If there was a city of glass and brick in Equestria, it was Manehattan. The city of two and a half million stretched across the eastern coast of Equestria, harboring ponies of all walks of life from the rich and famous to those who shied away from the public eye. Nestled between two blocks of skyscrapers was the city library, a city of books to mirror the metropolis outside.

It was here that a Grecian sphinx stepped into the reception hall. He gazed about the marble and granite chamber with accustomed eyes. His eyes fell upon the receptionist at her desk, who was occupied directing a patron. With his cat-like paws being uncomfortably silent compared to the ever-present clip clop of hooves, he glided his way behind the patron to patiently wait his turn. The receptionist gave him a worried look, feeling her distant prey instinct upon seeing such a predator. Once she finished her conversation with the patron, and sending him to the exit, the receptionist gave a thin yet courteous smile to the sphinx. “Can I help you, mister…”

The sphinx took the brown flat cap off his head, and bowed with it. With a thumb, he pulled a lock of dyed blue hair out of the way to reveal the tattoo of the open eye of a Psykira to her. The mare relaxed a bit, and gave a shallow curtsy in return before taking her seat. “My apologies for arriving at this late hour, but I must speak with an employee of yours.” From a pocket in his brown leather coat, he produced two pictures, one with a pony’s face, the other with a cutie mark. Alongside the pictures he also withdrew a scroll bearing the mark of Celestia and a crest of the Royal Guard. “I am on crown business.”

The receptionist gasped behind a hoof at the sight of the crest. “My word. I had no idea you sphinxes were allowed in the Guard.” Her face turned beet red. “Sorry, that was rude of me. Let me take a look.”

With a casual snort, he pocketed the scroll and handed over the pictures. “Think nothing of it. It still feels strange to me as well. To be given such trust from the state is a novelty that has yet to fade.”

The receptionist cleared her throat. “So I hear.” It didn’t take her long to identify the pony in the photos. “Ah yes, I know her. She usually brings me tea when she comes on shift. You’ll find her in the archives, second level section B.” The mare pulled out a thick rolodex and started flipping through it to mark the visit. “She’s not under investigation or arrest is she?”

“I should hope not,” the sphinx replied with hushed concern. “She’s an old friend.”

Deeper still into the archive section of the library, Twilight Velvet was alone with stacks of books and documents. Bags clung to her eyes, and her mane was collected yet frazzled with more grey in it now than purple. Documents and books alike flew into shelves or carts with practiced ease. A magic-driven quill scribbled on floating parchment, recording every filing and indexing.

Tired eyes moved from box to book and back again as the older middle aged mare trudged dutifully along. Her mechanical-like reshelving came to an abrupt halt upon seeing the imposing yet noticeably aged sphinx standing at the top of the spiral stairwell. Her eyes narrowed briefly, searching for the employee badge that should have adorned his chest or hat. Upon finding no sign of one, she stood a little taller in a stony and warning manner. “The archives are closed to visitors and patrons at this hour. I must ask you to leave.”

With a wrinkled old grin, the sphinx shuffled forward and stepped fully into the light. “My word, Twilight Velvet, has it really been so long that you’ve forgotten me?” he asked with faux emotional pain.

Velvet gasped and nearly dropped the inked quill. “Doctor Arvatus? Is that really you?”

Arvatus bowed with his cap and gave her a warm friendly smile. “It is. I see you’ve aged well.”

Velvet dropped her quill in the ink well and walked over to give him as strong of a hug as she could. “Oh, I wish I could say the same about you, Doctor.” Velvet pulled away to get a better look at the old psychiatrist. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot, a ghastly pallor was visible under his fur, and the gums of his teeth and lips were black. “You look absolutely dreadful.”

A hollow aching laugh escaped Arvatus as he hid his eyes behind his hat. “Not one to pull your punches. I always liked that blunt honesty about you.”

Even as sick as he looked, Arvatus was able to walk over to the stool Velvet had been using. Velvet was quick to pull it away from the desk to make it easier for him. With a quick word of thanks, he sat without any noticeable weakness. “I see you have made yourself at home in Book City.”

The attempt at humor did next to nothing to diminish her concern. Velvet fished out a teapot and starting using a spell to heat it up. “It’s been kind to me. Thanks to Gleaming Light becoming the face of the PCE, I’ve been more or less forgotten now that the group has disbanded. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for that.”

