"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."