll excuse me, Script, it seems that my faithful student has need of me for something." Celestia coughed lightly into her shoulder and adjusted the tiara resting above her horn. "I'm sure you wouldn’t mind if we rescheduled this briefing for later in the day: say, three o'clock?"

Three was the time when Script's wife expected him home for afternoon tea, and both he and Celestia knew that fact well. With a small quirk of his mouth and a flicker of disapproval in his eyes, he gave a single, calculated nod and began to pack up his things.

"Twilight," Celestia said warmly. She picked herself up from her throne and strode down the dais, putting on her most welcoming smile. "It's been too long. How have you been?"

"Princess." Twilight offered a slight nod, her head averted to the side. Celestia pursed her lips and strode forward. Her student's mane covered her eyes, concealing much of her face. With a gentle push of her wing, she reached forward and lifted Twilight's chin to look into her eyes. She sucked in a deep sharp breath.

There was pain there: anguish, sorrow, and loneliness. She felt her heart drop as she stared, watching a kaleidoscope of emotion swirling in Twilight's eyes. Any other pony wouldn't have known what to look for, but Celestia knew the signs. A fire flickered in her chest, and she took a deep breath, struggling to contain her emotions. Who would dare do this to her? Who could possibly…?

On the outside, she was still, her face holding nothing more than vague concern. A thousand thoughts ran through her head, but it took her only a fraction of a second to force them back down. After thousands of years, controlling her emotions had become a simple task.

"What's wrong?" she asked sharply. Her wing lifted Twilight's chin further up until she was looking directly into her eyes. “What's happened?"

"You were just about to have a meeting on finance and inflation."

Celestia blinked, a few hairs prickling on the back of her neck. For an instant, she wondered if she’d heard her right. “I’m sorry?"

"One of your gardeners is going to fall from the window he was cleaning within the next five seconds." Not a beat later, there came a strangled scream. As Celestia's head whirled, she caught a glimpse of a wriggling shadow falling across the window and landing with a thump in a bush below. She gasped.

"He'll be fine.” Twilight licked her lips. “Except he'll have to take work off for the rest of the day, and his hoof will be sprained." She paused, her eyes shifting toward the entrance. "Oh, and Princess Luna is about to come through those doors."

"Sister, I cannot believe you would tell the Head Chef that I—" Luna stopped midstep, freezing between the doors as she glanced over the pair. "Ah. My apologies. Am I interrupting something?"

Celestia's mouth went dry. Things suddenly seemed stranger than she cared to admit.

"It is of little consequence." Luna's cheeks tinged red, and she took a step back. "Perhaps I should come back later?"

"No." The word was out of her mouth before she'd even realized it. Celestia shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "Stay. Please."

Luna tilted her head and raised an eyebrow at the two of them. "Is something happening that I must be privy to?"

Celestia sighed and glanced at Twilight, who was still staring at the ground. Her “hoof was moving in small, looping circles over the floor, and the Princess felt another stab of cold, controlled fury in her heart. She closed her eyes and calmed her breathing. “You might say that."

"Very well, then."

Celestia took a moment to consider her next words. "Now, Twilight. What was that all about?" She paused. "And, I suppose, how exactly did you know what was going to happen?"

When Twilight finally spoke, her voice was weak and her knees wobbled and shook. "Princess," she said slowly, hesitantly. "Do you remember when I cast that time-travelling spell?"

Celestia blinked, the memories surfacing in the back of her mind. "I believe so." She frowned, her brow furrowing. "It was from the Star Swirl the Bearded wing of the Royal Archives, if I’m not mistaken.”

Twilight nodded. "Yep." She looked down at her hooves again and swallowed. “Would you believe me if I said that it was possible for time to not only turn back, but to loop?"

Celestia froze.

"To repeat?"

She felt a shiver run down her spine and exchanged a glance with Luna.

"To stop in place? And that it was happening, right now?"

Her mouth went dry once more, and the room suddenly seemed very, very quiet.

Twilight shook her head with a mirthless bark of laughter, and the pain was returned to her eyes. "I know it sounds ridiculous, and believe me, I've looked myself—there's no instance of it happening before, but—"

“I believe you.”

There was a beat of silence, Celestia’ three words hanging in the air. Twilight was looking up at her, mouth working furiously, but no sound coming out. Beside her, Celestia could feel Luna’s aura flaring up in shock before it settled back into a colder, more defensive position.

“I…” Twilight hung her head and exhaled slowly. “Thank you.” As she looked up again, Celestia made a small gesture with her head, as if to say “go on.”

Twilight took a deep breath. “It’s really happening. I’m trapped—trapped in time—and I can’t escape.”

"Oh?" Luna asked sharply. "And how can this be?”

"It's this week. The week of the Wedding." Twilight shook her head and rubbed her eyes, looking more tired than Celestia had ever seen her before. "I've relived it almost half a dozen times now, and it just keeps happening. At first, I thought it was related to the changeling invasion, but even that didn't—"

"Wait." Celestia held up a hoof. "...Did you say 'changeling invasion'?"

"I—"

"Impossible." Luna stomped forward and glared. "From what I have read, the changelings have not been seen for centuries!"

"Which is true," Celestia put in. According to all her sources, the changelings were still a disorganized horde of scavengers far away in the Badlands. “But perhaps we should give her a moment to speak.” Luna scowled.

Twilight took another deep breath. "It doesn't matter. I've tried to stop them before. I've even succeeded, but it was no use." She shrugged, a helpless look crossing her face. "Time just reset, and...well…” She bit her lip and looked away.

Invasion...reset... Celestia closed her eyes. Oh, no. That meant that Twilight had seen this apparent invasion occur, multiple times, even. What would it be like to see everything you know and love destroyed before your eyes over and over again, knowing that you were powerless to stop it?

"Pardon me for my doubts, Twilight Sparkle, but what proof have we of your story?" Luna raised her chin and frowned down at her. “Even if what you say of this invasion is true, we have no reason to ignore it for apparent “uselessness.” We must do all that we can to protect Canterlot."

Celestia's heart sank, and she shook her head, a sad smile on her face. Luna had grown fiercely attached to her home and subjects in the time since her return, especially following the events of that Nightmare Night in Ponyville. Perhaps a little too zealous.

Twilight looked taken aback at Luna's response. "I—"

“Again: I believe her."

Luna blinked.

“I said it before: I trust her, and believe her completely." Celestia curled one wing protectively around Twilight's side, holding her tight. "Luna, you have your reasons—and they are legitimate—but I know my student. She wouldn't lie about something like this."

"Perhaps she is mistaken, then," Luna suggested. "Somehow confused."

"No."

Celestia turned to face her sister. "We cannot ignore this fact because of its inconvenience, Luna," she said quietly. "Painful memories cannot be an obstacle to moving forward. We must act to help Twilight, even if the remembrance of times long past make us...reluctant to do so." Her eyes narrowed. "An event such as this may cause great damage to Canterlot, and even Equestria if left unchecked."

Luna stared, her expression unreadable. "Very well," she said flatly. "Should you need me, I shall be in my rooms. Good day, sister." She turned to go. The sound of her horseshoes slowly faded as the doors closed behind her, her steps echoing through the corridors.

Celestia winced as the throne room doors shut with a heavy thud. Oh, Luna.

Twilight’s mouth hung slightly open. "What—"

“Forgive my sister,” Celestia murmured. “The important thing is that I may know of something that can aid you.” She picked her head up and looked into Twilight’s face, a note of confidence returning to her voice. “A spell that I once used, long, long ago.”

A fire lit up in her student's eyes, something hopeful and bright flickering there for the first time since she'd entered the room.

"However," Celestia went on, “a thousand years can be a long time. I am afraid that I can no longer remember the spell on my own or, if I do, that it's been reduced to a vague set of generalities and ideas."

Twilight wilted. "Then why—?”

“—Would I bring it up?" Celestia arched an eyebrow. "I may not remember it personally, but you of all ponies should know that there's one thing that can never forget."

She could see the cogs and wheels turning in Twilight’s head, and her eyes soon widened in realization. "Books!"

"Exactly." Celestia turned toward the great throne room doors, her tracing across the intricate designs carved into their gold faces. "I had the spell recorded by one of the royal scholars, should Equestria ever have need of it again." Her voice softened, and she swung her head back to face her student. "And it would appear that we do."

"Then—"

"There is one problem, however." Celestia shook her head, inwardly irritated at her lack of foresight. "As I said before, a thousand years is quite a long amount of time. The book—or scroll, rather—in which I had the spell recorded exists somewhere in the Canterlot Archives, but I would be unable to say exactly where."

She sighed. "Still, should we find it, it should serve as a good starting point to resolve your situation." She paused, somewhat startled, as she felt a tight embrace around her front legs.

"Thank you," Twilight murmured, burying her face into her mentor's chest and hugging her tightly. "Thank you."

A small, warm smile settled onto Celestia's face. "For believing you?"

"For everything."

They stayed like that for a moment. It had been too long since they had been like this: teacher and student—or perhaps something more—alone together in the silence.

She soon felt something tugging on her mind, however, and frowned.

"Now, I realize that you may see it as unimportant, but what can you tell me of this changeling invasion?" She rolled her eyes at Twilight's bewildered expression and grinned. "Humor me."

"I believe you're familiar with both the New Archives and the Starswirl the Bearded Wing, right?” Celestia swung her neck to face Twilight, who was trotting beside her.

Twilight's brow furrowed as the pair passed a large tapestry adorned by an hourglass and a lightning bolt. "Wait, the New Archives? I thought it was just the Archives."

"So most ponies believe," Celestia said. "However, there are many works that are quite ancient and therefore either very delicate, very dangerous, or both. These tomes can only be handled by premiere Equestrian scholars—and of course, Luna and myself." She stepped over the threshold of the Archives, nodding to the twin guards that watched the entrance. "I had planned to give you full access once you were ready to begin your magical thesis in a year or so, but it would seem it's become necessary earlier than I expected."

She stopped in place and looked up at a large pair of double doors, carved from oak and gilded with old, polished bronze. "We're here."

Twilight's eyebrows went up, her eyes widening as well. "I'd always wondered where these led to," she murmured. "I thought it was a storage room or something."

Celestia chuckled and took a step forward. "You might call it that. Certainly, it lacks the same buzz of activity that the rest of the Archives has."

"So...does it need a key?" Twilight looked up at her teacher, who merely smiled back.

"Only of a very specific type." Celestia's eyes glittered and she moved her head to one side. "Make sure to step over so that the doors don't hit you." Twilight quickly obliged.

"I've always looked forward to showing you this," Celestia said quietly. A golden glow sprung up around her horn, energy swirling at its tip. Her smile grew wider, and she gave Twilight a proud look. "I think you're going to like this a lot."

Her horn touched the doors, and they slowly swung open.

Twilight gaped as the contents were laid bare before her eyes. It was a treasure like that of a genie's hoard from Saddle Arabian folklore. But for her, it was even richer: after all, knowledge was infinitely more valuable than gold.

Books, scrolls, and tomes of every shape and size filled groaning, ancient bookshelves carved of cedar and willow. The walls were decorated by tattered paintings and ancient artifacts; at a glance, she would swear theat they predated even the paleo-Pony period. The corridors of books stretched far into the distance, making it difficult to predict where they came to an end. She shivered, and not out of fear. Maybe they never do.

Her horn buzzed, and she noticed a small enchantment warding the shelves against mildew and decay.  She barely registered it, however, being much more interested in what the spells were protecting.

She felt her heart soar as she galloped up to the first shelf to get a closer look. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers as she caught sight of the first few titles. "In Thine Eie of the Moon," she murmured, reading off the spine of one brown, beat-up tome. "The Invafion of the Lower Equeftrian Ifles. Moste Potente Potions And Particulares." Her mouth moved, but she struggled to get the words out. “I—these books are ancient! I can't imagine how many centuries of work went into assembling a collection like this!"

"When one has millenia to collect, the task becomes a bit easier."

"I'll say," Twilight breathed. She twisted from side to side, almost unable to take it all in. "I have no idea how many books are in here. There must be thousands—or even more!"

"You wouldn't be mistaken."

"Wait..." She faltered, feeling her heart sink and her exuberant mood begin to fade. "Thousands of books...and only one holds the key to the spell that we need."

Celestia nodded, and the room took on a more sombre mood. "Unfortunately, as hard as the Master Librarians have tried, the Old Archives have fallen into disrepair and disorganization over the centuries. They also lack many modern conveniences, such as the Hoovey Decimal System."

Twilight frowned, thinking. "Does it have a magical catalogue program?”

"Those were only invented recently," Celestia reminded her gently. "Not even Starswirl or his precursors had knowledge of such things; for a traditional mage, the location of every book in their sanctum was stored in their head."

"Great." Twilight glared at the bookshelves as her elation made the final change to outright irritation. Finally, she sighed, allowing a weak smile to cross her face. "Still...once we find the spell, that'll be it, right?"

"I hope so."

"And I've got all the time I need." She chuckled quietly, though privately hoping that she wouldn't need too much time. I don't think I want to live my life out in these loops, even if it's in company of all these books. After all, how long could it take?

One more glance at the labyrinth of books made her pause, though, and she gulped. "Well. Time to get started."

"Mysteries of Magick...Ascension of the Spheres...Tales of Fâerie For Föles." Twilight groaned, shaking her head as she passed through yet another fruitless shelf. That makes...what, twenty-five? Thirty? In all honesty, she'd quickly lost count. Celestia had hinted that the book—er, scroll—had a title relating to Chaos Magic, for some reason, but apart from an assembly of children's stories involving a trickster mage, she'd found absolutely nothing even remotely related to such a thing.

With a sigh, she almost automatically reached a hoof up and plucked Ascension of the Spheres from its place on the shelf. Maybe a bit of light reading would help alleviate her boredom and clear her mind.

An old cushion a few rows looked like proved a good place to settle and read. The fabric was old and musty, making her sneeze a few times as she made to lie down, but it was comfortable enough.

Spheres was a small book, only a few dozen pages thick. She snuggled into her makeshift bed and opened it, the thin spine crackling quietly in protest.

Our Ruler, Celeste, was borne from the Fountain Beyond Time, in a Place past the Edges of the World. Created of primordial Flesh, a Being of Light and Aether, and of the Rays of the Sun. Her Sister, Lune, sprung forth from the Waters, the Stars of the Sky her mane, and vanished into the Spheres above. The two learned and played amongst the Heavens, and from their Souls was borne the Earthe of Equestria.

In the First Cataclysm, the Tears of Celeste created the Oceans and inland Seas. After the Second Cataclysm, of Fire and the Deep Flame, Lune grew tired of the empty Realm, and persuaded her divine Sister to create Companions for them. And so was the Equine Race borne, of the Thoughts of the Sun and Heart of the Moon...

Twilight giggled to herself as she turned the page. She'd heard quite a few proposed "myths" for Celestia and Luna's origins—the Princesses themselves were quite tight-lipped on the subject—but this book appeared to hold a much more elaborate story. For a moment, she wondered if it were true, but quickly cast that aside. Silly. Celestia isn't some kind of omnipotent, ancient deity. She's just the Princess!

Still, the book was amusing enough and it soon ensnared her with its tales of Equestria's past. It seemed to be a history book, yet one interwoven with a rich tapestry of myths and legends. In the same chapter as the birth of a great king, for example, she might also hear of a diabolic beast, escaped from Tartarus and defeated  by a mighty hero. When she heard that particular tale, a shiver ran down her spine; from her own experiences with Cerberus and the Hellgate rotation of the Royal Guard, she knew enough about Tartarus to believe that there was at least some truth to the legends.

She turned a page and blinked, taking in the title.

The Battle of the Pony Sisters: The Eclipse War.

This was interesting. I didn't expect the book to come this far in time, she thought, frowning. The way Celestia spoke of them, most of the manuscripts in here are far older than Equestria itself, but relatively speaking, this one must be pretty new. She paused for a moment and then shook her head, giggling. A thousand years old...heh. "New."

Fidgeting into a better position on her cushion, she settled back down and began to read. It appeared that Ascension was a compilation of various sources; the vernacular here was much different from what she’d read earlier. That didn’t mean that it was any less interesting, though.

The Eclipse War began with an innocent plea. The ponies of fair Equestria deigned to play in the day beneath the rays of the sun, rather than in the light of the moon at night. Thus, Princess Luna requested of her sister that the night be lengthened, so that more of their subjects might enjoy the starry skies and dusks that she had so painstakingly constructed.

Yet Celestia rejected her plea. The ponies of the earth needed proper sunlight to grow their crops; they were not as dogs or moles, consuming gems and minerals beneath the earth. And so Luna's jealousy grew, and with it, a darkness in her heart...

Twilight nodded to herself as she read on. This, at least, was familiar territory. Her eyes skimmed further down the page, though, and her eyebrows slowly crept upwards on her forehead. Here was something new...

The War was fought through proxy and cunning as much as with power and direct combat. Even as Nightmare Moon summoned dark beasts and corrupted soldiers to fight against Celestia's knights and spellcasters, the former was hard at work constructing a spell that would allow her to gain utmost control over the night. Although the War was begun with the titular Eclipse, the battle for control of the skies was a daily occurrence, and one that the Nightmare won only barely each day.

She devised a plot, drawing on her dark magicks and hidden knowledge as the Moon is wont to do, and soon set that plan into motion. Her power, strengthened by jealousy and hatred, was not enough to overcome her sister completely, and so she plotted to use the sands of time against the Sun.

Twilight blinked a few more times, her eyes widening. Wait a minute...

Within ten seconds, she'd devoured the rest of the page.

The Nightmare knew that the rotation of the Sun and Moon, though channeled through the power of the Holy Sisters, was a natural cycle, innate to the universe itself. So she developed a spell that would allow her to halt that cycle in its place, freezing the rise of the Sun and the set of the Moon as it was for all eternity.

The Sun would rise, but would be returned to its other horizon; the Moon remained locked at its apex for day after countless day. With each failed cycle, nature itself would steal away Celestia' energy and strength, continuing until such a time as she could no longer defend agaisnt the attacks of the Nightmare.

The casting of such magic would be Nightmare Moon's downfall, however; it was only afterward, when she was left momentarily weak and despondent of energy, that Celestia seized the opportunity to attack her stronghold with an overwhelming host. It was there that she defeated her sister and ensnared her in the Moon using the Elements of Harmony. On that fateful eve, a prophecy was given, stating that the Nightmare would yet return after a thousand years’ solitude.

At the bottom, hidden in a footnote, was a sentence marked in neat, dark font: The spell itself would only be broken a year later by a team of accomplished magi, working under Celestia's direction.

A spell to stop time in place... Twilight's heart beat faster in her chest. An endless cycle, keeping the Sun locked in place, and the Moon above all Equestria...

Her eyes snapped wide open. That's it!

What if this spell was the one that Celestia had asked her to look for? What if the time loop that Twilight was trapped in was similar to the one that Nightmare Moon herself had created a millenium ago? She stopped in place, thinking.

What if Luna knew something about her situation? What if she could help?

Twilight shut the book with a thump. There was only one way to find out.

It was dark outside by the time Twilight left the Archives, and she found much of the Palace grounds to be deserted but for the occasional pair of patrolling guards. Her way was lit by the yellow lanterns marking the halls and by the dim glow of the shield bubble above the city.

She found Luna easily enough: the Princess was in the throne room, minding the Night Court while her sister rested. The room was empty, though; it appeared that few ponies had need to call upon the Princess of the Night, even after all she'd done to make herself available to the populace. Twilight's hooves echoed on the hard floors as she crossed the room, wondering what she would say.

Luna looked up from a scroll she'd been perusing and flung it aside, leaving it to flutter onto a table piled high with papers and parchment. "Twilight Sparkle! It is good to see you." She smiled, an honest, warm smile that Twilight knew she'd been practicing since her return to the royal court. "Tell me, how I may I assist my subject? The Night Court is open for your appeal."

Twilight held a hoof up to her chin and grinned awkwardly. "I'm actually not here about the Court, Princess."

Luna's cheeks flushed and she chuckled under her breath. "That is our—my mistake, then. Perhaps I have been a bit overeager in taking on my royal responsibilities." She straightened up in her seat on the throne. "Tell me, then: what did you come here for tonight?"

Twilight grinned and reached into the saddlebag that she'd had strapped to her side. It jumbled in her grasp, the many books inside tumbling over one another as she retrieved Ascension of the Spheres from its place near the top. "Princess Celestia had me going through the Old Archives today, and I found a reference in one of the books that I don't think I quite understand.

Luna quirked an eyebrow inquisitively. "Oh? And what research might that be for?"

"Um." Twilight blinked, slightly confused at Luna's response. "Research into...well, the time loops? You know, what we were talking about the other day?"

The Princess gave a curt nod as her smile faded into a more tired look. "Ah. Of course. What is this question you had for me?"

"Well, I was looking through this book here," Twilight said, levitating Spheres into the air so that it was more clearly visible. "It had a lot about early myths and legends—especially about you and Princess Celestia—and I found one section that talked about events in the past thousand years."

"And?" Luna was frowning slightly now, evidently unsure of where this was going. Or at least, Twilight hoped that she was unsure. Regardless of the circumstances, this was going to be a bit awkward, especially considering the source material.

She swallowed and offered her best grin, though the overall effect was somewhat more akin to a grimace. "Well, there was one part in particular that dealt with the Eclipse War."

Luna's gaze became positively stony.

Twilight cleared her throat and went on. "So there was all of the standard stuff in there about the Moon and Sun, and some other things about the battles themselves—"

Luna's frown deepened into a scowl.

"—But one thing that I noticed was that, at one point, Nightmare Moon tried to freeze the Moon in place by using a...time-lock...spell." Twilight's voice faltered, and she trailed off, wincing at the look on the Princess's face. "I was...er...wondering if you might know anything about that and how it...um..." She gulped. "Worked."

When she finally opened her mouth and spoke, Luna's voice was flat, her features unreadable and her eyes cold. "My apologies, Twilight Sparkle," she said quietly as she got up from her seat on the throne. "I do believe I have forgotten an appointment. Please excuse me." She swept down from the dais and past Twilight, her starry mane waving in the air as the great doors opened for her.

Twilight stared after her, breath caught in her chest. Oh, dear... She flinched as the great doors to the throne room slammed shut before her, the sound echoing like a shot in the large, empty chamber.

With her tail between her legs, she hung her head, sat on the floor, and sighed.

"But why would she react like that?"

Celestia sighed as Twilight looked out over the Palace walls, staring into the sunset. "Memories can last a long time," she said gently.

"But I didn't mean anything by it!" Twilight looked stricken, and Celestia felt a pang of guilt in her chest. Oh, Twilight. She knows that you don't...

"You may not have," she said. "But for Luna, those memories are painful—moreso than even I can imagine—and merely invoking them can bring out old skeletons." She curled a wing around Twilight's shoulder. "Do you know why she worked so hard to ingratiate herself with the public when she returned?"

Twilight's brow furrowed, and she chewed on her lip. Celestia couldn't help but smile lightly as she saw it; her student always looked completely adorable whenever she fell back into that habit.

"Because she didn't want to be rejected?"

Celestia nodded. "Exactly." The feathers of her wings reached around Twilight's side, gently lifting her head to face her. "She was afraid."

She smiled sadly and gazed into Twilight's eyes. "Us alicorns like to pretend that we're stronger than we really are, but Luna was terrified of being rejected. Terrified of being labelled her past self. Terrified, even after the Elements of Harmony had purified her, that she might still be unworthy of taking back her place in Equestria."

"But that's ridiculous!" Twilight stomped a hoof, scowling. "Princess Luna might be a little intimidating at times, but she's not even close to being Nightmare Moon! How could she think that?"

Celestia shook her head. "Are we ever that logical, Twilight? Can you say that even you have never fallen prey to an irrational fear?"

Twilight shrank back. "Well..."

"You saw it yourself at Nightmare Night," Celestia said. "She wanted so hard to be accepted, but the residents of Ponyville were scared of her. Legend had grown up to the point where it had overcome reality, and she was frightened that it had come to swallow the truth up completely." She looked up at the sky, the moon rising in the distance. "She later confided in me that she was more afraid than anything of snapping again that night: of becoming the Nightmare that all the town expected her to be."

Twilight shuddered, and Celestia felt a bit of sadness as realization dawned in her student's eyes. "I guess that makes sense," she said in a small voice.

"Be patient with her," Celestia said gently. "I myself had many questions for her following her return—many of which I have been willing to leave unanswered—but if you give her time, she will confide in you. Such a history is difficult to leave behind."

Twilight groaned and hung her head. "This isn't going to be easy, is it?"

Celestia's mouth twitched upward into a small smile, and she curled the tip of one wing around Twilight's mane. "I will admit I hadn't thought of that particular spell," she said honestly. "The Nightmare had many weapons in the War of the Eclipse, and it had slipped my mind that I had reused that particular branch of magic in combatting her." She leaned in close so that her eyes were looking directly into Twilight's. "I believe that if anypony can convince her to talk about what happened then, however, it would be you, Twilight."

Twilight swallowed and cracked a weak-looking grin. Celestia mentally tsked: she knew that look well enough to recognize it as her student's go-to face when she thought she'd failed a test or forgotten an assignment. "Well...I'll do my best."

"It would be for your own benefit, I suppose." Celestia put a hoof to her chin. "Although I did have confidence that my own spell would be sufficient, having Luna—who's actually performed the original magic—present would be very welcome, and possibly even necessary to free you." She shook her head. “Luna is far more experienced in the temporal arts than I; it may well be that we won’t be able to properly modify the spell without her assistance.”

Twilight's smile—well, grimace—melted into a more neutral expression. "I hope so," she murmured. After a moment, though, her brow furrowed, and she narrowed her eyes, looking as though she'd encountered a particularly difficult algebra problem. "So if it wasn't for Nightmare Moon, how did you originally create that spell, anyway?"

"Ah, now that's a story for another day." Celestia winked, though for an instant, a shadow had passed over her face, carrying an eternity's worth of memories involving that particular kind of magic. She smiled anyway. "Once we've found the scroll carrying it, I'll tell you the whole thing."

"Promise?"

"Absolutely."

They stood there for a moment more, enjoying the warmth of the sun and each other's embrace.

A sound began to ring in Twilight's ears. She grunted and poked the side of her head, but the noise didn't go away. Instead, it only intensified, growing in volume until a dull buzz filled the entire balcony.

"What's that noise?" Celestia blinked and looked over her shoulder with a frown. "Odd."

For a moment, Twilight's heart leapt into her throat, but she stopped herself before she began to panic. The sound was too low-pitched to be the buzzing of changeling wings, or even parasprites. She raised a hoof to stifle a snicker, imagining a cloud of adorable, colorful spheres succeeding in penetrating a perfect shield where an army had not.

She blinked. Celestia was talking, but no words came from her mouth.

"Princess, I can't quite hear—"

The buzzing crackled, and for an instant became a shrill, piercing screech.

Twilight fell to the ground, her hooves clasped over her ears as the noise wracked her body, tearing through her inner ear and pounding against her eardrums. She let out a grunt of pain as she writhed on the ground, but managed to twist her head to one side to see Celestia beside her. The Princess's face was frozen into an expression of horror, the rest of her body frozen still like a stone statue. Her hooves trembled on the stone floor, and her wings shook as if they were being pelted with hailstones.

As Twilight looked up into the sky, the veins behind her eyes throbbed: the sky seemed to blend into a muddle of unnatural hues that hurt to even look at. The clouds twisted, cracks running across the sky. As she tried to cover her face, one hoof lagged behind the rest of her leg as though it were being dragged through molasses. It twisted, and she let out a cry of pain.

And just as suddenly, it was over.

She gasped for air, her heart beating like a drum in the cavity of her chest. Sweat dripped down her face and sides with a sickly sheen, her eyes burning. Beside her, Celestia let out a low groan as she shook her head and closed her eyes.

"What...what was that?" Twilight asked, swallowing. Her tongue felt like sandpaper, and her throat burned as though filled with flames. Her head was pounding. As she turned her head to look into the Princess's eyes, she noticed that they were red, moist, and bloodshot.

Celestia looked out into the distance. "Something that I haven't seen for a long time," she whispered. "Something impossible."

"Can you—"

"We will discuss this another time." She turned away from the balcony and stopped in place. The iridescent cloud that formed her mane, usually swaying gently in an imaginary breeze, now lay flat on her shoulders with its bright tones dulled to greyer shades. With a sigh, she bowed her head and turned back to look into Twilight's wide eyes.