Emotion threatened to spill over, but Velvet bore it with measured grace and tactfully wiped away a solitary tear. “I hope you like jasmine tea. I’m afraid all I have is sugar to mix with it.”

“I would love a cup, thank you.”

As Velvet turned to the tray to dole out the drinks, Arvatus brooded silently while rapping his fingers on the brim of his hat. The tea was ready in short order, giving him a welcome distraction. “Smells wonderful.”

“I only wish I could have made it myself instead of using store bought,” Velvet bemoaned ruefully as she took a few sips, and waited for Arvatus to do the same before continuing. “I used to have a small tea garden behind the manor.” Velvet looked up at the simple chandelier. “A pot of jasmine tea used to be Twily’s favorite part of the day. Little Shining never did care for tea; he was too much like his father and loved coffee.” She pressed her eyes closed as an emotional warble of pain escaped her lips.

“Even after all this time, she remains in your thoughts?” Arvatus asked behind his cup. Velvet sat on the floor, brooding silently. “I understand how difficult it can be to face something such as this.” Arvatus rubbed his cup as memories of his own came forth. “I can’t tell you how many speeches I heard from other Psykira back on the homeland, trying to keep us going just one more day. They worked for a time, but rarely more than a few hours.” He paused and glanced up from his tea. Velvet was hanging her head low with shame washing over Arvatus’ senses. “You should go talk with her.”

“I can’t do that,” Velvet said after a long moment of contemplation. “I don’t have the right.”

Arvatus arched an eyebrow, but held his peace for a few sips. “Last I heard, there was no restraining order between you two.”

“There is no need for something so vulgar.” Velvet slowly traced a hoof around the bottom of her cup, and stared blankly at the steaming liquid. “I disowned her the instant I attempted to take her life. And I am of no mind to disrupt her now. Twily has her life now, and I have mine.” Feeling the need to shore up her emotional walls, Velvet paused to take a long relaxing sip. “I still like to hear about her in the news though.”

Both of them allowed the conversation to fall away. Eventually, Velvet broke it when she offered to refill the sphinx’s cup. “But I’m not your patient anymore, Doctor. I get the chance to ask about your life now.”

A brittle chuckle escaped his cracked lips. With a nod of thanks, he sipped his refreshed drink. “Fair is fair, I believe the saying goes. I retired. I haven’t practiced medicine for months now. I’ve taken up exploring the land that welcomed me with open hooves. Walking in the open without fear…” He paused to suppress a hiss as pain lanced through his chest. “To those who have lacked it, freedom is more valuable than gold.”

Velvet gave him a worried grimace. “Be truthful with me, Arvatus. You retired because of your illness.” She paused, waiting in vain for him to fess up. “I may not be too informed on sphinxes, but surely you don’t age that miserably.”

Arvatus’ face wrinkled like he had taken a punch to the gut. “Ohh, going right for the artery, aren’t you?” When Velvet’s concern only deepened on her face, Arvatus slumped. He placed his half drained cup on the desk. “Very well. It is true, my illness is not natural. That freedom I spoke of…” Dark memories of other sphinxes assailing him crossed his mind. “There were some who took advantage of my new carelessness. Some enemies of the old world tracked me down and poisoned me with a blade.” Velvet gasped behind both hooves. “I was given an antidote, but the damage was done.” Arvatus gazed upon his hands, taking in each dry crack in his skin. “The poison only affects those of us who practice psychic power. I’ll be bedridden in a month or so, faster the more I use my power, but I plan to die with grace before that.”

Velvet approached him, and draped a caring foreleg on his arm. “Can nothing be done at all? I still have some money stashed from my PCE days.”

Arvatus smiled gratefully. It was a look that reminded Velvet of that wise being that had brought her back from madness; a kind and protective expression that had stuck with her for all these years.

“Save your money. Your daughter already spared no expense. She never directly suggested rebirth was the only salvation, but I knew she was desperate to help me. In the end, she gave me open credit so I could continue my tour of the Alliance.”

“I had no idea you and she were so close.” Velvet averted her gaze. “I wish I had her ability to pick better friends.”

