The still night air had picked up into a cold breeze when she reached the flat roof. He stood at the edge, his hands in his pockets, the jacket and tie of his suit billowing as he looked out over the sea of lights that was the city beneath them.

"I see you still have the same flair for the dramatic."

"And you seem to have lost some of yours." He turned to her with a courteous smile. "Owing to your circumstances, I would hope."

She sneered. In this body, it had taken her long enough to make it here, she barely had any patience left for this conversation. "I had hoped you called me out for more than gloating jabs at my condition."

"My dear, I know we've had our differences. But I consider you a kindred spirit, in a fashion. I assure you, I have deep sympathy for you. Call me sentimental, but I would rather you had a more... malleable host."

"And you thought a teenage amateur would do," she concluded with barely concealed bitterness.

"Granted, it didn't work out the way I had hoped. But in a way, didn't we catch a bigger fish with this bait?"

She crossed her arms, tightening them against her torso against the cold. She hated this sensation, this need for warmth that reminded her how alive this body was in a way that was only just out of reach for her now.

"Sometimes a victory arrives in an unexpected form," he continued. Of course he did, he loved to talk. He always did, as far back as her memory still served her. "For instance, the presence of magic surely did you some good."

"And cost quite a lot to wrap up, no credit to you."

"And, of course, we have a broader group of candidates now. Could you really say you'd have found them without my gentle push?"

"So you failed with one teenager and you're just going to slip the next one another artifact?"

He hummed, like he was considering the option. All rhetoric, of course, he had already made his choice long ago. "I think my next approach is going to be more direct. It just so happens I found another host you might find suitable."

He retrieved a small picture from his shirt pocket and held it out to her. She took it and turned it over to have just a short glance at it. "You have a disturbingly narrow taste."

"She's for you, my dear, not for me." He made a show of looking at his expensive watch. "Just wait and see. You're fed now and soon you'll be able to stretch someone's legs again more consistently."

She watched him head to the roof access door, biting down the irritation boiling in her throat. Fed. Like she was some kind of pet, a foundling that needed someone to ration her food. She turned to look out at the streets below as the door fell closed behind her.

As much as she hated it, she would take whatever he offered. Once she commanded a body's will again properly, she wouldn't owe him anything anymore.

Trixie didn't know where the amulet had come from. She had found it in her bag with no clue as to who might have left it there. Pinkie was the one who had gone back to ask about it. Sunset would have gone herself, but she didn't entirely trust herself with Trixie right now. She had almost punched her even after getting the amulet away from her, and the guilt of that, the thought of going back to doing that kind of thing, it nagged at her.

Apparently Trixie had been in a similar panic. In retrospect, everything she did suddenly seemed a lot less reasonable than when she was wearing the amulet. Or so she had explained. For now, Sunset had wrapped the thing in a dish cloth and shoved it into the back of her dresser. Out of sight, out of mind. Hopefully. There were no magic authorities she was aware of, otherwise she might have rather handed it over.

A few days later, Trixie came to everyone to awkwardly apologise. Making excuses throughout and then quickly leaving again, but she seemed genuine. By contrast, Flitter was keeping her distance and only finally came to Sunset alone.

Cloudchaser hadn't left home in a while. Heartbreak and guilt was what Flitter attributed it to. They both wanted to apologise, but weren't sure how to. The conversation ended up tense. Was it even okay to leave them be, even if they stopped?

Flash, Lyra, and everyone else they had charmed kept acting like they did before, kept coming to school. Talking to Flash was too awkward, so Sunset tried talking to Lyra instead. It was meandering, between reminiscing and dancing around the fact they really weren't friends anymore. When Sunset could finally bring up the night in question directly, Lyra seemed confused, vaguely aware of something having happened but unable to recall details, like it had been bad dream.

One thing Flitter left with Sunset was a small stack of neatly-written notes. She went through all of them herself, but they were intended for Fluttershy. Details about her new condition, advice on how to deal with it, tinted with remorse and threaded with apologies, which seemed to come easier in writing, even if they felt empty considering what they were apologising for.

Fluttershy took it terribly hard. She didn't come to school either, for nearly two weeks. They all took turns visiting her at home, Rainbow and Pinkie most of all. She slowly improved, going from inconsolable grief to silent, guilty acceptance over those weeks. Initially, Rainbow practically had to force her to take the blood she offered. By the time she had come back to school, she accepted whenever one of the offered, but was still scared to ask for anything.

A new normal set in, over time. Between visiting Fluttershy and trying to help her, working with Rarity to try and decipher more of the notebook, and meeting with everyone in smaller groups to try and find the limits of their magic. Applejack felt a little outside the group for the latter, but still offered her help every time.

Still, Sunset felt strange about taking it easy. No more enchantments popped up at school, but she couldn't quite call this case closed yet. Neither the notebook nor the amulet would have come from nowhere. In both cases, someone left them with her and Trixie. And in the case of the book, someone must have written it initially, someone who knew her personally for some reason.

There were too many questions still open to fully relax.