When Twilight woke up, it was still dark. This wasn’t unusual; she often woke up before Celestia raised the sun. The blinds were closed, letting only a sliver of pre-dawn light through the crack, and Twilight didn’t bother to open them. Instead she got up with a yawn and used a glimmer of hornlight to make her way to the bathroom.

By the time she’d run through her morning routine, Twilight was bright-eyed and ready to face the day. She’d always been a morning pony, even before she’d been given an alicorn’s endurance, and so long as she had a schedule she could approach any day with a smile.

She briefly scanned the list as she walked through the darkened, quiet castle. There were a half-dozen errands to be done today, and first on the list was a visit to the Ponyville market. The earlier she got there, the better, as the best produce went fast. Applejack would happily save some choice pieces for her if she asked, but she didn’t like the appearance of favoritism now that she was a Princess. Better to show up early like anypony else.

She wrapped a scarf around her neck to ward against the early winter chill, and turned back towards the center of the castle. “Spike! I’m going to the marketplace! Did you want anything?”

Her words echoed around the large empty hall, but she received no response. Her ears perked, trying to pick up the sounds of claws on crystal, but there was nothing. “Spike! Wake up, it’s nearly six!”

Again, there was no answer. The castle was silent. Twilight rolled her eyes and huffed. “Alright, but no complaining if I get gems you don’t like,” she muttered, opening the door and stepping out into the brisk morning wind.

She kept her head down as she walked, pulling her scarf close. The wind whispered against her, and even with the thick feathers of her wings she shivered, her breath coalescing into a wispy cloud.

The streets of Ponyville were empty this early in the morning, lights dimmed and shutters closed. Twilight rather liked it that way. Even after making so many friends, sometimes it was still nice to be alone, to have a moment to herself to think. There was no sound save the wind and the occasional clacking of a shutter that had come undone. The air smelled of pine and heather, with the faintest whiff of pancakes, drifting from some other home where a pony was up early.

After too long in the cold and yet not enough time to enjoy being alone, Twilight rounded the corner to the square in the center of town where the marketplace convened. Normally she could hear it before she saw it—Applejack would be arguing with Carrot Top, or trying to cajole a customer into buying a sweet treat for their foal. Today it was strangely quiet.

As the market came into view, Twilight looked up. And then she stopped. There was Applejack’s cart, in the same place as always, stacked high with apples and apple pastries. Nearby was Carrot Top’s wagon. But the ponies themselves were missing.

In fact, the entire square was empty of ponies. No customers weaved their way between stalls, and no salesponies called out the appeal of their wares. There was a creak as the wind swirled past a wagon and it settled in place, a pear rolling out of its carefully arranged display and dropping to the ground.

“Applejack?” Twilight called out, stepping hesitantly forward. “Carrot Top? Daisy? Anypony?” She walked up to the Apple family cart, poking her head behind it as if the entire population of the marketplace might be hiding there. “Where is everypony?”

She lowered her head and took a deep whiff of the pies on display. They were perfectly golden-brown and smelled of sugar and fresh apples. Certainly they had been baked this morning. Twilight frowned, looking around again. Applejack would never leave pies out like this, unguarded. “Applejack?” she called again, before reaching out to pick up a pie. Surely that would summon her like some vengeful spectre.

The farmpony didn’t appear. Twilight reached out to poke the pie. It felt real. She took a bite. The pie was delicious, crisp apples landing delightfully on her tongue. Twilight briefly closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, she half expected to see her bedroom, and for the dream to be over.

The wind whistled through her mane, and the square remained dark and empty. Twilight shivered again. Her dreams never felt this real. Her eyes flicked across the square, looking for anything out of place. Applejack couldn’t have set up her cart more than an hour ago, surely. She must be nearby.

She can’t have gone far, Twilight decided. Nothing else made sense. She took a bit out of her saddlebag and left it on the counter, suddenly feeling like she was being watched. Even if this was an elaborate prank, she wasn’t a thief.

Cautiously, she explored the square. There were a half dozen carts, each showing clear signs of being set up that morning by its owner. Even as the sun peeked over the horizon, none of them returned. Nor did any new ponies enter the market. The nearby buildings remained dark, and no sounds came from behind their windows.

Twilight pushed through the entrance to Sugarcube Corner. The door was unlocked, and the smell of pastries suffused the building. But no one stood behind the counter, and the tables were empty. “Pinkie Pie?” she called out, but no one replied. Hesitantly, she stepped up to the counter and rang the bell. The clear note was almost deafening, cutting cleanly through the unnatural silence. “Pinkie?” Twilight whispered, suddenly feeling very small. Pinkie had never failed to answer the bell, not in the entire time she’d been in Ponyville.

She looked around again at the empty shop, and her horn lit as she prepared to cast… something. Her mind was suddenly blank, and her horn sputtered out. She didn’t even know what she should cast. She didn’t have a locate pony spell. She didn’t know where to start looking. All her friends were missing, and she didn’t know what to do.

She had to find a spell to fix this. She could return to her library, or ask Celestia—

Her train of thought suddenly derailed as the smell of pastries began to be overcome by a new smell. Smoke. Her eyes widened, and her horn lit again. With a pop and a flash, she was in the pastry shop’s kitchen. Smoke was leaking from the oven, and she hastily jumped forward to turn it off. She opened the door and coughed as a wave of smoke billowed out, squinting as her eyes began to water. Without really being able to see what she was doing, she conjured a bubble of water and dumped it into the oven. There was a hiss and a billow of steam, and she backed away, coughing and trying to clear her eyes.

