Tales of Canterlot: The Grand Galloping Gala

by Galad01

Summary:

Twilight, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rarity, and Pinkie lead quiet, unremarkable lives at Canterlot High, spending their days studying, sewing, sneaking around with animals, or simply struggling to stay awake in class. But everything changes when a bold, rainbow-haired girl challenges the school's undisputed queen. Suddenly, the six friends find themselves caught in a whirlwind of conflict—one that might only be solved if they stand together.

Can their friendship conquer it all, or will their troubles prove too overwhelming, even for them?

Notes:

This is a rewrite of my first ever fanfic, keeping the original story beats but pretty much changing everything else. That's why Rainbow is the protagonist, she was my favorite of the mane when I was like 11 and I just wanted a story leaded by her :] no real reason besides that.

If you know spanish, go and visit the original fic in Wattpad where chapters will realease sooner (like a week or so)

Also, this is a retelling of the MLP story, so DON'T SKIP I SWEAR IT GETS GOOD

Chapter 1: Canterlot High

To some, that could have been a morning like any other: the sun ascending from the east, scattering its warm golden rays over the city of Canterlot, painting vast shadows over the city’s skyline; the birds singing to the sound of an invisible beat, marking a mute tempo that only those who were kind enough would have taken the time to listen to; or the noisy cars, speeding over the asphalt of the streets. Yes, nothing made that Tuesday morning anything special to anyone.

To anyone but Rainbow, of course.

After four stressful months of waiting, and another two after the arrival of the acceptance letter, she finally saw herself mounted on the unsteady bus that would drive her to what had been the high school of her dreams for the better part of her life, the one she had seen with deep craving ever since she was a little girl, painting itself as a monument to righteousness, perseverance, and, above everything else (included in the schools motto), excellency: Canterlot High.

There were other options, of course. Crystal Prep was a close competitor to Canterlot High, failing just by a point or two in the mathematical rankings, but outscoring any other in the artistic department, like dance, painting or music. She even was offered a sports scholarship in Everfree Academy, wanting her talents for their athletics team, in which she specialized above anyone else. However, neither Everfree, nor Crystal had that one thing she really craved for: the opportunity to be a member of the Wondercolts, the national athletics team, made up almost entirely from former Canterlot students.

The perfect academic scorings of Canterlot overwhelmed Rainbow, of course, whom, whilst not considering herself a dumb person, she never outshined anyone in what gradings came to. She was someone that preferred to run; whilst others spent their free time to study for their exams, practicing for their performances, or just sleeping to relax, Rainbow ran. Ever since she was a girl she ran, jumped crawled, fell, stood up and ran again. Running, running, and more running, and finally, after all, it seemed as if all that running had gotten her what she wanted. Yes, the perfect academic scorings of Canterlot were a bit too much for her, but that wasn’t going to discourage her from reaching her dream, and her presence in the bus was proof of that.

A peculiar boy, with hair as a helmet and freckles in his nose, who seemed to be someone really quite invested in school, was staring at her from a couple of seats in front of her, bewitched by her peculiar looks, or more specific, her peculiar hair, which had been recently tinted in a thousand rays of different colors, making it look like a rainbow, living up to her name. And he wasn’t alone; whilst the boy was the only one to blatantly stare at her without even blinking, other unfamiliar faces couldn’t help but to glance at Rainbow from time to time. Some bubbly girls in the back of the bus, a woman old enough to be a granny, or even the driver himself, all of them laying on her a different opinion, a different judgement.

Not that Rainbow cared at all, of course. After all, she was not a friendly person, and she usually didn’t spend a lot of her time hanging out with others. To her, having her family and her sport was more than enough for all occasions, and it would be more than enough to take her through Canterlot High. Treasuring that thought, she painted a soft smile on her lips and slipped her hand through the pocket of her skirt, touching the borders of her phone, and pressing the volume button a couple of times, further deafening the noise of the city behind her headphones.

Rainbow closed her eyes and waited for the journey to end.

It didn’t take long for her to be awakened by the loud scream of the busses horn, making her shake her head and wipe the curb of her mouth with her hand. Without lowering the volume of the music, Rainbow stumbled amongst the students that were pouring out of the bus, almost tripping a couple of times, but finally letting herself loose on the outskirts of the city, revealing to her the building she had seen so many times, but she had never really been able to step into, feeling as if it was hers: The enormous five-story horseshoe, painted in a hideous (but classy) fuchsia pink, surrounded by greens and barren meadows at the ends, and finishing off the center with an imposing statue of a stallion: the mascot of Canterlot High.

An ambiance of power, will and pride could be breathed amongst the body of students striding through the school, spilling from buses and cars, alongside those who arrived walking, on a sooter or a bike. “I should try to come by bike someday, or even running” Rainbow thought for herself, setting off as soon as possible to the bowels of the school. She loved seeing the building, yes, but now she had to go through it, like another student.

She speeded through cobbled road, going around the majestic stallion statue, walking through the green gardens of the school, decided to cross those clean glass doors as soon as possible, behind which was hidden a small but cozy hall that displayed the awards obtained by the school in different occasions. Rainbows eyes swept through the glass partitions, unconsciously looking for a specific award that hadn’t been there for that long: the first-place blue ribbon from the athletics race at the Equestrian Olympics, from two months ago.

Rainbow had seen it live; she was sitting in her bedroom, eating nachos, watching the race happen, in which, the youngest member of the Wondercolts, Soarin Worbat, made his debut on national TV, representing both the talented team of Equestria, and his school from which he hadn’t yet graduated.

Soarin ran and almost tripped at the beginning, but after a couple of lost seconds, almost as if the devil himself had possessed him and had forced him to fly, the boy ran and surpassed his more experienced opponents, surpassing even other members of his own team with swift speed, and tearing the red finish line at the end of the track.

That young athlete was everything that Rainbow wanted to be, everything Rainbow aspired to ever be, her biggest goal, her dream. The applause, the celebrations, but above all, the adrenaline, the energy, and the speed, the wind rushing across her cheeks, and the feeling to be flying. To fly.

That’s why she was there, in Canterlot High.

Rainbow smiled unconsciously at the ribbon and turned sharply towards the right wing of the building. If she remembered correctly, the email loaded with her schedule specified that her very first subject would be algebra, in the second floor, room fifteen, so, without hesitation, she readjusted the headphones around her ears, and took steep leaps up the stairs. That had always been her way of moving, with big steps across every point she wanted to be. Of course, people could see her weirdly, but did that really matter? Rainbow was happy with who she was. In her own words:

“I’m awesome” she whispered to herself, as she climbed up in four simple strides.

The hallways of the school, painted in that vibrant and contrasting color, framed an aura of anxiety that focused on Rainbow, whom, unconsciously, started, little by little walking faster and faster, eager to get to her first subject. She didn’t even like algebra at all, but, for some reason, that subject was important, that moment was important.

She was wearing a vertical stripes pink and white skirt-short (her favorite, in fact), finished with a purple border that hovered above her knees. She was also wearing a white blouse printed with a horrible lightning bolt, in the words of her mother, which was covered by a royal-blue sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up. Finally, to top off her favorite combination of clothes, she was wearing a couple of heavy, blue and white tennis shoes, which, although old and worn, had proven to always be her most faithful friends, enduring race after race, trip after trip, and even game after game. Soccer, basketball, or even American football a couple of times. Those sneakers had seen Rainbow at her best, and, above all, at her worst, and at least now, on this day, they deserved to be there, along with her.

The rest of the students were not so innocent of dressing extravagantly either, but it was a reality that her intense colors, especially the blue, topped by her notorious hair, made eyes fall and sweep the girl more than once. Not to mention that by then, she was practically running to her classroom. “Let them see”, Rainbow used to think arrogantly. "Get used to it, because when you're part of the Wondercolts, the looks will be the least of your problems."

A turn to the right, another one, and an accidental entering of what appeared to be a room for clubs, left Rainbow panting, sweating, and anxious in front of the shimmering fuchsia colored door, that read in golden letters the number “15”. The girl swallowed nervously, taking a moment for a deep breather, and extender her hand, ready to barge in.

“Welcome to Canterlot High, Rainbow Dash”.

She touched the golden doorknob, feeling the cold metal on her fingertips, and the sensation invaded her with a security that, although she always boasted about feeling, for some reason now suited her well.

“A step closer to the Wondercolts, Rainbow. Time to shine.”

She made a fist around the knob and opened the door.

Chapter 2: The girl with the hat

The room of her first subject wasn’t anything really that impressive: a white board at the back, framed by the teacher’s desk on one side, and the Equestrian flag on the other, being topped by a rudimentary, but definitely functional projector that hung from the ceiling like a caged lamp. The walls, painted a disinterested but aesthetically pleasing green on the upper part, and covered with classic brown earthenware, contrasted with the white and, to a certain extent, antiseptic ceiling, from which hung the neon bars that soberly illuminated the room.

She noticed it wasn’t that much better to her other schools, but that didn’t really matter that much to her; after all, what she really cared about was outside in the racing track, in the fields.

What did stand out to her, like a splinter in the middle of the skin, were the desks, or rather, the absence of them, having been replaced by long tables, which accommodated two chairs behind them, forcing the students to take the class in close proximity.

Rainbow frowned subtly, since now there existed a real possibility that some random dork would want to sit whit her to never take their eyes off of her clothes, or her hair. “Get used to it, Dash, their gaze will have to stop being a problem once you join the Wondercolts” she thought once more, readjusting the grip around her backpack up her shoulder, and scanning the room with her eyes, trying unconsciously to find the table that would leave her alone.

It shouldn’t really be that hard, after all, thanks to the sporting tests Rainbow had to go through, she spent all her ninth and tenth grades in Cloudsdale High, her hometown, so all the other students at the school surely already had someone else to sit with. There were already some seats occupied by backpacks, or by people whom rainbow didn’t pay much attention to (they did pay attention to the new girl with the Rainbow hair, thought), and after a couple of seconds of inspection, she headed towards the last bench in the fourth row of the room, leaving her backpack on the second bench, sitting on the first with a heavy jump.

