I walked to my date with Twilight Sparkle as one might approach a gallows.

Now, it was not that I did not enjoy Twilight’s company. We had been friends for some time, after all. It was simply that I had learned rather quickly that what she and I considered to be a proper date lay on opposite sides of a vast gulf of expectations. I was a mare of fine things, high society, and culture. Twilight was more interested in science than fine dining or art.

For our first date, she’d taken me to a science faire. Some of the most brilliant young minds in all of Equestria were on display, and while the things they were presenting were very impressive, dazzling even, it wasn’t what I would consider romantic. Twilight spent the entire day trying to explain the principles behind each presentation, and while I am sure she meant well, I ended up more lost than I had started.

For our second date, I brought Twilight to the opera. La ponème. It was beautifully done, one of the finest performances I’d ever seen… and yet, Twilight had been bored to tears. Oh, she hadn’t said as much—she was still so excited to be dating me that she had grinned and borne it—but I could tell.

And now, I approached our third date with something akin to dread. Twilight had insisted that this time would be different, that this would be everything our first date was not; that she knew how to provide romance. And on paper, the idea of spending the night stargazing, just the two of us, was textbook romance. But in books there are no bugs in the romantic outdoors, nor do the protagonists complain about the temperature as the night wears on, and most importantly… neither party brings a telescope. I knew what Twilight’s definition of ‘stargazing’ was, and I feared the worst.

Twilight had directed me to a particular hill on the outskirts of Ponyville, near the edge of the Everfree. The climb gave me too much time to think, and despite the night being clear and bright—perfect for stargazing—my thoughts focused instead on all the ways this night could go wrong. I conjured a vision of freezing my tail off as Twilight described the scientific names of every star in the sky without once appreciating their beauty.

But even in my wildest dreams, I never could have imagined the night going nearly as wrong as it did.

Twilight had set up a blanket and a bottle of wine by the time I reached the top of the hill, but the first thing I noticed was the telescope. I didn’t comment on it; it would hardly be fair to expect Twilight to know any better.

“Rarity!” she called as soon as I came into view, beaming. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

I gave her a smile right back, as genuine as I could manage. That was the hardest part, really: Twilight was just happy to be with me (and really, who could blame her?) which made navigating her inexperience all the more difficult.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling,” I replied. “It’s a beautiful night to be out, don’t you think?”

I saw a flash of something in Twilight’s eyes: surprise, or nervousness, perhaps? But it was gone before I could identify it, and she was all smiles again. “Of course. I made sure the weather team didn’t have anything scheduled, and I even got Rainbow to make sure nothing came in from over the Everfree. I thought of everything, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“My my,” I murmured. “You put a lot of work into this, didn’t you?”

“You have no idea,” Twilight replied. “Just wait, you haven’t even seen—” she coughed, suddenly blushing. “But that’s a surprise! You’ll love it. I hope.”

She was faltering, and so I smoothly redirected her. “Perhaps some wine?” I asked. “If there’s going to be a surprise, I should like to have my glass ready for it.”

Twilight nodded vigorously and picked up the bottle. Sometimes it felt like she was an overeager puppy, one who had finally caught the cart and now didn’t know what to do with it.

If only I’d known her when we were still fillies, and had been able to guide her into a few practice relationships. Something to get her hooves wet, before she dove headfirst after the mare of her dreams.

It would have been easier if I wasn’t the first pony to break her heart.

I took the glass Twilight offered me, glancing only briefly at the label on the bottle. A three-year old Saddle Rosa. A good choice, not too extravagant but not cheap either.

“So,” I ventured, filling the silence. “What’s the surprise?”

Twilight nudged me, before settling down on the blanket beside me. I could feel the warmth of her body, a sharp contrast to the chill night air, even though our flanks didn’t quite touch. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise,” she said. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

“What should I be looking for, then?”

“The stars, of course,” Twilight said, a hint of a mischievous laugh in her voice. “That’s why we’re here, aren’t we?”