"Know only this," she said quietly. "It is now more important than ever before that you find that spell.

"May Harmony be with you."

"Hey, Twilight, what's this?"

Twilight craned her neck across the aisle and squinted at the book held in Pinkie's hoof. "Looks like a cookbook, Pinkie."

"Okie-dokie!"

She rolled her eyes and went back to inspecting the shelf that she'd been looking at. With little else to do in preparation for the wedding, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash had been prime candidates to help her in searching the library. They didn't know exactly what they were searching for, but she'd given them enough information to let them know what it was when they found it. Assuming Princess Celestia remembered it correctly.

She paused and frowned. What was a cookbook doing in an ancient library, anyway? Her forehead creased as her eyes roved across the shelves on autopilot, but she eventually just shrugged. Probably just Pinkie's penchant for finding food.

"Hey, Twi." Dash waved a hoof from across the room, hovering by one of the upper shelves. "Come check this out!"

Twilight brightened and she slid down off of her ladder and onto the floor with a padded thump. She trotted over to where Rainbow had been searching. "What'd you find?"

"You're not gonna believe this," Dash said, beaming. "But take a look at this!"

Twilight found herself leaning forward, her grin stretching from ear to ear. Yes...yes...!

"Ta-da!"

She blinked, her smile melting off of her face. "That's a book," she said slowly, eyeing the object in Dash's hooves. "We're here to look for a scroll."

"Yeah, yeah." Dash waved a hoof and snorted, tossing her multicolor mane out of her eyes with a flick of her hoof. "Anyways, check it out!" Her eyes opened wide and she grinned from ear to ear, flipping through the pages of the book. "It's all about different flying techniques and stuff! I've got no idea how old it is, but I think I even caught mention of the Sonic Rainboom on one of the pages. How cool is that?" She hugged the book to her chest and closed her eyes happily.

Twilight stared. "...Really?"

"Yup!"

"...And you called me over for this."

Dash considered that for a moment before bobbing her head up and down. "Yup!"

"...Just keep looking for that scroll." Twilight groaned and turned back to her shelf, just about ready to collapse on the Archives' floor. "I know we've been looking for a few hours already, but please just keep looking. We can't stop now."

Dash's smile faded, and she even scowled slightly. "Well, fine!" With a grunt and a swish of her tail, she turned up her nose and hovered to an even higher shelf, making sure not to make eye contact.

Twilight sighed and got back to work.

"Princess Luna?"

Luna stopped in place and turned to face Twilight as she approached, her hooves clopping on the floor.

"I was wondering if you might have a moment to talk about that time spell you—"

If looks could kill, then the one on Luna's face now would have, at the very least, put Twilight deep into a coma. She stood frozen in place as the Princess slowly shook her head and walked on down the hallway.

Well, that didn't work.

"She should be in her office, I think."

"Thanks!" Twilight nodded appreciatively to Luna's night secretary, a pegasus named Moondust. She picked up her pace as she trotted away and was soon moving through the empty halls at a light canter. She finally came to a stop outside of the Offices of the Royal Princess—otherwise known to Celestia as "The Room of Infinite Paperwork." Doubtlessly, Luna was getting her own fair share of the workload at the moment. Maybe she'll be so happy to get away from it that she'll have to talk!

"Princess?" she called as she opened the door. "I—"

Luna looked up from her desk and glared, a quill levitating beside her. "I presume you are here to ask for the same thing, once again?"

Twilight felt her cheeks redden and gulped. "Erm..."

"Enough." Luna lifted a pile of papers from the table and dropped them with a crash. Her voice ran cold. "I have had enough of this foolishness. Please leave.”

“No.”

Luna looked up sharply. “Excuse me?”

"No." Twilight's voice shook, but she felt a current of steel beneath her words. She was not going to run away from this problem. It's time to confront her head-on.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Luna asked, gritting her teeth. "You have no right to—"

"I have every right." Twilight took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she withstood the Princess's steady gaze. "I know that you have bad memories. I know that it's personal and that under normal circumstances, I shouldn't even think of asking this of you." She shook her head. "But these aren't normal circumstances.

"I'm trapped. Stuck. Caged." She tried—and failed—to keep a sliver of ice from slipping into her tone. "No less than you were when Nightmare Moon was around."

Luna drew herself back, her wings flaring out defensively around her. "You dare—"

"Absolutely." Twilight's voice was grim, her mouth a flat line across her face. "I dare. Because I need help. I need your help.” She took a step forward, and Luna drew back. “And even once we've found your sister’s spell, we'll need you to help make it work. By your Celestia’s own account, you're far more experienced with time magic than she."

"This is true," Luna murmured, her eyes downcast. Her wings settled back over her shoulders. "However, I cannot understand the urgency of this situation.”

"I'm stuck in a prison and with no hope of escape." Twilight felt a small seed of resentment in her chest, and found it growing with each word she said. "There might not be metal bars or prison guards, but for all intents and purposes, I'm locked up more securely than Discord."

She shook her head. "But even so, it's not just about me. I don't know what happens from your perspective every time the loop resets, but all of Equestria—and maybe even more than that—is stuck here with me. So long as this goes on, nopony will ever be able to pass through this week ever again.” She stared straight into Luna’s eyes. “Forever."

Luna looked away, her face unreadable. "I...I didn’t—”

"And then something happened the other day which confirmed my suspicions."

Luna lifted her head. "Oh?"

Twilight nodded. "I was talking with your sister, and suddenly the universe twisted around us with a noise more painful than I could even imagine." Squeezed her eyes shut, the phantom pain echoing in her ears. "I don't know for sure what caused it, but I'm willing to bet that the universe isn't supposed to be bent in certain ways. This problem with time is anything but good, and for all we know, it might come crashing down around our heads."

"A Scream."

She looked up, the word alone raising goosebumps along the back of her neck. "What?"

Luna’s eyes were wide. “A Dimensional Scream. Something I have not seen since the rule of Discord himself.” There was a strange look on her face, and she gave an almost imperceptible nod. "I will assist you in every way that I can."

Twilight groaned and pushed her mane out of her face. She had no idea how long they'd been searching, or even how late it was—Rainbow Dash had long since fallen asleep on a bed of old books, much to her own disapproval. She shook her head and slapped her cheeks to try and keep herself awake. Just one more shelf...I'm sure I'll find it...

"Twilight!"

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Yes, Pinkie?"

"I found it!"

"Of course you did." Her eyelids drooped even further and she snuck a glance at Dash, who was snoring comfortably on her mound of paper. Sleep would sound really good right about now...

"No, I really did!" Pinkie sounded agitated. "Dusty old scroll? Check! Brown, scribbly paper? Check! Yucky old-book smell?" There came the sound of a loud, exaggerated sniff. "...Check?"

"Mmhm." Twilight nodded vacantly, her eyes roving up and down the shelves on autopilot as she shuffled down the aisle. "And the seal?"

"With a super-duper yellow sun right behind a cool-looking sand timer? You betcha!”

Twilight blinked once. Then twice. Three times.

She whirled around, her eyes wide and her words jumbling together. "You actually—"

"Yup!" Pinkie beamed, holding the scroll aloft with one hoof. "It took me a while, but here it is?"

Twilight's jaw dropped and her hooves shook as she stared at the scroll. It seemed to shine in the dim light, glimmering with the promise of hope. "But-but how? Where was it?"

"Well..." Pinkie said slowly, drawing out the word with relish. "I actually wasn't sure at first, 'cause I wanted to look under "S" for spell, but it wasn't there so I checked "M" for magic! I couldn't find it there, or even under "T" for time, so after a little while longer, I finally found it under "Q"!"

Twilight blinked. "...Q?"

Pinkie nodded. "Yup! For Quintessential Super-Dimensional Theory of Arcane Sealing for Chronological Malevolent Magicks."

She frowned and tilted her head as Twilight’s smile grew wider. “Well, either that or "Q" for quail. I'm not sure how it would have gotten there, though—that would be weird!"

"Twilight, I'd like you to meet Professor Brightmane."

Twilight's face broke out into a wide smile as a lithe, white-maned unicorn trotted into the room, his distinguished moustache bobbing up and down on  as he walked. "We've met."

The professor looked up, and his eyes widened. "My dear Twilight! It must have been years, hasn't it?" He held out a hoof, grinning from ear to ear. "How have you been?"

"I take it you two know each other?" Luna raised an eyebrow and inspected the pair, who were now happily exchanging pleasantries.

Twilight stopped chatting for a moment long enough to turn and answer her. "Oh, yes. He was my Physics professor at the Academy for Gifted Unicorns."

Brightmane chuckled and reached out to pat Twilight's shoulder. "Department Head, now. They wanted somepony with a bit of expertise in both science and magic to write the curriculum. I can't say I disapproved of their choice, of course." He winked and turned to the Princesses with a flourishing bow. "How do you do, your Majesties?"

"Quite well, Professor," Celestia said warmly. "It's a pleasure."

Luna inclined her head slightly. "Indeed."

"The pleasure's all mine!" Brightmane eyed Twilight up and down, and she soon noticed his eyes wandering over to the dusty old scroll resting on the table beside her. "Ah, there we go." He trotted up and inspected the paper, lowering his half-moon spectacles to get a closer look. "I suppose this is the reason for my visit?"

"As much as I'd like to exchange Academy gossip, that is indeed correct." Celestia smiled and nodded, her horn pointing toward the scroll. "Feel free to take a look." Seeing Brightmane's slightly confused expression, she quickly added, "There should be enchantments on it to prevent damage."

"Ah, very good. Most excellent." Brightmane rubbed his hooves together and licked his lips as a silver aura surrounded the scroll, lifting it into the air. "Old scrolls and such—one can never be too cautious. Delicate stuff, those."

"I would agree," Luna said stiffly. "It is good to meet one that values things of age properly. Too many of the ponyfolk in this age are too impatient and clumsy to be trusted with items of historic value."

"Oh, yes; absolutely,” Brightmane murmured, turning the scroll over in midair and looking it over with a close eye. Twilight stifled a snicker; his face was so close to the paper that it was a wonder his eyes weren't touching the ink! "My original doctorate was to be in Archaeology, you know. A pity I decided to major in the sciences instead."

Twilight frowned. "I thought you told me that you were originally a major in Political Science."

He waved a hoof, still engrossed in inspecting the exterior of the scroll. "Details, details." He hummed thoughtfully as he gave the paper a gentle prod and sniffed. "Mm. This is quite old. Just under one and a half thousand years, if I had my druthers. Papyrus?"

"Sugarcane, actually." Celestia cleared her throat. "Now, for the contents...?"

Brightmane flushed slightly. "Well, I merely wanted to gain a proper appreciation for the item's value, you understand—its historicity, you might say. But if you insist..." He sighed melodramatically and, slower than a grandmare unwrapping Hearth's Warming Eve presents, unraveled the scroll to peer inside.

"Hm...yes. Very well preserved. Fascinating." His eyebrows seemed to climb up past his mane as he reached the title and description, his mustache with each steady breath. "Oh, my. Well, this is quite interesting."

He turned to Twilight and scowled. "I thought I told you to come to me should you ever discover the secret to time travel, young mare." Luna struggled to hide a muffled gasp, and Celestia laughed quietly behind one hoof.

Twilight blinked and then broke into a cheeky grin. "Well, Professor. Last I checked, you'd been barred by the school's administration from running any practical experiments."

"Bah. That carriage would have been a complete success. It's hardly my fault those pegasi went too fast for the engine to handle." Brightmane snorted, and then quirked an eyebrow in her direction. "Am I correct, then, in assuming that this spell is to be used in removing some temporal effect from your person? I doubt it's for either of the Princesses."

She nodded. "Wow. How did you figure all that out?"

"Intuition, my dear." Brightmane chuckled and shook his head. "Should one read enough poorly-written essays, one begins to know what to expect." He licked his lips again and brushed his silver mane out of his eyes. "Now tell me, Miss Sparkle. What seems to be the problem?"

With a glance into Celestia's eyes and a nod from Luna, Twilight began her story. She told him everything: from the beginnings of the invasion to her efforts to defeat it; from her discovery of the loops to her first attempts to break free, and finally to her current situation.

"Mm." Brightmane's eyes stared off into space as he nodded vacantly. He whistled softly to himself. "A bit of a pickle you've got there. And you hope that this spell will set you free?"

Twilight hesitated, but bobbed her head up and down to confirm.

The professor broke out into a toothy grin. "Well, then. What kind of professor would I be if I didn't help my prized student out of a jam? How can I help?"

"By modifying the spell." Celestia stepped forward, her hoofsteps heavy on the wooden floor. She looked down at Twilight and Brightmane, her face serious. "I cast this spell with the aid of my Royal Mages almost a thousand years ago, but I am inexperienced with the actual mechanics of this branch of magic."

She nodded toward her sister, who stood by the edge of the room with a small frown on her face. "I used it once against the Nightmare, and while it is likely similar to what we need for this situation, it will need to be modified heavily to fit Twilight's current problem. Luna has much more experience with Chronomancy than I. Between your expertise and her own knowledge, we should be able to come up with a solution fairly easily."

Brightmane swallowed. "Well. Your Majesty, are you quite sure you'd like to give me that responsibility? I wouldn't be exactly sure what would happen if something went wrong, and surely there's someone else."

"Nonsense." This time, Luna took a step forward, her starry mane rippling around her head. "I have read much of your work, Professor Brightmane. Your research on relativistic magic and the celestial spheres is admirable. I have no doubt that you are perfectly qualified for this endeavor."

A thoughtful look passed his face, and Twilight felt a familiar rush in her gut as she watched the gears turn behind his eyes, his hoof tugging gently  at his moustache. "Mm...I'm quite flattered, Princess." He looked up into her eyes and grinned fiercely. "I would be honored to help."

"Wonderful." Celestia nodded toward the door and smiled. "We'll begin as soon as you are ready."

Twilight looked up at the stars from the palace balcony, their quiet light flickering over the city below. She smiled softly to herself as a comet crossed the night sky and flared up in the atmosphere. The night sky might look like it's standing still, but it's always moving...and soon, I'll join it once again.

Her ears perked up as she heard hoofsteps behind her. She turned around and paused as she recognized her visitor. "Princess Luna!"

"A good evening to you, Twilight Sparkle." The princess carried herself with an air of dignity and grace that had been absent on Nightmare Night, all that time ago. She offered a small nod and looked out over the city, her mane flickering in the chill night air. "It is indeed a lovely night, is it not?"

Twilight smiled. "It's beautiful, Princess. Especially the constellations. On such a clear night, you can see everything from the Warrior to the Mage."

"Equius Nocturne and the Wind-Mare," Luna said softly.

Twilight blinked. "Huh?"

"They are the names of my time, changed in the present day to the more familiar names that you know." Luna pointed toward the constellation of the Warrior, the tip of her horn lighting up with a soft, eerie glow. "Equius Nocturne was a great knight, one who I immortalized in the stars following his passing.”

Twilight's eyes widened. "Really? I never knew that!"

"Indeed." A small smile twitched on Luna’s face as she gazed up at the constellation, its stars twinkling down from above. "He was a suitor of mine, did you know?"

"No."

"Strong," she murmured. "Courageous. Chivalrous. Everything a warrior of the Sun should be—yet he held a bizarre fascination with the night and a special place for the Moon in his heart." She shook her head, laughing softly. "I took him as a lover, once."

"And then what happened?" Twilight almost hit herself as the words tumbled out of her mouth. Stupid! Don't try to pry into Luna's private life.

"He died."

Her mouth went dry.

Luna turned her head slightly and gave her a cool look. "Do not regret your question, Twilight Sparkle. As an immortal, I am always reminded of the impermanence of the world in which I reside." She sighed, a deep, heavy sound that seemed to shake her entire body. "One day, perhaps even I may pass. The night sky is ever-changing, after all."

She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, her mane shimmering in the silvery light. "Did you know that the constellations change?"

Twilight shook her head. "I think I read something about it at one point, but I never really looked into it much." She grinned sheepishly. "Er...sorry."

"Don't be." Luna sniffed and closed her eyes. "The shift in their patterns take centuries, if not millenia or more. Yet they do indeed change, and the Moon, locked in a cycle of birth and death, is the most variable and dynamic of them all."

Before Twilight could speak, Luna lifted a hoof and continued to speak. "All things in this world must change. Who was I, in my lust for power, pride, and envy, to imagine that I could overturn the natural order of things?" She shook her head. "Nay. Twas a perversion to stop the Moon in its place, forcing night upon the populace for my own selfish whims."

She smiled sadly. "I told you once that I was glad that you stopped me—overjoyed, even. For what would I have gone on to do if not for your aid?" She bowed her head. "I would have doomed all of Equestria to the fate that you now hold."

Twilight turned to look out over the city. She could see the lights flickering as ponies played and ran through the dark streets. "You mean this time loop?"

"Indeed." Luna said with a frown. "For the flow of time to be stuck in this way is...most troubling." She was quiet for a moment.

"Do you know from whence came the time spell that my sister used?"

Twilight shook her head. "No, actually. She said that her court's unicorns and mages worked to create it, and that she cast it to stop Nightmare Moon's spell, but she didn't tell me anything else."

She looked up. “Celestia said that you were more experienced with Chronomancy—I guess that means ‘time magic’.” She tilted her head. “Were you the first one to work with it, then?”

Luna drew a heavy breath, her lithe frame shuddering as she looked out over the city. "I was not the creator of such magic," she said quietly. "That honor—or curse—went to a creature much older and more powerful than I."

"Who?"

Luna turned to face her, her eyes old and tired. "I believe you are familiar with him. He did, after all, wreak havoc upon your town scarce months ago."

Twilight's eyes widened, and she couldn't prevent the small squeak that escaped her throat. "Discord?"

"Correct." Luna looked down, gazing at the busy streets and nightlife below. "When he reigned over Equestria, chocolate rain and ballerina buffaloes were the least of our troubles." She sighed and shook her head. "Discord is more powerful than Celestia or I alone; he is an avatar of entropy and disorder. More often than not, his powers controlled him, rather than the other way around. Under his rule, Equestria itself was broken and torn, and nearly beyond repair.”

Twilight took a moment to digest that before Luna spoke again.

"Physics broke down. Reality ceased to make sense." Her eyes flickered over the horizon. "You of all ponies must know the relationship between the fabric of space, and the sands of time. It is a connection as strong as that between my Moon and my sister's Sun."

"So he was able to influence time as well?"

She nodded. "Yes. It wasn't common, but all over Equestria—and in some places beyond—bits and pieces of Discord's power had broken off, twisting the flow of time in certain areas.

"Whole villages were forced to relive the same day over and over," she went on, her eyes dark and haunted. "The ponies within were barely alive and were returned to their beds each morn, unable to escape. Any travelers that ventured within the bounds of such a place were...caged as well. In some places, time passed more slowly; in others, more quickly. The land was bleeding, cut by wounds of chaos and disharmony. Had Discord retained his throne longer, or succeeded in his resurgence in Ponyville..." The unsaid promise hung in the air, and Twilight swallowed as memories spun in her head of a dark shadow and a malevolent cackle.

"It sounds...pretty terrible," she finally said in a small voice.

"Indeed it was." Luna shook her head and looked up at the stars. "You can hardly imagine the consequences of his power. The universe seemed to twist and howl as Discord's power destroyed it—that is the origin of the Dimensional Scream which you and my sister experienced before." She let her shoulders slump. "Even after he had disappeared, as I wandered amongst the remnants of his power, I could not help but feel as though there was something watching me: an echo of Time yet lost in the holes of reality.

"Following his defeat, some concentrations of chaos magic yet lingered. In my younger, foolish naïeveté, I sought to study it, learning of the source of his power. My sister sought to forbade my curiosity, but she held no real power to do so. She would later use my newfound knowledge and abandoned notes as a way to construct a spell that would combat the dark magic of the Nightmare, formed from my own memories of that magic.” She smiled weakly, and a deep blue aura flickered at the tip of her horn. "It was in the ashes of Discord's defeat that I discovered the schools of chronomancy and transmutation: the manipulation of time, and of matter. What he had done by accident, derived from his nature, I was eventually persuaded to give to my subjects as well."

She snorted and tossed her mane to the side. "I believe that nowadays, there exists some form of a transmutation spell to transform objects into oranges. Hardly the most dignified use for what I created all those millenia ago."

Twilight chuckled. “I guess not.”

The corner of Luna's mouth twitched upward into a small grin. "At the least, however, I believe that even such silly spells have their place—such as in the fun that you showed me at Nightmare Night, and in strengthening the bonds you hold with your friends. Those activities brought me…great joy.”

Her cheeks tinged a slight red.

She startled as Twilight leaned over and nuzzled her side. "I was happy to, Princess. And remember that you're welcome back in Ponyville any time."

The smile grew on Luna's face, and she gazed back into Twilight's eyes. "I...Should our endeavor tomorrow be successful, and the wedding proceed without trouble, I..."

"Yes?"

"I would be most honored."

The sun was still rising past the horizon as Twilight stepped out into the lush expanse of the Palace gardens, the bright colors of the sunrise playing across the sky above her. She smiled and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath of warm, fresh air as the grass crumpled beneath her hooves.

Today is the day.

"Three down, one to go."

Twilight opened her eyes. "Princess Luna! Princess Celestia!"

Luna’s eyes were slightly tired after a full night of watching over Canterlot, but her smile was warm and honest. "A good morning to you as well, Twilight."

Twilight's eyes swept over the pair again, and she frowned. "Wait, where's Professor Brightmane? Doesn't he need to be here?"

Celestia stood by a marble fountain, her mouth twitching upward in a cheeky grin. "It would appear that the good Professor has overslept. He should only be a few minutes, I believe."

"A few minutes, my hairy flank! I'm here, your Majesties." Brightmane came galloping into the garden, his moustache and mane bouncing up and down with each cantankerous stride. His chest heaved, sweat dripping down his neck as he stopped and raised a handkerchief to wipe his forehead. "My apologies for being late. I ran into a...complication on the way."

Twilight raised an eyebrow. "What kind of complication, Professor?" she asked innocently.

He snorted. "Those pillows had no right to be so damn comfortable." With a flourish of his tail, he produced the old scroll, levitating it to Celestia with a hint of reverence in his eyes. "The spell is complete, Princess."

"Good." Celestia smiled down at him, her ethereal mane shimmering in the morning light. She turned to face her sister. "The two of you made all of the necessary modifications?"

"We did," Luna replied. "My arcane knowledge proved useful, but Profesor Brightmane was a great asset with his knowledge of thaumaturgy and the physical sciences."

"Oh, please." Brightmane snorted and raised a hoof to tweak his moustache, his cheeks a faint red. "The Princess did everything, really. I was just there to check the equations."

"Equations that I did not even realize existed until you showed them to me," Luna corrected him.

Celestia's smile grew broader. "Wonderful. So it is in this scroll, then?"

Brightmane's head bobbed up and down pleasantly. "Yes, indeed! There was enough space at the bottom to fit in some extra scrapwork, and I figured that reshaping the ambient magic involved would be easier if we had the original spall matrix to work with, so..." His jaw clamped shut as Twilight realized that he was struggling to prevent the flood of jargon about to burst out of his mouth. She snickered, and he shot her a withering glare.

"Anyway," he went on, taking a moment to adjust his bowtie, "Myself and your sister will be the ones to cast the spell, while you'll help provide the power as you did when you first used it."

"And me?" Twilight cut in. She frowned, feeling a bit left out. "What will I be doing?"

Brightmane spun to face her and quirked one white, bushy eyebrow in her direction. "You, Miss Sparkle, will sit quietly as we cast the spell upon you." He smirked. "Is that a satisfactory answer?"

Twilight stuck her tongue out at him, but nodded.

"Marvelous. Now, if you'll give us a few minutes to construct the necessary setting..."

She watched with no small amount of interest as Brightmane got down on his knees and began to draw strange shapes into the ground, constantly referring back to his notes on the scroll as his horn lit up in different colors, flashing brightly with each shade of the rainbow. Beside him, Luna chanted something softly under her breath; a string of tiny, royal blue chain links formed at the tip of her horn and slowly wove themselves into a braid as they descended toward the ground with each new link formed.

Finally, after some time spent pacing in a circle around a particular area in the dirt, Brightmane looked up and gave Twilight a nod. “If you would come over here, Miss Sparkle?”

Twilight obliged him and trotted over. “Right.” She felt hopeful—really. This time, it’s going to work. It has to. She struggled to ignore the sliver of doubt that wormed its way through her mind, and kept the smile on her face.

“Very good,” Brightmane murmured. He looked up at Luna and nodded. “Princess, if you’ll begin the spell?”

Luna inclined her head slightly in return, and the assembly of glowing chain links levitated into the air, coming to a rest around Twilight’s neck. She gasped: they felt warm, humming with a strange kind of energy against her coat. As the sensation strengthened, the space around her seemed to dim, the colors turning into grayer, paler shades.

“Good, good,” the professor muttered, his eyes darting over her still form. “The separation field seems to be in order.” He clapped his hooves. “Now, let us begin.”

Twilight could barely tell what happened next; everything seemed to meld together into a single, continuous event. One moment, a dim light was flickering at the end of Brightmane’s horn, and the next she was hovering in the air before Luna, the princess’s eyes glowing a deep, unfathomable blue. Luna’s mouth worked silently as she stared into Twilight’s eyes, her deep blue horn surrounded by a sheath of glimmering magic. The symbols that had been carved into the ground began to flicker in a variety of colors, the most prominent being a rusty shade of red that glowed dimly in the growing light.

To Twilight’s eyes, the air around her twisted and shimmered until she seemed to be looking at the others through a clouded window. She could hear a dull roar in her ears, a steady beat pounding in time in her head.

Celestia raised her head, closed her eyes, and joined her magic to the spell.

The air flickered a bright gold and hazed over as though filled with a great heat. It twisted even further until Twilight could barely make out the Princess’ shape.

A dull hum rose in her ears until it suffused the garden, reverberating as the world seemed to twist and dance around her. In the distance, she could see a small, twinkling light. She squinted in an effort to see it better and gasped as the world fell away.

The colors faded even further until the scenery was nothing but grey and white; a foal’s empty coloring book with nothing between the lines. Celestia, Luna, and Brightmane faded too until they were little more than faint silhouettes. The roar in the background increased in intensity until it filled Twilight’s head, and she flinched as her temples began to ache. No. I need to stay strong.

She looked up at where the sky had once been and watched in awe as the stars emerged from the darkness, their faint lights moving across the sky like endless grains of sand, the faint shadows of the moon and sun chasing one another across the sky in an eternal dance.

Her eyes widened as something new made itself visible to her eyes: around her were long white threads stretching from the ground and trailing into the skies.

She swiveled her head around to get a better look and took a deep breath. The strands weren't one dimensional—far from it. Instead, an infinite array of looping, twirling strands covered the land for as far as she could see.

One in particular caught her eye: it stood before her, towering high above her head. It held a pattern of concentric circles, each linked to the others by a series of infinitesimally thin lines. As she stared up into its depths, something seemed to push at her mind. This was more than a symbol: more than an artful design. It meant something.

But what?

The silhouettes of the others had long since disappeared by this point, and Twilight stood alone in a pure white void, gazing up at the titanesque shapes that rose before her. For reasons she could not fathom, moisture had gathered at the corners of her eyes, and her mouth had fallen open. The shapes were beautiful...but incomplete. Stopped. Frozen.

As she looked at them with awe, she could barely make out an errant twitch —a ripple in the immense clockwork of time—but only out of the corner of her eye.

And then the Sun burst into existence above her head.

She took a step back in reflex, the heat warming her coat as the new light danced in her eyes. The glared down at her, its golden glow reflecting off of the blank white pattens that surrounded her. Behind it was a dark blue glow. The moon’s light twisted with the sunbeams, striking the land. As Twilight watched, the patterns began to shine with a deep, pulsating glow.

And then, with an errant twitch of her ear, she heard it: a crack. And then another. And another.

She flung her head upward back toward the immense patterns and her jaw dropped even lower—if she could even be said to have a mouth in this place. The single line that she had first noticed was shuddering in place, as if awakening from a long slumber. Many of its loops and strands creaked loudly as they shifted, ever so slightly, beginning to twitch from their position. Slowly but surely, the shapes began to move, circles picking up speed as they swirled within their larger partners, the lines and shapes within each dancing around one another.

Each pattern came to life in turn, each part awakening like a rusted-over machine, moving with the grace of an old stallion that had learned once more how to walk. The sun and moon flared brightly far above, and the landscape shook as Time, somehow, began to turn again.