The place wasn’t that good, of course; Rainbow was a small girl, measuring a bit more than a meter with fifty-five centimeters, making even the shortest student a hazard to her line of sight, disrupting her vision with a plethora of different sized and shaped heads. To finish it off, the table she had now called her own was uneven, and the slightest pressure on it could make it dance with a silent “taP” against the floor. Rainbow didn’t take long to see herself pressing it again and again anxiously. Another sight magnet.

However, that desk would do for now, and despite the addictively stressful table dancing, Rainbow was convinced that this was the place for her, her own place. “It feels weird to think that something here is mine”, Rainbow thought, in one of the few instants in which she left the table alone.

It didn’t take long for the bell to finally ring, indicating the beginning of classes, and, after that, it didn’t take long either for the teacher to arrive: a middle-aged woman, of hazel skin, and hair tinted in an aesthetically unpleasant but definitely refined blond, with blue eyes and an uninterested look in them, carrying a leather-covered briefcase that looked like it was about to explode.

“Good morning”, said the professor, leaving her briefcase atop her desk, opening it, and retrieving a couple of worn-out markers.

As a response, Rainbow could hair a pair of shy and quiet “Good morning”, coming among the rows of students decorating the room. The girl remained silent, but she did grant the teacher the courtesy of (for now) leaving the table alone, and removing her headphones, although she left them hanging around her neck, with the music playing in the background, turning into her life’s soundtrack instead of the foreground of her hearing.

"Most of us already know each other, but, like every other year, we have some new faces among us," the teacher continued, not paying any special attention to Rainbow (much to her slight frustration, admittedly) but rather sweeping her gaze across the entire group of students in front of her. "Allow me to introduce myself: I am Miss Harshwhinny. I graduated from the College of Mathematics and Exact Sciences in Manehattan and trained as a teacher at the Canterlot Teacher’s Academy fourteen years ago. I have experience in geometry, trigonometry, integral calculus, and differential calculus, but my specialty lies in teaching algebra, which is the subject at hand."

“Snooze fest incoming, I see” Rainbow thought, bouncing the desk again without realizing it.

"Some of you already had me as a teacher, others haven’t yet, and some of you don’t know me at all. That’s why I’ll be giving you a diagnostic test to evaluate your knowledge of the subject. Is that clear?" the teacher asked, peering over her glasses with her blue eyes at the students, who barely responded with a slight nod. 

Rainbow rolled her eyes indifferently and pulled out a sleek metal pen from her backpack—one that had belonged to her mother—along with a white eraser, which bore violent scribbles made during her occasional bouts of artistic boredom when her monotonous life became too much. 

She didn’t care much about making a good impression on this teacher, whom she had already labeled a total snob. Still, she couldn’t afford to slack off in any class, both because of the scholarship that required her to maintain an 8.5 GPA and her mother, who had nearly burst with excitement when Rainbow was accepted into Canterlot High—even if she knew of her daughter’s true intentions for attending the school. 

Mrs. Dash had never failed to support her daughter’s athletic aspirations, enrolling her in soccer, tennis, and swimming lessons from an early age, using whatever meager savings she could scrape together from her full-time job. This, coupled with her unwavering willingness to buy Rainbow new sneakers every time she wore out the soles with her relentless running, showcased her dedication. The shoes were never high-quality, but that didn’t matter to Rainbow, who cherished the chance to break in a new pair every six months or so—the dream of any kid. 

Her trusted everyday sneakers, however, hadn’t been purchased by her mother. Rainbow had earned every cent for those shoes herself through her failed attempt at a musical career on social media. She’d played a mix of pop-rock and hip-hop on her electric guitar, singing songs about her exciting life—or rather, the exciting life she envisioned for herself. Though her solos didn’t attract much of an audience (whom she disdainfully referred to as music snobs), it had been enough to buy those flashy sneakers. Now worn and battered around her feet, they still felt as light and nimble as ever. 

The teacher walked past Rainbow’s desk, diagnostic tests in hand, and, for the first time since entering the room, made eye contact with her. 

"I don’t recognize your face, miss. What’s your name?" 

"Rainbow. Rainbow Dash," she replied in a neutral tone. 

"Dash. I recall seeing that surname on the list." The teacher pulled one of the papers from the stack in her arms and placed it on Rainbow’s desk with deliberate boredom. "I like your hair. It suits you." 

"Thanks! I know," Rainbow said sincerely, a playful smile forming on her lips. However, a subtle flicker in the teacher’s eyes revealed her disapproval of the response. Before they could exchange more words, the teacher moved on, distributing papers to other students. 

The test began shortly after, the satisfying sound of pencils gliding across paper occasionally interrupted by the awkward scrape of erasers. The first few questions weren’t difficult for Rainbow—a couple of basic linear equations, with a variable or two thrown in for good measure. But when she turned the page, the questions became more challenging, introducing exponents that left her head spinning. 

“It’s just a diagnostic,” she told herself repeatedly. “Whatever score you get, it’s fine.” But it wasn’t fine—not for her. A subject that had seemed insignificant and dull moments ago had now become a challenge she felt compelled to tackle. Once Rainbow committed to a challenge, nothing could pull her away. "Stubborn like your father," Mrs. Dash often said when her daughter became overly absorbed in demonstrating her abilities. Whether it was running, swimming, math, or even fighting, Rainbow had to be the best. 

"I’m the best," she muttered to herself, writing down an answer she wasn’t entirely confident about. 

A loud crash broke through the room, yanking her aggressively from her thoughts and forcing her to turn toward the back of the classroom—not very discreetly, honestly. 

The classroom door was wide open, letting the dim light from the hallway spill into the already tasteless room. A figure stood in the doorway, panting heavily. 

"Miss Apple! I thought I recognized your name on the list. I see you’re still arriving late, just like last year," the teacher said, her words laced with a faint tone of amusement but paired with a disappointed look. 

The so-called Miss Apple was a tall—too tall, really—blonde girl with her hair in a braid. She wore a green-and-white button-up shirt with rolled-up sleeves over her muscular arms, clutching a charming fabric bag decorated with apple motifs, along with a plain brown cowboy hat. Tiny beads of sweat rolled down her forehead, landing on her green eyes, which were framed by an expression of exhaustion and anxiety. 

"Mighty sorry, Miss Harshwhinny," the girl panted in a thick Ponyville accent that immediately caught Rainbow’s attention. “I was running, I swear, but…" 

"The bus?" the teacher interrupted, folding her arms. The girl simply nodded, lowering her eyes in embarrassment, though a faint flicker of frustration escaped her lips. 

"Yeah… The bus didn’t come on time." 

"Miss Apple…" 

"’Swear it won’t happen again! I’m waking as early as a morning rooster, I promise," the girl pleaded as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, returning the room to its usual lighting. This allowed Rainbow to get a better look at her. Almost as if confirming her story, Rainbow noticed the enormous dark circles under the girl’s beautiful green eyes, which were also puffy and red around the edges. 

The teacher didn’t respond but instead stared at the girl for a few moments before letting out a loud sigh. 

"Take a seat, miss. I won’t mark you absent today since it’s the first day, but try to arrive earlier on Thursday." 

"Mighty clear, Miss Harshwhinny. ‘Promise it won’t happen again," she replied, moving further into the room to find an empty seat. Meanwhile, the teacher returned to her desk, picking up another copy of the test that the other students were already working on. 

Rainbow turned her attention back to her paper, still mulling over the five questions that were frustrating her the most, without knowing the answers. However, out of the corner of her reddish eyes, she noticed the new girl approaching her. 

She heard the sound of boots behind her chair, and when she glanced back again, she saw Miss Apple standing behind the chair where Rainbow’s backpack was resting, observing it intently. 

Rainbow opened her mouth to say something, but before any sound could leave her throat, the girl with the cowboy hat moved to another empty desk next to Rainbow’s, sitting in one of the two vacant chairs. A slight sense of relief washed over Rainbow before she refocused on her paper, hoping the small incident was over. 

Miss Harshwhinny, not wasting much time, walked over to the newcomer’s seat, handing her the diagnostic test, and murmuring, “You have the rest of the class,” to which the girl responded with a simple “Aye.” 

Rainbow didn’t pay much attention to what was happening to her right, as she had enough trouble with her own test. The seconds continued to tick by, each moment drilling a frustrating doubt into Rainbow’s mind regarding question fourteen on the second half of the test. “It’s just a diagnostic,” she repeated. “Just a…” 

"Hey there, sugarcube," a low, melodious voice whispered to her right. The tone was friendly but desperate. 

Rainbow’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, replacing her confusion over the question with a sharp “Did she just call me sugarcube?” as she turned to face the girl. She lifted her head from her paper and looked at her neighbor, who had turned her whole body toward Rainbow—not very discreetly. 

"Me?" Rainbow asked, her whisper so faint it was barely more than the movement of her lips, silently hoping the girl wasn’t talking to her. 

"Do ya know what the hay we’re supposed to be doing?" 

“What the hay?” What kind of stereotype are you?” Rainbow thought before mouthing the word “diagnostic” without actually saying anything. 

The girl stared at Rainbow blankly for a few seconds before the gears in her head clicked. Her eyes widened, and she nodded enthusiastically with a smile. 

"Miss Apple!" the teacher called from her desk, making Rainbow jump slightly. 

"Here!" the girl with the hat replied, quickly turning to face the teacher, startled. 

"Stop distracting Miss Dash, please." 

"Uh… Yeah, sure, it’s just… Uh…" she stammered, clutching her hat in her hands as the words stumbled from her mouth. "I… needed… a pencil! Yeah!" she continued, unconvincingly. "Lost mine on… uh… the bus! Yeah, the bus." 

Miss Harshwhinny raised an eyebrow skeptically, clearly not buying the girl’s obvious lies. The girl, now biting her lips nervously, looked even more flustered than before. 

"Here, take mine," the teacher said curtly, pulling a pencil from her bag and placing it on the girl’s desk with a distant, condescending gaze. 