“I have a confession to make, Ms. Velvet. I told her of the aid I gave you in the asylum.”

Velvet pulled back, an upward twinge on her lips. “I suspected you had. Otherwise I imagine Twily would have been watching me like a hawk for all these years… assuming she’d even let me walk free instead of into a prison.”

“…Ms. Velvet, I must be as honest with you, as you have with me. Ever since you walked out of Arkmane Asylum, I considered your healing as my greatest accomplishment, if not the very reason I was born.”

She gave him a sad look. “Come now, doctor, I’ll - I’ll admit I was a trying patient, but surely you have had better accomplishments besides me. The exodus from your homeland must have been worse.”

“Perhaps,” Arvatus conceded with a brief snort of amusement. He allowed Velvet’s nerves to calm a bit as he took a long drag of his tea. Upon finishing, he gently swirled the remaining liquid for a few moments longer. “My father used to say to me: great deeds are not always the most difficult, but those with the largest influence on history.” Arvatus tried to give her a compassionate look without seeming too ill. “Both you and Twilight Sparkle still bear the wounds of your… separation. It would bring me such peace to see you reconcile with her.”

Velvet squeezed her eyes shut, but couldn’t stop several tears from betraying her. “I came here because I’m a coward. I couldn’t go through with meeting her again. From what I hear, Twilight’s been doing just fine with forgetting me. Why shouldn’t I just let her live without ever having to think of me and my actions again.”

“I know it would be so terribly hard for both of you, Ms. Velvet, but can you truly say it is possible to forget one’s parents? Your daughter still thinks of you in her private moments. She confessed as much to me on the rare occasion when conversation deemed it permissible. In passing, a slip of the tongue, but very real.

“Time heals all wounds, Ms. Velvet; it is up to you to change just how much time is needed. If there is one thing your lands and people have above my homeland, it is your ability to forgive. Is not Princess Luna a prime example of that?” Arvatus said nothing further, interpreting Velvet’s silence as taking time to think.

In a flash of movement, Velvet downed a full cup of hot tea in one go, gritting her teeth from the painful heat. “I am not a sister to the one pony able to pardon all crimes.”

“Pardoning and forgiving are two very different things, Velvet.” Arvatus met her red-rimmed eyes. “Your daughter’s satisfaction would be enough to stay even Rainbow Dash’s ire.”

The conversation dropped into silence. The grey and purple mare’s breathing was labored with barely reined in emotion. Time dragged on long enough for steam to stop rising from the teapot, and still Velvet was lost in thought. Eventually though, Velvet opened her eyes to give him a determined glare. “I can’t do this for myself, but if it helps Twily, then I will suffer whatever slings and arrows she or her brood throw at me.”

A slow exhale of relief flooded the old tom. “I thank you, Velvet. Either success or failure would put me at ease for the long sleep. Now, I feel I must make a second confession.” Velvet eyed him curiously as Arvatus reached into his suit and pulled out a scroll bearing the golden crest of Celestia. “I cannot understate how important I feel your attempt at reconciliation is for both you and your daughter. So in the event you declined, I requested Celestia to make it an official summons to the Solar Court.”

Velvet jumped to her hooves, knocking her tea cup away and spilling it all over the marble floor. “What?! W-why did—” Her initial question died as she could already guess. “You want this to happen that badly?”

Arvatus’ back creaked disconcertedly as he climbed to his paws. “I do. Ms. Velvet, it is my belief that we mortals have such short lives because the emotional stress of a longer one can be too much for many to bear.” Velvet’s ire dipped a little into a smoldering scowl. “Even the best of us can go on for only so long. For beings like the queens and princesses, they don’t get the luxury of a fresh start. They must bear their scars for an age or longer.”

He approached Velvet and placed a reassuring paw on her shoulder. “You love your daughter again, do you not?”

More tears threatened to break free. Velvet hung her head, her mane spilling over her face. “I should never have stopped.”

“Then if not for yourself, do this for her. One less scar for her to bear.” Arvatus presented the scroll to her once again, beckoning her to take it.

Memories flashed in Velvet’s mind of times with Twilight Sparkle; memories of Twilight’s childhood and tutelage under Celestia, but more hauntingly, her own slow fall from concerned mother to a mockery of her old self. “I’ll leave on the first train tomorrow.”