There was a twinkle of green light in the distance.

Twilight's smile froze in place andvanished as the patterns creaked again, even louder, and slowed in their turning. The sound became louder, more intense, and the circles trembled in place as though being restrained by an unseen force. The sun and moon flared up even brighter, and Twilight flinched back, covering her eyes as their light grew to an intensity that she could barely withstand.

Yet the patterns continued to slow, their movement vanishing as a sense of strain and tension filled her body. She squeezed her eyes shut, the sheer sensation splitting her thoughts and squeezing her brain in a vise.

Something snapped.

Her eyes snapped open, and she watched in horror as one of the largest circles of Time splintered, its crest beginning its descent to the ground below. In the distance, she could see others cracking down the sides and middle, fracturing as the tension grew too great.

All around her danced shades of brilliant green, bolts of lightning striking the ground and cracking the earth.

The patterns continued to shatter and fall. Twilight's eyes opened wide as she felt a dull hum begin in her ears, gradually escalating in pitch and volume until it filled her whole body. She let out a primal shout, all coherent thought driven from her mind as the Dimensional Scream wracked her form. Although she wasn't sure, she thought that she could hear screaming—the voices of the Princesses and the professor—echoing in the recesses of her mind.

She tried to run, but her legs were too sluggish. She tried to drag herself away, but her nerves, broken and fried from the impact of the Scream, were too numb to act. She could only lay there, broken and exhausted, as the lingering static made her limbs twitch and jump uncontrollably.

With a final, thunderous smash, a crack split down the center of each towering structure. The tension reached a peak, the Scream at a crescendo in her ears—

And then the world cracked, and Twilight shattered into a million pieces. She fell, speeding through a blank, endless void filled with a throbbing green light. She fell, blind, deaf, and mad with agony.

She fell for a long time.

Chapter Four: System Breakdown

When she awoke, there was nothing.

She blinked, but without eyes, she could not see. She breathed, but without lungs, there was nowhere for the air to go. She shouted until she was hoarse, but without a throat or mouth, there was no way for anypony to hear her.

But it didn't matter. There was nothing to see; no air to breathe; nobody and nothing to hear, see, or help her. Instead, it was blank: an empty, white void.

Who am I?

Where am I?

Twilight looked out over the desolate expanse with a feeling of dread. Her limbs felt cold and numb, her hooves far away and her tail completely separate from her body. She felt nothing—but wait, there was still something there: the slightest hint of an electric potential leaping across her coat. Closing eyes that weren't there, she cleared her thoughts and focused.

For seconds, minutes, an eternity, there was nothing: only a mocking touch that tickled her mind. Finally, though, her mind snagged on something.

Slowly, carefully, she pulled it back. It was a long and arduous process, but time seemed to have no real meaning here. With a satisfying squelch, Twilight blinked and looked around at her surroundings once again. Her left eye, now relinked to her mind, surveyed the landscape. She could just barely make out the naked outlines of objects, blurred into the white and faded until they were almost invisible. At the same time, she felt stronger—more whole, and more complete. Her thoughts, formerly sluggish and clouded, sped up as her synapses began to reform and come back together.

On she went, finding each part of her body, mind, and soul and connecting it to her sense of self. With each new discovery she felt invigorated and complete. Painstakingly, and with the utmost caution and thoroughness, Twilight Sparkle began to put herself back together. It would be some time before she finished.

When she finally did, however, fitting the last piece of her soul into place, the void shifted.

The world flickered into being around her, and there was light.

Twilight sputtered as she awoke, her chest heaving with dry, wracking coughs. She wheezed and gurgled, but no air entered into her lungs. What—my chest—.

Her heart began beating once more.

She doubled over in her bed and sucked in air greedily. It tasted so sweet, even with the tinges of Canterlot smoke, old parchment, and a slight hint of urban trash. It was real.

Canterlot...

A quick glance showed her that she was back in her Canterlot bed, the sun rising outside her window on what was undoubtedly the first day of the loops. She exhaled slowly as a wave of relief washed over her. I'm...I'm alive.

She might not be free, but she was still alive.

Her hooves trembled as she peered down at them, looking as though she'd never seen them before. She turned them over, admiring how they looked in the light. How had she never noticed how perfect they were: never realized how amazing it was to have a full, wonderful body? And to think, I came so close to losing it all...

She shivered. The spell.

How could it have happened? How could Celestia not have known? Maybe she did, a dark voice whispered in the back of her mind. Maybe she's the one who—

No. Twilight shook her head firmly. She wouldn't. Not her.

She bit her lip and stared out of the window, the sun continuing its journey into the sky. But why did it fail?

Do I even want to know?

She closed her eyes and sighed. Is it even worth it? To look for the scroll and try again? To risk it all?

Enough. Enough with all of the rhetorical questions. Her eyes narrowed, and she shoved the covers aside and leapt out of bed. She was done with questions. It was time to get some answers.

She looked around: dull, repetitive monotony. She'd kept her sanity this long, but who was to say that she'd keep it for another fifty loops? A hundred? A thousand? She shuddered. I will make that spell work. Even nonexistence would be better than the alternative.

With a gleam in her eye, she stalked down the hall toward the Royal Archives. Halfway down the hallway, though, she abruptly switched directions and took off down a new corridor. She couldn't do this alone. She would need Celestia behind her again if she wanted to make anything happen.

It was time to try again.

"You what?"

Celestia looked over her with a frown, her eyebrows furrowed. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about, Twilight."

Twilight groaned and pawed the ground angrily. "You've got to be kidding! You told me yourself that you kept that spell in a scroll a thousand years ago, after you used it against the Nightmare's magic! How can it be gone?"

"It is not gone," Celestia said. "It merely never existed." She raised an eyebrow in Twilight's direction. "It is true that I used that spell to restart the lunar cycle, but I never kept it. I destroyed that knowledge, and my mages agreed to abandon its study so that no monster might ever abuse the fabric of time and space again."

Twilight gritted her teeth. "That's impossible!"

"Is it?" Celestia surveyed her coolly. "I believed not five minutes ago that time couldn't loop, but here you are before me." She tilted her head and a look of concern crossed her features. "Are you sure that you aren't mistaken, Twilight?"

Mistaken...

Never existed...

Gone...

Twilight's eyes widened. No.

But there was no other explanation. She could remember the scroll and the spell it contained as clear as day; she had the mental scars to prove it. But what if whatever had happened as a result of using that spell had had further-reaching effects than just scattering her mind and bringing that loop to a halt? What if it had possessed such a destructive effect that the spell had looped in on itself, deleting itself from the timestream?

She gulped, a drop of sweat running down her face. Never forget what you're dealing with. She was messing around with Time, a primal force of the universe. Nothing that she did could be taken lightly when speaking of such a powerful, unfathomable force. Her knees shook, knocking together, and she slowly looked up into Celestia's eyes.

"Yes," she said quietly, her voice a hoarse whisper that was barely audible in the enormous throne room. "I must have been mistaken. Sorry."

"That's quite alright." Celestia looked down at her with a kindly, caring look, and it was so overwhelmingly saccharine and warm and ignorant that Twilight wanted to scream. "Now, do you have any ideas as to what might have caused these...loops to happen?"

"Oh, and you'll make sure that the order is up to my specifications?"

"Of course, Princess."

Twilight watched with narrowed eyes as the stallion bowed and scraped before the imposter, his saddlebags nearly touching the floor from their obvious weight. How she must love that, she thought with a scowl. All of the reverence and adoration that comes with being a princess, but with none of it earned or deserved. She felt a snarl building up in her throat and tore her eyes away. She refused to think of the imposter as "Cadance" in her mind, or even as "Chrysalis." It—not she, never she—was a changeling; a beast that had come into the castle to destroy everything precious or beautiful. It deserved no less than her contempt.

"And get it back here within the hour; I have a hooficure scheduled by two, and I can't have you getting back late." The imposter's eyes flickered over the stallion's prostate body. Twilight easily noticed the green tint to those pupils, now; how could she have been so blind? It had had them all fooled.

"Yes, your majesty."

As the stallion clambered to his feet, Twilight turned away, watching a procession of caterers walk down the other side of the hallway, heaping trays of food balanced on their backs. At any other time, the aroma would have been mouthwatering, but now, the taste would have felt like dust in her mouth. She shook her head and looked back to the imposter.

There it was, standing by the stained glass windows with a haughty look on its face. Twilight felt a flicker of anger in her chest, and growled softly. She was stuck here, in this endless week, with only the imposter and her minions for company. Time after time she'd seen her home be reduced to rubble beneath the hooves of the invaders, and there stood their leader smirking slightly, though ignorant of Twilight's gaze burning holes into its back.

It's sadistic. Twilight scowled and breathed out slowly. Making me live this week over and over again, without any hope of respite or victory. What could I have done to deserve this?

Her eyes widened, her throat suddenly dry. Sadistic...

She watched as the imposter glided across the hall toward one of the catering staff, ensnaring him with its honeyed tongue and stealing a pastry from one of the silver trays. As it lifted the treat to its mouth, Twilight could almost swear that the creature turned to face her, regarding her with a cool, collected gaze, and winked.

Impotent rage flared up in Twilight's stomach, her magical font stirring wildly beneath her horn. It's her fault!

It made too much sense. The changeling queen possessed the ability to enchant and control the minds of ponies, directing them as it wished. It wasn't too much of a leap to suppose that it could manipulate their minds, too, controlling the stimuli that its victim was exposed to. Perhaps it could even create and apply such stimuli directly.

Twilight felt a shiver run down her spine. Maybe Shining Armor was living out a fantasy of his own right now, ignorant of the reality that surrounded him. Instead, he would be barely cognizant, trapped in a realm of dreams and imagination controlled by the hooves of this disgusting puppetmaster.

Or at least, he would be, if any of this was real.

Twilight felt the rage bubble over, and her vision went red. With a snort of hot air from her nostrils, she narrowed her eyes and stomped across the hall to where the imposter stood, waiting.

The changeling stopped in place at the hoof on her shoulder, turning to face Twilight with a single eyebrow raised. "Hello," it said, its voice a perversion of Cadance's normal tones. "Can I help you?"

Twilight smirked and flashed a hint of teeth at the creature. "Oh, I'm sure you can."

The changeling looked unconcerned. "Well, with what? I don't have all day."

This is your doing.

This is your fault.

Your. Fault.

Twilight bared her teeth and wove a spell at the tip of her horn. "With this." A collective gasp went up from the surrounding ponies as the two vanished behind a wall of bright, purple light, their forms blurring into the air. When the light finally faded, they were gone.

"Princess!"

Princess Celestia looked up, startled, as the doors to her study burst open and a young stallion crashed through. He was sweating, his chest heaving beneath a striped vest. "Terrible—terrible news," he wheezed.

Her eyes flashed, and in an instant she was beside him, one wing held gently around his side. "What is it?"

"Y-your student." The messenger panted and held a hoof to his head as he gazed up into Celestia's eyes. "Y-you need to come and see. Send h-help."

Something ugly flickered in her chest. "What's happened to her?" Celestia whispered, her wings tensing.

"Please...come." The stallion shook his head and gave a terrible, wheezing cough. "The center of the city. You need to s-stop her. Before..." He collapsed under Celestia's grip, and his body thudded heavily onto the floor. She stared down at him, her heart beating in her chest like a drum. She brushed a hoof across his face, but he made no movement—he was out cold.

It was only then that she noticed that scratches and bruises that covered his body, with dirt smudges and dust all over his formerly white coat. Her mouth narrowed into a thin line and she looked out of the window, setting down the papers that she'd been leafing through just moments before.

Paperwork could wait. Now, her faithful student needed her.

The lieutenant looked up from his place on the street, his eyes brightening as they alighted on Celestia's lithe form. "Princess!" he said. "Thank goodness you're here."

Celestia's voice was sharp, cold, and left little room for discussion. "Where is Twilight?" The guard looked up at her, licking his lips, and she took a heavy step forward with something steely glittering in her eyes. "Where is she?" she repeated.

The lieutenant shook his head and looked up, pointing with one hoof. "See for yourself." Celestia's eyes followed the trajectory of his gesture, finally landing on one of the spiraling towers that clustered above Canterlot. She gaped.

At the foot of the tower stood—or formerly had stood—one of the city's many public parks. Once a bastion of floral beauty in a center of urban activity, it was now a mess of chaos and destruction. Trees had been uprooted, bushes scorched and torn to pieces. Some of the fountains scattered among the grass were fractured, with their sides chipped or even entirely ripped away and water dripping out of the cracks. Benches were thrown wildly all over, and the iron gate that led into the park was twisted grotesquely into a messy knot. Celestia swallowed and turned back to the lieutenant.

"What manner of monster did this?" she demanded. "I thought that Canterlot was protected from outside attack."

The lieutenant shook his head slowly and raised his spear, pointing it up to the sky. "No monster did this." He sighed and looked her straight in the eye. "She did." Celestia followed his gesture up to the top of the tower that stood in the center of the park, and froze.

A miniature hurricane whipped around the top of the tower, with leaves and rocks whirling around it in a chaotic dance. Part of the building's roof was damaged, the shingles chipped and charred. Above the rest glimmered a single, pulsating light; Celestia narrowed her eyes to get a better look and felt her heart drop as she noticed the color. Purple.

Her mouth went dry. There, floating in the middle of that cloud of purple, flickering magic, was her student.

Twilight's eyes were glazed over and colored white, her hooves spread out in the air like those of a sacrificial beast. Beside her was Princess Cadance, her slightly larger shape held within a shimmering lavender bubble. As Celestia continued to look up, her eyes met Twilight's, and her student bared her teeth in what could only be a snarl. Her eyes widened, completely unused to seeing such a bestial expression on Twilight's face.

"Twilight!" she called out, magically amplifying her voice. She held herself together with an air of regality and command that had been refined over millenia of practice. Deep down, though, she was greatly disturbed. What could have happened to cause this? How was this possible? "Come down from there."

Twilight looked down at them, the light from her eyes shining upon the ground. "Princess!" Her voice was high-pitched and she swallowed, licking her lips. "How good of you to come." She curled up, still hovering in midair, and began to stroke her mane gently. "I've got something to show you."

"That is enough." From what Celestia had managed to gather from her friends, Twilight had only ever acted like this once before: just before the outbreak of the Want-It-Need-It spell in Ponyville. Petty spellcasting and facial tics were a far cry from this outright vandalism and kidnapping, however. "You need to stop."

"Oh?" Twilight threw back her head and laughed quietly. "But I had a present for you," she sang out, petting the side of the bubble that had entrapped Cadance. "Don't you want to see it?"

Celestia's eyes hardened and a shadow passed over her face. The only other time she had seen a pony act like this had been when Luna—

No. Don't think about that. Never again.

Without a second's hesitation, she unfurled her wings and gave them a mighty flap, thrusting herself into the air and away from the ground below. The streets of Canterlot diminished into ant trails beneath her, and the wind blew across through Celestia's ears as she narrowed her eyes, rising higher into the sky. She finally reached the top of the building and spread her wings wide in a calculatedly intimidating pose. "Twilight," she said quietly. "I don't know what's come over you, but you need to stop this. You need to fix the park, get down from here, and let Cadance go." There wasn't a hint of a waver in her voice. "Now."

Twilight shrank back from her teacher's shadow, and for a second Celestia thought that she had gotten through. Not a moment later, however, Twilight shook her head and offered a jagged grin, the bubble still floating beside her. "I'm afraid not, Princess," she said as she spread her hooves wide in a half-hearted shrug. "You see, I'd do that normally, but given the fact that none of this is real, I don't see any reason to listen."

Celestia's eyelids fluttered: for her, that was the equivalent of a gasp. "None of this is real?"

"Yes." Twilight scowled and leaned against the bubble. Inside, Cadance stared at her with wide eyes and, although Celestia nearly missed it, a flicker of sheer rage. "It's a dream—a lie—and I'm going to escape."

Celestia blinked. "A dream? Twilight, I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't. You never did." Twilight's glare was ugly and heavily-lidded, her gaze stabbing at her like knives. "Oh, you thought you understood, but in the end, you were as powerless and confused as the rest. It's up to me, now, and nopony else."

"This is ridiculous." Celestia frowned at her student and flapped her wings once, coming a few feet closer in the air. "I refuse to allow it."

"But you can't," Twilight said, the lopsided grin returning to her face. "Because as far as I'm concerned, you're just a part of her, sent here to trick and confuse me." She jabbed a hoof toward the bubble and Celestia's eyes widened.

"Cadance?" she asked. She shook her head. "She has done nothing to you, Twilight."

Twilight growled and swiped a hoof through the air as if she had claws. "Not Cadance, you idiotic illusion. The imposter! The one behind the mask!" She licked her lips, and Celestia noticed a flicker of something dark in Cadance's eyes. "The changeling."

She threw back her head and laughed, rubbing at one eye with her hoof. "But why am I telling you this? You already know."

"I'm afraid I do not," Celestia replied dryly. She glanced down below: a few dozen yards down, a team of pegasi guards had gathered, awaiting her command. She shook her head, wanting them to stand down. I can handle her. "Enlighten me."

Twilight's face reddened and she ground her teeth at her teacher's apparent serenity. "Fine, then," she spat. "I'll play your little game, Chrysalis." She turned and crossed her hooves over her chest.

Celestia waited patiently.

"She—and by she, I mean you—is responsible for trapping me in this mess." Twilight peered back over her shoulder and glared at Cadance, her eyes flashing dangerously in the light. "It wasn't enough to defeat me and my friends, was it, changeling?" She snarled. "You had to humiliate me by trapping me in a memory, repeated over and over again."

Celestia's eyes widened. "Twilight, you—"

"I'm. Not. Done." She bit out the words, chewing on each one like a stalk of hay. She shuddered lightly and ran a hoof through her mane. Her chest slowly rose and fell, and eventually, she looked up at Celestia with a dark gloom in her eyes.

"She's the one keeping this going," Twilight said quietly. "Without her, none of this would have happened. None of this would be happening." She took a deep breath and stared into the bubble unblinkingly. "So what do you do with a constant problem that won't go away?"

"I'm afraid I—"

"You eliminate it." Twilight's voice was barely above a whisper now, and she gazed at Cadance's prone form hungrily. "Don't worry, Celestia. I'll escape from her, and you'll finally be free. All of Canterlot will be." Her shoulders shook, and she slowly reached forward as a purple glow sprung up around her hoof, the white light returning to her eyes. "Everything will be okay.

"And I'll see my friends again."

Her hoof was stopped in place. Twilight looked up at Celestia with a snarl emerging on her face. "What are you doing?"

"I can't allow you to do this." Celestia's voice was cold and hard, but inside of her chest, her heart was beating. I will not lose somepony else. Never again. "You won't come peacefully?"

Twilight struggled under the grip of her wing, trying in vain to reach the bubble, and Cadance within. "Never."

"Then I am sorry." As Twilight turned to face her, a white glow springing up around her eyes, a frown came over Celestia's face and she let her magic flow into the horn. It became surrounded by a warm, golden glow and the air was filled with a hum of power, tinged with the smell of burning ozone. "You leave me no choice."

Twilight opened her mouth in a wordless scream, but before she could act, Celestia's horn flashed and she crumpled. The purple glow faded along with the bubble that had held Cadance, and Celestia managed to catch them both with a telekinetic grip before the two hit the roof.

"Princess!" She heard the flapping of many wings, and before she knew it, she was surrounded by the squadron of guardsponies. "Are you okay?"

She turned and nodded. "I'm fine. Please, take Twilight and return her to her rooms." She floated her student's prone form over to one of the guards who caught her and saluted. "Keep a sharp eye on her, and ensure that at least two unicorns are nearby to seal her magic."

The guard nodded and began to fly away, flanked by the rest of his squad. Soon, the only one remaining was the lieutenant, his eyes hard and his mouth a thin line.

"What happened, Princess?" he asked in a gruff voice, hovering beside her. Celestia shook her head.

With a sigh, she looked out at Twilight's disappearing form and then up at the sky, the sun flickering on the edge of her vision. "I wish I knew, lieutenant." Her voice lowered to a whisper, and she turned her head. "I wish I knew."

The week proceeded uneventfully, but when the changelings came, Twilight was trapped in her room, unable to defend herself. She laughed as they tore down the city, and cried herself to sleep beneath the ashes of the Palace.

Twilight wheezed softly and leaned forward over the table. Papers, crumpled or drowned in ink, were scattered along its surface. She swallowed and dragged a hoof down the side of her face, absentmindedly twirling her mane around it. Her eyes twitched: they were red and bloodshot.

She didn't have time to sleep. She would have all the time that she would need, but not now. A shiver crept down her spine, and she shook her head.

An illusion. She gave a short bark of laughter and immediately winced, holding her head in her hands. Perhaps. But which was more likely: that her mind was held prisoner by a changeling using magic that she didn't even know existed, or that she  was caught in a time spell gone wrong? She honestly didn't know.

But would she really be that strong, or subtle? Twilight sighed and slumped down in her chair. Chrysalis did seem the type to revel in her enemies' misery, rather than gloating from afar. When she'd done battle with Celestia, too, there had been no telepathic fight—none that she could see, at least—no war of mind and spirit. It had been a simple contest of sheer power, and looking around the library room that she'd holed up in, she found it doubtful that anything this complex could be the creation of a single mind.

So it looked like she'd be sticking with the time loops hypothesis, then. She took a moment to move her disheveled mane from her field of vision and rubbed at the dark circles under her eyes. It might not be a perfect explanation—she had no idea why this was happening, or how—but it was the best that she'd come up with. She bit her lip and settled into a more comfortable position.

The world was twisted, then; bound into a bizarre mockery of the normal laws of physics. Even a unicorn's magic couldn't do this: the most powerful application of chronomancy she'd ever seen had been Starswirl's spell, and that itself was magnitudes above the "bullet-time" magic that some of the Academy's more athletic students had taken a liking to. These loops weren't the creation of some esoteric unicorn mage, then, unless she had wildly miscalculated the energy levels required. Twilight shook her head and ran a hoof through her mane, unconsciously chewing on the end of a quill. The ultimate question was rather simple, really: How can I restore a universe that's been twisted with a perversion of physics and chaos? How can I change things from being the way they're not supposed to be?

Twilight went silent.

Chaos...

Not the way they're supposed to be...

So, in other words…disharmony.

A wild, uncontrollable grin broke out on her face and she smashed a hoof onto the table, spilling the small pot of ink she'd left there. It was seeming more and more like the Elements were becoming a crutch for her every problem, but Twilight didn't care. They were tools, powerful ones at that, and she would use them as she see fit. Their power was right in the name: Elements of Harmony. If restoring time to its normal flow wasn't an application of Harmony, she didn't know what was.

Her smile abruptly vanished, and she scowled. How was she to use the Elements, then, in a manner so alien from their original purpose? How was she to use them alone, and without the magic of friendship to activate them? Her hoof trembled on the surface of the table as her victory began to crumble before her eyes.

Twilight felt a light weight on her shoulder, and realized that it was a bundle of papers that had fallen from an upper shelf. Growling, she reached up to brush it off, and froze.

There on the front page was the unmistakeable look of a student's untidy scrawl, scribbling across the cream-colored parchment in smudged ink. What interested her, however, was the picture in the center of the paper: a strange symbol, highlighted in a bright green and surrounded by a circle. Her eyes widened as she recognized the picture, and the paper crackled beneath her hoof. A lightbulb went off in her head, and slowly but surely, the grin re-emerged on her face.

This is it.

This is how I'll do it.

With a pop, Twilight vanished from the room, leaving behind a flickering candle and a small cloud of papers that slowly fluttered to the ground. If she wanted to make this happen, she had work to do.

Gale Runner hummed quietly to himself as his hoofsteps echoed across the marble floor of the Hall of Harmony. His golden armor glinted beneath the pale moonlight that drifted through the stained-glass windows above. He paused for a moment to look up at one of the murals. It showed Discord, frozen in agony, and his defeat by the Bearers of Harmony. He shuddered as he looked up into the yellow eyes of the so-called Lord of Chaos. If there was one thing that Gale never wanted to see, it was that monster returned to life once more. Thank goodness for the Bearers.

Hearing hoofsteps behind him, he whirled with his spear at the ready, held between his teeth. "Who goes there?" he demanded, speaking around the wooden handle of the weapon as his white wings flared out behind him. "The Hall is closed." Behind him, the great crystal doors that held the Elements in their gem-encrusted chest sparkled faintly, their surface shimmering with a golden glow.

The hoofsteps became louder, and from the shadows stepped a unicorn, her coat a deep purple and her mane a dark blue. Gale blinked, taking a moment to recognize the intruder. "Miss Sparkle!" he said. "What brings you to the Hall?"

Twilight Sparkle cocked her head, an odd little smile on her face. "I only wanted to visit the Elements, Sir Guard," she said in a small voice. "Is that allowed?"

He nodded quickly. "Well, by usual standards, I'm not supposed to let anypony in, but I suppose I can make an exception for you." Gale paused before throwing back his head with a sharp bark of laughter. "Oh, Celestia, you're my boss’s sister, not to mention the owner of one of the Elements themselves. Come and let me open the door for you." He turned and trotted toward the door, fiddling with a ring of keys that rested on a string around his neck. Twilight followed behind him, her own steps light on the hard floor.

"Here we go," Gale mumbled, trying to fit the largest key into the lock on the door. "The Princess originally wanted her horn to be the only access key, but she changed her mind and decided that it'd be best if they were accessible by trusted guards as well." He flushed lightly and gave Twilight a wide grin. "Of course, the Elements are enchanted to return to their place if worn by anypony besides their Bearers, so..."

Twilight's eyebrows shot up in her forehead. "Oh, really?" She frowned and gave him and odd look. "I wonder why she didn't do that before."

"Beats me." Gale grit his teeth and turned his head, the key held delicately in his mouth. The lock clicked, and the doors hissed open. "Ah, there we go." The chest containing the Elements glimmered in the cavity behind the doors, and he took a moment to admire the way it shone in the dim moonlight.

As such, he failed to notice the faint purple glow of magic that sprung up around Twilight's horn. With a muffled grunt and a flash of light, Gale fell to the ground, unconscious. Shaking her head slightly, Twilight stepped over his prone form and peered over the chest.

"I'm sorry, Sir Guard," she said quietly, a frown on her face. The chest clicked open, and the light of the Elements burst forth, the gemstone atop the tiara of Magic shimmering as its Bearer's presence drew nearer. "But I needed these to escape, and I can't let you get in my way. There'd be too many..."

She lifted the tiara up to her face, inspecting it for any flaws and imperfections, and then set it on her head with a soft sigh.

"...Awkward questions."

With a flash of light and a poof of smoke, she was gone, and the Elements along with her.

The ground shook, and Rarity's eyes snapped open.

Having been interrupted from a particularly fine dream involving a handsome stallion, a crown, and a tea party, it took her a few seconds to register that the floor was indeed moving beneath her bed. She shook her head rapidly to clear her thoughts and threw aside the covers, letting herself drop over the side. She swallowed as her vision blurred, paintings moving on their nails and debris falling from the ceiling.

"Rarity!"

She whirled. "Rainbow Dash!"

"C'mon!" Dash crashed through the doorway and into Rarity, swooping her off of the ground and into the air.

"This is no way to treat a lady—" Rarity stopped midrant as the pair swooped out of the window and into the night air. She looked down toward the shrinking city of Canterlot that lay below them, and her pupils shrunk to tiny pinpricks. "Agh! Get us down this instant!"

"It's too dangerous!" Dash whirled in midair with Rarity still in her grasp as she swooped down over the city like a giant bird of prey. "We need to find somewhere else to land!" She bit her tongue and Rarity felt her heart beating madly beneath her nightgown as they cut through the chill night air, the moonlight lightly caressing her cheek.

What in Equestria is going on?

"There!" Dash froze in midair, looking down at one particular roof. Rarity felt her heart stop.

She barely had time to scream before Dash tucked her wings in and dove. They barreled through the atmosphere, with Rarity's lungs feeling like they were about to burst from sheer terror. They cut through clouds, tiny crystals of ice building up on her eyelashes. She squeezed her eyes shut, preparing for the end.

Finally, Rarity felt the wind stop, and let out a most unladylike squeal as she was dropped to the ground in an undignified manner. "Rainbow Dash!" she demanded, and took a moment to push back her mane and dust off her nightgown. "What is the meaning of this?" A fire burned in her eyes; oh, how she wished to get back to sleep, out here in the chill, dark night...

"Look."