"Thanks," the girl muttered almost inaudibly before burying her flushed face in her arms and staring at the test. 

The teacher walked back to the front of the room with little enthusiasm, resuming her watchful position as students feverishly scribbled on their papers. Rainbow, meanwhile, turned her gaze back to her paper, once again attempting to focus on the math problem that had been bothering her for a while. However, no matter how hard she tried to fix her eyes on the numbers, symbols, and pencil marks she had made earlier, her gaze kept drifting to her right, to the girl in the cowboy hat now answering the test one seat away from her.

She glanced at her a couple of times before her attention shifted to her bag, which served as a makeshift backpack, holding all the girl’s books and notebooks. She noticed a small inscription among the beautifully detailed apples on the fabric, decorated in orange and blue, with shades of green symbolizing leaves and grass.

"So, your name is Applejack, huh?" Rainbow thought, turning her attention back to her paper and staring at the numbers written on it.

Chapter 3: Words without meaning

"The same book again, Twilight?" asked old Randolph kindly, gathering the rest of the pile of books surrounding the girl, like towering buildings hiding the title of the book in her hands.

Twilight lifted her dark eyes above her glasses, diverting her lost gaze from the letters of "Pillars of Equestria" toward the elderly man in front of her, who was slowly stacking books on the library cart with remarkable care.

"It's one of my favorites..." she replied, brushing her bangs aside and offering a light, innocent smile, silently praying to return to her reading as soon as possible.

"A fine piece of this library, for sure. I still remember the day it arrived," Randolph began, placing the books down entirely and turning fully toward Twilight. "It was a Tuesday… No, a Wednesday in June, if my memory serves me right. I was already working here back then, but the library was very different in those days. Principal Cadence was still a teacher, so things here at CHS were quite different; for example, there weren’t any computers around here, and not even half the books there are now. Cadence has placed a lot of emphasis on the literary side of the school, and it shows with students like you. Anyway, as I was saying, it was a Wednesday in June..."

Slowly, Twilight lowered her head back into the book, letting the story she had already heard six times enter one ear and leave the other without leaving any special mark. But the truth was, even before Randolph had appeared to tell his dull story once more, Twilight hadn’t been paying much attention to the book. Yes, "Pillars of Equestria" had always been one of her favorite reads, but the reality was that right now, she was just killing time, letting her eyes dance over the pages without the words making much sense, hoping her mind would wander enough not to notice the overwhelming boredom she was feeling.

Another day at Canterlot High, another morning wasted, never to be regained.

Twilight had just started eleventh grade, but the reality was that both she and the principal, as well as the teachers who excused her absence from classes, knew she belonged to a much higher grade. To say that Twilight was intelligent would be an understatement of what her mind was truly capable of. She devoured book after book of endless pages in mere weeks, storing knowledge that even her teachers found hard to grasp, and impressing professionals in their own fields.

Twilight was a genius in every sense of the word, at just sixteen years old. Yet, at her mother Velvet Sparkle's insistence that her daughter have a "normal" childhood, she was now obligated to spend at least two years at the boring school her mother had once attended, and where her sister-in-law was now principal. She didn’t detest Canterlot High in the slightest, of course, but she did recognize that the rosy walls of the institution loomed perhaps a little too close to her, limiting her potential and how far she could go.

Fortunately, that was all about to change soon, thanks to some strings pulled by her sister-in-law Cadence. Twilight had secured a coveted interview for the internship program at Celestia’s Academy for Privileged Students, a program established by none other than President Celestia herself, recognized as the smartest person in all of Equestria.

Though somewhat overcome with nerves, Twilight managed to excel in the interview conducted by Vice President Luna, earning a spot on the prestigious list she had long dreamed of joining. Now, it was only a matter of time, and since the internship was essentially a one-person program, Twilight had the power to decide when to start it—a power she intended to use as soon as possible to finally unlock her full potential.

She would leave Canterlot High behind, but that wasn’t really a problem for her. Yes, she liked the teachers, and while people like old Randolph could be exasperating at times, it wasn’t as though she despised them. However, apart from Cadence—whom she would still see thanks to her brother—there was nothing or no one that inspired her to stay. She had no reason to. She had no one. She might miss the books, but Celestia would surely have plenty of those.

Well, not exactly, because according to the testimonies of everyone who had gone through the program, Celestia was almost as anecdotal to them as she was to the rest of the country. They only saw her in announcements and recordings or heard her voice in the occasional phone call. Twilight was dying to meet the brightest mind in the country, but she understood that Celestia had better things to do than hover over the students of her successful program. She had learned to accept that fact. Maybe she wouldn’t meet Celestia soon, but she would eventually. If she kept working hard, she was sure she would.

"… after all, that was the first time I saw your brother and Cadence had something going on between them. Of course, your mother was scandalized that Shining Armor was sneaking kisses with Celestia’s niece, but that didn’t stop them in the slightest."

"Cadence told me about it," Twilight finally replied, closing the book in front of her, appreciating that perhaps this might be one of the last conversations she would ever have with old Randolph. Suddenly, his words had become more interesting, even though she knew how the story ended. "Celestia wasn’t too thrilled either; she told Cadence she was still too young. But the truth is, she didn’t dislike the idea of my brother and her together. Shining Armor had made a good impression on her."

"And impressing Celestia must be no easy feat, if you ask me. I’ve been working here for twenty-eight years waiting to get promoted to school principal, and I haven’t managed it. But your brother shows up, and on the first day, he has all of Equestria in his hands," joked the old man, throwing his arms in the air and waving them about.

Twilight let out a laugh at the man’s comment, placing the book she held on the cart, savoring the feeling that this might be the last time she touched that particular copy. The book would remain there; she could always buy another and read it again, but for two years, that had been her copy, her escape, her companion.

The old man kept making remarks, some funny, some not so much, but Twilight stopped listening again as she helped stack the remaining books onto the cart, a fake smile painted on her lips.

At the internship, she would be alone, without her older or younger brother, without her parents or her teachers. Without that copy of "Pillars of Equestria." It was just a book, and yet, Twilight felt a pang in her heart thinking that it was the only thing she had—the only thing that was hers—and that she would have to leave it behind. She didn’t know what saddened her more: the thought of leaving the book, or the fact that the only thing she would leave behind was a book.

“You’ll find your place, Twilight. You will.” she thought, and before she realized it, old Randolph had fallen silent, and the two of them were stacking the books in silence.

Chapter 4: Bad liar

Rainbow handed in the paper with all the exercises answered, though she still felt unsure about a couple of the answers in the last sections. Nevertheless, there was nothing she could do now. The frustrating reality for her was that, especially during exams, if the answers didn’t come quickly and easily, her mind would cloud over, making it even harder to get them right.

She had finished her exam, but it wasn’t what she had hoped for, and that made her grit her teeth.

“You may leave, Miss Dash,” said Miss Harshwinny, taking her test and placing it atop a stack of other papers. Rainbow didn’t reply, merely giving a quick nod, still caught up in the frustration of her perceived failure. “It’s just a diagnostic, Dash. It doesn’t matter,” she kept repeating to herself over and over.

There were only a few students left finishing their exams, but Applejack’s absence stood out the most. She had been one of the first to finish, handing her paper to the teacher with a fake smile and a whispered, “Mighty sorry again for being late, Miss,” to which the teacher had given no reply.

Rainbow shook off the thought, turning her music back on and putting her headphones over her ears. Once again, she let herself be absorbed into the musical illusion she so longed to create. After all, in her own music video, it didn’t matter if others were watching; she was amazing, of course they’d be watching.

She selected one of her favorite singles and confidently walked out of the classroom. The bell hadn’t rung yet, but Rainbow had already finished her business there.

She strolled through the winding hallways of the high school, intent on finding the track field. She wanted to see firsthand what she’d be up against. Deep down, she knew the track probably wasn’t anything special, but for some reason, the thought of seeing it thrilled her. Still, she decided it might be a good idea to stop by the restroom first, as nature was calling.

She didn’t actually know where the school’s restrooms were, but she assumed there’d be two per floor at each end of the horseshoe-shaped building. She wandered aimlessly until she came across another bright fuchsia door with the girls’ symbol in white acrylic.

Without much hesitation, she changed the song on her headphones and pushed the door open, stepping into the clean and organized restroom. Inside was a row of sinks in white and mint green, facing a line of black stalls that took up the rest of the space. The last stall was particularly large, clearly intended for people with disabilities.

Rainbow walked toward the first stall she saw, extending her hand to push open the door. However, as soon as her hand touched it, the door didn’t budge. What began as her palm colliding with the black wooden surface soon turned into her entire body slamming against it, painfully hitting her nose.

The sudden movement knocked her headphones off her ears, allowing her to hear her own groan of pain, mingled with a loud coughing sound and snoring from behind the door.

“Sorry, sorry!” Rainbow exclaimed, rubbing her nose as a blush crept up her dark skin to her cheeks. She backed away a few steps, flustered.

She rubbed her nose a few more times, waiting for some kind of reaction from the person in the stall. However, several seconds passed with no immediate response, which piqued her curiosity. She focused more on her surroundings: behind the stall door, a faint murmuring sound could be heard from below, which Rainbow quickly identified as heavy, dry snoring, like that of an old man.

The thought of a man, asleep and locked inside one of the girls’ stalls, unsettled her and made her slightly nauseous. She approached the door to confirm the situation. With every step closer, the snoring grew louder and more distinct. She raised her hand to gently knock on the door, trying to wake up the stall’s occupant.

“Hello?” Rainbow called, raising her raspy voice above the snores. “Sleeping person?”

As if to give a negative response, the person behind the door let out a hoarse groan of annoyance before resuming their loud snoring.

“Are you okay?” Rainbow asked again, but there was still no reply.

She crouched down, trying to see under the door, and spotted a pair of cowboy boots with intricate green apple designs. It didn’t take her more than a second to figure out who the sleeping person was.

“Applejack?” Rainbow called, raising her voice.

“H-here!” came a reply from the blonde girl behind the door, followed by a loud, muffled thud, similar to the one Rainbow’s headphones had made when they hit the floor. A faint “Ouch” followed. “Darn it!” Applejack cried out again, her voice full of pain.

