Night had already fallen across Equestria, and Luna’s moon shone brightly in the sky surrounded by a vast starry mantle. This was a sight Celestia tended to glimpse for a brief while before retiring to her own bedchambers to rest.

Yet, this evening, Celestia felt too restless to sleep—and she could not have said why.

It was certainly not due to the nonstop rush of the day spent advising parishioners or facing committees to develop plans for anything from festivals to the arrival of foreign dignitaries. Celestia had grown so used to such proceedings, she now transitioned from one to the other without breaking stride—or even thinking much of the switch—followed and reminded of various tasks to complete by her faithful advisor, Kibitz.

The stately Kibitz’ came from a long line of ponies who had attended Celestia and were masters at scheduling even the briefest meetings months in advance. And she would have been a foal to deny how much Kibitz and his family had meant to her, or how she had relied upon them for their advice and mere presence. Having somepony nearby always had had a way of giving her a little more strength, especially when that pony deal with time in some way.

Time.

Passing through one of the adjoining studies to her room, Celestia paused (as she usually did) before a large stained-glass window that portrayed a wizened pony dressed in a blue robe fringed by bells—against a star backdrop and lifting one hoof toward the infinite reaches of space.  

Starswirl the Bearded.

Her mentor.

He had been a master with time too, though rarely constricted by it. Instead, Starswirl had spent many late nights down in his study and library beneath Canterlot Castle, researching numerous magic spells and making breakthroughs—whereas, Kibitz always turned in at a prearranged time each evening (to coincide with the seasons and passage of the year) before Luna and her guards took control until the following dawn.

Celestia stared at the image, as if willing the window to become a looking glass into memory. Or, perhaps, to lead to somewhere or somepony else entirely.

But the memory arrived the fastest…

***

The window had been a gift.

“So, do you like it?” A much younger Celestia asked, hesitating, while Starswirl stood studying the stained-glass picture of himself. “I created the design and arranged the pieces myself, but I probably should have asked the royal glassmaker or another artist to do the work instead.”

“An uncanny resemblance, Celestia,” Starswirl rasped a chuckle—soft yet comforting—that would forever echo in her mind, accompanied by the jingling of bells. The bells and chuckle intensified, and the old stallion creaked into a sitting position on his back haunches. “Or, perhaps this gift does me more justice than I warrant!”

“I wanted to make sure it looked just right, so ponies will have a way to remember you.”

“Just as long as they don’t mistake me for an old goat.”

“Does it look like that?” Celestia panicked.

“Of course, not, Princess.” Starswirl placed a consoling hoof on Celestia’s leg (it took too much effort to reach up to her shoulder. His arthritis had been working up that evening). “I think it is a respectable masterpiece, and shows off what you have learned. It would even made a fine trend. But—”

“But—?”

“It is my wish to have ponies remember me by enjoying the benefits of the work I have done, or to build on whatever I leave behind.” He smiled, in a small, sad way that sent a small shiver through Celestia. “Besides, our friendship, and how you remember me, would mean the most anyway.”

At that point, Celestia put a hoof around Starswirl’s thin and bony shoulders, and hugged him.

***

“I know,” Celestia murmured, coming back to herself in the present, and then realized she had spoken the answer aloud. Warmth rose to her cheeks, and the sensation of being caught doing something awkward overcame her although there was no pony around to have witnessed it.

The pony in the window would not answer, as it never had before this evening.

Still, Celestia gave a brief, reverent nod to the window before striding out and into her chambers at last. Her pulse was racing for some reason, though the sight of her pet Philomena on her perch helped to calm her nerves. The phoenix welcomed her with a squawk, and Celestia reached up to scratch her on the neck, where she enjoyed it the most—and got rewarded for the gesture with low cooing sounds.

“Good night, my pet,” Celestia whispered, and Philomena tucked her beak under one wing to fall asleep.

Her own bed would usually have looked so comfortable and warm, yet this time Celestia avoided it and headed for the balcony instead. She could tell this was going to be one of those evenings, which she had every once in a while at the oddest times, where the only remedy was to burn off extra energy by roaming around the castle halls.

On her way to the balcony, however, Celestia passed by the wide mirror above one of her desks and had the sneaking suspicion something was wrong.

She looked in the mirror.

Well, perhaps not wrong, exactly, yet just out of place.

There was a brush laid upon this desk (beside a basin of water), and Celestia picked it up and began combing out her long, flowing mane.

But the problem was not with her mane.

The reflection across from her was doing the same thing, as most reflections were wont to do. Yet instead of viewing her thin white face, with bright blue eyes, and yellow crown set over her brow, what (or who) stared back had a much difference countenance.

It was asymmetrical, with a mismatched goat horn and deer antler upon the head, attached to a face that boasted bushy white eyebrows with yellow eyes that had red irises of different sizes—and not to mention the one fang sticking down from the upper lip and a small beard.

The figure was going through the same motions as Celestia, even going so far as to make his short, dark mane stretch out with one stroke of the mirrored brush as if to mimic hers.

Yet Celestia only proceeded to calmly comb her mane, set down the brush, and leave the room—aware now that the reflection was following her in every shiny surface along the way. She made sure to take a different route than the one that would take her through the room with Starswirl’s glass depiction and soon came to the audience chamber.

Luna rarely, if ever, needed to use this room. She tended to stay far too busy abroad, visiting the dreams of different ponies and fending off countless dark creatures that wandered Equestria at that period.

In this room, there were several stained-glass pictures—with many displaying more recent events in Equestria that filled Celestia with pride, especially the ones of her own former student, Twilight Sparkle.

And as Celestia made her way toward the throne, one of the characters on the stained-glass images started to move and follow alongside her.

The same character even had to shuffle to one side as Celestia walked across its reflection cast upon the floor by the light of the moon behind it.

Celestia took her seat.

“Really, Princess Celestia,” The stained-glass figure stretched upwards, growing less sharp around the edges and filling out until—with one final popping sound—before her stood none other than a full-size draconequus. His voice echoed across the room until then as well, where it was as if somepony had suddenly turned off the effect. He made a sweeping bow. “You could have at least given me the satisfaction of appearing a little surprised when I showed up. I make entrances like that for a reason.”

“Then you have my humblest apologies, Discord,” Celestia replied. “Of course, I also appreciate it when meetings take place during the day, or during arranged times, rather than in my room late in the evening. I am supposed to be asleep by this hour.”

“Ah, but you weren’t,” Discord noted, smirking. “Besides, ‘Your Majesty’—” he said this jokingly, yet with hints of chastisement lurking beneath the surface, “mustn’t forget that she was the one sending ponies out on late-night expeditions.”

Celestia had to confess this was exactly what she had done to Discord the night before, calling to send him to—

Well, they would get to that.

“You’re right,” Celestia said. “But perhaps you would like to tell me what caused your delay in coming to report in earlier?”

“Well, a few unexpected obligations did pop up.”

“’Obligations’?” Celestia, despite herself, was rising from her chair. “Do you mean—?”

“Yeeup,” Discord answered. “Although there’s no need to get so worried. Just listen to what happened to me today.”

Then he proceeded to tell Celestia a peculiar tale involving Diamond Dogs.