Rarity paused and lowered her hoof before she erupted into a fiery tirade. She turned and her eyes widened, her jaw slowly falling open. "Ah."

Canterlot Castle was shaking, the building's foundations creaking loudly and the towers waving madly in the air. Frozen in place, Rarity watched in awe and terror as one spiraling tower cracked down the side and split, tumbling down the walls of the castle until it finally landed with a huge crash.

"Now do you see why I had to get you out?" Rainbow Dash asked, slowly walking up to  her side. She put a hoof on Rarity's shoulder and sighed, a solemn look in her eyes. "You were the last one—the Princess called for the evacuation as soon as she felt the castle start to move."

Rarity nodded, but Dash's words barely echoed in her ears. She felt her mouth go dry as she raised a hoof, pointing to a bright, flickering light perched atop the highest spire of the Palace. "Rainbow Dash."

"Yeah?" Dash's ears twitched, and she turned to look over Rarity's shoulder in the direction that she was pointed.

"What is that?" Rarity swallowed, her eyes seemingly drawn toward the sphere of light. Her chest felt warm, her heart thudding in her chest, but somehow the sight of that light seemed...wrong, for some reason. Twisted, even.

"I don't know." Dash shook her head, her own pupils dilated as she stared into the light. She shook her head to break the spell and coughed under her breath. "It's been there since the start of the quakes, though. Every time I try to get near it, I get pushed away by these huge gusts of wind, so I have no idea what it actually is."

Rarity's hooves trembled as she reached for her nightgown's pocket, and pulled out a small purse that she opened with a click.

Dash quirked an eyebrow. "What're you doing with that? Do you actually sleep with that thing?"

"A lady," Rarity said, snapping it shut as she levitated a small object from the purse, "Is never without her essentials." The object settled before her eyes and unfolded itself, enclosed in a shimmering blue aura. "Aside from makeup, a hoof-clipper, and various other items," she murmured, squinting to get a better look. "A pair of opera glasses is always most necessary."

"It's a telescope." Dash shook her head. "How's that going to help?"

Rarity swallowed as she directed the glasses toward the Palace, waiting for the image to refocus. She took a sharp breath.

"What?"

"Rainbow Dash," she began, her hoof trembling once more. "Did you retrieve Twilight from her chambers?"

Dash shrugged, the corners of her mouth tugging down in a confused frown. "Nope. I was thinking maybe Fluttershy, or one of the guards had gotten her. I just got you, and I guess Applejack and Pinkie." She put a hoof to her chin. "Why do you ask?"

Rarity's mouth became a thin line, and she pushed the glasses toward Dash's eyes. "See for yourself."

Dash looked through the glasses and froze, her mane standing on end. "You can't be serious," she muttered.

Rarity nodded slowly. "I'm afraid I am."

"But how—?"

"It doesn't matter." She exhaled slowly, and felt her heart sink in her chest. Hovering over the highest spire of Canterlot Castle, Twilight Sparkle gazed out over the city enclosed in a shimmering purple bubble, the crown of Magic perched upon her head and the other Elements surrounding her in the shape of a five-pointed star. Her eyes glowed a milky white.

"But how is it possible?" Dash gaped, seemingly unable to  think of anything to say. "What is she trying to do?"

Rarity's voice was small, weak, and drained. "I don't know," she said quietly, gazing into the distance. "I don't know."

The winds whipped into a frenzy by Twilight's hooves, razorlike blades of air twirling in a lethal dance. Each of the Elements glimmered in an otherworldly gold, and the air around them seemed to bend, as though the objects themselves were not quite real. Inside of the bubble created by her ritual, Twilight felt her skin burning, air molecules bonding and clashing, separating, and then reversing the process altogether. Time was now trapped at an atomic scale, and the effects of her spell reverberated throughout the foundations of the castle as parts of the stone crumbled and decayed, while other sections were simply un-built. They weren't gone; they simple never had been.

She grit her teeth, lifted her hooves to the skies, and pushed.

The bubble of twisted spacetime flickered a blinding white, and began to expand. It soon picked up speed, rushing over the roof of the Palace and quickly passing over several buildings of Upper Canterlot. It pushed forward, enveloping the refuges from the castle. There were several screams, but it had no physical effect. Instead, the Elements merely glowed brighter, their centers throbbing with power and energy as the bubble grew. It was not only growing in volume; it was moving in time as well. Twilight grunted and felt a harsh growl build up in her throat as the boundaries of her mind and magical font, linked to the spell as they were, encountered resistance upon the edges of the bubble. Its surface was rough, boiling with the directed magic of Harmony itself, and clashing against the jagged edges of Time.

Twilight felt her breath catch in her throat as the bubble hit a snag in its expansion, running against an obstacle in its path. This has to be it! Slowly, carefully, she probed outward with the spell to feel for the extent of the snag. With the strangest sensation, she soon found herself looking at her own spell, as though her search had led her in a circle right back to her point of origin.

Gotcha.

With a smirk on her face. Twilight gathered in all of the energy of both her font and of the Elements. She let it fill her, burning and humming with incredible power and electricity. Never before had she used her own magic with this sheer volume. Never before had she brought the power of the Elements inside of herself. Doing so now, she realized one thing: magic sang.

With those twin harmonies directing her thoughts, she molded the spell into a more condensed form, strengthening it and giving it extra support. The power surged forward and crackled from her horn into every dimension. Her eyes glowed with all of the colors of the rainbow, the blinding white splitting into uncountable shades and hues, as if seen through a prism.

Gathering her strength and will, she took a deep breath. The bubble shrank, imperceptibly, and rippled ever so slightly.

And then she flexed.

The bubble burst outward with the force of Harmony itself. It crashed against the boundaries of the loop, refusing to be misdirected or cast aside as before. The twin lights of Honesty and Loyalty burst into greater color, their lights flashing deep, imperceptible hues of orange and red, and Twilight felt the spell push even harder.

It strained, and for an instant, she felt every bone, muscle, and organ in her body explode with fatigue. What was she doing? This was madness—a pony's body couldn't hold this amount of energy. No! I have to keep going. She threw back her head and let out a primal roar; her mane flew back in the hurricane of wind that had sprung up around her. Lightning crackled and hissed, ozone burning in the air.

Finally, she felt something give. Something cracked; something broke. Her heart skipped a beat, and, for an instant, she dared to hope. Could it be...?

The bubble pushed and grew, expanding further to break through the loop in spacetime. She felt it rippling under her grip, and held her breath. Something beyond the bubble gave, splintering beneath her touch—

And then the sky broke.

She screamed, the bubble bursting with a pop, and all of the gathered energy of the Elements turning back on her. It rushed into her unprotected font and burned her; without a proper medium to channel it, the immense power charred her mind, spirit, and body. The universe screamed in return, the sky fracturing as she fell through the air. The pieces shattered into infinitesimally small shards, each one glimmering with the shades of a broken reality. She kept screaming; her blood was filled with fire, and ichor, and life, and death—

When she hit the ground, the earth swallowed her up and once more, Twilight Sparkle died.

She woke in fetal position, clinging to her pillow and thrashing beneath the sheets. Tears of rage, pain, and despair clouded her vision. She wanted to escape; she wanted to stop; why wouldn’t it stop—

She curled up, and cried herself to sleep.

Chapter Five: Recompilation

"Oof! Watch where you're going!"

Twilight barely flinched, instead opting to take an extra step to the side. She said nothing.

The unicorn who she'd bumped into, most likely a noble from the way his nose stuck up into the air, sniffed and ambled past her and down the cobblestone street. "Goodness," she heard him say his his voice faded into the general din of the Canterlot marketplace. "Such riff-raff they're letting in the city nowadays."

Twilight sighed and kept walking.

She plodded on through the streets, ignoring the familiar smells, sights, and sounds. Several merchant ponies hawked their wares as she passed—Royal Wedding miniature toys! Buy them now!—and streetside artists tried to get her attention through performance or song. Yet Twilight passed by them all, her hooves trudging over the road like ants in molasses.

A group of colorfully-outfitted pegasi—tourists, undoubtedly, here for the paparazzi and celebration—walked right into her, and she jostled through with nary a word. The accumulated shrieks and shrill hollering as she bumped into a wing and trod on a hoof made no difference to her. They'd all be gone in the morning.

That evening, Twilight sat alone on the city walls, looking over the skyline and past the shimmering bubble, and out to the distant horizon. The setting sun set the green countryside ablaze with a fiery crimson, and she was dimly reminded of the original siege of Canterlot. Gazing into the burning depths of the sun—any optical damage didn't matter at this point, she told herself; anything that happened to her would be fixed in seven days' time anyway—she thought she could almost see the shadows of ponies, moving in a dance of death across the deep red surface. After all, wasn't that what Equestria was doing now? One step forward, two steps back. Left, right, death—and then do it all over again. No beginning, and nothing to end. Eternity.

Goodness, Twilight thought, her mouth quirking to one side as she slid herself off the wall, letting out a soft grunt as her hooves collided with the dusty road. I get pretty philosophical when I'm depressed.

With a small roll of her eyes, Twilight set off on the long walk back to the Palace gates.

It was only a few more minutes later that Twilight encountered her third collision of the day.

"Ouch!"

"Oof!"

Twilight sat up slowly, rubbing her horn. "Ow..." She grumbled quietly and looked around for who she'd bumped into. Lying a few yards ahead of her was a large pile of cream-colored flannel sacks, their sides emblazoned with sloppy pictures of grain. A large white bag sat on top of the pile, and beneath it, two small limbs poked out, wiggling helplessly under the pile's weight.

Her eyes widened. With a quick spell and a nod of her chin, Twilight lifted the pile of sacks off of the pony below, and yanked him out from underneath with a tug on his back legs. "Are you okay?"

The pony nodded back, panting quietly. "Yeah; I reckon." He turned around and looked at the bags; with a dull groan, he leaned down and poked one in particular. "Darn it; this one's went and got a hole in it." A fine white powder had leaked from the side of the sack in question and onto the ground, making a messy pile on the road.

Twilight's cheeks reddened and she reached up a hoof to touch her horn. It came away white. She sniffed it: Yep; that's flour.

The blush spread across the whole of Twilight's face and she leapt forward, chuckling nervously. "Here, let me fix it." The sack lit up with a light-purple glow, and Twilight almost laughed when she saw the other pony's eyes widen as the tear began to mend itself back together. After no more than ten seconds had passed, the sack of flour stood clean and unblemished, just like it had been before.

"Well, I'll be." The pony scratched his head with a hoof, eyeing the sack with a curious eye. "That's some well-done magic there, missy." He turned back around and extended a hoof to Twilight with a wink and a smile. "Thanks for helpin' me out. Name's Sugarwheat. I'm sorry for bumpin' into you."

"Twilight," Twilight said in return, shaking his hoof. "And I'm the one who should be apologizing: if I hadn't been in your way, you would've never dropped that pile in the first place."

Sugarwheat snorted and put a hoof to his side, cracking his back. "Pfft. Details."

As he looked around, inspecting the mess on the street, Twilight took in his appearance for the first time. He was an earth pony: one with a chocolate-brown mane and an apron tied over his chest. The image of a loaf of bread covered part of his cream-colored flank, and his dull blue eyes flickered over the pile below.

He picked up a sack of flour from the ground, balancing it on his back as he grabbed a few more. "Now, I've just gotta get these inside, or the missus'll be all over me again." He blinked in evident surprise as the sacks levitated out of his reach, hovering quietly over the road below.

"Don't worry about it, sir." Sugarwheat raised an eyebrow. "I'll help you out. It's the least I can do for crashing into you."

"Do what you want," Sugarwheat said with a dismissive wave of his hoof, but judging by the pleased tone of his voice, he was happy to avoid carrying the weight of several dozen pounds of flour any further than he had to.

"Where should I put them?"

"M'shop's over there." Sugarwheat nodded to one side of the street and Twilight turned to see a small bakery, with colorful cakes displayed in the windows, and a small sign holding the carving of a baguette over the door. "You can just drop 'em around the back."

Twilight nodded back. "Sure."

As Twilight stacked the bags of flour by the back door of the shop, Sugarwheat eyed her work appraisingly, nodding to himself every so often. "That's some good work you got there," he said with a slight tilt of his head. "Pity m'old apprentice isn't here to help out, too."

"Your apprentice?" Twilight bit her tongue, carefully placing the last of the sacks on top of the pile. As she finished, she released her breath and turned back to face the baker, one eyebrow raised.

"Yup." Sugarwheat put a hoof to his chin, right beneath a bushy grey mustache. "Usually a pretty good helper, I'd say. He's out of town for the next two weeks on some kind of family business, though, so I'm just gettin' by on my own."

"Huh." Getting by on your own. There was a feeling that Twilight could definitely emphasize with. Looking around, though, she couldn't really say that she was "getting by" in any meaningful sense of the words. "Well, I'm glad I could help you out, even if it was just a little bit."

Sugarwheat snorted, blowing his mustache away from his face. "Well, would've taken me 'least thirty more minutes to get it all stacked 'n put together like you did, so I guess I've gotta express my gratefullness some way." He raised a hoof and glanced toward the back door of the bakery. "Wait here one minute."

Twilight blinked as the baker disappeared into the building. After a minute or so of loud clattering and muffled grumbling, Sugarwheat poked his head back out of the door with a small parcel in his mouth. He dropped it on the ground at Twilight's hooves and nudged it toward her.

"Here you go, Miss Twilight." He stood back up and stretched, his joints cracking as he did so. "Just a little token of thanks from me."

Twilight made to open the box, but Sugarwheat's hoof on hers stopped her from actually undoing the knot that held it together. She looked at him quizzically and he winked back. "Now, don't go opening it before you've gone home, y'hear? That there's fresh and warm, and we wouldn't want it to get all cold and crusty, hm?"

As a delicious smell wafted from the top of the box and into her nose, Twilight nodded back gratefully. For some reason, the scent made her feel…warm. Like she had something to look forward to. "Thank you, sir."

"Pfft. Ain't nothin'." Sugarwheat shook his head and pointed down the street, his dirty apron fluttering in the evening breeze. "Now you go 'n get home, y'hear? Nopony ought be out on the streets at night, 'specially not with something nice and warm for when they get back."

 Twilight chuckled. "Right. And thanks again."

"A good night to you, Missy."

"And to you too!" Twilight called back over her shoulder, her hooves echoing off of the dirty cobblestone of the city roads.

It was a bit of a trip back to the castle, but when Twilight arrived, she opened the package to find two of the most delicious and savory chocolate pastries waiting for her, as warm and as wonderful as if they'd just come out of the oven.

The next morning, Twilight found her hooves leading her right back to the area of town where she'd found the bakery. She couldn't quite say why, but she felt an itch to be somewhere; to do something.

At the very least, more delicious pastries would take her mind off her previous failures.

When she arrived, Twilight was surprised at the long line outside the shop. It certainly hadn't been anywhere near this crowded when she crossed by it the previous afternoon, or at least as far as she remembered, anyway. Yet over two dozen ponies waited patiently in a queue that stretched through the doors and passed a nearby jewelry store. Mares and stallions chatted happily over cups of coffee, and foals darted through the line while shooting hungry looks at the cakes in the windowsill. Above the double doors marking the entrance sat a sign that Twilight hadn't noticed last night: The Cream Puff, it proclaimed.

Finally, she found herself near the front of the line, a high-pitched bell ringing as the door shut behind her. Twilight felt her mouth water as she looked over the display case; she couldn't think of a single kind of baked good that wasn't already here on full, beautiful, tasty display. Apple strudels sat beside luxurious-looking eclairs, and she could smell the rich grain of the baguettes from ten feet away. And those cakes—

"Welcome to the Cream Puff, the place with the best baked goods in town. How might I help you?"

Twilight's ears twitched at the sound of the familiar voice, and she looked up to see Sugarwheat beaming at a profession-looking pegasus on her side of the counter. The pegasus sipped at from a cardboard cup of coffee, his eyes roaming over the display case.

"Hm...I think I'll have the usual, Sugar."

"Toasted bagel with hayseed? Comin' right up!"

As Sugarwheat busied himself cutting up and preparing the bagel, Twilight heard a low grumbling around her.

One mare behind Twilight checked the watch on her hoof, snorting. "Where's my cherry pie?"

"Can this line move any slower?" A lanky unicorn groaned, plopping himself on the ground and pulling a hoofball cap over his eyes.

"Now, where'd I put that hayseed?" Twilight glanced in Sugarwheat's direction and noticed him mumbling quietly to himself, occasionally glancing over his shoulder as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. With a sudden thought, Twilight realized that there was nopony else to handle this ridiculously large line—glancing back, she saw it'd almost doubled in the time she'd been there. The poor baker was on his own.

"Is that it?" she called out, passing through the small door that divided the shop from the area behind the counter. With a small flash of purple light, a forlorn, raggedy sack levitated off of the floor. Sugarwheat turned, and his eyes widened as the sack came to rest before him. "Hayseed," he muttered, reading the words on its front.

A slow smile grew over his face. "One toasted bagel with hayseed! Order up!"

"I'll have a coffee. Decaf."

"I'll get it!" Twilight practically leapt over the counter, the baker's eyes widening as she levitated a coffee cup off its counter and over to the machine marked "Decaf."

Sugarwheat looked slightly taken aback, but a warm smile soon spread across his own face. "Well then, missy," he said with a wink. "Feel free to jump right over."

He didn't miss a beat, slicing the bagel in two, wrapping it, and tossing it over the counter. As a pile of bits clattered onto the counter, he turned and gave Twilight a wink. "Can I get a new tray of croissants? Last door on the right, top shelf, in the middle."

"I—"

"Good to hear!" With a satisfied nod, Sugarwheat turned back to the counter, plopping his hooves up on its surface and giving the mare waiting there his biggest, prize-winning smile. "G'morning, ma'am! Welcome to the Cream Puff, where you'll find the best baked goods in all Canterlot! How may I help you today?"

Twilight froze for a second in confusion, but then just shook her head and trotted off toward the back of the shop, near where she'd left the bags of flour the last night. When she began the quick walk back to the front, a metal tray of freshly baked croissants hovering beside her, there was a small, warm smile on her face.

As she slid the tray into its place in the display case, Sugarwheat caught her eye and winked. "Mighty fine, Miss. Sparkle. Now, Ms. Cottonmane here was telling me that she was wantin'—what was it again?"

A small filly, her pink mane bouncing up and down over her neck, peered up over the counter and looked at Twilight with big eyes. "A chocolate muffin!" she piped up.

"Now, that's not how you say it." Sugarwheat gave the filly a long, hard look. "I think there's got to be something else to it, don't you?"

Cottonmane considered that for a moment before leaping up again, grinning from ear to ear. "Please!"

" 'Atta girl." Sugarwheat chuckled and gave her a pat on the head. The filly sniffled, shaking her head rapidly until he removed his hoof with a snort of laughter. Twilight just smiled down at them, feeling something warm in her chest that she hadn't felt for weeks.

"Middle shelf!" Sugarwheat called after her as Twilight's hooves echoed on the scuffled wood floors. "Might wanna take two, just to be sure!"

Twilight wasn't sure how long she worked after that, or how many orders she took, but she knew that by the end of it, the sun was high in the sky, the bakery was empty, and  the display case held nothing but crumbs and a pile of half-eaten crusts. Twilight raised a hoof to her forehead, wiping it clean of sweat. She hadn't realized how tired she'd gotten until after she'd given out the tenth blueberry pie.

"Nice work, Miss Sparkle." Sugarwheat ambled over to her from the back of the shop, carrying a straw broom in his mouth.

"Care to lend a hoof in the clean-up?"

Twilight accepted the broom with a smile, and began to collect the fallen crumbs and napkins that dotted the stained wood floor. She hummed as she worked, Sugarwheat watching her from the counter as he rolled out dough.

"Forgive me my curiosity, but why're you helpin' me out?"

Twilight blinked and looked up, catching Sugarwheat's eye. "Huh?"

The baker shook his head, setting the dough down on the counter and shaking the extra flour of his hooves. "I'm sayin', what's your reason for suddenly coming up to this here bakery and offerin' to help? I'm mighty grateful, what with my apprentice being gone and all, but if my senses are right—and I'd like to think they are," he added with a waggle of his eyebrows, "Then you're more than just some common street pony lookin' for a living wage."

Twilight felt a tinge of red flush her cheeks, and she turned to look out of the window rather than reply at first. "I don't know, really," she admitted after a moment, staring down the emptying street. "I just saw that you needed help, and here I am."

She heard Sugarwheat chuckle behind her. "Then you're a whole lot more selfless than a lot of other ponies, let me tell you that." He paused and put a hoof to his chin. "Or at least, you think you are."

Twilight felt the heat return to her face. Why had she decided to help him, anyway? Last night was surely a one-time thing; she'd made a mistake, and had decided to fix it. There was no reason she had to step behind the counter and lend a hoof this morning, and she was certainly under no obligation to keep sweeping the floor, as dirty as it may be. As far as she knew, the bakery would have gotten along just fine had she been with her friends, preparing for the wedding.

With a flicker of her eyes, Twilight realized something: for the past few hours, as long as she'd been working in the shop, her thoughts hadn't touched upon the wedding or the time loops even once. She'd been too caught up in the moment to care; there was no time to worry about the laws of physics or a changeling invasion when there were pies and cookies to be passed out.

Twilight chuckled under her breath. "I guess it's just something to do. It's better to have something that you know you can do than to waste time worrying about the things you can't."

"That might be right," Sugarwheat said with a small nod as he stroked his bushy moustache. "I don't by any means speak for anypony else, but working with your hooves—that there's real work. There ain't anything else better if you're trying to take your mind of things." He was quiet for a minute and gave Twilight a long, considering look, and then spoke again. "Would I be right in sayin' that you got a problem of your own?"

Twilight gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Well then, I won't pry." Sugarwheat turned his back to the counter and began to trot over to an assembly of ovens that waited in the back. "Can't say it's any of my business. But if you feel the need to be doing something with your hooves, then you're more than welcome here." He chuckled and brushed his mane out of his eyes. "You won't see me complaining."

A warm smile spread over Twilight's face, and she nodded gratefully. "Thank you," she murmured.

The jingle of metal caught her ear, and Twilight looked up just as Sugarwheat dropped a small bag onto the table beside her. "Hm? What's this?"

"Your pay for the day."

Twilight frowned, shaking her head from side to side. "But you don't have to do that. I don't need any—"

"Shush." Twilight blinked as Sugarwheat slowly lowered his hoof from her lips. "That's your money, and you earned it. Nopony’s gonna say that Sugarwheat don't pay what he owes, and if you try to give it back to me, I won't take it." He looked up at Twilight with a fierce look in his eyes, and with a small sigh, Twilight lit her horn and took the money. The small pile of bits felt unusually light in her grasp.

"Now," Sugarwheat began. "I want to start on Ms. Cherrywing's order of a dozen Boysenberry pies early tomorrow morning. Think you can be here by six?”

There was a small tone of authority and expectance to his voice, and Twilight found herself smiling. "You got it," she said.

Sugarwheat turned and winked.

Twilight hummed to herself as she worked. The candle on the counter beside her was the only source of light besides the glimpses of sunlight that were beginning to pierce through the window glass. The broom in her grasp felt like it had a rhythm to its movements; a steady beat that she could lose herself in. It was so nice to work in the morning like this, just as the sun was rising and before any busy activity. She'd forgotten how wonderful it could be to just think in peace, without any interruptions or distractions.

She found that rhythm interrupted, though, when there came a knock at the door.

"Who is it?"

Twilight glanced out of the glass panes of the door, and past the chain links that covered the entrance. Outside, a grey-coated stallion in a suit and tie was biting his lip, with a briefcase floating alongside him and his hoof still raised to knock. "Looks like some businesspony."

"Well, we're closed." Sugarwheat came striding out of the storeroom in the back, wiping a red-checkered handkerchief across his forehead. "Can't he read signs?"

The stallion's eyes darted about nervously, and he gestured to a watch on his leg. Twilight rolled her eyes. "He probably has an early-bird meeting or something. Too bad we don't open until sev—"

"Well, come right in, sir!"

Twilight blinked as Sugarwheat offered the stallion a quick bow, lowering his neck to the floor after lifting the metal gate and opening the door. He dusted off his hooves on his apron and offered a toothy grin. "A good morning to you!"

"And to you," the businesspony said in a quite baritone. He licked his lips and his eyes darted back down to the watch by his hoof. "How quickly might you be able to come up with a cup of coffee and a buttered croissant?"

"Won't be two minutes, sir." Sugarwheat winked at Twilight, the soft wrinkles on his face extending his smile far past his mouth. "My apprentice here'll ring you up. I'll take care of the coffee right away."

"Many thanks." The stallion nodded, evidently satisfied, and turned to face Twilight.

A few minutes later, as the businesspony was leaving with a coffee by his head and a small paper bag in hoof, Twilight gave Sugarwheat an odd look. "What was that all about? You opened the store a whole half-hour early. I thought you hated dealing with customers before seven AM."

Sugarwheat shrugged, polishing up the counters with a tattered pink rag. "I did say that, didn't I?" The dimples on his face rose up as he gave her a cheeky grin. "Then again, it's never a good idea for a shopkeeper to leave his customers out in the cold, especially if they've got somewhere to be." He shook his head and stared out the window. "I usually don't like it, I'll tell you that, but it didn't cost me nothing to help the poor sap out. Might've even gotten me a few bits, to tell you the truth."

Twilight let out a snort of laughter. "I guess that's true."

"Now, how 'bout you restock that box of cream cheese packs over there?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Whoa! So much frosting!"

Twilight beamed down at the trio of foals clustered around the display case, their beady eyes and plump snouts pressed eagerly against the glass walls separating them from their treats. Behind them, a matronly-looking mare—either their mother or nanny; Twilight couldn't decide which—sniffed in disapproval and readjusted her fruit-topped hat.

"Now, children, you may each pick one treat," the mother said, rummaging about in her purse. "One."

One of the foals—a colt, with bright blue wings and a yellow mane to match—groaned, his ears drooping. "Aw. Only one?"

"Oh, shut up." A unicorn filly with a green-patterned backpack slung over her shoulders poked him on the chest. "I'm gonna get the biggest dessert here!"

The third, a plump little colt with a pair of forks crossed over his flank, stared hungrily at the line of cakes, a thin line of drool running down from the corner of his mouth and onto the floor. "Mmmm. I think I want that one."

"The Éclaire Supréme?" Twilight gave the colt a skeptical look, eyeing the pastry he'd pointed out. To be perfectly honest, it was a triple-layered cake; far from a "pastry" or "treat." "That might be a bit too much for you, kid."

"How about a cupcake?" the filly asked, pointing at a Strawberry Shimmer cupcake on the shelf. "I want that one!"

"And I want this one!" The first colt eagerly prodded the glass over a Carrot Cake Cup and licked his lips. "It looks really good!"

The third colt bit his lips, eyeing the rest of the cupcakes. Above him, his mother groaned and put a hoof to her forehead. "Hurry up and pick something, dear; we're late."

"Um..."

"How about this one?" Twilight picked up a cupcake from a special batch she'd made this morning. It'd been her first time making cupcakes, and she was pretty proud of how they'd turned out. The light seemed to shine off of the dark chocolate finish of the Chocolatey Chocolate Delight, and Twilight felt herself getting hungry just looking at its collection of sprinkles, mousse frosting, and fudge cake. The other two foals evidently felt that way as well, giving their own choices sad looks and glancing enviously at the third's selection.

There was now a small puddle of saliva on the floor, and Twilight was beginning to regret her offer.

"We'll take it," the mare said, and dropped a small pile of bits on the counter. Twilight smiled; the register rang cheerily as she typed in the order. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Sugarwheat’s approving smile, and she felt a warm feeling in her chest.

Twilight chewed on her tongue and stared down at the pile of dull-brown mush in her hooves. Her eyes narrowed and she picked it up, squishing it between her hooves and stretching it out again.

She blinked and stared down at the lump in her grasp. With her tongue held carefully between her teeth she tried to place it back onto the wooden cutting board—but found the substance stuck fast to her hooves. She grunted, straining to get it off, but a hundred sticky tendrils latched onto her and refused to let go.

"How goes kneading that dough?"

"Poorly." Twilight took a deep breath and then glared at the pile of bread dough on the counter. Her hooves moved like molasses as she tried to free herself from its tyrannical grip, but the sticky dough refused to budge. "Gah! It’s stuck!"

“Hm?” Sugarwheat came trotting up beside her, his hooves echoing off of the stone-tiled floor. He peered over her shoulder and looked curiously at the wad of dough.