Rainbow jumped back, startled by the commotion behind the door, and stood frozen, staring at the black-painted wood. A few more noises came from inside the stall, resembling the scuffing of a shoe against the floor, followed by the sound of the lock being undone.

The nondescript wooden door swung open quickly, revealing the tall girl behind it. Applejack, barely upright, clumsily held her belongings and her hat in one hand, while pressing the bridge of her nose with the other, rubbing her eyes with her fingers.

“Sweet cider apples, what the hay going on?” she asked, her voice groggy but clearly annoyed.

“What’s going on? You were asleep in the bathroom,” Rainbow replied, a faint note of indignation in her voice as she regained her composure. “You were snoring like a sixty-something smoker.”

“And that’s why you’re making such a fuss?”

“I wouldn’t want to see a sixty-something smoker in the girls’ bathroom.”

Applejack didn’t respond, merely letting out a loud sigh. She finally removed her hand from her face, placing her hat back on her head after adjusting it slightly. Rainbow rolled her eyes in exasperation and bent down to pick up her headphones, still connected to her phone.

“Hope they not broken…” the blonde commented, watching Rainbow’s gesture. “Did ya hurt yourself badly?”

“I didn’t hurt myself,” Rainbow lied as she picked up the headphones and straightened up again.

“I can see your apple red nose, sugarcube. Sure you didn’t get banged up?”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

After that exchange, a heavy silence fell over the restroom, both girls avoiding each other’s eyes. Applejack’s green gaze wandered around the room, briefly settling on the sinks and mirrors, but inevitably returning, if only for a fraction of a second, to Rainbow’s hair, feeling intrigued by it and its story.

Rainbow, meanwhile, focused on her headphones, pulling out her phone to force it to play a song (another of her favorite solos). But, as if Applejack had predicted it, the left earphone was now silent.

One song played, then another, before Rainbow let out a frustrated growl.

“Damn it…”

“Are they on the fritz?”

“Only the left one… which makes it even more annoying. Now it’s not like I’ve been left in total silence; but my music will only sound half as amazing,” Rainbow replied before unplugging the headphones and stashing them in her backpack.

“I know a girl—her name’s Vinyl, in tenth grade. She knows a lot about these sorta things. Maybe she can lend a handy,” Applejack said, stepping closer and crossing her arms. “You’re Dash, right? From algebra.”

“Rainbow. Dash is my last name, Miss Apple,” Rainbow responded, a hint of frustration in her voice, though a smile crept onto her face at the end of her sentence. Applejack smiled back and extended her hand politely.

“Applejack Apple. Nice to meet ya, Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow looked with intrigue at the other girl's hand, observing its details for a couple of seconds: it was rough, with no nail polish or any kind of care at all. There was a huge series of calluses on the palm and fingers, and the knuckles were healing, as if she had recently hit something. That hand belonged to a physical laborer, someone who spent all their time outside, under the sun, getting their clothes dirty and stained so that others wouldn't have to. Of course, such hands weren't uncommon in people, but they were in seventeen-year-old students at a private high school. They were even more contrasted by the delicate and beautiful face that bore them. Applejack was a disheveled person, Rainbow noticed, but behind that lack of interest, there was a truly beautiful person: a gorgeous, freckled cinnamon skin framed by long, wavy blonde hair that formed pretty curls at each side of her head, descending behind her in a beautiful golden braid tied with a simple elastic band. Thick, rosy lips, forming a natural smile, slightly twisted her slender nose, which curved almost at the tip, exposing her nostrils.

Rainbow didn’t keep her waiting long, and she took her hand firmly, making sure to give a strong handshake, feeling somewhat challenged by the other girl's muscular arms.

“Hey, good handshake, Dash.”

“I prefer Rainbow, thanks” she replied, with a visible smile on her face, letting go of the other girl’s hand. “So, what were you doing asleep in the bathroom?” she asked, tilting a bit to her side, looking at the cubicle where Applejack had been sitting just a moment ago.

“Uh... Well, uh, you see...” Applejack began, looking everywhere but at her. She opened her mouth to say something, before closing it tightly, then opening it again and closing it. A couple of muffled groans escaped her throat, her eyes darting from Rainbow to anywhere in the bathroom, then back to Rainbow.

For her part, the other girl just watched her attentively, raising an eyebrow slowly as the seconds passed, probing deeper into the question with her gaze. Finally, Applejack could no longer continue babbling and sighed heavily.

“I needed to sleep. I thought no one would come here to wake me up until the bell rang” the cowgirl answered, a slight blush creeping up her skin to her cheeks.

“And the bell was going to wake you up?” Rainbow asked, skeptically.

“It sometimes does! Most of the time at least…”

An awkward silence fell between the two girls, Applejack scratching her nose embarrassedly, and Rainbow still looking at her with skepticism, as she leaned against the sink, resting her arms on it, further highlighting the huge height difference between the two.

“Few times at least…” the blonde murmured, growing more embarrassed.

Rainbow let out a loud huff, shaking her head, and looking at her with condescension. Applejack looked tired, Rainbow wasn’t exactly sure what was wrong, but she looked tired: her eyes were sunken, red from the corners and tear ducts, a bit swollen, framed by dark circles that were no longer so noticeable but still present. Her braid, although beautiful and shiny because of her natural hair, looked hastily and carelessly made, with strands of hair sticking out of every fold. Her lips were cracked and dry, like soil during a long drought, and her clothes were badly arranged; her shirt was misbuttoned by one button, poorly tucked into her denim pants, which barely fit into her boots.

However, what Rainbow noticed the most about Applejack was her breathing pattern: Rainbow was an athlete, she ran, sweated, and gasped regularly, and she recognized that deep, slow, heavy inhaling pattern, not out of contemplation, but from lack of energy, as one of the biggest signs of someone's physical fatigue, and perhaps also mental fatigue.

“Are you okay?” Rainbow asked, stepping a bit closer to Applejack.

She didn’t answer. She closed her eyes again and pressed the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger, breathing audibly and shaking her head.

“I just need to sleep sum’ more, that’s all” she responded, with her characteristic country accent.

A terrible thought crossed Rainbow's mind, her eyes widening.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

“Is my accent that bad?” Applejack asked, opening one eye.

“You’re from Ponyville, right?” Rainbow responded, ignoring the question Applejack had asked. Applejack closed her eyes again, tilting her head to the ceiling, letting out a tired sigh, and then nodded slowly. “And you come here every day?”

“When I can make it, yeah.”

“That’s at least a three-hour trip, without traffic. Are you telling me that every single day, without fail, you get up in Ponyville at least by minus three in the morning and come here?”

“I usually return to the orchard around eleven-thirty, more or less.”

“By Starswirl, Applejack, how are you still alive?” Rainbow asked, taking another step forward, closing the distance between the two, her eyes showing genuine concern.

“Trust me, sugar, it’ll take more than that to kill ol' Applejack.” She replied, adjusting the bag of her belongings on her shoulder, rummaging through it until she found her cellphone. Unlike Rainbow's (or anyone else's, she thought), it wasn’t a smartphone, but an old Naykia model, which Rainbow assumed was from the last century. With a swift motion, Applejack flipped open the phone and looked at the small screen for a few seconds before closing it again. “And if you'll excuse me now, I'm hungrier than a newborn colt on a hot sunny day.”

Applejack put her phone back into her bag and looked at Rainbow for a few seconds, as if waiting for something from her. Rainbow, for her part, just stared in disbelief at the cowgirl, incredulous both about her daily routine of sleeping less than two hours just to go to school and about her ancient fossil of a phone.

However, after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Rainbow sighed loudly, shaking her head and making unintelligible sounds with her mouth.

“Alright” she concluded, still shaking her head, clearly concerned about the other girl. “Just wait for me, I still need to go to the bathroom.”

Applejack didn’t respond but simply nodded slightly, flashing a smile behind her weary face, the product of exhaustion, before following her gaze to another cubicle, just before Rainbow disappeared behind the black wooden door.

After a few awkward seconds of waiting, during which Applejack took the opportunity to wash her face and hands, the two of them left the bathroom together.

“So? Do you live in Ponyville because you like torturing yourself? Or…?” Rainbow asked, trying to keep up with Applejack's long strides.

“My family’s from there, and honestly, I don’t see myself living anywhere else.”

“By your accent, it’s obvious you haven’t lived anywhere else.”

“Ever heard of Sweet Apple Acres?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“If you've ever eaten an apple in your life, I swear on my boots it came from Sweet Apple Acres. There’s no bigger apple farm in all of Equestria, and none produces apples as sweet and crunchy as those from Sweet Apple Acres.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t guess apples were your thing, Miss Apple” Rainbow replied, ironically.

“Laugh all you want, Colors, but the truth is the truth, and that’s that, without Sweet Apple Acres, Equestria would cease to exist faster than a dog barks.”

“The truth, huh?”

“Take it from someone who doesn’t know how to lie, Rainbow.”

Chapter 5: A routine

It was always the same: the bell would ring, she’d leave her classroom, praying the creatures in her backpack wouldn’t draw attention, walk to the cafeteria, and sit at the same bench she had for the past two years. She’d take out her breakfast, made by herself due to the lack of vegan options on the school menu, and eat in silence, unzipping her backpack slightly, which rested on the table, to pass crumbs to her noisy friends. Without her presence at the animal shelter, they would otherwise grow despondent.

Every day was the same, and up until then, Fluttershy was comfortable with that.

She glanced again at the classroom’s wall clock, watching the second hand drag itself patiently across each of its printed black lines, taking its sweet time before finally reaching 10:30. Nearly seven minutes to go, and Fluttershy couldn’t wait for it to finally happen. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched her classmates stand to introduce themselves.

She didn’t hate her biology class, much less Professor Eclipse, but she dreaded the first-day ritual that every student endured year after year, no matter what school they attended. That dance of introductions, where each student stood in front of the class, saying their name, surname, and sometimes details like their hobbies or why they had chosen the school. She had lived through it the past two years at Canterlot High, and before that in middle school and elementary school. It had made her anxious then, and it still made her anxious now.