When the smoke finally cleared and she could see again, she could make out the abused cake in the oven, first burned and then submerged, now a crumbly, blackened mess. Twilight let out a soft sigh of relief before her mind caught up and she spun in place, breathlessly scanning the room. She let out a strangled cry when it was empty. Somepony had put that cake in the oven, perhaps only minutes ago, and they were gone.

Twilight ran out into the front room again, desperately hoping that she would see Pinkie Pie, or Mrs. Cake, or even just the door swinging shut from the passage of another living pony. But the room was just as she left it. The tables were clean and ready for a day of customers; the display case was full of pastries made just last night. And there was no one there.

Twilight’s horn lit again, and she vanished. She reappeared in Carousel Boutique. The show floor was empty, the store not yet open. Rarity’s room was quiet, shadows creeping across the room. Her bed was perfectly made, and no one was in it.

Spike’s room. Sweet Apple Acres. The schoolhouse and the mayor’s office and the cloud Rainbow thought she didn’t know about. Empty, abandoned, silent save the wind. Fluttershy’s cottage contained no Fluttershy, and her sanctuary contained no animals. Only then did Twilight fully process that she hadn’t heard any birds chirping, any dogs barking. She was the only living thing in Ponyville.

She was beginning to feel like the silence might drive her mad. “Have to stay calm,” she muttered. “Have to focus. Everypony could be in trouble. Everypony probably is in trouble, and they’re all counting on me.” She huffed, sitting on a rock and looking out over the eerily empty sanctuary. “Oh! Celestia! She’ll know what to do. But I don’t have Spike—” she cut herself off, stopped, and took a breath. “Stupid Twilight, stupid. Are you an alicorn or aren’t you?” She conjured a parchment, scribbled a quick note that hopefully wasn’t too panicked, and with a flash of magic, sent it off. “It’s fine. Celestia will know what to do, and until then I can do… research. There’s gotta be a book on this. Right? Right. Gotta be a book.”

With another flash, she was in the castle library. Libraries were supposed to be quiet. The wind whispering through the pages was normal, expected. There was no one talking here because it was a library. She was used to the silence that was ringing ever louder in her ears. Twilight moaned and sank to the floor, clutching at her head. She didn’t even believe her own rationalizations anymore. “Everypony’s gone,” she whispered. “It’s just me, all alone. All alone in my big empty castle full of books.”

A page rustled, and Twilight yelped and jumped to her hooves, heart racing, looking around wildly. The library was dark and empty, rows upon rows of crystal shelves making it impossible to see all the way to the back. Shadows stretched towards her, their shapes changing in the corner of her eye. “Just the wind,” she whispered, shivering again. Then, slowly, she looked up. Past the rows of books and the chandelier in the ceiling, and up to the two small windows, firmly closed. “Just the wind. In an empty room. Inside.”

Another page rustled, and there was a thump as a book fell to the ground. With a shriek, Twilight lit her horn and vanished.

The train station was empty. There was no one to sell her tickets, and no train to take, even if she’d known how to run one. So Twilight flew. She could see Canterlot, and so she flew. Celestia hadn’t replied to her letter, but that didn’t mean anything. She would have tried to send it through Spike, and Spike wasn’t there. So Celestia could be fine. Celestia had to be fine.

Her wings ached, and her head was pounding from so many teleports in quick succession. The wind bit into her face, even colder now that she was high in the air. The morning was gray, and the clouds were dark and cold, threatening to dump snow on her at any moment. No pegasi were around to corral them, and so they loomed threateningly above her.

Hours passed, and her hope that the effect was localized to Ponyville slowly died. She saw no birds, no messengers, no trains on the tracks below her. She landed in Canterlot exhausted and freezing, her fur soaked in morning dew.

The streets were empty. The shops loomed menacingly, darkened windows staring out at her. Only the shadows moved as she slowly dragged herself to the palace. “You have to find Celestia,” she told herself, her voice barely a croak. “Then you won’t be alone.”

Twilight fell against the doors to the throne room. Celestia had always opened them so effortlessly, but now they were massive and imposing, and they wouldn’t budge. She strained against them for a futile moment, before she lit her horn. She could manage one last teleport. Just to the other side of the doors. That was all she needed to do, and then Celestia would be there, and the nightmare would be over.

The magic swept her up, crackling as she struggled to pull forth enough power, and then she popped into existence once more. She dropped half a foot, landed awkwardly, and sprawled to the ground. Massive pillars and sweeping arches spread out around her, greeting her with the lavish magnificence of the throne room. Gold lined the tiles, and the polished marble dais shone, the twin thrones perfectly crafted.

It was empty. The wind howled in her ears, whisking through the columns, mocking her. No one was here to save her.

Twilight tried to stand, struggled halfway to her hooves, and then collapsed. Tears stung her cheeks, freezing cold, and she slowly curled up into a ball on the floor. “They’re all gone,” she whispered, her voice choked. “They’re all gone.”

She hugged herself with her wings and sobbed. Only the sound of the wind carried her to sleep.