"Yes." She grit her teeth and pulled. The dough stretched and strained, her hooves struggling to pull themselves free. Seconds passed, and with a flash of fierce joy, she thought she felt her hooves leaving the sticky confines of the dough.

With a mighty splat, Twilight went flying backwards, and the dough soared up into the air. Her eyes tracking its trajectory, she watched as it went up, up, and up, and finally smacked into the ceiling where it stuck fast, like a wad of gum. A cloud of flour and sugar went flying off of the counter, landing all over her mane and the floor around her.

She blushed and looked away. "Oops."

Sugarwheat was quiet for a moment, still watching the hanging bit of bread dough with a cross between confusion and curiosity, and then burst out laughing. "Well, Miss Sparkle. I can't say I've seen anything like that there dough since before I started my own shop! But there you have it—it's sticking up there, and it don't look like it's coming down."

"Sorry," Twilight muttered, and lifted herself to her hooves while dusting herself off. "Er, I can fix it, I promise."

Sugarwheat lifted a hoof to shush her. "Oh, don't you go and worry yourself about it. I'll fix it; yes, I will. And then after that, I'll show you the right way to go kneading dough." He coughed and gave her a toothy grin. "Should've made sure you knew what you were doing before I went and gave you such a big job."

Her cheeks colored red. "Right."

Fifteen minutes later, the floor was mopped clean of flour, the counter had been cleared, and the ceiling was once again clean of any breadlike protrusions. Twilight stood in rapt attention, an apron around her neck and her hooves resting on the counter nearby a small bowl.

"Now, then; let's get this little lesson started." Sugarwheat pushed his mane out of his eyes and lowered his hooves into his own bowl, filled halfway to the top with a pile of flour. "First, you got to take a hoof-ful of flour here, and then sprinkle it all over your working area."

Twilight nodded back and reached one hoof into the bowl at her side, taking a generous scoop of flour and then spreading it out over the counter.

"Next, you've got to flour the rest of your hooves, making sure that you're not having any kind of clean contact with the dough." He brushed his hooves together to shake off any excess flour and gave her a wink. "Don't want it sticking, now do we?

"Now, I know the dough looks pretty sticky, ugly, and messy, right?" Sugarwheat quirked an eyebrow at her until she nodded in return. "Don't exactly look like something you'd want to put in the oven. So we're gonna change that by fixing it into just the shape that we want.

"So start off by pressing down on the ball of dough, nice and easy."

Twilight narrowed her eyes, poking and prodding the dough with the edges of her hooves. Sugarwheat shook his head and sighed and took her hooves in his. "No, that's not it. You got to be gentle, remember? One, slow movement after the other.

"Then you've got to fold it." He held up his own ball of dough—though it was more like a patty by this point—and took one side and folded it over the other. He did it again with the next set of corners, and then a third time. Twilight inclined her head slightly and then did the same, making sure to emulate his pattern of pressing down lightly on the edges each time she did so.

"Now we knead it?" Twilight held up her pile of dough, noting with a sigh that it looked far less neat than Sugarwheat's.

Sugarwheat grinned and chuckled slightly. "Well, we've been kneading it since we started, but yup; now's where we start pressin' it down." He licked his lips as he dipped his hoof back into the bowl of flour and began to massage the dough. "Now, you got to be careful, see? Stretch it and push it back, but don't be too harsh. It's like a little flower, and you can't be too quick about it."

Twilight nodded back and gave her work an intent stare. Her hooves moved up and down rhythmically, up and down with a steady beat. Stretch, pull, and push. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Sugarwheat going to coat his hoof in another dusting of flour, and she robotically did the same.

"Don't wanna let it get all sticky-like, nope," he said quietly, focused on his own bread. "Just keep working, and then you'll have it." Twilight worked alongside him in silence for another minute or so, the only sound in the bakery being the soft squish of dough between hooves.

"And, stop."

Twilight took a short breath and set the dough down. To her surprise, it didn't stick in the slightest; it slid easily off of her hoof and onto the granite counter. She shot Sugarwheat a quick smile. "Is that it?"

"Now you've got to make it into a ball."

Twilight paused and gave him an odd look. "Wait, but wasn't that how we started?"

"Yup." Sugarwheat hummed happily to himself as he tossed the wad of dough into the air, slapping it between his hooves as it gradually took on its original spherical shape. "Well, come on; let's keep going."

Twilight's eyes widened as he began to flatten out the ball of dough once more, rolling it into a patty-like shape. "But it looks like you're just repeating everything that we just did."

"Yup," Sugarwheat repeated. "Gotta keep the kneading going." The corner of his mouth quirked upward into a small smirk. "What, you think that we'd be done with just one little go-around?"

"Well...yes, to be honest." Twilight glanced down at her dough and slowly began to mold it into a ball again. "But if you're just doing the same thing over and over again, does it ever stop?"

Sugarwheat let out a chuckle; a soft sound of mirth that quickly turned into a rich-belly laugh that set his mustache fluttering and his apron swirling over the floor. "Miss Sparkle, now that's just a silly question. Everything stops sometime."

"But how do you know when to stop?"

"It's like this." Sugarwheat put the dough down and looked at Twilight seriously. "Do you know why I knead my dough?"

Twilight frowned and thought for a moment. "...To remove any excess gas bubbles?"

"Yeah, yeah." Sugarwheat waved a hoof dismissively and snorted. "What I mean to be saying is that you've got this here piece of bread, right?" He held out his hooves over his lump of dough, spacing them about a foot apart. "It's all assembled, ingredient-wise at least, but it's not really where you want it to be as far as putting it in the oven goes."

"I guess." Twilight's eyebrows lowered and her mouth quirked to one side, cheeks dimpling slightly. "But why doesn't kneading it once finish it?"

Sugarwheat sighed and rested his hooves on the table. "Miss Sparkle, now you're just being silly."

"Sorry."

"Hmph." He patted the dough gently and used his other hoof to straighten his moustache. "You got to do the kneading more than once because you're not gonna get to all of the little—gas bubbles, you called 'em?—gas bubbles in one go." He shook his head. "Even if you did, you wouldn't be done. You keep kneading until you like the texture, and each piece of bread that I stick into the oven has its own texture that it's got to have before I finish it. It's like any other craft—metalworking, pottery, you name it.”

"So even though you go back to the beginning each time, you start with an improved product?" Twilight breathed out slowly, eyeing her dough. "It's not about finishing, but about making it the best it can be?"

"Got it in one." Sugarwheat chuckled softly, wiping his hooves on his apron. "Couldn't have said it better myself.

"Now, you ready to knead this bread until it pleads for mercy?"

Twilight nodded back as a wide grin bloomed on her face. "Ready!"

She left the bakery that night tired, sweaty, and covered in flour, but happy and satisfied with her work.

It was the last night of that week's loop.

“So you’re looking for work, eh?” Sugarwheat inspected the purple unicorn standing before his counter with a critical eye. “Why not look somewhere else a bit easier—maybe a supermarket job?”

The mare shook her head. “Well, I would, but I—er, really like to bake.” She grinned goofily and ran a hoof through her mane. “I’ve wanted to get into it for years, and now that I’m away from home for the first time, I thought I might look for a job.”

Sugarwheat nodded slowly. “Hm. Maybe. What d'you know?”

“Kneading dough.”

He blinked. “…That’s it?”

She paused to consider that for a moment, and then beamed. “Yup!”

Sugarwheat shook his head slowly, chuckling. "I've had foals next door that could do more 'n that."

She wilted.

"Tell you what, though." He put a hoof to his chin and hummed an old marching song to himself as he thought. "My helper's away for two weeks on family business, so I could use the help. How 'bout I take you up as a temp for a bit and see how you do?"

The smile spread across her face again until it covered her face from ear to ear. "Like an intern?"

Whatever that meant. "Yeah, yeah." He waved a hoof dismissively. "Now, come on. If all you know is kneadin', I'd better at least show you how to make a decent pie crust."

"A travelling baker, eh?"

The unicorn—Twilight, she'd introduced herself after helping him with carrying in his bags—nodded happily. "Well, more of an apprentice, really," she said, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I just finished learning the trade back home, or at least as much as my parents could teach me."

"And thought you'd come out 'n see what the rest of the world had to offer?"

She nodded again.

"Heh." Sugarwheat chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Sounds mighty familiar. What d'you know? Know how to make cookies? Breads?"

"Yes, and yes." Twilight's speech was fast and clipped, seeming to run like a steam mill through her words. "I can knead dough, make pie crust, shape cinnamon rolls, and  make two different kinds of muffins."

Sugarwheat raised an eyebrow. Oho. "Nice little list you've got there," he said nonchalantly. "I'll consider you. Tell me, though—ever made a wedding cake? Mixed the filling for a pecan pie? Got any sorta fritters on that list of yours?"

From the way she giggled awkwardly, and the light red that tinged her coat, she didn't. He rolled his eyes and smirked. "Seems like we're gonna have a lotta fun together, then, Miss Sparkle. Welcome aboard."

Sugarwheat blinked, the piece of hay he'd been chewing on nearly falling from his mouth. "A what?"

"An artisan baker." Miss Sparkle, a unicorn who looked more like a librarian than a baker, smiled and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I'm looking to gather recipes from around the world before I settle down and start up my own bakery. Would you consider taking me on?"

He frowned. "If your facts back up your talk."

"I can make every type of bread, barring bagels and pumpernickel," she began. "Not to mention buttermilk biscuits, corn muffins, apple muffins, pumpkin muffins, chocolate mousse pie, layered cake—red velvet and chocolate—and two dozen different kinds of pastries and cookies." She beamed.

This time, the piece of hay did fall to the floor. Sugarwheat stared.

"Oh! And cinnamon rolls as well, which are some of my friends' favorites." A cheeky grin danced across Miss Sparkle's face, her eyes sparkling. "Would you like me to bake some for you to prove it?"

He threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "Do I? Get in the kitchen, already." He grinned back fiercely. "With a talent like yours, maybe I'll get my lazy little apprentice to learn something when he gets back. How long did you say you planned on staying?"

"Oh, a while," she said casually.

He held out a hoof to shake and, in the other, an apron and chef's hat. "Welcome to the bakery, Miss Sparkle."

She smiled back and took the items gratefully. "Please," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "Call me Twilight."

Twilight trotted down the road, a small sack in her mouth. She’d worked harder than usual that morning, and so Sugarwheat had told her to go grab lunch somewhere else. She couldn’t live off pastries and bagels, he said, however hard she tried. So she’d taken a bit of a break to go visit a Canterlot café that she’d been meaning to try for a few weeks. Her purchase, a daisy-and-petunia sandwich, bounced up and down in its bag.

She passed through one of Canterlot’s many open squares and smiled at the group of foals playing in the fountains. It was a warm day, too. For not a single day leading up to the Royal Wedding had it rained above the city. Her smile faded slightly. The teams of pegasi had seen to that.

She glanced up at the sun. It was already beginning to come down from its peak, the shadows in the square already lengthening across the cobblestone in their places. She could take the main road back to the bakery...but it wound around the city too many times for her taste. It’d get her there, certainly, but she wanted to get back by the end of her lunch hour, no matter what Sugarwheat said.

 With a sigh, she turned her head to the side. She smiled. Canterlot had quite a few large, open streets, but as any city did, it was notorious for the system of alleyways and sidestreets that wound between its wide, spiraling structures. She’d never really gone out into the “backstreet” of the city, and the thought of going through it for the first time made a tingle go down her spine. Why not? It’d be an adventure, and she could get back to the bakery with time to spare.

So, once she’d made sure that her bagged lunch was held firmly in her mouth, she turned and trotted off the main road, passing a signpost marking the intersection between “New Canterlot Avenue” and “Saddle Way.”

It was cooler back here, she realized, looking up at the tall buildings that surrounded her; the sunshine didn’t quite reach past the towers to the ground. It was shadier, then, and she took a deep breath of the city smells that filtered through her nose. Canterlot was no Manehatten, but the occasional chili-dog salespony or pretzel stand did dot the urban streets.

She wrinkled her nose as she passed by a dumpster, though. Whatever poor creature that had been left in there to rot could not have been happy, and neither was her nose. An elderly mare who’d been sitting in a rocking chair as she passed scowled at her, as though Twilight had been grimacing at her. Twilight just winced apologetically and moved on.

After only about five minutes of walking, she estimated that she’d gotten nearly halfway to her destination. She had a fairly serviceable map of Canterlot in the back of her head, and it looked like—after a quick glance around—that she was somewhere in the Eastern Quarter. She turned a corner onto Acorn Street and pulled over to the side, intending to magic up a quick compass spell to check where she was.

Instead, though, she bumped into what felt like a rock-solid wall, and crumpled to her hooves.

Her vision swam, with incomprehensible buzzing in her ears. She groaned quietly and lifted a hoof to her forehead; her horn seemed okay. She reached up blindly, prodding to try and see what she’d run into, but her hoof touched only empty air. With another groan—her forehead was aching slightly—she opened her eyes to get a better look at the obstacle in question.

What she saw, though, was a dark shape galloping away before disappearing around the far corner.

She sprung to her hooves and grabbed her lunch with a levitation spell. “Hey, come back here!” she hollered. “Don’t you know it’s rude to knock someone over without apologizing?” The tip of her horn flickered, and she vanished before reappearing at the other end of the street.

She scowled. “Get back here!” she repeated. She picked up her pace, starting with an easy canter and ending with a full gallop toward the other pony. But if he—or she—could hear her, he gave no sign. If anything, he galloped even faster, rounding another corner before she could catch up.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said under her breath. She redoubled her speed, interspersing short-distance teleports with every few steps. Try as she might, though, the other pony stayed just out of her reach, doubling back through alleyways, weaving between trash cans, and jumping over potholes. Once or twice, she thought she’d lost him, but soon found him again by the tip of his shadow against the dimly-lit sidewalk.

She squinted. Concealed in the shadows of the Canterlot backstreets, there was no way she could make out any of his features. Instead, the only thing visible was a fuzzy, darkened shape that dodged between cellar doors and jumped through construction blocks. Twilight narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t quite decide why she’d decided to pursue him for so long—her legs were getting a bit sore, and she’d be late if she didn’t turn back around toward the bakery soon—but she’d catch up to him and give him a piece of her mind, dang it!

She narrowed her eyes. Mustering up her strength, she wove one, final teleport—

—and popped back into existence just in time to see a shadow disappear through a door and out of the street.

A frown crossed her face, but soon turned into a grim smile as she realized what she was looking at. A warehouse. A dead end. “I’ve got you now.” From here, the windows of the building looked dimly lit, though she kept a light spell at the ready as she trotted through.

“Come on now,” she said, shaking her head. “This is just getting ridiculous. Can’t you just—”

She blinked.

The inside of the warehouse was wider than she’d originally thought. Taller, too. She took a few hesitant steps inside, peering around for her target as the sound of her hooves echoes off of the wooden walls. Naked lightbulbs hung from the ceiling, creaking as they swung from side to side. Her eyes narrowed. The floor was completely devoid of any sort of storage—there were no crates, barrels, or even a small pile of boxes. And, she thought with a frown, her target was nowhere in sight.

She took another step forward. The sound seemed to bounce against the walls, echoing with the sort of dull resonance that only a completely empty room can provide. She moved to make another step, but froze as something flickered in her vision.

“There you are.” Twilight turned toward the shadowed corner where she’d seen the movement. She was feeling considerably annoyed by now, both at her mysterious assailant and at herself. Sugarwheat would be wondering where the hay she was by now. “Stop being so silly and get out here.”

As she drew closer, though, it became clear that the corner was empty. But how could that be? A quick glance around proved that the warehouse was empty, with no staircases or other exits. The other pony had to be in here—but he wasn’t.

Before she could turn around and give up, though, something else caught her eye. It was a small green light, flickering in that same corner like the glow of a firefly. She took a step closer, and then another. She hadn’t seen any electronics anywhere else in the building, so what could this be? By all indications, it was completely abandoned. She kept walking, oddly drawn toward that green light.

Soon, she was standing right before it, her body completely in shadow. No hanging lightbulbs illuminated this corner, and there certainly weren’t any other ponies here. She tilted her head and rocked forward on her hooves, ever so slightly, her gaze stuck on the green flicker stuck on the wall. For some reason, she had the oddest feeling that it was coming from behind the wall...but why would that be? The only thing behind the warehouse should be an empty street.

She leaned in to get a better look, and stared into the hole.

And something looked back.

Twilight recoiled on instinct, but as she pulled her head away, every light in the warehouse went out at once. She could hear the lightbulbs shatter, and only a quick shield spell protected her head from being sliced open by falling glass. The light took longer to fade, though, the room growing darker and darker until she realized that it was the walls themselves that were disappearing, wood that had once looked as solid as could be now becoming more and more incorporeal by the second.

She whirled around, her eyes wide. Even the floor was growing fainter, and as she watched, the cement was swallowed up by a deep black. There wasn’t any time to worry about how, exactly, she was still standing when there was nothing beneath her hooves but an endless void. Instead, she only watched, her limbs frozen in place, as the darkness started to hum around her.

Lines of green flowed down her vision, surrounding her on all sides. With a start, she realized that each line comprised thousands of tiny, squished numbers that floated together against the black backdrop around her. There were letters there, too: words of an incomprehensible language that mixed with the numbers, floating between strange dots and lines.

She tried to scream, but no sound came out. She tried to move, but her legs wouldn’t budge. She could only watch, helplessly, as the warehouse fell away around her. She could just barely make out flickers of the surrounding city, far in the distance, as the numbers grew until they filled her vision entirely. Beyond it all, a deep hum suffused the vacuum, a single green circle staring back at her—

When she woke up, she was back in her bed. Back in Canterlot. Back in her room. Back in the Royal Wedding. The room was empty, save for herself, Spike...

...And the memory of that immense eye, watching her from a dark, black void.

Chapter Six: Modular Logic

Twilight's steps echoed in the cavern, pebbles crumbling beneath every twitch of her hoof. She hummed as she walked. The cave system beneath Canterlot had been, at one point, something unfamiliar—something to fear—but she'd been here enough times that the sense of solitude and the sheer size and emptiness of the tunnels had little effect upon her. If anything, she welcomed that feeling. It was a place to get away from it all. Down here, there was nopony who wanted to destroy Canterlot: nopony who knew Twilight Sparkle, who could expect her to act in a certain way, or look at her with that dumb, ignorant look in their eyes that—

Well. Except for one pony.

The ball of light she'd summoned bobbed up and down beside her as she walked. In most tunnels, she didn't really need the light—the ambient glow of the crystals was enough to see by—but it was comforting to see her own magic beside her.

As she always did, she came to an intersection about twenty minutes down into the caves. There was a nice little "room" here, complete with a crystalline mound in the very center of the floor. She paused midstep, instead stopping just beside the mound with a quirk in her mouth.

Usually—that is to say, always—she took the right fork. About fifteen minutes and a few mineshafts later, she would come out right next to Cadance's prison. Sometimes she freed her, and sometimes she didn't. She'd long since lost count of the sheer number of times she'd visited these tunnels, and by now, she had pretty much explored every nook and cranny of that right-side tunnel system.

Her eyes drifted over to the side.

Then again...that left the left fork completely unexplored. A small shiver ran down her spine, accompanied by a flash of a grin. The left tunnel was dark, its mouth much larger than its right-side sibling.

She could take the right fork again, wander around the area a bit—maybe even rescue Cadance, if she felt like it. She could look around the chasm, like she almost always did, and try to see if there were one or two mineshafts that she'd missed.

Or she could take the left fork.

With a spring in her step and a sense of glee at the first new decision she'd made in the tunnels for weeks, if not months, Twilight set off down the left-side path.

The way down was dark, with shadows reaching around every stalagmite in her path. She weaved around them, the little purple light bobbing happily above her shoulder the whole way. A chuckle came from her throat. It looked like she would need her magic to see, now.

She wasn't worried about getting lost; she could remember the way out easily enough, and if she didn't, she'd find herself back in her Canterlot bed in seven days anyway. So she trotted on, letting her mind wander with each meter deeper she went.

The decision to come into the caves today had been rather off the cuff. She'd spent the past two weeks investigating the Lower District of Canterlot, looking for anything out of place. Anything strange. Anything near...

…the warehouse.

Involuntarily, a shiver ran up her spine, and she had to swallow, hard, to stop her throat from choking up. She could still picture the great eye that had stared at her from beyond that abyss, still see the bright green numerals that filling her vision as the walls of the building faded away into nothingness.

She'd gone back, about a loop or two later, once she'd been able to muster up the nerve. The experience had been so similar, yet so completely different, to what she'd experienced before that she hadn't been quite sure of what to do. It certainly wasn't a Dimensional Scream—she knew (or hoped she knew) what those felt like. She hadn't used any more time-spells during that loop, so that couldn't be it.

No; it had just been a normal, average warehouse that had just decided to...disappear.

She passed another fork, this time taking the right-side path. Soon, she found herself going down at a much steeper incline than she'd expected, and took care not to slip down the gravel-covered slope. She could have teleported down, of course, but she felt like roughing it today.

Roughing it. Heh.

She'd interviewed a few of the ponies living or working in the area, even aggressively "persuading" the info she wanted out of several bums sitting around on the streets. Everypony she asked agreed that it was a completely normal, if abandoned warehouse, though one that—as one old mare put it—"gives you chills as you walked on by." When Twilight had asked her to elaborate, the mare had just shaken her head and pursed her lips tight.

After a few days of fruitless "interviews," she'd taken the investigation into her own hooves. Equipped with only a clipboard, a pencil, and a magnifying glass, she'd strolled right into the building—albeit after glancing around to make sure no shadowy, indiscernable, rude figures were hiding in the corners.

Pausing for a moment to take a drink of water from the canteen she'd brought along with her, Twilight took the opportunity to admire a large sapphire stalactite hanging down from the ceiling. It must have been over six feet long, hovering above the dusty floor like an enormous guillotine. She took another swig of the water before moving on—spelunking was thirsty work.

The warehouse had looked normal enough—right up to the point when she had taken five steps across the concrete floor and somehow ended up across the room. Or at least, she'd swear it had been five steps. When she had stepped outside, the sun was nearly to the horizon, setting after a long day of investigating. She'd only just had lunch, though, having brought a bagged daffodil sandwich along while she took notes on her observations.

The next day, she had brought along a watch and a measuring tape.

Sure enough, depending on where you stood, the width of the warehouse—a value which ought to be constant, judging by how the building was constructed—varied by as much as twenty feet in places! Going from one corner to the entrance, it'd taken her nearly half an hour to cross what looked like a mere thirty foot walk. She'd breathed a sigh of relief when she finally made it through.

And when she had stepped outside again, taking care to ensure that the watch hadn't been tampered with at any point during her investigation, the sun had barely budged from its position in the sky, despite the watch telling her that at least six hours had passed inside of the warehouse.

She came to a wide crack in the ground, splitting the tunnel right down the middle. Fortunately, it was easy enough to jump over—she didn't even need to teleport. Shaking her mane to get any dust out, she brushed off her coat and went on her way. Her ears twitched. Somewhere, further down in the cavern, she could hear the dripping of water. She took a deep breath. The air felt musty; humid in her mouth and nostrils. She continued on.

In any case, there had been no doubt about it: there was something wrong with the space-time within that warehouse. She'd gone back and done some more tests, expanding her field of observation to the block outside of the building while taking precise measurements of each point inside. It'd taken her another full week to gather all of the data and another week to make sense of it.

But she'd come to an inescapable conclusion: there was a disruption field in that building—a wrinkle in space-time—that spread out to cover most of the warehouse and (she suspected) part of the surrounding area. Further experimentation had also confirmed the source—the point of origin. The point from which the entire field emerged.

The small corner of the building where she had seen that flashing green light. Where reality had broken down around her. Where a gigantic, monstrous eye had glared at her and sent her mind into a frothing, terrified mess.

She coughed lightly over her shoulder and took another step through the tunnel. Small pebbles crumbled beneath her hoof, tumbling down a ledge and down a sheer drop. She peered over the edge, wondering if she needed to teleport down—it looked to be about a twenty foot drop from here to the bottom. A quick glance around showed her another way, though—the tunnel had gotten wider the deeper she went, and approximately ten feet to her left was a small, almost imperceptible path that led down the side of the cliff face.

As she reached the bottom, the humidity grew stronger, her mane feeling almost sticky on either side of her head. A water droplet fell from the ceiling to land on her coat; it felt cool, leaving a small, wet smudge down her side. And then another fell. And another, each gathering on the tips of the stalactites that grew above her head. She looked up, frowning slightly, but they seemed stable enough.

She rounded a corner and flinched back reflexively as a rush of cool air hit her in the face. The impossible breeze—for how could wind exist in a cavern this deep?—felt refreshing on her coat, and she took a few cautious steps forward, wondering what lay at the end of the tunnel. The wind had to be coming from somewhere, and she dearly hoped that it wasn't from the nostrils of some giant, hibernating dragon or something.

By now, her hoofsteps were muffled beneath a growing roar that filled the tunnel. Yet this wasn't the roar of a beast, or even of a Scream—it was too subtle, too calm (as strange as the word sounded in that context) for that. It was a dull, crashing sound that only grew in her ears as she took her final steps out of the tunnel, emerging into a much larger room.

Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped.

High above her head, water poured from a tall clifftop whose full height faded into the distance. The water fell down one of the biggest waterfalls she'd ever seen, the sheer width of the thing managing to surpass that of the Palace Garden. Streams of water cascaded down the whitewashed stone, marble and lime glittering beneath the shifting torrents and foam.

Scattered throughout the falls, though, were dozens of crystal outcroppings, each perched precariously on the cliffside as if stretching out into the empty space beyond. Each was a different color—red, purple, green—and some reached into more complex, deeper tones—turquoise, silver, and maroon. Mist tinged with the color of its respective crystal rose from each peak, and all around the outcroppings, the clear, cool water became tinged with each's hue. Streams of scarlet and bright, cheery yellow cascaded down the falls alongside currents of deep green and blue, weaving together to form a brilliant, multifaceted rainbow.

At the bottom, several hundred tons of water pounded into the ground below with such thunderous force that the ground seemed to shake beneath her hooves. The pounding currents threw up clouds of mist and fog that blew through the room, lifted by the shockwave formed by the violent impact below.

The lake at the bottom of the waterfall—for there was a lake, its surface crystal-clear and sparkling in the light—shifted from giant waves at the epicenter of the falls to calm, gentle ripples near the shores. Twilight took a small sniff and stepped forward, the bottoms of her hooves grinding against the soft, rounded shards of crystal that made up the beach. The air smelled sweet and clean, and a warm breeze weaved its way through her mane as she tilted her head back.

The top of the cavern was much larger than any she'd seen yet, reaching up so far into the distance that she could only make out the very tips of the stalactites that reached down from the darkness above. Even the light of the crystal outcroppings could only stretch so far, and the ceiling vanished into an eerie, shadowed darkness far above her head.

She stood there in quiet, wondrous awe for several minutes, her head tilted back toward the tops of the falls until her neck started to hurt. Finally, she lowered her chin and massaged the back of her head gently, mentally shaking her head at the incredible sight before her.

I've never seen anything like it before.

She'd seen incredible things in her short lifetime. The Elements of Harmony. The Temple of the Sun. And now, the fabric of spacetime itself.

Yet, for sheer, simple beauty, almost none of them matched up to the majesty of the Rainbow Falls.

Still at a loss for words, she gently knelt down on the beach and stared at the water as it cascaded down the side, crashing with a boom of thunder.

If she hadn't looped, she would've never taken the initiative to find this place. Heck; if Cadance hadn't been trapped down here, specifically, she wouldn't have even known that these caves existed! She slowly shook her head, still marveling at the sight. Time—and life—were funny that way.

She sat there, quiet and alone, for a while more. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours. It didn't matter. This wasn't a place to worry about timing or duties or spacetime paradoxes—this was a place far removed from the rest of the world; a place buried under nearly a half-mile of solid rock. So instead of worrying about impossible warehouses, glaring eyes, and Dimensional Screams, she merely closed her eyes and listened. The rush of the falls almost sounded like that of Time going by, rushing past her with all the force of a hurricane.

After a time, her mouth quirked into a small, dull smile, and her tail flicked absentmindedly behind her. It's a shame I don't have anypony I could show this to. It's a pity they wouldn't remember.

Her smile faltered, for a fraction of a second, flickering into a frown.

When she left the caves some hours later, the sun had already fallen below the horizon, the bright day turning into star-lit night.