"…Diane Pie, though everyone calls me Pinkie! I love sweets, parties, music, going out, parties, people, parties, sugar, cupcakes, cakes, parties, and…" 

"Understood, understood, Miss Pie, you may take your seat," Professor Eclipse interrupted, wheeling his chair across the classroom tiles, trying not to look directly at the girl mid-introduction. She plopped into her chair, muttering a quiet "kangaroos," while grinning ear to ear. 

She was only two desks away from Fluttershy, and clocks the second hand seemed in no rush to end this dreaded routine before Fluttershy’s turn came. Her breathing quickened as another girl with pink and blue hair stood up to introduce herself as Bon Bon. A cold bead of sweat trickled down her forehead, slid past her temples, along her cheek, and hung from her chin like it was clinging to something precious—her fear in that moment.

Time began to move slower, the clock itself bearing witness. The second hand shifted every two seconds, then every three. With each "tick" and "tock," the sound of Fluttershy’s own breathing grew louder and louder. Her heartbeat echoed in her ears, and the murmurs of her classmates morphed into loud shouts, then deafening clamor. Everything around her intensified, the walls closing in, the second hand hammering away like a mallet.

What if they didn’t like her? What if they thought she was weird? Of course no one would like her voice, and they definitely wouldn’t be thrilled about the idea of an animal-obsessed girl carrying dangerous creatures in her backpack. What had been a comforting shuffle beneath the fibers of her bag turned into a shapeless, chaotic movement, serving only to remind her of one thing: she was alone, and no one would ever be with her as long as she had them. No one would like, accept, or love her with them around. But they would hear her—and laugh at her.

The second hand moved again for the first time in what felt like forever, and Fluttershy swallowed a thick lump in her throat as Bon Bon sat down and the last girl before her stood.

"Good morning, Professor Eclipse," the girl began, only to be drowned out by the deafening sound of the bell. 

The noise exploded in Fluttershy’s head like a sonic boom, clearing a heavy layer of clouds over a field. The walls retreated, the second hand resumed its normal pace, and her backpack now only shifted occasionally with a soft, pleasant rhythm under her hands. The knot in her throat dissolved, and for the first time since class began, she could breathe freely. 

She had made it—no words spoken all morning—and now she just had to keep it that way.

"Well, Miss Flanks, Miss Breeze, you'll have your chance to introduce yourselves to your classmates later. You're dismissed." 

The girl who had been introducing herself let out a disappointed sigh, gathered her things, and sat down again before leaving. Fluttershy, however, didn’t wait for Professor Eclipse’s permission. She was already headed for the door, which she opened hurriedly—uncharacteristically for her—revealing the bustling hallway beyond, filled with students walking in every direction.

She took a deep breath, feeling the oxygen fill her lungs and bring her back to life, before stepping forward into the endless flow of people. She liked the feeling of blending in, walking with the current without anyone noticing her, and without her noticing anyone else. Here, if you accidentally bumped into someone, it was normal, unremarkable. If you ran into someone, if you talked to someone, no one else cared—you were just another particle in a sea of dust, carried by the wind to who knows where. Fluttershy loved that, and not a day went by where she didn’t wish the rest of her life could be like that: just one more person, with no need to introduce herself to an entire class or talk to anyone.

The creatures in her backpack stirred again, and she smiled quietly.

Her classroom was on the third floor of the building, making the walk to the cafeteria a bit of a trek, but she didn’t mind. Sure, there were days when her thin legs would have appreciated a more accessible classroom, but it wasn’t a common bother for her—or for her backpack friends, who, for some reason, enjoyed being there.

She turned right and carefully descended the first staircase, ensuring she didn’t trip or stumble. Since childhood in Cloudsdale, she’d been mocked for her clumsiness, especially in that town where childhoods were defined by adrenaline and movement, leaving no space for the contemplative side of life, which Fluttershy clearly preferred.

Eventually, she’d moved to Ponyville, and until relatively recently, it had become her true home, her real place of belonging. But now, she lived in Canterlot—the big, noisy capital—where, while the children weren’t as vigorous as in Cloudsdale, the fast-paced lifestyle of adults overwhelmed her. Even from her home on the outskirts near the Everfree Forest, she could hear the rush of cars speeding by, the shouts of buses and trains, and the noisy hum of pedestrians in the city. Canterlot wasn’t her city, and she knew it. Since she arrived, she hadn’t made a single friend who wasn’t an animal. To her, that only meant one thing: she didn’t belong there.

"What if I don’t belong anywhere?" she thought to herself several times a day, calming her nerves only by caressing her rabbit, Angel.

She descended the next staircase, and the next, until she finally reached the ground floor, with its soft pastel beige walls and pastel blue tiled floors. She turned left, then right, always avoiding people who were also headed for a morning snack, walking lightly on her feet.

Another turn brought her to a hallway packed with students, all heading toward a pair of bright pink doors. The smell of grease and gravy wafted through, making it clear once again that the school hadn’t considered its vegan students.

She took a few uninterrupted steps, but a gentle tap on her shoulder and a muffled "Excuse me" snapped her out of her daily routine, making her skin prickle and her muscles tense.

Swallowing nervously, she slowly turned to face the person seeking her attention, praying it would be something quick she could escape from soon.

"Hi! Sorry to bother you. I’m new here. Do you know where the music room is? My friends and I agreed to meet there today," the girl asked energetically. She was tall, with extravagant clothing and enormous, fluffy reddish-orange hair so bright it seemed dyed, yet it had the natural shine of untouched hair. Her hair framed her face in a beautiful sweep, flanked by a rough-looking spiked headband.

But the most striking thing about the stranger was her eyes—almost spectral, a deep, dark red with a peculiar gleam. They made Fluttershy nervous.

"I’m Adagio, by the way! Nice to meet you!" the girl exclaimed cheerfully, extending a friendly hand.

A strand of pink hair fell over Fluttershy’s eyes, which darted nervously between Adagio’s hand, her peculiar eyes, and back. This girl was new—someone who had no impression of her, no judgment. She didn’t know Fluttershy was clumsy, or weird, or a bit odd. She didn’t know how much she loved her animals, more than her own life. She didn’t even know her name.

Fluttershy couldn’t just run away from this. She couldn’t let Adagio dislike her so soon after arriving at Canterlot High. She couldn’t allow that. Adagio didn’t hate her, and at least for one day, Fluttershy wanted to keep it that way.

“I’m Fluttershy,” she murmured softly, her voice quickly swallowed up by the sea of students talking, walking, and shouting from the cafeteria to the outer gardens. Adagio didn’t respond but allowed her smile to falter for half a second, her expression softening in response to hers. 

Fluttershy extended her hand, ready to take Adagio’s, but she froze when she heard a voice behind her—a voice she hated and feared in equal measure. 

“Are you new? That’s amazing!” exclaimed Echo Mirage, self-proclaimed most popular girl at Canterlot High, in a tone so falsely enthusiastic it almost dripped with sarcasm. She was the last person Fluttershy wanted to encounter. 

Swaying in a showy and unpleasant rhythm, Echo sidled past Fluttershy, barely brushing against her side. The subtle, yet deliberate, gesture sent an instant chill through Fluttershy, hardening her expression—a reaction that even she found surprising. 

“I still remember my first day with such excitement! It was truly magical. You’ll meet so many people you’ll like; I’m sure of it” Echo began, shaking Adagio’s hand with a fervor that matched her saccharine smile. Her sleek, white hair framed her face flawlessly as her grin seemed to stretch impossibly wide. “I heard you’re looking for the music room?”

“Yes, actually” Adagio replied, letting a hint of discomfort slip into her voice as her eyes remained locked on Echo’s eerily gray gaze. That flawless smile sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. “My friends and I are new to Canterlot and just wanted to familiarize ourselves with the facilities.”

Echo clapped her hands together with an exaggerated bounce, prompting Fluttershy to step back, intimidated by her sudden movement. 

“Don’t tell me you have a band!” she exclaimed, in a high-pitched enthusiasm tone that Fluttershy deemed undeniably fake. 

“It’s more of a singing group, but yes, you could say that.” 

“How impressive! I’m sure you’ve come here to leave a big mark on this school, don’t you think that, Fluttershy?”

The unexpected mention of her name sent Fluttershy’s pulse racing and cut her breath short. She swallowed nervously, her gaze darting anxiously as she nodded hesitantly in response to Echo’s statement. 

“I thought so” the white-haired girl whispered before turning her attention back to Adagio, her ever-present silly smile returning. “I’m so glad I ran into you. I care about Fluttershy a lot, but truth be told, she’s not too fond of people. She probably only knows the way to the school greenhouse anyways.”

Echo let out a mocking giggle, and Adagio joined in awkwardly, though her laugh was nervous and hesitant. Fluttershy, however, didn’t laugh. She simply lowered her gaze, a mix of embarrassment and anger bubbling within her, unable to find her voice in the presence of Echo. She had never liked the girl; her very presence made Fluttershy uneasy. Wherever Echo went, a crowd followed—people she cynically called “friends.” Echo always had something to say, often layered with passive-aggressive insults. And today was no exception. 

“Come on, I’ll show you the way. We wouldn’t want to trouble Fluttershy, would we?” Echo turned back to smile smugly at her, a look so petulant and self-satisfied it only deepened Fluttershy’s disgust. “I am fond of people…” she muttered under her breath, so softly even she could barely hear it. 

Linking her arm with Adagio’s, Echo led her away, disappearing into the crowd of students. 

“Tell me all about your band. I want to hear everything” was the last thing Fluttershy heard as the two vanished among the throngs heading toward the cafeteria, Echo’s obnoxious voice still faintly audible above the noise. 