I looked up, slowly scanning the heavens. The stars twinkled in unison, scattered artfully through the sky. The night was perfectly clear, not a cloud in sight, and we were far enough from Ponyville that even the faintest lights could be seen speckled like grains of sand between their brighter siblings. It was quite a tapestry, and my practiced eye could tell that Luna had designed it quite carefully—it took skill to make something look random without being chaotic, to curate something to look uncurated. But nothing seemed out of place—certainly nothing that I would classify as a surprise.

“I don’t see anything unusual,” I finally said. “Should I be using the telescope?”

“Not yet,” Twilight said. “There will be time for that later.” Then she went quiet for a long time, staring up at the sky next to me. I didn’t look at her until I felt the subtle touch of her hoof on mine. I didn’t move, and she started talking again. “Did you know that the sky didn’t always look like this?” she asked. “I mean, beyond the little changes every night, the phases of the moon, all that. We can chart the motion of the stars and trace their paths back in time, but after a point, all that math becomes meaningless, because the paths the stars are on now were created by Luna. But before she did that… there were still stars, and ponies still wrote about them.”

I saw Twilight turn to look at me out of the corner of my eye, and I moved to meet her gaze, but she stopped me, putting her hoof on my shoulder. “Wait,” she murmured. “Watch.”

The night sky continued unchanged above me, but only for a moment. Then there was a streak of light that appeared suddenly and vanished just as quickly. A moment later there was another, and then suddenly there were dozens, painting brilliant ribbons across the sky as it seemed the stars themselves were trying to descend to earth.

“They called them starshowers,” Twilight said, her voice low, so as not to break the spell. “Back when the sky was chaotic and uncontrolled, sometimes the stars would fall. They haven’t been seen in thousands of moons.”

I didn’t have any words. The stars were painting brilliant strokes of light across the sky, dancing between each other, and I couldn’t look away. I had no idea how Twilight had arranged this, how she could have possibly moved the heavens themselves just for the sake of a date with me.

“How…?” I breathed.

“I called in a favor or two,” Twilight said. “Do you like it?”

“Like it?” I asked, trying to convey just how ridiculous the question was and failing utterly. “Twilight, it’s absolutely beautiful. It’s… I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The light show was fading now, and soon nothing remained of it but the afterimages in my vision, multicolored lines that I could still see when I blinked. I kept my gaze on the sky, part of me hoping that it would begin again, but it was once again the static tapestry of light, made somehow duller than it had been before in comparison.

I didn’t know what to think. Twilight had gone so far beyond what I had asked of her that I didn’t even know how to categorize it.

“I’m glad,” Twilight murmured, and something in her voice made me pull my gaze from the stars to look at her. She was biting her lip, her gaze not quite meeting mine. A soft blush flowered across her cheeks as she leaned forward, ever so slightly.

It was a textbook invitation (and knowing Twilight, she probably had taken it from a book), but I hesitated, just for a moment.

There was a massive CRASH from the forest, and I jumped, my confused feelings rattled right out of my head.

Another crash followed the first, even louder, and Twilight was up on her hooves, wings half spread.

Out of the forest, a shape emerged. It rose above the trees, and then just kept rising and rising, seemingly without end. It was a deep purple, speckled with points of light, and it seemed to be the size of all of Ponyville. Far, far above us I could just make out two beady yellow eyes, and horns the size of houses. “What is that?” I shrieked.

“A starbeast,” Twilight gasped. “I think—I think it’s Tauros, the great bull.”

“Like an Ursa?” I asked. “You’ve fought those before, right? Because it looks… mean.” Fortunately for us, the massive creature didn’t seem to have noticed us. But it definitely seemed to have noticed Ponyville, and it didn’t look like it would have any trouble flattening the entire town.

“That was an Ursa Minor,” Twilight corrected. “Tauros is more like an Ursa Major… if you took out all the maternal instincts and just replaced them with rage.”

“Well we can’t just do nothing!” I yelled, only slightly panicked. “It looks like it’s deciding whether to eat Ponyville for dinner!”