It was purely on a whim—or perhaps a hunch—that Twilight found herself outside of the Canterlot Academy at the beginning of the next loop. She'd made a mistake, really, in trying to solve the problem before she really understood—no self-respecting scientist would try to perform an experiment before brushing up on all the relevant background, and she needed to approach this problem as a scientist. She couldn't just throw magic at the wall to see what stuck; she needed a clear, technical, and methodical route of understanding the situation before she could even hope to solve her problem.

She bit her lip. With Dimensional Screams and extradimensional warehouses, she was beginning to hope that she wasn't on a time limit.

The secretary at the Academy's main building let her though with a friendly nod, and Twilight gave a little wave back. She took a deep breath as she stepped through the lobby and into the Main Corridor, looking around at the expanse of Bitterleaf Hall.

Named for a centuries-old Headmaster, the Hall smelled of ink; of new parchment and old books. Classroom doors lined its walls, stretching down for at least the length of a hoofball field before tapering off at the end. She took another breath, smiling as the familiar scent seeped into her lungs and spread through her body. The Library was one thing, but this... It'd been too long since she'd stepped into a proper institution of learning. A sad little smile crossed her face. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed this place.

Her ear twitched at the sound of crashing wood, and she turned her head to see a crowd of students milling out of a newly opened classroom door. A few more opened beside it, ponies flooding out into the expanse of the Hall. Soon every classroom had let out, the room filled with the excited babble and commotion of students travelling to their next class.

She smirked as one of them passed her: a bright blue, spiky-maned pegasus talking with his friend. A bookbag was slung over his neck, with a pen tucked behind his ear. A chuckle escaped her throat, and she felt a familiar feeling of nostalgia in her chest. I've been there before.

"Twilight Sparkle? Is that you?"

She turned on one hoof to face the source of the voice. She grinned, having recognized it as well. "Professor Brightmane! Just the stallion I came to see."

"Oh?" The stallion chuckled as he trotted toward her, his white moustache bobbing up and down. "It's indeed an honor to be visited by the illustrious student of Princess Celestia herself."

Twilight playfully punched his shoulder. "Professor, you know it's not like that."

He shrugged, his shaggy eyebrows creeping up into his forehead. "What can I say? It's been years since we last talked—you never visit, you never write, you never send fruit baskets—"

She stuck out her tongue. "I'd forgotten how insufferable you were, sir."

"Ah-ah." He held out a hoof and clucked his tongue. "Incorrigible, not insufferable. Precise language please, dear."

She shook her head, laughing under her breath. "It's good to see you, sir."

"And you as well." Brightmane cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head. "I presume you wanted to discuss something with me? The great Twilight Sparkle surely wouldn't make a housecall just for politeness' sake."

Twilight rolled her eyes, though a somewhat guilty grin spread across her face. "I actually do. There's a subject that I've recently become pretty interested in, and I was wondering if I could pick your brain on it."

"But of course." Brightmane's eyes flickered up toward the great clock that hung from the ceiling. "Look at that! Eleven-thirty. I don't believe I have any classes right now—shall we proceed to my office to get a bit more of a quiet atmosphere?" He winked.

Twilight took one more look around at the loud mass of students around them before chuckling and shaking her head. "Sounds like a plan, Professor. Lead the way."

Brightmane's office was a cozy little room tucked away in a corner of the corridor farthest from the Hall's entrance. At Twilight's quizzical look, the professor gave a shrug. "They offered a larger one, but I turned them down. It's nicer this way. Tea?"

"Yes, please."

Twilight plopped herself down in front of Brightmane's desk as he busied himself with a kettle in the corner of the room. She took the opportunity to glance around, scanning the shelves for anything that might've changed in the past five years or so. A small smile grew on her face as she recognized the stacks of textbooks waiting on the shelves, as well as the cluster of plaques hanging on the walls.

"Head of Physics?" she read aloud, trying to sound as if she was hearing it for the first time. "I guess they finally decided to put you somewhere where you couldn't terrorize new students."

"Hmph! Terrorize!" Brightmane shot her a scowl as the teakettle began to whistle, but couldn't help the small little grin that broke out beneath his bushy moustache. "I write the curriculum for the little buggers, now. They don't know what's hit them!"

"I'll bet." Twilight snorted.

"So." Brightmane slid into the chair behind his desk, steepling his hooves and levitating two saucers onto the surface. She took hers gratefully. "How can I help you, my dear? A post-doctoral thesis? A dissertation?"

"A bit of both, actually." She leaned forward, cradling the tea in her hooves. The cup was hot, and she could've levitated it with magic, but she liked the warmth. "I've been looking into writing a paper on a more esoteric branch of physics, and wanted to pick your brain on it."

"Oh?" One bushy eyebrow arched high above the professor's face. "And what might that be?"

"Time."

The other eyebrow shot up as well. "Ohoho! Dimensional physics, eh?"

She nodded.

"Chronomancy?"

She nodded again.

"Fancy stuff, that is." He whistled slowly, slowly leaning back in his desk chair. His hooves dangled off the side, and for the umpteenth time, Twilight wondered how, exactly, such a position could possibly be comfortable. Brightmane's mouth quirked to the side. "I mean, it's not like you don't already know the basics, not to mention a good chunk of the advanced stuff as well." He frowned as she took a sip, her eyes looking straight ahead. "What, ah, did you think I could help you with?"

"Well," Twilight began, "I know almost everything about relativistic physics, not to mention basic quantum effects." She paused. "But—mostly relating to the former, I suppose—I was wondering if you had any papers or the like relating to knowledge about time as a specific dimension.

"As a medium, that is," she added, seeing Brightmane's slightly confused expression. "We know a lot about how it's affected by other things, but not much of anything about what it is." Her cheeks flushed a light pink, and she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "I know whatever you have might not be much, but—"

"Might not be much?" The professor exhaled slowly, a crooked smile on his face. "Twilight, nopony's studied that side of chronomancy or temporal physics for centuries! More, even!"

She blinked, slightly taken aback. The saucer and teacup made a small clinking sound as she set them back on the table. "What? How is that even possible?"

"Twilight, space is one thing. Time is, quite simply, a whole new fish to fry." Brightmane adjusted his glasses, his hooves resting in his lap. "Even your teleportation spells take quite a bit of skill and power to execute due to the sheer imalleability of space. But time—" He shook his head. "Time is nearly impossible to touch clinically. I've heard that there may be a spell that can be used to travel back in time— only once, of course, classical unicorn mages being the stingy casters that they were—but in a laboratory setting? Unless Celestia is hiding some sort of secret alicorn spell, I'm afraid that's just not possible."

He sighed and levitated his cup to his lips, taking a small sip of tea. "Only one unicorn in history has ever had the power to manipulate spacetime in such a fashion, and that was even his special talent!"

A shiver went down Twilight's spine. "Who?" She had a feeling that she already knew the answer.

"Starswirl the Bearded." The professor looked right into Twilight's eyes. "The purported inventor of the time travel spell, and the advisor of the original Unicorn Kingdom."

"There's quite a lot about him in the histories," Brightmane went on, "as I'm sure you're familiar with the more...colorful accounts of his life. That stallion did quite a few things, and is at least as well-known, historically speaking, as Redmane the Conqueror. But academically speaking..." He shrugged. "The record's blank."

A sense of irritation began to grow in Twilight's stomach, soon blossoming into a full-out scowl. Dang it. The thought was almost ridiculous: how dare Starswirl be dead, especially if he was her only ticket out of here. She seemed not to have hidden her expression well enough, though, as Brightmane let out a sharp bark of laughter and put his hooves up on his desk.

"Now, now—the story doesn't end there." The professor winked. "I may not be able to tell you much about Starswirl, but I may know somepony who can."

"Who?" Twilight's head whirled.

A smile flickered on Brightmane's face. "Oh, I think you already know her, too. After all, who better to ask than somepony who was there when he was alive?"

Twilight's eyes widened. "Princess Celestia!"

Brightmane winked. "Bingo."

He peered down at his teacup and frowned. "Ah, bugger. Looks like I've gone and run out of tea. More, perhaps?"

Twilight shook her head and got to her hooves. "No—thank you." She smiled. "Really, though."

"It's no trouble at all." The professor chuckled—and then paused, putting a hoof on his chin. "Do promise me not to go messing around with temporal research, though, at least not without a peer advisor present. I know that you're a responsible mare, but the subject's been left alone this long for good reason."

She nodded. "Of course, sir."

He grinned. "In any case, I'm glad I was of some kind of help. Is there anything else I can assist you with..?"

Twilight shook her head, still beaming. "I think that's all, professor. Thanks again."

"Best of luck!" Brightmane called after her, waving a hoof as she galloped out of the room. "Do remember to write! I can't deal with all these freshmen alone!"

It wasn't until a full week (and loop) later that Twilight finally decided to ask Celestia about Starswirl. She had all of the time in the world, but she still couldn't bear to waste it by asking meaningless, ill-advised questions. So she'd taken the extra time (necessary time, she thought) to prepare a full list of questions that she'd ask. If she wanted to try and apply some of the ancient unicorn’s theories to her own situation, she’d need information. If there was one thing she’d learned in her time at the Academy, too, it was that primary sources were always the way to go.

It was on the second day of the next loop, then, that she showed up outside of Celestia's chambers, parchment and quill levitating beside her and one hoof poised to rap against the door. She glanced out of a nearby window, the moon just beginning to rise above the Canterlot skyline. She knew by heart the schedules of nearly everypony in the castle at this point, and so she knew for a fact that Celestia would both be in her chambers and receptive to conversation at this precise time.

She knocked.

"Come in."

A smile on her face, she opened the doors with a light push from her hoof and trotted in, her paper and prepared questions and notes floating in alongside her. "Good evening, Princess," she said.

The Princess's chambers were just as she'd left them upon leaving for Ponyville. Being Celestia's protégé had its perks, such as being given personal lessons in magic and history in her own room. She'd admittedly come in here several other times throughout the course of the time loops, but each time she was surprised by the sheer sense of comfort she felt while here.

The bed was large, but not extravagant; in many ways, it was similar to the one in her guest room, though scaled up to match Celestia's much taller figure. A carpet, decorated with tessellations of the Sun, Moon, and stars stretched from wall to wall, its colors comforting in the dim light. Candles flickered from every surface, from the old, hoof-carved oaken dresser to the small bedside night-table that groaned beneath the weight of a half-dozen books. In the corner, light splayed into the room from behind a half-open, clean-white door. As a filly, Twilight had found it hilarious to discover that the Princess had her own personal bathroom. It was simply too much for the filly to imagine the all-powerful Ruler of the Sun sitting on a chamber pot and browsing the newspaper while doing her business.

Celestia had cracked a smile at that, but not before admonishing her for not washing her hooves before supper.

Twin doors opened up onto a balcony that Twilight knew, from experience, was the highest point in the entire city (save for the Canterlot Academy's Astronomical Observation Tower). She remember countless nights, from foalhood through adulthood, spent standing on that balcony with her mentor's watchful eye beside her, squinting through a hoof-assembled telescope and out into a meteor shower or passing comet. For a moment, the ghostly image of a small, purple filly and her proudly purchased telescope flickered upon the edge of the balcony before disappearing. She smiled.

"Twilight!" Celestia herself lay on a patterned rug by the fireplace, her long legs curled up beneath her as a scroll hovered beside her. A teacup and kettle sat on the floor, and as Twilight stepped into the room, the Princess took a small sip from the former. "How good of you to visit! Tell me—how are you finding the Wedding preparations so far?"

Twilight giggled, shaking her head. No matter which loop it was, it seemed, Celestia was always ready to ask about the Wedding, or Twilight's own accommodations. "They're going wonderfully," she said smoothly. "Rarity and Pinkie especially are loving their work."

"That's very good to hear." Celestia returned the smile, her ethereal mane rippling behind her head. "In that case, I presume that this visit isn't to do with administrative or personal complications?"

Twilight snorted. "Thankfully, no." She smirked. "I've gotten through my work thus far without having to worry about any...mental escapades." The irony of the statement wasn't lost on her, though Celestia seemed to take it at face value.

"Wonderful."

"I actually wanted to ask you something academic." Twilight took a step closer, her expression softening into something more beseeching. "I know I need to help my brother and Cadances' wedding turn out great, but I've decided on a new research project for once I get home, and I was hoping I could...well." She chuckled, brushing the carpet with her hoof. "I was hoping that I could take advantage of your knowledge and expertise—after all, if I'm in Canterlot, anyway..." She let the words hang in there.

"Of course, Twilight." Celestia beamed, and gestured to a smaller rug at her side. Twilight assumed that it was intended for Luna whenever she visited her sister's quarters; it was a dark blue, with purple bands encircling its surface. "Please, take a seat and ask away. I'd be happy to help."

Twilight took a seat, shuffling her hooves beneath her to get into a more comfortable position. "So," she said, looking up into her mentor's large, curious eyes. "I actually wanted to ask you about a certain pony—one who you must have known personally."

"Oh?" Celestia quirked an eyebrow. "A historical figure, then?"

Twilight nodded. "Starswirl the Bearded."

A long sigh came from Celestia's mouth, and she closed her eyes. "Ah, yes. Starswirl. Of course I remember him."

Twilight opened her mouth to continue, but something about the look on Celestia's face made her pause. She watched as her mentor's eyes flickered up to the ceiling before coming back down to rest on her own face.

"I'm surprised, actually." Celestia cracked a small smile. "I don't recall telling you that I knew him personally. Most ponies aren't clear on that particular era of history."

Twilight tilted her head. "Really? Once you know the dates and major sociopolitical events, it becomes clear that—"

Celestia raised an eyebrow.

"Right." Twilight coughed. "Sorry."

"So what did you wish to know, exactly?" The look of patience and grace on Celestia's face was as pronounced as always, but there was a feeling of misplaced tension in the air, as though she wasn't quite sure of where this would go. Twilight almost immediately identified that as somewhat odd—if Celestia was already on guard, then there had to be something about Starswirl himself that she hadn't anticipated.

Interesting.

"Well," she began, "I wanted to know more about his work—what he did, and why. Ever since I found that one spell of his in the Archives, I've been fascinated by what we have left of his studies." She shook her head, for once being completely sincere in her words. "You've done an amazing job of preserving historical records, but some things just,"—she searched for the right word—"slip away."

"That much is true." Celestia pursed her lips and knelt down until her legs were touching the carpet. Twilight recognized the signs of a lecture and sat down alongside her. "To be honest, I know little of Starswirl's early life beside that which he told me himself. This period of time was...a turbulent one, insofar as Equestria was concerned."

"Because Equestria hadn't yet been established?"

“Quite.” Celestia took a deep breath, her ethereal mane settling around her shoulders. "Starswirl the Bearded was...quite the fascinating character. He had become the advisor for the Unicorn Kingdom twenty years prior, staying on to train his successor to the position—Clover the Clever—before leaving on a quest for arcane knowledge." Her mouth twisted into a subtle grin. "It was on one of his journeys, several years later, that I would meet him for the first time.

"This was scarce months after the sovereignty of the three pony tribes had fully been dissolved, resulting the in the creation of the diarchy between my sister and I." Celestia's eyes flickered across a tapestry that stood above the door; upon it, two alicorns chased one another around the edges of a circle, one black and the other pure white. "Tensions were still high, however, and so I sought an advisor who would help me ease the struggles between and among the tribes. On one of my walks about the walls of young Canterlot, I met a stallion who sat on the side of the road, muttering to himself.

"I thought it odd, at the time, that he made no response to my approach—at the time, I was something of a celebrity." She laughed under her breath. "I would soon learn that a lack of reverence for the diarchy was one of the least of Starswirl's foibles. He was gruff, he was irritable, he was antisocial to an extreme degree." A glimmer of amusement passed across her face. "His name had something of a reputation, but it was tainted with rumor and hearsay—ponies accused him of being a fraud, a con artist, and I heard at least one unicorn accuse him of being a mare in disguise."

Twilight snorted.

"At the time, I was inexperienced in the ways of government—I was older, much older than any of the ponies beneath me, but even I struggled to mold Equestria into a stronger whole—thus my need for an advisor. When I looked into Starswirl's eyes that day, I saw neither guilt nor criminal duplicity—instead, I saw a spark of wisdom and deep, pure knowledge that still rings true for me today.

"Asking him to be my advisor was one of the best choices that I ever made. Starswirl was as craft as much as he was brilliant; a pioneer in the laboratory and a cunning politician in the early parliament." She shook her head. "It was almost a shame that he never fully used his political abilities to the fullest; he could have been a great leader of the three tribes even before Luna and I entered the picture, but he would much prefer working in his sanctum to any sort of public speaking or civil service. He took the position as a...favor, of sorts, to me." She smiled.

"The Amniomorphic Spell was but the least of his discoveries," she went on, seeing the spark of glee in Twilight's eyes. "He was fascinated with the nature of magic, and the ways in which it interacted with the world around it. His travels were meant to take him away from what he viewed as the corrupting influence of mortal ponies, instead exposing him to the purer, natural forms of magic that are so common in the world around us. He wanted to know how, and above all, he wanted to know why."

"Professor Brightmane mentioned something about Starswirl having a special talent in manipulating spacetime when I asked," Twilight said carefully. Her eyes flickered up toward Celestia's face, searching for a reaction. "Did that have something to do with his academic interests?"

"It did indeed. Starswirl's theories laid the basis for magical physics; he wanted to know, fundamentally, how the universe worked." Celestia coughed, her expression momentarily unreadable. "He would later pursue a special project that he swore would unravel the secrets of spacetime, as well as the arcane force of magic. Unfortunately," she went on, seeing the look of confusion on Twilight's face, "he died before he could complete this final tome."

Those were the words that Twilight had least wanted to hear. She took in a sharp intake of breath.

Celestia shook her head, her eyes closed. "For many of his later years, Starswirl appeared to much of the court to be lost in his own thoughts—tumbling through a universe of laws and theories that only he could see. For all my efforts, he kept his head in the clouds—refusing to eat, socialize, or even leave his study. At one point, he may well have starved himself to death had it not been for the presence of one very special unicorn."

"Who was that?" As she saw the sparkle in Celestia's eyes, Twilight had a nagging feeling that she already knew the answer.

"Why, Clover the Clever, of course." Twilight nodded. That made sense. "The younger mage had spent all of his life following in his mentor's footsteps, learning his ways and spreading his ideas to the populace at large. Now, at the twilight of Starswirl's life, Clover saw his opportunity to give back: to ease his teacher's mind as old age overtook him.

"Starswirl was as brilliant as ever, make no mistake. But in those final years, when Clover sought every moment to wait on him, hoof by hoof, he withdrew from himself. Clover drew him out of his shell, helping him to relearn how to take care of himself: how to take care of others. Now, the apprentice taught the master a more valuable lesson than he could have ever imagined: how to reconnect with other ponies, and how to remake bonds that he'd never truly known were there."

The ghost of a smile crossed Celestia's face, and she opened her eyes to once again look down on Twilight. "I like to think that, in those final years, Starswirl even surpassed his own, previous ability to form bonds with others, stumbling upon a world greater than any he'd ever believed in before. It was the basis of his final spell, after all—one of a pair that he never completed."

"Never—" Twilight blinked. "What do you mean, 'never completed'? Starswirl invented over three hundred spells!"

"But not all of them were finished," Celestia said gently. She leaned forward, brushing against Twilight's neck as she curled her head around her student's. "Twilight, all things in this world must come to and end, after all."

"I know, but..." Twilight shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "What were the spells?"

"One, I believe you are already familiar with." The corner of Celestia's mouth twitched, and it was a moment before Twilight realized that she was holding in a chuckle. "You did find it in his collection, after all."

"The time travel spell!"

"Exactly." The twinkles returned to Celestia's eyes as she drew her head back. "Very good."

"And the other?" Twilight frowned up at her, feeling as though this were something that she should know; something that was important.

Celestia merely raised an eyebrow in reply. "That," she said, savoring the words, "will have to wait for another day."

Inside, Twilight's mind screamed at her to note this down; to remember it, and to uncover what exactly Celestia felt it was necessary to conceal, but something in her mentor's eyes made her pause, shoving the urge down. She could wait. For once, she could wait.

"Regardless, I want to impress upon you something that I believe to be the most important part of Starswirl's tale." Twilight could feel the weight of Celestia's eyes upon her, and she shifted her weight on her hooves. "Can you guess what it is?"

It took Twilight a few moments to sift through her thoughts. It was the spells, she nearly said: all things must end, and some are never completed. But somehow, seeing the spark that had lit up Celestia's face, she knew in her heart that it wasn't correct. What could it be, though? Was it the balance that Starswirl had achieved earlier in life—the mix between magic and politics that had let him do so much? Was it the spark in his eyes that had gifted Celestia with the most important advisor that Equestria had ever had? No. None of those could be correct. The ideas swirled in her mind, coalescing at the tip of her tongue as she opened her mouth to speak.

"It was the friends he made at the end of his life." She felt a victorious surge in her gut as Celestia's smile broadened. "It was the lessons he learned, even on his deathbed, that friendship can be more important than spells; more important than research." The words felt alien on her lips; cold, as if she were saying them for the first time. Yet she knew that they were correct, and so she drew the words into her mind, shaping them into what Celestia needed to hear. "It was the discovery he made, with friends sitting around his bed, that friendship can be the most important magic of all."

"Very good, Twilight." Celestia's smile held a flame that, even after all this time, made Twilight feel warm and filled with pride. "That is exactly what I meant."

“And that magic led to the creation of his final spell, right?” Twilight blurted. The words came on their own, unbidden. As she looked up, though, she thought she saw something odd in the flicker of Celestia’s eyes. But no—it couldn’t be disappointment. Could it?

“I suppose.” The Princess’s words were careful; measured.

Twilight sat still for a moment, thoughts running through her head. She’d come for a physics lesson, and had gotten far more than she’d bargained for. Still, there was no denying that this was useful information, and that flame of pride at Celestia’s words flared once again in her chest. I still need to get what I came for.

“And he made no other, similar spells?” Her voice was halting, hesitant. Twilight offered a small grin up at her mentor, who had arched one, elegant eyebrow slightly into her forehead. “Nothing else to do with time?”

Celestia pursed her lips. “No. He found the subject matter fascinating, and was even able to use the raw power of his special talent to mold time in the ways that he desired, but he left behind no other concrete spells.”

Something tugged at the edge of Twilight's mind. Without even realizing it, her lips moved, forming words even as they were shaped in her head…

"But Starswirl couldn't have done it alone. He needed somepony to teach him what he'd lost; to teach him the last lesson he'd ever learn. And that was far more important than a spell in an old book.”

…And the moment was lost.

Looking into Celestia’s eyes, Twilight could tell that this conversation had ended. She smiled thinly, nodding, and doing her best to let her gratitude reach her eyes. “Thank you, Princess,” she said, honestly. She did her best to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Perhaps I’ll have better luck in some other loop.

“Of course, Twilight.” Celestia inclined her head in return. Though her Princess’s smile spread from ear to ear, there was something in her expression that made Twilight feel as though she’d failed a test of some kind. For the life of her, though, she couldn’t imagine why. It’s probably nothing.

“Do feel free to visit again whenever you’re free,” the Princess went on. She caught her student’s eye. “I know how hectic it can get during an event of this magnitude, and your company is always appreciated.”

Pleasantries. More of the same platitudes she’d heard dozens of times before. Still, coming from the Princess herself, it still meant something. In any case, it looked like she was back to Plan B: more research.

“Thank you, Celestia,” Twilight said, drawing herself up. She flashed a smile. “I’ll remember that.”

“And I’m telling you, it’s just too much! The power capacitor would never be able to handle it!”

Twilight snorted, a quill levitating beside her. “And as I told you, Professor, I’ve already accommodated for that! See?”

Professor Brightmane whinnied loudly, tossing his silvery mane out of his eyes. “Lunacy,” he murmured, gazing over Twilight’s shoulder through his half-moon spectacles. “No, no, no,” he said, hoof darting rapidly across the paper. “You’ve not accounted for the mineral instability of lapis lazuli. It would break down before you managed to even complete the final weave, for heaven’s sake!”

Twilight took a deep breath. She resisted the urge to glare the old stallion down; this was a civil, academic discussion, and she wasn’t about to make it personal. Whatever it took, though, she had to make this work. “But don’t you see? Here, here, and—“ the words came spilling out of her mouth, the quill clumsily jabbing at words on the page—“here.” She’d forgotten to dab it clean, though, so a speckle of black ink was left shimmering over the page with each violent stab the feather cut through the air.

Brightmane’s eyebrows climbed further up into his forehead. “Oho? You’ve added pyrite, then. Interesting…very interesting. For a smaller-scale spell, I can certainly see the application in resolving any instabilities in the magical matrix, but…”

“But what?” Twilight bit her lip.

“But the energies channeled through any spell of this magnitude—if the numbers you’ve given me are correct—would be astronomical! Bigger, even: gargantuan!”

Twilight watched the Professor’s ivory-tipped pen scrawling untidily across the paper as he talked, each word shooting out of his mouth like rapid-fire. The ink laid out numbers: calculations, notations; measuring variables that she hadn’t even noticed were there.

“I am sorry, my dear, but there is no possible way for a spell of this size to be completed! The simple act of completing the first weave would be immense—larger than anything I’ve ever seen! Let alone actually releasing the spell!”

Twilight opened her mouth. “Bigger than—“

The Professor’s eyes were dead serious as he stared back into her own. “Bigger than the calculated amount of energy, in gigajoules, that it takes the Princesses to raise the Sun and Moon each day and night.”

She closed her mouth.

Brightmane sighed, suddenly looking very, very tired. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, his pen slowing to a stop. By now, the parchment had been covered from tip to curl in his spidery, untidy scrawl. “But there was a reason that, in the ancient times, the entire unicorn race was needed to accomplish such a feat.”

His eyes flashed toward her, and she flinched on reflex. Still, his gaze was not unkind, and after a moment of thought, he spoke again. “What, pray tell, do you need such a spell for, anyway? You’ve provided me with the relevant runes—as well as one of the most intricate magical matrices I’ve ever seen—but the only signifying feature amongst this entire mess seems to be the connection of a pony’s magical font to the cascade of a temporal leyline!” His nostrils flared. “Tell me, dear Twilight Sparkle: were you planning to create one of the gaudiest, most foalish spells in the realm of thaumaturgy since Mauvetail the Malificient six hundred years ago?”

She winced. That got to her. Still, she had to defend herself somehow, though it was looking less and less as though she’d be getting what she’d wanted. “No, sir,” she protested, though somewhat more weakly than before. “It was…just an idle calculation.” Her eyes swept across the table, momentarily hovering over the parchment whose every fevered scribble felt like a strike against her temple. “A thought experiment.”

“An experiment.” Brightmane’s voice was flat: wooden. She bit her lip.

“Yes, sir,” she repeated.

The Professor closed his eyes. He shook his head and, with a small shove of his hoof, pushed the stack of parchment holding her work back across the desk. “I’m sorry that I could not be of greater assistance, my dear,” he said, again, not unkindly. “Why, I wasn’t even aware that you’d taken an interest in Chronomancy. I would advise you, however, to cease your work on this spell. It will no more than a distraction to you—a meaningless hindrance, if I may.”

“Yes, Professor,” she murmured, her voice little more than a whisper. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

He waved a hoof dismissively. “Oh, think nothing of it, Miss Sparkle. It’s always a pleasure to receive a visit from one of my former prize students.” His white, slightly yellowing teeth flashed toward her in a smile, and she offered her own tempered grin in return. “Please—come back any time. And do bring more problems such as this one. I do enjoy a good brainteaser.”

She nodded, the parchments floating up and into her saddlebags. “Of course, sir. I’d be happy to.” He didn’t seem to notice that her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Lovely. A good day to you, Twilight. My best to your brother.”

“Argh!”

Clunk. Another book thrown against the wall.

“Darn it!”

Clunk. The pile was reaching an impressive height by this point.

Twilight Sparkle sat alone in the light of a lone, flickering candle, her bloodshot eyes focused on the mound of parchment before her. Shadows, splayed across her face, danced in the dim light. Not a sound echoed in the dim recesses of the darkened library, the central room of the Canterlot Archives having long since been abandoned for sleep or other nocturnal activities.

Her eyes flickered toward a nearby clock on the wall, its oaken hands ticking dully in the vacuum of sound that stretched between the shelves. Three-thirty AM. For a moment, she was tempted to laugh, to chuckle, to snort at being awake at such a late hour, but quashed the thought almost instantly. She was an academic—a scientist. She’d dealt with all-nighters before. Those bloodshot eyes flickered back down to the parchment before her, and she sighed.