Fluttershy let out a strangled sigh, noticing a dull ache, throbbing at the base of her skull. She raised her left arm, gently pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, trying to banish the memory of Echo from her mind and soothe her growing headache. Sometimes, Fluttershy wished with all her heart she could scream at Echo, call her out for all her wrongdoings, and warn unsuspecting souls like Adagio about her. Echo was detestable, odious, and, in Fluttershy’s opinion, borderline malicious. But no one ever did anything about her. Echo was too well-liked, too charming, all because of that beguiling, seductive smile that hid her true face. 

Fluttershy sighed again, inhaling the stale hallway air as the pounding in her head slowly subsided. Sure, she wanted to confront Echo, but she never would. Echo was too intimidating and clever, while Fluttershy was none of those things. She was just a slim, awkwardly petite girl with crippling shyness that closed her throat at the mere thought of speaking in front of her peers. The only beings she felt comfortable with were animals. On that point, Echo was right. 

Maybe she did hate people. 

Turning back, Fluttershy wove her way through the crowd in the cafeteria, dodging other students without looking anyone in the eye. She headed straight for the same table she had sat at alone for the past two years at Canterlot High. That same bench that had only ever been hers, bearing silent witness to her solitude. 

But she wasn’t truly alone—not really. Sitting down, she set her backpack on the table as usual and unzipped it just enough to let a faint sliver of light illuminate what was hidden inside. 

She carefully reached in, mindful not to startle or hurt any of her stowaways, feeling her way around the fabric until her fingers touched something smooth and cold. Smiling faintly, she grasped the object and pulled out a glass container labeled “Fluttershy Breeze.” 

“Very soon, little ones,” she thought, opening the container to reveal a small, delicious salad of tomatoes and walnuts her mother had prepared earlier that morning. 

With a tender smile, Fluttershy picked up one of the walnuts and glanced into her bag, where two tiny, bright eyes gleamed back at her eagerly. 

“One at a time…” she whispered to her hidden creatures, lowering the walnut carefully into their makeshift burrow. 

She was abruptly interrupted by a loud thud on her table. A girl she hadn’t noticed before had slammed her hands onto the surface with excitement. 

“No way!” the girl exclaimed, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “It’s you, Fluttershy?” 

Fluttershy jumped in her seat, startled by the sudden noise, her eyes wide with terror. With a quick swipe, she shut her bag, hiding all evidence of what she had been doing. 

“This is incredible! Do you remember me?” asked the girl, shaking her vibrant colorful hair in front of Fluttershy.

Chapter 6: Happy to see you

The walls, the floor, the ceiling, and the tables spun and spun around Applejack, whose head was already reeling from the deafening clamor of the cafeteria. Chatting with Rainbow up to that point had granted her some stability, even if their conversations jumped so rapidly from topic to topic that her muddled mind didn’t really have to make much of an effort to follow anything.

“What’s Sweet Apple Acres?” “Are you from Ponyville?” “Do you have siblings?” “Do you even like apples?” and countless other questions that the blonde could answer with simple monosyllables or with phrases so oft-repeated by her that responding had become second nature.

However, when Rainbow suddenly darted toward one of the cafeteria benches, tugging Applejack’s arm along, the lack of sleep caught up with her. She felt as though the ground beneath her trembled violently.

“No way!” Rainbow shouted, ignoring one of the most coherent responses Applejack had managed to muster so far.

“Land sakes! What’s going on?” asked the blonde, holding her hat with one hand while the other flailed aimlessly, trying to locate her companion in her blurry and aching field of vision.

Rainbow muttered something Applejack couldn’t make out, partly due to the distance and partly because of the mental effort it took not to collapse face-first onto the floor after the sudden jolt. She managed to steady herself on a nearby bench with her free hand, stomping her foot on the ground—a motion that definitely startled more than a few people. After all, it wasn’t every day you saw an almost seven feet tall girl, with arms as broad as a head, struggling to regain her balance right next to you.

“Rainbow?” she called out, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to focus on her companion’s colorful hair. Despite Rainbow’s short stature, her radiant mane made her easy to spot even from several yards away.

Applejack turned her head left, then right, until, through the hazy mess of colors and shapes, she finally caught sight of that unmistakable rainbow. Her friend was standing in front of another person, pressing her hands in front of someone whose silhouette Applejack couldn’t quite discern.

“I want her energy…” Applejack thought, planting her feet firmly on the ground, adjusting her hat, and heading toward her friend.

Step by step, Applejack pushed herself to keep her eyes open, neglecting her other senses to ensure she didn’t lose sight of her target. After all, maybe—just maybe—that person would let them sit down. And if she could sit down, perhaps she could finally rest a little. “No sleep, just rest,” she reminded herself, recalling how, just two years ago, she could chop a log in half with a single swing of her axe. Now, even standing felt like a chore.

Slowly, the silhouettes began to take shape: the multicolored hair became a head, the head grew eyes and a mouth that moved frantically. Soon enough, those movements turned into words—words she could both see and hear.

“...Dash! From Cloudsdale Elementary! We were in the same class!” Rainbow shouted to the figure in front of her, a scrawny girl with pastel pink hair and freckles dotting her pale skin. “They used to call you Quietshy, because you never talked!”

Applejack planted herself behind Rainbow, squinting to observe the scene in front of her. Meanwhile, Rainbow’s acquaintance only blinked slowly, staring at her interlocutor with her mouth slightly open, as if trying to say something.

“Did I miss something?” Applejack asked softly, instinctively suppressing her accent for the stranger’s benefit. Rainbow spun around quickly, grabbing Applejack by the shoulders with a grin stretching from ear to ear.

“This is incredible, Applejack!” she exclaimed, pointing toward the third girl. “Let me introduce you! Applejack, Fluttershy. Fluttershy, Applejack. She and I go way back to elementary school in my hometown! Right, Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy didn’t respond—not even with a nod. Instead, she stayed perfectly still, her eyes darting between Rainbow, Applejack, and her own backpack. For her part, Applejack discreetly slid past Rainbow, slumping onto the nearest bench with a heavy, exhausted thud. “Finally…” she thought, closing her eyes for a fraction of a second before snapping them open as the cafeteria’s clamor seemed to fade away, receding violently into the distance.

“I’m still here…” she murmured sleepily, her eyes half-lidded with fatigue and discomfort.

Rainbow leaned closer to Fluttershy, her eyes sparkling even brighter beneath her vibrant bangs, which dangled over her face. The other girl recoiled slightly, averting her gaze from her supposed childhood acquaintance.

Yet, suddenly, Fluttershy’s nervous and lost expression gave way to wide-open eyes and a slightly parted mouth, as if ready to speak.

“Didn’t they used to call you Rainbow Crash, by any chance?” Fluttershy asked quietly, her curious gaze shifting back to Rainbow.

Through Applejack’s blurry vision and the indistinct sounds around her, the name came through loud and clear. It drew a harmonious chuckle from her lips, her classic country tone unmistakable. Rainbow didn’t reply, but her grin faltered for a fraction of a second. Her eyebrows twitched, and a deep blush spread across her cheeks. Seeing her like that brought another laugh from Applejack, who momentarily forgot her overwhelming exhaustion in favor of a hearty chuckle.

Rainbow let out a heavy sigh, dropping her arms onto the table and letting her head fall against its surface with a childlike whine.

“Sweet Starswirl, I hoped that stupid nickname was behind me,” she groaned.

Applejack let out another laugh, tapping the table lightly as a burst of energy surged through her. Fluttershy replaced her surprised expression with a compassionate smile, tentatively reaching a hand toward Rainbow before thinking better of it and pulling back.

“I smell a story behind that,” Applejack said, leaning in toward her companions. “Rainbow Crash?”

“Let’s get one thing straight…!” Rainbow began, her face still pressed against the table as she raised a hand. “I couldn’t stop! If I had, that idiot Bulk would’ve burned the base, and we would’ve lost.”

Fluttershy closed her eyes slightly, letting out an innocent giggle as she covered her mouth with her hand. Rainbow let out another whimper, which drew yet another laugh from Applejack before the heavy weight of sleep attacked her again, begging her to close her eyes and slump over the table for a quick nap.

Rainbow took a deep breath and finally lifted her head, revealing a bright red mark on her forehead from the pressure against the table. It earned another giggle from Fluttershy. She walked around behind Applejack, settling herself on the bench beside her. The comical contrast between their heights and builds made the situation all the more amusing.

“I’m really sorry, Rainbow,” Fluttershy murmured with a soft chuckle, discreetly clutching her backpack.

“Don’t mention it. I’m just glad you two hit it off,” replied the smaller girl with ironic humor, plopping her backpack onto the table and slumping over it with exaggerated weariness.

“Oh, sugarcube, don’t let a silly thing like that get to you. Who hasn’t had an embarrassing nickname from elementary school?”

“The incredible Rainbow doesn’t—or at least, she shouldn’t.”

“The incredible Rainbow Crash,” Applejack quipped, prompting Fluttershy to giggle again, her softest laugh yet. She hugged her backpack close to her chest, leaning over the table with a shy smile.

“Very funny, Miss Apple. Want to take a nap while you’re at it?”

“Please!” Applejack snorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I’m not ashamed to admit I dozed off in the bathroom earlier.”

“Sure, you just wouldn’t know how to lie about it,” Rainbow retorted with a sly grin, thinking she’d won their little banter.

Applejack opened her mouth, drawing in a breath to retort against the accusations, but before an unshaped, unreasonable shout escaped her throat, she felt the soft touch of something on her hand.

"Sorry, sorry..." Fluttershy said, quickly withdrawing her hand toward her backpack when Applejack turned to look at her sharply. "I just wanted to ask if you were okay..."

"Okay?" Applejack asked, unaware of what the other was referring to. Fluttershy nodded slightly and adjusted her posture.

"I don’t want to say this in a way that makes you feel bad, but you look a bit…"

"Run-down? Worn-out? Awful?" Rainbow interjected, causing Applejack’s eyes to roll in exasperation.

"Those weren’t the words I wanted to use... But I see I’m not the only one who’s noticed..."

"A little lack of sleep never killed anyone, least of all me," Applejack responded haughtily, believing her own words for a moment as she blinked slowly, a symptom of her fatigue.