“You’re right,” Twilight said, suddenly determined. “Wait here.”

She bolted into the sky, and I could only watch as she circled up and up and up until she was finally level with the beast’s head. She zigzagged to get its attention, and then in true Twilight fashion… she tried to talk to it.

I don’t know what she said, I couldn’t hear a word of it from the ground. But I’m not sure if there was anything she could have said to make a creature that big and powerful turn around and walk away.

Rather than listen, it tried to eat her.

Fortunately, Twilight may be optimistic, but she’s not dumb. She got out of the way, and then her horn lit up. Even from the ground, I could see the brilliant corona of power gather around her, and then she unleashed a blinding beam of power so wide she vanished behind it. It engulfed Tauros’s head and half its body, smashed into the ground and gouged a furrow of fire through the trees behind it, and kept going for nearly a minute.

When the blast finally faded, the starbeast was… smoking. But rather than being dissuaded, now it just looked mad. It screamed defiance at her, and no longer seemed focused on Ponyville. Instead, it was entirely focused on Twilight. I wasn’t sure if that was a victory.

And then it charged her, and I was certain it wasn’t a victory. Because it was headed straight for me, and I didn’t think the hill I was on would even be a speed bump to it.

I turned and ran. What else could I do? But it was so much faster than me I might as well not have bothered. Its footsteps shook the earth, crushing trees beneath its hooves like they were nothing, and even that sound was drowned out by its ear-piercing scream.

I saw my life flash before my eyes, and then suddenly Twilight appeared next to me with a pop, grabbed me with her hooves, and teleported me away. We reappeared in midair and I clutched onto her for dear life. “Twilight! I thought I was done for!”

“We have to stop that thing!” Twilight replied. “It’s only a matter of time before it turns on Ponyville. But it just took my strongest blast like it was nothing! I can’t even slow it down!”

“The Elements,” I gasped. “You need to get the Elements. Surely that will work.”

“But without something to distract it—”

“Hey! Ugly!” A new voice reached my ears, and a rainbow-colored streak shot past us. Rainbow Dash went straight for the starbeast, fearless as ever, and kicked it right in the ear.

She bounced right off, of course. But she got its attention.

“Rainbow!” Twilight yelled. “You’re going to get yourself killed—”

“She’s giving you the distraction you wanted! Go, go get the others before it stops working!”

Twilight hesitated, but I could tell she knew I was right. “Okay, okay, just let me get you somewhere safe—”

“Just put me down, Twilight! It doesn’t even know I exist, and you need me here when you get back anyway.”

“But what if—”

“Twilight, GO!”

She dropped me. A bit messier than I had expected, but by the time I hit the ground she’d already vanished, which was probably for the best as scolding her would have only wasted more time.

Instead, all I could do was watch as Rainbow buzzed around the bull’s head, occasionally swooping in to kick it in the face whenever it seemed like it might be considering whether chasing her down was worth it. For a while, it seemed like there was nothing it could do to catch her.

And then it outsmarted her. Which would be embarrassing, if it wasn’t Rainbow we were talking about. I watched as it suddenly ignored her again, turning back towards Ponyville. I saw its murderous little eyes still tracking Rainbow as she flew in to draw its attention again. And Rainbow couldn’t hear my shout of alarm as it suddenly whipped its head up and caught her with one of its horns.

Rainbow fell to the earth, a limp bundle of feathers, and in a momentary lapse of judgment, I ran towards the bull in some futile attempt to catch her.

It turns out I was wrong about everything. I was wrong about Rainbow’s ability to keep herself safe, and I was wrong about being too small for the bull to notice me. Because it turned like lightning, and a hoof the size of a house descended upon me.

Just as I thought it was all over, Twilight was there again, and a dome of purple light materialized around us, and there was a thunderous boom as the bull’s hoof hit it instead of crushing me.

“Twilight,” I gasped. “Thank heavens—”

Then there was the sound of a thousand mirrors shattering, and I knew no more.

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