It’d all seemed so simple at first. Use the transcript of Starswirl’s spell as a basis to replicate her own situation around another object, and then use that information to reverse-engineer the situation and apply the fix to herself. By altering the equations and imposing an infinite limit, she’d been so sure that it would create the necessary spell. Merely change the parameters, and it’d be perfect. So simple—

—but even before she’d gone to Professor Brightmane for validation, she’d known it to be a lost cause.

She sighed, picking up the topmost piece of paper with telekinesis and tossing it aside. There had to be a way. She just wasn’t looking at it the right way.

An artery in her brain twitched, and her eyes widened with inspiration. Maybe if she changed a few variables around—reconstructed the matrix—used different symbols in the execution—she’d have something to work with.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

At the very least, after taking careful note of the orders of magnitude that Professor Brightmane had referenced, she had a better idea of what forces, exactly, she was dealing with. A shiver ran down her spine. A much better idea.

Still, there was work to be done, and so her quill sped down the page. It moved so quickly that the tip seemed to grind away with each stroke, a fine collection of feather-dust and dried ink flakes collecting at the bottom of the page, where it had to be carefully blown away so as not to smudge up the rest of her work. On and on she worked, referencing Manewell’s Equations, Hoofstein’s Theorem of Gravity, the Quantum Mechanics and Classical Physics of Bridlen Gryfwing—

—until her eyes darted back up to the clock on the wall and widened: five forty-two AM? How in the world…?

She glanced back down at her paper and gasped. The stack was noticeably shorter, and a pile of crumpled parchment lay on the soft carpet beside her. Her eye twitched, ever so slightly, as she scanned down the page, but she winced with each line she read, already knowing the inevitable conclusion. No—emerald’s crystal lattice was far too narrow to accommodate such a flow of magical energies. The Touchstones necessitated for such a ritual would melt under the heat. Her horn would crack, or even worse, be vaporized under the strain of channeling even one percent of such arcane power—

Beside her, The Universe in a Chestnut closed with a thud. She blinked her bleary eyes, the world resolving around her as her thoughts moved as sluggishly as ponies beneath a hot summer sun. That can’t be it, she thought, squinting through the nearest window as the first rays of purple-gold sunlight began to peek out over the horizon. I must be missing something, she repeated to herself.

She shook her head. “I need something to clear my head,” she muttered, almost solely for the sake of hearing her own voice. “Something that isn’t books.” The words tasted like sawdust on her tongue, but she said them anyway: happily, even. “Something…else.”

But there was nothing there.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Her head whipped around to face the clock on the wall. It sat there, its white face innocently counting down the seconds. It was taunting her, she realized; with nopony else in the library, and the nocturnal silence still descended upon the castle, each twitch of its second hand echoed like thunder in her ears.

Her nostrils flared, and she glared at the innocuous time piece. “You did this to me,” she said. She hadn’t noticed how hoarse her voice had gotten. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d spoken to another pony—had it been last night? The day before?

“And I’ll bet you’re just lapping this all up,” she rasped. Her eyes stung, and she blinked a few times to rid them of the sun’s morning glare. “Looking down at me from whichever forsaken place you’re sitting and just laughing at poor little Twilight, trapped in a hamster wheel.”

The clock said nothing—it merely ticked away.

“Well, I’m not going to do this anymore!” Her voice was less of a whisper now, and more like a grating shout. The rushing air felt like sandpaper on her throat, and she swallowed to moisten it. “I’m not going to give up! I’m going to escape! I can’t just sit here, running like an obedient little pet for the rest of eternity! I can’t give up! I can’t…I can’t…”

Her voice caught in her throat, and she pushed it back with a muffled sob. “I can’t…”

Words rang through her head. ”But Starswirl couldn't have done it alone. He needed somepony with him to teach him what he'd lost; to teach him the last lesson he'd ever learn. And that was far more important than a spell in an old book.”

She swallowed, and then said, in a very small voice,

“I can’t do it alone.”

Images flashed across her mind: walking along the hallways of the Castle, pushing Applejack aside as, for what felt like the fiftieth time, the mare asked for her help in the kitchen. Of ignoring Rainbow Dash, visiting the library and pushing herself into her books rather than repeat what felt like a conversation that would repeat itself into eternity. Of making the choice, consciously, of taking a left path instead of the right one, happier with leaving Cadance to shrivel and even die so that she could take a day trip to relieve the monotony.

Of disregarding the Professor’s advice. Of pushing Celestia aside, and ignoring her warmth and kindness as meaningless pleasantries.

Twilight’s mouth suddenly felt very, very dry.

…somepony to teach him what he'd lost…

What he’d lost…

The ticking of the little clock on the wall stopped. Her eyes rotated to the side as a pair of hoof-carved doors snapped open. A small, wooden bird popped out of the opening, perched on a little plank of wood. It chirped six times, popping through the doors with each sound.

Cuckoo.

Cuckoo

Cuckoo

Cuckoo

Cuckoo

Cuckoo

Six times.

Six ponies.

Twilight felt moisture brimming at the edges of her eyes, and she squeezed them shut.

"It's been me," she whispered. "All along, I've been Starswirl, searching for the final spell in his life, looking so hard that I've lost the reasons for why I needed to escape in the first place."

I can’t do it alone.

Her nostrils twitched. A soft scent was wafting through the empty library, its sweet fragrance mixing with the periwinkle light that danced across the ceiling. A half-smile formed on Twilight’s face, though tempered by the chaotic thoughts that swam through her mind..

Cinnamon.

Rarity was walking through the hallways, admiring the way that the sunlight streamed in through the stained-glass windows, when the smell of cinnamon first reached her nose.

Her nostrils flared, delicately, at the smell: tasting the fragnance as it blended with the floral perfume she'd decided on this morning. As if to remind her, her stomach grumbled—not loudly, but respectfully, as a lady's digestive system ought. She flushed a light pink. It would appear that she'd forgotten her petit déjeuner. It simply wouldn't do to start the day without its most important meal.

So, with the fragrance still held in her mind, she followed it through the halls. She traced it past the Eastern Wing's main corridor, trotting past a distinguished collection of armor, and finally reaching the double-doors of a kithchen she vaguely recalled the Princess showing them several days before. With a light sniff and a smile on her face, Rarity pushed the doors open with a light shove of telekinesis, trotted in—

—and immediately saw Twilight Sparkle, baking up a storm.

She struggled to keep her jaw from dropping as she watched her friend remove a tray of muffins from an oven before setting them down on a nearby counter. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered that Twilight hadn't used magic, as she might have otherwise expected—she'd used her mouth alone, though not without the aid of a towel wrapped around the tray's edge.

"Oh, my," she murmured, still not entirely sure how to react to the sight.

"Oh, my is right. She's been like this ever since I got up here."

Rarity blinked as a third pony strolled into her peripheral vision. "Why, good morning, Applejack. I hope that it isn't terribly rude of me to inquire, but do you have any idea what might have prompted," she waved her hoof in Twilight's general direction, "this?"

Applejack gave a short bark of laughter. "Nope. Can't say I do. Looks mighty delicious, though. You know where she learned to cook like that?"

"No." Rarity fluttered her eyelashes, struggling to keep her protesting stomach in check as the scent of pear strudel reached her nostrils. "I haven't the slightest idea."

She paused, biting her lip as she tried to come up with the correct words to say. "I must say," she began, noting the slight note of trepidation in her own voice. "I don't recall Twilight Sparkle being quite so...proficient in the kitchen."

And proficient, she certainly was. Had she been asked a day prior, Rarity may have compared Twilight's talents in the kitchen to Sweetie Belle's or, if she'd felt a tad less insulting, her father's. There was a reason, she told herself, that her friend's career was in academia rather than the service industry. Yet now, watching her testing the interior of a golden meringue pie, she couldn't help but feel her mouth begin to water at the enticing—and, frankly, scandalizingly scrumptious—smells that filled the room.

Applejack chuckled. "T'ain't even that simple. Why, it seems she's been at this for a lot longer than we've been up." She nodded to the side. "Why don't you take a look?"

Rarity quickly obliged, and this time, was unable to silence the rebellious groan her stomach produced at the electrifying sight. Cakes, muffins, cupcakes, and danishes of every size, flavor, and denomination filled the counters to bursting, each with its own unique scent that made her snout sing and her soul soar. Abruptly, hoping that Applejack hadn't noticed, she slurped up a large glob of drool that had been hanging from the side of her mouth. She giggled lightly, dabbing at the side of her cheek as Applejack turned a questioning eye toward her. "Oh, nothing, darling."

"Well," Applejack said, one eyebrow raised but sounding more than vaguely impressed. "I've already had my fill of apple tart this morning, and my kitchen's on the other side of the Palace. My crew'll be waitin', so I'd best be off." Something in her voice held a tinge of amusement. "Though, if this keeps up, maybe I'd best ask Twi over there to help me out—goodness knows she might be better at this whole 'bakin' business than we've given her credit for."

"Yes," Rarity mumbled, still slightly awestruck at the sight. Twilight appeared not to have noticed them; she was too busy inspecting a timer set into the wall as a pan of cookies levitated beside her. She licked her lips. Almond: she could smell it from here. "Quite impressive indeed."

"I'll see you later, Rarity." Applejack stopped by the double doors and gave a little wave. "Try to make sure she don't get carried away—wouldn't want her bakin' nopony into a pie." She chuckled, and the simple, honest sound was refreshing to Rarity's ears.

"Of course, dearie." She tutted quietly. "Now, shoo! I shan't make you wait—I myself will be off in a few." She was here only to ask Twilight for the source of her sudden culinary genius. Her eyes wandered off to the counter again, and her stomach wasted no time in reminding her of its imminent displeasure. And perhaps sample one or two of those beautiful danishes as well...

When she turned around again, Applejack was gone. The only sign that she'd been there at all were the two double doors that served as the entrance to the kitchen swinging back and forth with a soft clunk.

Rarity turned back on her hooves, taking a certain measure of care to ensure that the sudden movement would not disturb her carefully sculpted mane. It was a talent that she prided herself on: the ability to take note of every piece of motion, no matter how fine, and to mold something as simple as rotating on one's hooves into an exercise in grace and elegance.

By now, Twilight had shoved the cookies back into their oven; the timer above it read 13:59 in bright, blaring blue text. The librarian seemed focused on a new pastry, now, her magic mixing the contents of a bowl as her hooves poured out a cup of flour. Her eyes hadn't once flickered from her task, and she appeared filled with the utmost concentration.

It was with some regret that Rarity opened her mouth—it did pain her so, to interrupt a pony so clearly in the middle of an artistic pièce d'inspiration—and cough, ever so slightly. It was dainty and precise, with the faintest ladylike lilt.

Twilight, expectedly, failed to notice her completely. She moved onto measuring the sugar.

Rarity coughed again, this time a bit louder. Still no response.

She tried once more. Nothing. Her brows furrowed, and the corners of her mouth tightened in concealed displeasure. Perhaps something more is in order.

Taking a deep breath, she held that air inside until she felt that her lungs were ready to burst. Then, applying the most artful burst of magic to her vocal chords that she could, she released that air—

—in the loudest, sloppiest, most disgusting cough that she could ever have imagined.

That got her attention. Twilight stopped mid-pour, blinking up at her with wide, owlish eyes as Rarity momentarily pondered suicide for the execution of such a horrible enunciation. Deciding to take the high road, however, she stood a little straighter, smoothed her mane, and sniffed, ever so slightly.

"Good morning, Twilight," she said.

Twilight blinked at Rarity a few more times, just to make sure that it wasn’t the sugar talking. “Oh,” she said, quietly. “Hello. I didn’t realize—I mean, I didn’t know that anypony was standing there.” She paused, a small blush appearing on her face. “How long have you been standing there?”

Rarity smiled back at her. It was a warm smile, one that filled her heart more than the heat of any oven could. “Long enough to be suitably impressed, darling.”

“Oh.” Twilight felt as though she should have something more to say. She felt almost ashamed that she didn’t, standing there under the weight of Rarity’s deep blue eyes. She fidgeted in place, her hoof tracing across the grain of the marble floor.

There came a low rumble. Twilight’s ears pricked up at the sound, but she let them lower again as Rarity’s chiming laugh rang out through the room. “Goodness, me,” she chuckled, bouncing a curl of her mane off of her hoof. “It would appear that my constitution isn’t quite as satisfied as I might have thought. Do you mind…?”

Twilight had to stifle a giggle at the blatantly hungry look in her friend’s eyes. She nodded, and Rarity wasted no time at all in laying waste to her first prey: a neatly-sliced egg-and-spinach quiche. She held her breath as Rarity took a bite, chewing daintily on a bite-sized piece (though by the look in her eyes, and the continued grumbling of her stomach, it was clear that she wanted more to be satisfied). Was it tasty? Would Rarity like it?

She got her answer soon enough. Rarity took in another breath, one so deep and sudden that Twilight feared that she was about to cough it all up. Instead, though, the other unicorn’s eyes flickered to hers, stars dancing in those bright-hued pupils.

“Twilight, my darling—mm!” Rarity cut herself off as she took another bite, chewing slowly and deliberately to get the full taste. “This is absolutely—mm—delicious!”

Twilight’s eyes widened. A smile touched her face. “You really think so?”

“Think so? Dear, I know so! This is scrumptious! Stupendous! Simply bon accompli!” Rarity’s words gushed forth like the cascade of a waterfall. “Darling, you must give me the recipe. I had no idea that you were so…so…”

“What?”

“…magnifique!” Rarity beamed at her and then, seeing the slight confusion in her eyes, lowered her voice and said, “Prench, my dear. It means, ‘magnificent’. A label your dish justly deserves.”

Twilight flushed. “Thanks, Rarity. I’m glad you liked it.”

This time, she didn’t even bother to reply. It was obvious that Rarity was too busy stuffing herself—though Twilight would never use such language, for fear of mollifying her friend into self-imposed solitary confinement—to reply. Twilight chuckled.

Behind her, something beeped. She half-turned, wondering what the sound was, and then froze in place. The timer that she’d set for the cookies was going off, its shrill, high-pitched cry echoing in her ears.

00:00

With each flash of its digits, she winced, the metallic chime sticking in her head. The cuckoo flashed across her eyes, each tick of the clock pounding across her skull. She tensed, involuntarily, but only for a moment. She quickly checked herself to make sure that it hadn’t been too obvious.

Evidently, though, it hadn’t been enough. When she next looked up, Rarity was looking at her with wide eyes, the final bite of quiche held halfway up to her mouth. It seemed she’d forgone a fork in favor of using straight telekinesis; at any other time, Twilight might have laughed at that. It was a sure sign of just how hungry Rarity had been (or how delicious she’d found her available nourishment). Instead, though, that light blue aura hung forgotten in the air, and Twilight felt the full weight of the gaze of the Element of Generosity staring down at her.

“Twilight, darling.” Rarity’s voice was constrained, hushed. “Is there something the matter?”

Twilight shook her head. “I—“

“Come now, dear.” Rarity now sounded stern, and almost admonishing. “I do have eyes, you know. Your eyes are completely bloodshot. I’ve not seen a pony in such a state since I pulled an all-nighter on Sapphire Shores’ last order.” She tutted loudly, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “And your mane?”

“What about my mane?” Twilight couldn’t help the reflexive current of disagreement that ran through her response.

Rarity sniffed. “Split ends, discolorations, stray curls…” She pursed her lips. “When was the last time you took care of yourself? My goodness—have you even slept?”

“I’m fine!” Twilight protested. Before she knew it, though, Rarity had stepped right into her personal space, letting her quiche float gently down to the counter beside her.

She didn’t even struggle as Rarity stared into her eye, squinting at the red veins that ran across the whiter sclera. She felt Rarity’s cool, disapproving huff of air on her neck as her friend clicked her teeth, obviously displeased. Somewhere in the back of her head, she heard the timer go off again, and was unable to prevent the shudder that spread down her spine.

Rarity drew herself back. “Now,” she said, completely seriously. “Don’t you try to fool me, Twilight Sparkle, because I shan’t let this go. I care too much about you to do such a thing. I’m only going to ask this once, so I require your complete and honest answer.”

She looked right into Twilight’s eyes, that cool, blue gaze firm and unblinking. “Is there something wrong?” The second half of that question went unsaid, but Twilight heard it all the same. And if so, tell me.

Please.

Twilight shook her head, her mouth hanging slightly ajar. She wanted to brush it away, to deny, to protest, to say, “No: everything’s going to be just fine.” But there was something in that look, in that simple, honest gaze, that pulled at the bottom of her stomach and told her, no.

…somepony to teach him what he'd lost…

I can’t do this alone.

She swallowed, drawing up all of her will and resolve. She would do this.

“I…” she began. Her voice wavered; it was weak, and she felt a hard lump in her throat. Rarity’s gaze was kind, though, and told her in plain language, take as long as you need. It made sense. When it came to time, the Element of Generosity was generous enough for the both of them.

“I do have a problem,” Twilight finally admitted. The words came out easier now, though they still danced like mayflies on the tip of her tongue. “A big problem. Like, Elements-of-Harmony sized problem. Or even bigger than that.”

Rarity’s eyebrows had steadily drawn up into her forehead with each word; by now, they appeared to be floating somewhere above the tip of her horn. She hadn’t spoken a word, though, and by all intents and purposes seemed to still be listening intently. Twilight took a deep breath before continuing.

“You see…do you remember that time travel spell that I used a few months back? The one made by Starswirl?”

She almost laughed as Rarity’s head bobbed up and down, but quashed the thought underhoof. Starswirl. It always came right back to Starswirl, didn’t it? Not that the analogy is a bad one. If it helps her to understand, then by all means.

“I know that you’ve read The Best Night Ever.” She held up a hoof as Rarity blinked in surprise. “No, I haven’t been snooping through your night-table drawers. And no: I don’t need a crash course in contemporary romance literature. But in that book, there was something strange—something unique.” She took another breath to steady herself, pushing the aromatic scents out of her mind, however tempting they might be. “A time loop.”

Watching Rarity’s bewildered expression, Twilight sighed. She ran a hoof through her mane. This might take a while to explain.

So she did.

She told Rarity everything. From the first, confusion-filled loop to her first untimely death. She told her of the truth behind the Wedding, of the Invasion and Chrysalis’ grand schemes; she told her of her attempts to “fix” things, to end the loops through good works and a detailed battleplan. Once or twice, she caught Rarity nodding along with her logic; if it’d made as much sense at the time, then why not now? But the words spilled forth from her mouth, her lips moving to fast to stop now.

She told her of the cracks, of the warehouse, and of whatever else she’d managed to gleam of the true nature of her imprisonment. Rarity gasped at the mention of the great Eye and the dark, empty void, Twilight’s pupils shrinking to pinpricks at the mere memory of the thing. She told her, somewhat shamefully, of the times she’d given up, giving into insanity and the inevitable madness that came along with the great pressure of the loops. She went on, discussing the warehouse, the Professor, and her own theories on the entire situation. Rarity followed along, nodding and gasping at all the right parts. By the end of it, her mane appeared as frazzled as Twilight’s own, though the librarian herself was unsure if it was due to any real physical influence or merely a measurement of her mental state.

“…And that’s why I was baking all of this…stuff,” she finished off. A rosy blush tinged her cheeks with the sheepish admission. “I had no idea where to go next, and I just needed something to clear my head.

“So that’s my story,” she said. Her eyes were downcast; for some reason, she couldn’t bare to bring them up to meet Rarity’s own. “Whether you believe me or not, that’s all there is to it.”

She held her breath, fully prepared for Rarity to snort, to laugh, or to snicker in disbelief. She could handle that. She’d handled worse.

But what she wasn’t prepared for, though, was the sensation of two legs curling gently around her own. She looked up, blinking in confusion.

“Oh, you poor darling,” Rarity murmured, nuzzling Twilight’s neck. “You poor, poor dear.” Her touch was light, but her lips warm as they brushed across. Twilight knew that it was platonic—unintentional, really—but she couldn’t help the blood running to her face with the first true physical contact she’d had with another pony in what felt like months. She almost laughed. How bad have things gotten that something as simple as a hug gets me this frazzled?

A shiver went up Twilight’s spine as Rarity drew her closer, her hoof a warm but welcome weight on her back. “Rarity, I—“

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with this alone, Twilight.” Rarity’s voice was quiet, and the sound of her name on her friend’s tongue widened the lump sitting in her throat. “I’m sorry: so, so sorry.”

“There was nothing you could—“

“Hush.” Twilight looked up, blinking as Rarity laid a hoof over her mouth. She sniffed, not realizing that there had been tears in her eyes. Rarity smiled back: a pure, matronly smile that filled Twilight’s chest with warmth. There was moisture in the corners of her eyes as well, just barely dabbing past the edges of the makeup she’d laid down. “Hush,” she repeated. “What’s happened, darling, has happened. But I’m here for you now, and that’s what matters.”

Twilight hiccuped. “You…you believe me, then?”

Rarity tittered behind a hoof, and Twilight nearly burst out laughing, out of sheer confusion if nothing else. “Oh, my dear, of course I do! You know that you have my utmost trust—I would never ‘leave you in the lurch’, as it were.” She tilted her head, lifting one hoof to wipe the tears away from Twilight’s eyes.

“Now,” she said. Her voice was stern again, but not unkind. She shuffled back, giving Twilight some space even as she left her hoof resting on the other unicorn’s back. “What matters is that you trusted me enough to give me the whole story, and I can’t thank you enough for that. Now, I must pay you in return.”

Twilight sniffled. “Rarity, you don’t—“

“Goodness, Twilight.” Rarity gave her an imperious look. “You really must stop interrupting me like that.” The twinkle in her eyes let Twilight know that she was anything but serious, though. That, finally, spurred a laugh out of Twilight, though it was more of a hoarse chuckle than anything else.

“In any case,” Rarity went on, clearing her throat. “I fully intend to help you in your efforts to escape. And I certainly won’t take no for an answer,” she added, seeing Twilight open her mouth. “I am your friend, Twilight Sparkle, and it is my utmost duty and pride to help you out of this situation. You would do the same for me, would you not?”

Thoughts ran through Twilight’s head. Asking Rarity for advice on a warm summer’s day. Going to her, if only for the flicker of idea, and finding true inspiration in the midst of a tower filled with bright cloth and ribbon. Hearing her cascading voice as it rushed past her ears, her gracious lilt providing her with just the words that she needed.

She hiccuped again. “I…I suppose.”

Rarity beamed at her. “Excellent. Now I’ll just have to find a way to accompany you through these loops, correct?”

Twilight shook her head. “It can’t be that easy.” She looked up, though, as Rarity’s extended hoof drew her closer once again. Those deep blue eyes stared back into hers, filled with friendship and hope.

“My dear,” Rarity said, her voice soft. “We will find a way. Even if we must once again battle Nightmare Moon herself, we will find a way.” Twilight could see it in her face. Those words were absolutely, earnestly, one-hundred-percent true.

Twilight laughed. She had no words to say. For the first time in what felt like eons, she laughed: a deep belly laugh that rose up in her gut and spread until it filled her entire body, wracking her with bursts of mirth. Beside her, Rarity laughed as well, beginning with a low chuckle and blossoming into a full set of unladylike guffaws.

Together.

Chapter Seven: Binary Code

"So tell me again," Rarity said. "How long did you say this has been happening?"

It was a bright, sunny day in Canterlot Park, and it was Rarity's location of choice for her "introduction" into the nature of the time loops. She'd insisted that Twilight get out of the castle before explaining the situation—"a pile of dusty old books is simply no place for a proper orientation," she'd said. So here they were, meandering between a grove of cherry trees whose pink leaves whispered in the afternoon breeze.

Twilight sniffed the air; it was a cool, sweet scent that brushed across her snout. The sunlight played between the leaves and branches above them, leaving shadows that danced across her coat and mane. Off in the distance, ponies swarmed the cool grass, foals climbing across the park’s jungle gym as their parents watched.

She pursed her lips. "To be honest, I've almost lost count at some points. To the best of my knowledge, though, it's been..."

She hesitated, tallying up the days. "...six to eight months."

Rarity looked up at her, eyes wide. "Dear, you can't be serious! That's the better part of a year!"

"More like half," Twilight snorted.

"Twilight, you don't understand! Half a year might as well be eternity for somepony stuck all by themselves like you were!"

Were. Twilight's lips curled upward.

"It's absolutely dreadful!" Rarity shook her head, purple curls bouncing on her shoulders. "Really, it's quite astounding that you've managed to stay sane this long."

Twilight winced. “I guess.”

“Though that shan’t be a concern any longer.”

Twilight stopped. She frowned. “Huh?”

“You’re not alone anymore.” Rarity turned to her. She reached forward to let her hoof rest on Twilight’s shoulder. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here by your side until we fix this.”

"But you're not looping yet.”

"Oh, please." Rarity snorted. "That’s only true for a little while longer. We'll solve that puzzle soon enough."

A soft smile touched Twilight’s face.

"Now," Rarity said. She pursed her lips and looked Twilight straight in the eye. "What, exactly, have you discovered about these loops?"

Twilight sat down. Her back rested on the tree behind her, the rough bark rubbing against her coat. "Well, I've discovered a few things."

"Go on."

"For starters, this is big. Like, Discord-big," Twilight said. "Maybe even bigger. I don't really know. One thing’s for sure, though.”

“Oh?”

“There’s no way that any kind of pony, monster, or magic is responsible for this.”

Rarity sat down beside her. “Why’s that?”

“Well, magic’s out of the picture because, well…” Twilight shrugged. “It just can’t do anything like this. It can move a pony through time, but it can’t affect time itself. In basic terms, magic can work within the universe…”

“...But it can’t alter the universe itself,” Rarity finished.

Twilight nodded. “Exactly. It can’t be the Princesses, because they’re no more aware of the situation than anypony else. It can’t be some ancient monster or dark force, either. Believe me, I’ve tried using the Elements of Harmony—”

Rarity gasped.

“—and if it was something that they had power over, something would have worked.” Twilight shook her head. “I can only come to the conclusion, then, that whatever's caused this is something outside of reality—beyond the natural fabric of the universe."

Rarity’s eyes widened.

“Even if I don’t know what’s causing it, though,” Twilight went on “I have done enough research to know that there are rules.”

“Oh?” Rarity asked. “What kind of rules?”

"For starters, each loop is precisely one hundred and fifty-two hours, four minutes, and thirty-three seconds long. Or just under six and a half days," Twilight added, seeing Rarity frown at the number. "Each one begins when I wake up at nine-thirty AM, Sunday morning, and ends at approximately four-thirty PM the following Saturday morning. Or when I die."

A shadow passed over the small clearing. Twilight glanced to the side; Rarity’s hooves were trembling, and she refused to meet Twilight’s eyes.

“Dear,” Rarity murmured. “Could we possibly…avoid such topics?”

Twilight blinked. “Why’s that? It’s just another part of the loops.”

“And therein lies the problem.” Rarity cleared her throat. “Twilight, I cannot pretend to even begin to understand what you’ve gone through, but you must understand that hearing you discuss the concept of death so…casually is more than a little disturbing!”

“But I—“

“No buts about it!” Rarity’s teeth clenched, her eyebrows furrowed. “If I am to assist you in this endeavor, then I’ll require something of you in turn—namely, valuing your own life!”

A breeze swept through the trees above, the whispering of the leaves filling the clearing.

Twilight bowed her head. “I...I guess you’re right.”

Rarity sniffed.

“It’s just…” Twilight searched for the words. “It’s something that you get used to, you know? Or that I’ve gotten used to.”

Rarity sighed. “And I recognize that, dear, but you must realize that I do care for you. As a friend, I can’t just stand by and watch as you treat your life so...flippantly.”

“...Thank you,” Twilight said. “That means a lot to me. And I won’t—not if it bothers you like that.”

“Thank you, Twilight.”

Twilight offered her a small smile. Rarity nodded in return.

“Moving back onto the physical laws of the time loops,” Twilight said, “it’s clear that things can be changed.”

“Like stopping the changelings.”

“Exactly. Now, as far as I’ve been able to gather, the only pony within Equestria able to affect the outcome of any given loop is me. That’s not to sound egotistical or anything,” she added, noting Rarity’s raised eyebrow, “but since it looks like I’m the only one who’s actually aware of what’s going on, anything I do can change the outcome of any given loop.”