"Sorry to say this, but your issue doesn’t seem like normal sleepiness," Fluttershy began, unconsciously leaning toward her. "Are you sure you’ve been sleeping well?"

"Look, sugar cube, that depends on what you call 'well'," Applejack replied, stumbling over the last words as she made air quotes with her fingers. "It’s not like I want to talk about it right now. Rainbow has her problems, I have mine, and I’m sure you have yours too; the last thing I want is for you to carry my burdens on top of your own."

With every word, Fluttershy shrank back into her seat, averting her gaze from her two companions to the floor or the surrounding walls, nodding with embarrassment etched into every movement. The truth was, while Fluttershy seemed like a nice girl and someone Applejack could like, they weren’t friends or family. Neither Rainbow nor Fluttershy truly knew her, and though Applejack wasn’t afraid to show her true self to strangers like them, she didn’t like receiving lectures from people she barely knew. They were all strangers, and if she didn’t even talk to her family about her sleepless nights, why would she with them?

Rainbow had understood in the bathroom, and Fluttershy understood it now. That was fine.

Except it wasn’t, and Applejack knew it. She knew her sleep was a problem, that her insomnia at night was a problem, and that repeating her final year of high school was a problem. None of them knew it, but Applejack was a year older than the other two, currently retaking the year she had dropped almost ten months ago due to failing countless subjects because of absences, tardiness, and falling asleep in class. No one knew, not her Granny Smith back home, nor her sister Applebloom, nor Big Mac—only her.

It wasn’t lying, really. It was just hiding the truth—from everyone but herself, a strategy that had worked for the past year. But not even with all her willpower and energy could she convince herself that this was okay, that everything was fine.

That was the truth.

"You’re right. I’m sorry..." Fluttershy mumbled, still avoiding Applejack’s swollen, green eyes and twisting her mouth in a grimace of embarrassment and pity.

"Better tell us about yourself, Fluttershy. It’s been ages since I saw you in Cloudsdale. How’ve you been?" Rainbow asked, her lively, energetic tone returning as she leaned toward the third girl.

"My life hasn’t been that interesting either. I doubt you’d want to hear about it," she replied, so softly her voice almost blended with the cafeteria’s background noise to Applejack’s ears.

"Come on, sweetheart, surely there’s something you can share with good ol’ Applejack," she encouraged, though that last sentence left a bitter taste in her mouth.

"I wouldn’t want to bore you with my dull life."

"It can’t be as wild as mine, but I still want to know what you’ve been up to," Rainbow countered, lightly taking Fluttershy’s hand. This startled the girl, making her eyes dart quickly as she clutched her backpack tightly.

Fluttershy nervously licked her lips and pulled her hand away from Rainbow’s grasp, shyness in her eyes and her body turning outward.

"Well..." Fluttershy began, again so quietly that Applejack and Rainbow leaned closer to hear her better. "Shortly after finishing elementary school, my dad got a new job as a weather analyst in Ponyville, so we moved there a month after I graduated..."

"You lived in Ponyville?" the blonde exclaimed excitedly, leaning closer to the other girl with a grin, momentarily forgetting her exhaustion. "Yeehaw! Then you must know Sweet Apple Acres!"

"Sweet Apple Acres? Of course, I know it," Fluttershy replied, more surprised than anything at the giant girl’s enthusiasm.

"Isn’t it true that Equestria wouldn’t function without the sweet apples of Sweet Apple Acres?" Applejack asked eagerly.

"I don’t know if I’d say it couldn’t function at all, but I think it’s true they contribute a lot to Equestria."

Applejack whistled triumphantly, pounding the table again, which startled Rainbow in her seat. "Told you, Dash!"

"Great, Miss Apple. You’ve just proved you need to live in a small town to appreciate your ranch."

Applejack just laughed heartily, pulling an apple from her bag—her "backpack" as she affectionately called it—and taking a juicy bite. "Sure, sure... You just don’t want to admit you were wrong."

"Keep telling yourself that, sleepyhead."

Fluttershy continued her story, telling the girls about her brother Zephyr and how he got their dad fired, forcing them to move to Canterlot. She spoke about her fascination with the animals in Ponyville and how she got a part-time job at an animal shelter in Canterlot’s suburbs, even showing them a glimpse of the residents (which Rainbow described as very smelly) living in her backpack.

From there, the conversation became harder to follow, and Applejack struggled to keep up. She genuinely liked Fluttershy and wanted to keep talking to her, but the weight of her eyelids pressed harder and harder against her, until, before she realized it, she was asleep on the table.

The last thing she remembered from that lunch break was Rainbow’s violent shakes trying to wake her up so they could head back to class, each going their separate ways since it seemed they didn’t share the next period.

Applejack apologized for falling asleep whilst the third girl was talking about the visible differences between a bee and a wasp. The apology was dismissed by Fluttershy, who simply asked Applejack to try and get some good rest that night.

Applejack nodded, but she didn’t say anything aloud, fearing that if she tried to lie so openly, she’d end up hearing more words from them.

She walked down the hall alone, blending into the crowd of students rushing in and out of classrooms, thinking about her encounter with Rainbow and Fluttershy. Maybe—just maybe—she’d see them in another class besides algebra and keep talking with them. Or perhaps they’d visit her at one of her many jobs. Either way, she liked them and couldn’t wait to chat with them again.

However, she couldn’t shake the thought that despite her lies, they knew Applejack wouldn’t be sleeping well that night.

She entered her literature class, and before the first quarter of it had passed, she was already being scolded by the teacher for falling asleep again.

"Again, Applejack. Again."

Chapter 7: An announcement in secret

Twilight was just logging into the Celestia’s Academy student portal, ready to submit her program application after a heated argument with her mother the day before, when “The Great and Powerful” Trixie burst into the normally quiet library with great fanfare.

“Twilight Sparkle!” exclaimed the silver-haired girl in her unbearably shrill voice. “I, the Great and Powerful Trixie, have been begged and pleaded with to deliver an urgent message to you!”

Twilight blinked slowly, gazing disinterestedly at the other girl, who struck a dramatic pose in the beautifully carved wooden doorway of the library, drawing every pair of eyes in the room. This wasn’t her first encounter with Trixie, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last; Trixie had always had a peculiar obsession with her. Twilight could only describe it as a “delusion of rivalry,” since, according to the white-haired girl, the battle of wits and intellectual supremacy between them never ceased.

Of course, that was a lie. Twilight was far more intelligent than Trixie, far more dedicated, and, in general, far better. The so-called rivalry was nothing more than one of the many lies Trixie told herself and everyone else daily to inflate her ego. Although annoying, Twilight found it flattering to some extent.

Adjusting her royal blue skirt, Trixie slid her fingers into the top of her boot, flashing a mischievous smile at Twilight before magically pulling out a crumpled, oversized scroll. Another of Trixie’s cheap tricks.

Clearing her throat theatrically, Trixie held the scroll in front of her and began to read aloud:

“Dearest Twilight of the Sparkle variant!” she declared, her voice dripping with a pompous tone of exaggerated self-importance. “Herein, I extend my humblest greetings and dispatch my appointed emissary with great urgency, for you now stand before the Great and Powerful Trixie of the House of Lulamoon! An ancestral home of grand sorcerers and masters of the arcane! Renowned mathematicians and thinkers, led by none other than the greatest and most powerful—the Great and Powerful Trixie!”

The elderly librarian, Mr. Randolph, silenced the noisy visitor with a swift wave of his hand, glaring at her as he paused his usual task of shelving books. Trixie jumped slightly, her wide, pearly eyes filled with panic, before letting out a nervous laugh and mumbling a quiet “sorry.” She then slinked further into the library, rolling up the scroll and tucking it into the sleeve of her blue jacket.

Twilight turned her attention back to the form on her laptop screen and the ominous “Log In” button staring back at her. Just a few clicks stood between her and a life-changing decision—to leave everything behind and start anew, a chapter entirely her own where she could finally spread her wings and soar toward the sun.

“To the sun…” Twilight thought again, remembering her mother’s reaction when she had used those exact words during their argument. Her mother had broken down crying in the kitchen not long after.

“Twilight Sparkle?” Trixie’s voice was much quieter now—perhaps too quiet—coming from just behind her.

Twilight didn’t turn, but she nodded slightly to acknowledge Trixie while dragging her cursor to click the green log-in button.

“Principal Cadence sent me to find you,” Trixie continued, leaning casually against the table where Twilight was working, far too close to her laptop for comfort. The proximity made Twilight visibly uneasy. “She wants to see you right away.”

“Principal Cadence? Did she say why?” Twilight asked, discreetly moving her laptop a few inches away.

“How would I know?” Trixie replied with a shrug, standing up straight and turning her back to Twilight. “You two are always talking.”

Twilight let out an audible groan, rolling her eyes in exasperation at Trixie’s comment. Still, she couldn’t shake the idea that there was some truth to it. In this dull, monotonous school, where classes blurred together and most of the students were no better than Trixie, her sister-in-law’s presence was one of the few things Twilight truly appreciated. She often spent noisy breaks in Cadence’s office, escaping the chaos of the world behind a closed door. This had sparked wild imaginations among the student body—and even some teachers—leading to rumors that Twilight’s excellent grades and frequent absences were due to nepotism rather than her own hard-earned achievements.

Twilight didn’t care what people thought. After all, with people like Cadence or even Mr. Randolph for company, she didn’t feel the need to listen to the gossip. “Let them talk,” she had told her mother the night before. “Let them believe whatever they want. When I leave for Celestia’s Academy, they won’t even notice I’m gone. I bet you won’t even notice I’m gone.” Her mother had slapped her for that comment.

Twilight sighed again, this time staring at the ceiling as she packed her laptop into her backpack’s designated compartment.

“Thanks, Trixie,” she muttered, unsure whether she meant it.

Trixie laughed airily, mumbling something Twilight didn’t bother to hear as she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the library’s exit. She waved to Mr. Randolph on her way out and left.