“And you don’t know why that is?” Rarity asked. “Retaining your memory, that is. Could it have anything to do with you being Celestia’s student, or with the Elements of Harmony?”

“Not that I’ve discovered,” Twilight said. “Celestia seems to be completely in the dark, and if it were the Elements, then why don’t you keep your memories between loops, too? Or Rainbow? Or Applejack?” She shrugged, closing her eyes. “Still, it’s a thought.”

Rarity coughed. “My apologies. I’m sure you’ve considered these ideas many dozens of times before.”

“Oh, more than that.” Twilight chuckled. “Hundreds. But don’t let that stop you.”

“Whyever not?”

“Because you’re a new perspective.” A smile spread across Twilight’s face as she cracked an eye open. “You’re a variable that I haven’t considered before. You’re a pony who can see things that I can’t.“

“Well, then.” Rarity said. “With a compliment like that, how could I refuse?” A mischievous grin played across her face.

“How, indeed,” Twilight echoed. She returned the grin in kind.

“Now.” Rarity stood up, dusting off her flanks and sides. “Back to bringing me into these time loops. What did you have in mind?”

"So the first thing that we need to do is get you up to speed in the relevant sciences." Twilight's horn flickered as book after book flew off the shelf and into Rarity's telekinetic grasp. "We're going to need to find some way to implant you into these loops, and to do that, I'll need you to be well-educated enough to help me with any hypotheses."

"Y-yes," Rarity said. She gritted her teeth, the end of her horn sparking as it struggled to keep the weight aloft. Scissors and rolls of fabric were nowhere near as heavy as this. Meanwhile. Twilight continued chatting away, as if handling two dozen books at least five pounds each was the most normal thing in the world.

"Thus far, I've provided you with some light reading material."

“Light?” Rarity muttered, eyeing a particularly bulky encyclopedia. “That thing must weigh thirty pounds!”

Twilight didn’t seem to hear. "In the meantime, though, I'd suggest looking through this one first." Rarity blinked as a thin book bobbed up and down in the air before her. "It's a good introduction to the basic principles we'll be going through.

“Let me know if you think of anything as you’re reading," Twilight said, her eyes lighting up. She flashed her teeth in a wide smile. “I’d love to hear any ideas that you come up with.”

"I—" Rarity swallowed. Temporal Physics 101: Everything You Wanted To Know About Special Relativity But Were Too Much Of A Biology Major To Ask. Despite its lean appearance, the book sent shivers down her spine. "Er, yes. Basic. Very good."

"Okay, then. Any questions?"

"N-no." Rarity felt something slipping in the back of her mind and quickly reaffirmed her levitation spell on one of the bulkier tomes in her magical grip.

"Excellent! Let's get started."

Two hours and only a single chapter later, it became clear that this wasn’t going to work. Rarity groaned under her breath, tearing her gaze away from yet another damned equation; she could feel her brain trying to unknot itself.

She looked up at Twilight. The other unicorn was eagerly devouring her own serving of text, reading so fast that the pages blurred together.

"Er, Twilight? Dear?"

The storm of page-flipping paused. Rarity fidgeted as she felt the weight of Twilight's gaze come to rest on her shoulders. She could almost see the calculations that danced behind those bright purple eyes.

She took another deep breath, squaring her shoulders. No, that wouldn't do. She was a lady, not some passive-aggressive nimby. She would greet her difficulties with confidence and respect.

"You see," she began, "I appreciate the thought, but I'm having some...difficulty with the texts you've provided me."

Twilight's ears perked up. "Oh, really? Don't worry—I'm a great tutor! I can—"

"Twilight." Rarity's voice came out harsher than she had intended, and she winced at the hurt look on Twilight's face. "I'm sorry, but I don't think that this is going to work. My eyes just won’t the page," she confessed. "I feel like a filly again, and truth be told, I'm not sure I'd be able to understand even half of this material if I devoted my life to it. And we both know that we don't have that kind of time, given the nature of what we are trying to accomplish in the first place."

"But—"

"It's a nice idea," Rarity said. "But to be completely honest, I'm not so sure it's doing you much good, either. Come now; you've been through nearly a half-dozen texts in the past half hour. What has that gotten you?"

"I—" Twilight's voice faltered. "I—"

"Perhaps we're not considering the right options," Rarity said. "After all, if there had been a solution in these books, you would have found it long ago."

"I...I guess." Twilight hung her head. "I'm sorry, Rarity. I just went ahead and did what I’ve always done without even considering whether it was actually helpful to you.”

"Now, don't fret," Rarity said. "I'm sure there's something else we can do. We just haven't thought of it yet."

"I—you're right," Twilight said lamely. She chuckled, shaking her head. "We'll find something. Eventually"

"Twilight, what is the date?"

"The morning of Saturday, June Twenty-Third," Twilight replied automatically. "Why—?"

Rarity raised an eyebrow.

Friday. She could see the cogs working in Twilight's mind.

"Oh." Twilight's voice sounded very small indeed. "It's the end of the week, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is." Rarity tutted quietly. "I am afraid that, in all honesty, this is the final research session I shall be able to hold with you. This version of me, at least."

"Rarity—"

She didn't dare look away. "When you next see me," she murmured, "do tell my...counterpart of what we've achieved here. Or what we have not."

"I—"

"Hush." Rarity held a hoof over Twilight's mouth. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure she'll be just as happy to help you as I, if not more so. All that I ask is that you share with her everything that you have with me. Understood?"

"...Yes."

"Good," Rarity said. "Now, before we're all attacked by changelings, maybe you can show me another one of those recipes. The strudel, perhaps?"

She paused. “And after that,” she said quietly, “perhaps you would consider staying with me here. Just until the completion of the loop.”

She felt a weight on her shoulder: Twilight’s hoof.

Twilight smiled sadly. “I wouldn’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.”

Twilight had found Rarity’s next iteration wandering the corridor between their personal dining hall and Rarity’s own workshop. After allowing Rarity to chew her out for “standing the Princess up for breakfast—how could she think of doing something so disrespectful?” Twilight had managed to stutter out a hasty apology before pulling her into a nearby sitting room to give her the whole story.

She had actually doubted whether Rarity would believe her this time; without the desperation and near-insanity born of lengthy isolation, she’d expected for the weight of her argument to be less than substantial. Why would this Rarity take her seriously? She must sound like a madpony, ranting and raving about time loops and invasions! As her story went on, though, it became rapidly apparent that Rarity had placed a good deal of trust in her.

It was...a revelation, to say the least. She and Rarity had always been close friends, but to know that the other unicorn would just drop everything like that to lend her a hoof—

Well, she wasn’t the Element of Generosity for nothing.

“So, this might not be the most fruitful endeavor, but there’s something in here that I’d like to check out.”

Rarity looked up at the high-reaching shelves of the Canterlot Archives with wide eyes. She’d always been impressed by the towering palaces and spirals that dotted the city, but these mountains of books were monuments themselves in their own way. She almost felt intimidated. “Yes; of course.”

Twilight looked back over her shoulder. “I shouldn’t be long, but if you’d like, you can just browse around while I look for a specific book. Give me…thirty minutes or so?”

Rarity smiled weakly. “That sounds perfect.”

“Great. Be back in a bit!”

As Twilight wandered off, Rarity stood, somewhat mutely, between the stacks of ink and paper that towered above her. She had never been a bookish mare—trashy romance novels, really, were all that cluttered her bookshelf back at the Boutique, along with a few of the lesser-known classics—but she could certainly appreciate this horde of knowledge. Perhaps not as much as Twilight, but even so, just by being here, she felt almost obligated to leaf through a few books.

She shivered at the thought of pages and pages full of equations and technical jargon. “No, thank you,” she murmured aloud. No matter what Twilight had come here for—babbling about spacetime and the like—she personally was not here for physics.

But still…

Her wandering eye passed over a few titles before coming to a sign at the end of the row. She raised an eyebrow at the name there. It sounded interesting enough.

With a toss of her mane and a little smirk on her face, Rarity trotted off toward the Neuroscience section.

"Two pieces of pecan pie! Order up!"

Twilight's nose twitched at the smell that drifted up into her nostrils. It must have been weeks since she'd last been to The Cream Puff, but the army of scents inside was just as delicious as she remembered.

"You know," Rarity said as they took their seats outside. "I still find it fairly incredible that he was such a big part of your life  and doesn't even know it."

"Who?" Twilight asked. "Sugarwheat?"

"See? You're even on first name terms!”

A weak smile crossed Twilight's face. It'd been a struggle not to address the older stallion by name when she'd seen him inside. She'd felt on reflex an overwhelming urge to teleport across the counter and to start kneading that mountain of dough all by herself. She knew that he needed the help, after all—wanted it, even. Wanted somepony to be beside him, working and chatting as the day wore on.

But she didn't. That was another time, another life.

"That's just how time loops work," she finally said. She levitated her fork into the air. "Sometimes, you want things to continue on, but they don’t. I might remember, but that doesn't mean that anypony else does."

She wasn't sure what to make of the frown that flashed across Rarity's face. Twilight furrowed her brow, averting her eyes. Beside the two slices of pie, they'd ordered a pair of coffees—one espresso and one decaf—as well as a newspaper, which sat patiently, unread, off to the side. Twilight hadn't seen the point of that particular purchase, but Rarity had insisted that, time loop or no, she still wanted to be kept aware of current events. “To be ‘in the loop,’ as it were.” She’d giggled at her own bad joke.

Twilight sighed, remembering Sugarwheat. That deep laugh, that dough-stained apron…

“It’s fine, really,” she said. “I’ve learned to live with it.”

Rarity closed her eyes. As Twilight took the first bite of her pie, Rarity's sat untouched, steam still rising from its crust. "I suppose one would have to. But I believe this isn't the first time you've...recruited me, is it not?"

Twilight swallowed her food. "Well...no. Not really," she confessed. "But that doesn't mean anything. You're still here, right? And that's all that matters."

Rarity's face was unreadable. "I see."

An unfriendly silence settled over the table. Twilight chewed slowly, refusing to meet Rarity's eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course she'd want to know about her past selves.But what could she say?

Oh, yeah; I asked for your help, but you—she—kind of ceased to exist. It's alright, though. Except you'll do the same in just over six days' time, so...

Twilight cleared her throat. She had to stop with this. "So," she said lamely. Rarity's eyes flickered back up to hers. "What was in that book that you checked out from the library, anyway? You seemed pretty excited about it."

That did it. "Well," Rarity began, her eyes lighting up. Her horn glowed, a bright blue aura rippling around her saddlebags. "I'd not wanted to tell you for fear of being wrong, but I found something interesting while you were off on your own."

"Go on." Twilight grinned, watching as the saddlebags' covers opened and a magazine flew out.

"I found this sitting on a Featured Literature shelf toward the back." There was an odd note of satisfaction to Rarity's voice. "I'll admit; I was quite surprised when it caught my eye, and even more so when I found that I could actually follow. I thought that it might be of some use in solving our little quandary."

Twilight skimmed the title: Recent Developments in Neurological Science: The Brain and You.

"It does seem a bit dry," Rarity said, "but the picture on the cover was enough to draw me in."

Beneath the title—which was outlined in large, friendly letters—was the picture of a pony. The silhouette was without detail, shaded a dim blue, and laid across the outline of what looked to be a large, electric-blue brain. The text below the headline read: How Your Mind Works: Secrets in Learning and Memory.

Memory...

"Since it seemed as though dealing directly with these loops might not be the correct path to take, I thought that it might be worthwhile to look into a more indirect route."

"So instead of using chronomancy, we just worry about finding some way to save your memories in between loops," Twilight murmured. She pushed the newspaper away, trying to make enough room to set the magazine down on the table. "Rarity, you're a genius!"

A smug look tugged on the corner of Rarity's mouth. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I appreciate the sentiment, though."

"But how would we do it?" Twilight wondered aloud. "How would we—"

She stopped.

Something on the front cover of the newspaper had caught her eye. Normally, Twilight Sparkle was a very forward-thinking intellectual; she thought through things like a logician, moving from one conscious step to another. Yet through years of academic training, she'd built up enough brainpower to have a full assembly line of thoughts and ideas bubbling through the back of her mind without any real thought or effort. In an everyday situation, she didn't even notice it. But here, today, and with all of the pieces coming together, something clicked into place.

"Canterlot Science Symposium," she read slowly, lips moving to pronounce each word cleanly and precisely. She pushed her plate and mug a few inches off to the side so as to get a better view. "Presenting Dr. Bill Neigh & the Computing Revolution."

Dr. Bill Neigh and the Council of Canterlot Academy Trustees are proud to present the University's latest research into electronic computing! A team of respected scientists have teamed up with a squad of engineers in order to put together a proof-of-concept for a device or method capable of storing large amounts of information in digital form. More significantly, though, this device will have the ability to pair with another of its kind, transferring the data back and forth. Copies of information can be made and then "downloaded" into an electronically-linked partner. When questioned further, Dr. Neigh named these devices as "hard drives," and suggested that crystal engineering may play a large role. Additional sources say....

"Rarity.”

"Yes?" Rarity paused; she'd taken a first piece of pie onto her fork, and had it hovering halfway in the air toward her mouth. "What is it?"

"I think I've got a way to make this happen."

"Oh, wonderful!” Rarity said. “So you mean to tell me that my silly little idea might actually be worthwhile?"

"Worthwhile?" Twilight asked. “Rarity, this will let me bring you into the loops without a second thought! And I think I know how to do it. There's just one hold-up, though."

"Oh?" Rarity frowned. "What might that be?"

Twilight looked her in the eye. "Tell me," she began, "how familiar are you with the idea of a mindscape?"

"So allow me to collect my thoughts." Rarity sat back on the floor of her workshop. "You're going to enter my mind, remove—"

"Copy," Twilight interjected.

"—copy," Rarity went on, "my memories, and then implant them among your own?"

"That's the gist of it."

"And that's the plan? No other magic or mayhem involved?"

"Nope." Twilight shook her head. "I already know the spell needed to enter a pony’s mindscape, so that'll be easy, at least."

She paused. "Rarity," she said, "you do trust me, right?"

"Of course, Twilight." Rarity bit her lip. "It's just—well, you're sure that this will not have any negative effects?"

"Don't worry," Twilight said. She took a step closer, setting a hoof on Rarity's shoulder.

“And that this will work? For sure?”

Twilight’s horn flickered to life.

“There's only one way to find out."

She cast the spell.

It was a salon.

Not just any old salon, though. The Ponyville Barber had his three mirrors and a set of chairs to go with them, and even the spa was limited to three hot tubs, two hairdressers, and a sauna. Compared to the landscape laid out before Twilight’s eyes now, though, neither of those could really be said to deserve their titles.

Now this was a spa.

The air smelled like.... If she had to put a scent to beauty, this was it. It smelled of lilac and cinnamon, citrus and chocolate, soap and mint, and a whole host of other things that shouldn't have smelled good together but did anyway. Twilight took a deep whiff, her lungs in her chest. It was a warm, heady aroma, like the scent of an aged bottle of wine, creating an atmosphere that seemed to welcome you in with hooves outsretched.

The lighting was bright: a pure white that cast away the shadows in every corner, save for those that slept beneath the chairs. For there were chairs: dozens and dozens of them that stretched across the floor and into the horizon. Twilight couldn't count them all.

She continued walking, her hooves echoing on the marble, gold-veined tiles. Each chair stood before a mirror, with a small table beside it. Some were ordinary salon chairs, while others were resembled ordinary mane-drying stations. Others, though, were more...unique.

Twilight paused by a seat that looked like one of the highchairs from her fillyhood; only, instead of being painted purple, this one was a clean, friendly white. Beside it on the table where an assembly of items that she recognized as toys: a rattle, a pacifier, slightly chewed; and even a small piece of paper that read, in big, clunky letters: Welcome Sweetie Belle.

Muffled conversation echoed in her ears, and Twilight turned her head to look over her shoulder. Wasn't she the only one in here?

And then she noticed the mirror—or rather, what lay inside the mirror. Entranced, she took a step closer, peering past its rippling surface.

"Can I see her? Can I see her?"

A white filly hopped up and down on the floor, her purple mane bobbing up and down each time her hooves hit the ground. A quiet chuckle echoed through the scene, and a pair of tall white legs appeared behind her.

"What do you think, honey? Can we show our little diamond her new sister?"

There came the sound of melodious laughter, like the tinkling of wind chimes. "Oh, of course, dear. Let's show Rarity the newest addition the the family."

A pair of pink hooves entered the picture. The little filly had stopped bouncing, and was now crouching down on her hind legs and trembling in anticipation. The tell-tale shimmer of magic appeared above her head, and a small, pink bundle floated down into view.

A tiny white face peered back into Rarity’s eyes. A single curl, a rippling pink and purple, showed through the mass of swaddling. "This is Sweetie Belle," the first voice said—a strong, masculine voice. "She'll be coming to live with us now."

Rarity's mouth formed a small "o". "Was she the lump inside Mommy?"

The second voice laughed again. "She was, but now she's outside of Mommy. She's going to live in the empty room upstairs. Are you okay with that?"

Rarity's eyes widened as though she'd never considered that before. Finally, she opened her mouth and said, "Can she play with me?"

"I don’t see why not." A brown hoof came down and ruffled Rarity's mane; she flinched back, but grinned good-naturedly as her father mussed up her hair. "When she's older, certainly."

"Yay!"

The cogs working behind Rarity’s large, filly eyes were obvious, and after a moment, she jumped up with a gasp. "Wait right here! I need to do something!"

Her parents chuckled. Sweetie Belle, for her part, slept on.

Rarity returned quickly—within the space of a minute or so. True to their word, her parents hadn't budged. Rarity was panting, but there was a certain glow on her small, round face. Floating beside her were a trio of crayons and a wrinkled piece of paper, all clad in the same light-blue aura that rippled around her horn.

The paper held a foal's drawing of a small, white pony, her curled purple-and-pink mane clearly visible. The outlines were drawn in wide, chalky lines. Rarity carefully floated the drawing over until it was just above her sister's head.

"That's you, Sweetie Belle." She stumbled over the name, the words strange on her childish tongue, but smiled as she finished it all the same. "I wanted to welcome you to the family."

The bundle shifted. Two bright green eyes stared up into Rarity's own blue ones, glimmering with childish wonder.

Rarity nuzzled her sister, and Sweetie Belle gurgled happily. The drawing hovered beside them, still glowing with magic. "You and me are gonna be the best of friends—forever."

And then it was over.

Twilight took a slow breath as the image faded, the mirror rippling until it resembled nothing more than the same silvery glass that it had been before. There was a soft smile on her face, and without another word, she took a step back and resumed her walk down the salon floor.

These were memories, then, and without a doubt, it seemed as though she'd come to the right place. As she looked into a mirror on her right, she could see a slightly older Rarity beaming out over a stage, where each colt or filly performing wore an outfit decorated with bright, colorful gemstones. A trio of bright blue diamonds covered her flank.

On Twilight went, her stride increasing to a light trot as she made her way through the hall. To her left, she could see Rarity opening up Carousel Boutique; to her right, she watched as the eager young fashionista made her first sale.

She took another step, and her ears perked up. She heard a muffled sound—voices—off to her side. Curious, she took a step off of the floor and toward a new mirror, her gaze sweeping over the table beside it as she went.

A pair of lipsticks were placed neatly on the table, right beside a trio of envelopes and hoofwritten notes. On the back of each envelope was a seal, planted in the shape of a bright red kiss. Twilight smirked, her gaze flickering up to the mirror—

Oh, Thunderlane. The stars are beautiful tonight."

The black pegasus looked back at her, a cocky smile on his face. "Not as beautiful as you, though."

Rarity, who was sitting on a wide, oak-carved bed, giggled and waved a hoof dismissively. She looked younger—certainly not a foal, but not quite as old as she was now. An adolescent, perhaps. Her rosy cheeks flushed, and she gave Thunderlane a wink. "Oh, Thunder. You know how to flatter a filly."

"It's not hard." He took a step closer, his smile softening into a warm grin. "Not when you're one of the ponies in the room."

Rarity giggled again, her hoof flying to her mouth. Wordlessly, Thunderlane reached up and pulled it away. Their lips drew closer, each pony's eyes fluttering shut.

"Oh, Thunderlane..."

"Rarity..."

Twilight jerked back, her cheeks a bright red. She quickly averted her eyes as the pair made clear their intentions, going straight from kissing to...something else. She almost couldn't get away fast enough. The other memories had been a teensy invasion of privacy, but this was something else. Her cheeks were still hot, blood pumping through her veins as she galloped away from the mirror.

"Ouch!"

She hissed, holding her tongue between her teeth and rubbing her horn. She looked up, wide-eyed, at what she'd bumped into.

A marble fountain grew proudly from the floor, its water light and crystal-clear. Each level of the fountain was made from a different gem: emerald, ruby, and sapphire. At the top, balanced on a sphere of diamond, was the sculpture of a pony.

Her poise was implacable, her pose graceful and precise. One forehoof was held lightly against her chest, the other pressed into the gemstone below. Her head was held high, not to seem proud or arrogant, but bestowing a feeling of majesty to the space around it.

The mane was perfectly sculpted, with not a hair or curl out of place. Clothes flickered over the its body: dresses, skirts, scarves, and sometimes things so bizarre and experimental that Twilight couldn't even begin to name them. Colors flashed across that pure white stone, splashing warmth and feeling across its surface.

"So this is what my interior design looks like."

Twilight jumped, leaping to her hooves. Her head whipped around so fast that it momentarily felt as though she'd twisted her neck. "Rarity? You're here?"

Rarity stood barely ten feet away, looking up at the statue with something resembling appreciation and...could that be sorrow? Twilight couldn't place it, and she wouldn't believe the latter even if she wanted to.

"It's quite lovely," Rarity murmured at last. She stepped forward and held out a hoof. Twilight graciously accepted it, hauling herself to her hooves. "Have you been here long already?"

"Um...just a few minutes." Twilight averted her eyes, that cursed blush coming to her cheeks again. "I didn't see anything I shouldn't have," she blurted, "I swear."

Rarity blinked, raising one, elegantly-plucked eyebrow. Here in her mind’s eye, she looked as pristine as the statue before her: white coat unmatted, and without a single split end to her mane. "Of course, dear,” she said. “What do we do now?"

"I, uh, was hoping you'd know," Twilight mumbled. She scratched the back of her neck, grinning sheepishly. "It is your mind, after all."

Rarity tittered behind a hoof. "Twilight, please—I won't pretend to be as knowledgeable about magic as you. Surely you have something in mind; otherwise, I'm about as useful as a spool without any thread."

"Right." Twilight put a hoof to her chin, thinking. As she pondered, Rarity took the opportunity to wander a bit, murmuring to herself as she went.

"Mirrors for memories, hm?” Rarity asked, peering through one of her many reflections. "So this is supposed to represent my inner self?"

"Mmhm," Twilight grunted, still deep in thought. "Your mindscape is a fusion of your thoughts, memories, and persona. It's different for everypony. Mine is a library, for example."

"A library?" Rarity stopped before what looked like a funhouse mirror and giggled. "That makes a certain amount of sense. You mean to say that you've visited your own...mindscape before this?"

"Yup. We all learned how to in Neurological Spells 301." Twilight prodded her chin thoughtfully. "That's how I knew that this would work in the first place."

Rarity paused, her eyes darting over whatever was contained inside of the mirror. "Fascinating."

Twilight kept thinking, her side pressed against the fountain's walls. She could hear the rush of the cool, clean water as it sang across the surface of diamond and ruby, splashing into the pool below. Something of her earlier words ran through her mind: a library...

"That's it!"

Rarity paused from inspecting a ratty-looking hairbrush and looked back up at her. "I'm sorry?"

Twilight beamed. "I know what we have to do," she said.

"Oh? Do tell."

"It was the mention of my own mindscape that made me think of it," Twilight said, trotting over. "See, each of these mirrors holds a memory—pure thought and spirit, you might say. Similarly, inside of my mindscape, the same is true of the books on its shelves. Each book is a memory, each chapter an event or emotion.

"So," she went on, clapping her hooves together, "all we need to do is transmute those thoughts from one form to another before placing them inside my own mindscape! And since we're already here, there's no better place!"

Rarity looked taken aback, but then broke out into a fit of giggles. "Twilight," she said, shaking her head, "you truly are something else."

"Huh?"

"That's a good thing, darling." Rarity winked at her. "Now, how shall we go about starting this procedure?"

"Well..." Twilight bit her lip, turning to face the mirror that Rarity had been standing by. Inside, a small filly stood alone in a dark workshop, sewing a line of thread through a ripped teddy bear. "I'll just have to start like this—"

She squared off before the mirror, a bright glow flickering around her horn.

"—and do this—"

The aura flared brighter, and the image in the mirror flickered.

—and finish it off with this!"

The light around Twilight's horn flared, its buzzing swelling to a crescendo. White light flashed, and Twilight shut her eyes tight. When she opened them…

"Got it!"

She looked proudly at the book floating beside her. It was a thin volume, perhaps no more than twenty or thirty pages.

Beside her, Rarity's eyelashes fluttered, and she gave a soft little sigh. “So that’s all?”

Twilight nodded.

"And we're to do this for each of my memories?" Rarity turned to look around her. It was a very long hallway. "You're sure this will work?"

Twilight cracked her neck. "As I'll ever be." The light around her horn flickered back to life, and she gave Rarity a wide grin. "Well, then. Let's get to work."

"Ugh..." Twilight moaned. "My head..."

"Twilight, are you alright? Should I call for a doctor?"

Twilight pushed Rarity away with a hoof, still massaging her temples with the other. "I—no. I'll be fine. I just...ugh."

It wasn't quite a headache, but it came close. Normally, headaches hurt, and while this one didn't throb quite like the product of five gallons of coffee and a stack of procrastinated essays, it still felt as though the weight of several freight trains had piled up behind her forehead. Twilight moaned again, feeling some of the pressure recede as she massaged—though that still left an awful lot of pressure to go.

"Is it the spell?" Rarity sounded concerned, and as Twilight looked up to meet her gaze, those big blue eyes quivered with worry. "Did something go wrong?"

Twilight grunted, cracking a small smile that looked more like a grimace. "Er—no. Not quite. If anything, it worked." She looked up sheepishly, hoof hovering over the tip of her horn. "I guess that's what happens when you take the sum totality of another pony's thoughts and memories into your own mind."

"So it did work, then?"

"Mm." Twilight closed her eyes, feeling around the back of her mind with tendrils of thought. There! She could feel it: a warm, ambient mass drifting beneath her thoughts, connected to the rest of her mind through a few strands of magic and spirit. "It's definitely in there."

When she opened her eyes again, Rarity was looking down at her with a relieved smile. "Oh, wonderful. What does it feel like?"

Twilight blinked, feeling for it again. "It...it's warm," she said, surprising herself. "It feels...friendly. It feels like you, to be honest." She chuckled. "Sorry if I can't say more about it. I'm still kind of recovering."

"Oh, think nothing of it," Rarity said. "And now we wait?"

Twilight recognized the undercurrent of fear in Rarity's tone. The other unicorn was too strong, too proud to admit it, but there was a definite sense of apprehension there. Nopony wants to be erased, after all—this was the first copy that had had even the slightest hope of surviving.

"Yes," Twilight replied. She reached up, placing a hoof around Rarity's neck. "And now, we wait."

Rarity moaned.

She shifted her weight; the covers felt hot and oppressive over her hobodyoves. With a single, well-placed kick, she cast them aside as she did her best to do battle with the throbbing headache between her eyes.

Thoughts slammed against the sides of her skull, her vision blurring as she struggled to regain some semblance of order. Colors swam and edges fuzzed. She squinted. A lumpy purple shape stood over her, blocking the light of the sun.

"Rarity?"

The voice sounded like it'd come through water, all low-pitched and distorted until it barely resembled anything in reality.

"Are you okay?"

Thoughts danced in the back of her head, swimming with strange emotions and memories. And these were alien, too—since when had Twilight been a world-class chef, or baker to boot? Since when had she started visiting libraries, especially academic ones? And what...

Her eyes screwed up. What was this about time loops?

With a crack, it all came rushing back. The loops, the memories, the spell, the mindscape—Rarity blinked, her eyes going wide and her horn flaring to life as her thoughts rearranged themselves so quickly that it was as if they'd teleported into order.

"Twilight?" Rarity murmured. Her head still hurt, though the pain was beginning to recede. "Is that you?"

"It’s me."

Rarity smiled. It was a weak smile, admittedly, but it spoke of a hard-fought victory that was already singing through her blood. She took a deep breath.

"It worked."