Canterlot High didn’t strike Twilight as a particularly beautiful school, but it wasn’t bad either. Sure, pastel colors dominated almost more than the students themselves, which wouldn’t have been her first choice for a color scheme, but it didn’t bother her. The environment was friendly and, most importantly, sober enough to encourage studying without entirely ruling out the option of making friends.

Friends Twilight didn’t have, of course.

During their argument, her mother had questioned how, after two years of studying there, she still hadn’t made a single friend. That hurt Twilight deeply, prompting her to blurt out a desperate and false, “Of course I have friends!” She then dug her own grave when her mother asked for names.

“Trixie. I’m friends with Trixie Lulamoon, who, I might add, is just as dedicated to studying as I am,” Twilight had improvised, feeling incredulous at her own words. Her lie fell apart the moment her mother asked why she had never met this supposed “Trixie.” She even questioned if Trixie existed, which tightened the already constricted knot in Twilight’s heart as she recalled that, in truth, there were times she wished Trixie didn’t exist.

That night, she cried herself to sleep, but it didn’t stop her from waking up on time, catching the bus, and arriving fifteen minutes early for classes.

She arrived early to avoid classes.

Taking a left turn, then another, Twilight dodged an energetic girl with frizzy pink hair who always greeted her enthusiastically, even though they didn’t know each other. She finally reached the door marked “Principal’s Office” in golden letters on a metal plaque affixed to the pink wood.

Not wanting to keep her sister-in-law waiting, Twilight opened the office door and stepped into a small but charming room painted in pastel yellow, almost white, accented with deeper yellow trim. Her feet sank into a soft, short-pile red carpet embossed with the large “C” of Canterlot High, drawing her gaze to the back of the room, where an imposing light-wood desk stood with an eight-pointed star engraved in gold on its rear panel.

Around the room, two windows framed the corners, opposite two tall shelves doubling as filing cabinets, crammed with folders and binders that documented the vast student body that had passed through the high school.

Finally, at the back, a large corkboard hung on the wall, pinned with all sorts of notices, reminders, and heavily marked-up calendars. Beside it stood the flag of Equestria, still and serene as always in Cadence’s office.

“Twilight! Come in, have a seat!” Cadence called from behind the desk, her attention breaking from a calendar Twilight couldn’t quite make out.

Offering a small smile, Twilight nodded, closed the door behind her, and entered the room. She took one of the two chairs facing the desk, placing her backpack on the floor.

Principal Cadence stood up, tucked the calendar into one of the many drawers of her desk, and cleared its surface, leaving room for Twilight to rest her arms.

“Would you like some water? Coffee?” asked Cadence, pouring herself a cup from the coffee maker resting in one of the bookshelves, adjusting her elegant blazer over the gray skirt she was wearing.

Cadence was a tall woman with delicate features that accentuated her perfectly proportioned face, proudly showcasing a mix of European heritage with the mystery and glamor of East Asia. Her long, silky hair was a pale pink, streaked with light shades of purple and beige that, instead of clashing, blended harmoniously across her head, giving her an innocent yet exclusive and unique appearance. She wore a stunning blue blazer with the school’s emblem embroidered on the left shoulder, paired with a fitted light blue skirt that highlighted her long, graceful legs. She stood on a pair of open yellow heels, which only further emphasized the sweet and charming aura she exuded.

“No, thank you.” Twilight replied, raising her hands awkwardly. “Besides, coffee doesn’t really help with studying. According to several analyses, coffee consumption may improve memory but…”

“Didn’t know you had an exam coming up soon.” Cadence interrupted teasingly, sitting on the desk and gazing happily at her sister-in-law while sipping her coffee. Twilight responded with a nervous smile, her cheeks flushing.

“No… I don’t have any exams.”

The principal let out a light laugh, shaking her head at Twilight’s words, which only made the younger woman more flustered. However, as seconds passed and more chuckles escaped Cadence’s lips, Twilight gradually remembered that the person in front of her wasn’t just the principal or Celestia’s niece, but her brother’s fiancée—the woman who had been a part of her life for so long, someone she had always been able to turn to, her only friend.

Twilight laughed.

“Of course you don’t have any exams, silly.” Cadence said, rising from the desk and sitting back down, this time in her chair, taking another sip of the bitter coffee. “It’s only the first week”.

“To be fair, you’re the one who assumed there was an exam”.

“Well, you said you needed all the brainpower in the universe for something and couldn’t drink coffee because of it. It’s the only logical explanation I could think of”.

Twilight let out another laugh, though this time her voice carried a tinge of shy nervousness as her violet eyes darted frantically around the room.

“Oh well, you know how I am…” she replied, blushing.

“Oh, yes. The other day, I was talking about you with Principal Cinch from Crystal Prep. She asked what I thought about the “typical overachieving student” of our school, and do you know what I said?”

Twilight raised an eyebrow expectantly, leaning forward to listen.

“I said, ‘I have no idea, but if Twilight ever has to work hard in school, that’ll be the day Equestria’s education system turns into a torture system’” Cadence replied, bursting into laughter at her own joke, which Twilight slowly realized was meant to be funny.

The younger woman joined in nervously, not wanting to leave her sister-in-law hanging. Yet, she couldn’t stop her cheeks from flushing, interpreting the joke as both a compliment and a lighthearted jab.

“Oh, Starswirl, Cinch didn’t laugh at all. Sometimes I wonder if that woman’s ever experienced a happy moment in her life.” Cadence said, still catching her breath in irregular gasps between laughs as she set her coffee cup on the tidy desk. “Sorry, Twilight, I didn’t call you here just to laugh your head off.”

“Accurate about the ‘head off’ part.” Twilight replied, adjusting in her chair and letting the redness in her cheeks fade as it dispersed through her body. “Why did you call me?”

Cadence didn’t answer immediately. Her expression softened, transforming from the broad smile she had been wearing into a thin, unreadable line—an expression Twilight recognized all too well. It was the face of Principal Cadence, head of the prestigious Canterlot High, not her sister-in-law.

“First of all, there’s something you need to know.”

A heavy feeling of unease settled in Twilight’s chest, rising and falling slightly unevenly—not enough to cause a scene, but enough for her to notice. Enough for her to realize she was worried. Why was she worried? It was just a conversation with Cadence, a routine notification from the one person in her life who seemed to understand her. The only one.

She remembered her mother’s slap, and her breathing worsened.

“This morning, I spoke with your mom. What I’m about to tell you is something I had already planned to tell you for over a week, but it’s related to her.”

And there it was—the one conversation she didn’t want to have. She wanted to go back to talking about coffee, about nonexistent exams, about the library, Trixie, anything but her mother. She didn’t want to talk about the argument. She didn’t want to remember… Remember what? The slap? The tears? Crying herself to sleep in Spike’s bed, hoping for morning? Twilight had been doing a stellar job of remembering it every single second, every single moment. What exactly was it she didn’t want to recall?

The question left a hollow pit in her heart, and she realized she had stopped breathing.

“What did she say?” Twilight asked softly, regaining the oxygen in her lungs and clasping her hands tightly together on the desk.

“Not much. Just that you two had a fight.” “We hurt each other” is how Twilight would’ve put it. “She asked me to try, once again, to…”

“Convince me to stay longer in Canterlot. I know.” Twilight interrupted, her voice tinged with irritation as she turned an angry gaze toward one of the filing cabinets in the office. She knew Cadence wasn’t to blame for her mother’s whims, but at that moment, she thought it best not to look directly at her.

The principal sighed in defeat, picking up her coffee and taking a silent sip, her eyes never leaving Twilight, while the latter did her best to avoid her gaze.

“Twi… You know I’m on your side in all of this. I helped you get that opportunity, and nothing makes me prouder than knowing my sister-in-law will study under Celestia’s tutelage.” Twilight let out another exasperated huff, rolling her eyes.

“And yet, you’re helping my mom? You must be so proud.”

“Twilight, you know I don’t really have a choice. The fact that your mom and I get along means a lot to Shining Armor, and on this particular issue, I’m already not in her good graces for helping you get that scholarship.

“So that’s it, huh? I’m a burden to your marriage with my brother now? Well, sorry for causing a rift between you and your mother-in-law over something you know I deserve!”

“Calm down, Twilight. I’m on your side.” Cadence whispered, reaching out to take Twilight’s hand and squeezing her fingers gently. “If anyone deserves this opportunity, it’s you. Nothing would ever make me regret helping the brightest person I know fulfill her true potential.”

The soft touch of Cadence’s fingertips on the back of her hand softened Twilight’s expression, allowing oxygen to flow through her nose and fill her lungs once again. She recognized that, since yesterday, she had been a bit explosive, much to the dismay of people who had nothing to do with it—like Trixie or Cadence, who hadn’t done anything wrong to her. Especially Cadence, who, as she had said, was entirely on her side.

“I’m sorry…” Twilight whispered, finally meeting her sister-in-law’s eyes, which were weighed down by an expression of anguish that pained Twilight to see.

“It’s okay, Twi… Believe me, I like this situation as little as you do. Sure, I love having you at school, but nothing would make me happier than seeing you rise and become the woman you’re meant to be—the woman you were born to be.”

A lump formed in Twilight’s throat, feeling as though a thick wire of thorns had wrapped around her neck, cutting off her breathing and forcing out her tears. Yet, despite this, the feeling was… Happy? Hopeful? She didn’t really know. But at that moment, she silently thanked Starswirl for having someone like Cadence in her life.

She opened her mouth, trying to express her gratitude, but only a choked sob emerged as her eyes filled and spilled over on both sides. She was definitely volatile, and now she realized she never knew in what way she might explode next.

“There, there, Twilight, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Cadence stood up from her seat without letting go of Twilight’s hand, leaning in to pull her into a warm, maternal embrace—an embrace Twilight seemed to need at that moment.

They stayed that way for several more minutes, interrupted only briefly by Vice Principal Rouge Mirage, who was quickly dismissed by Cadence, asking for the moment to herself and Twilight. After nearly five minutes of Twilight crying in the principal’s arms, they finally pulled apart, still holding hands.

“I’m so sorry.” Twilight finally managed to say between sobs and chuckles as she noticed the mess her tears had made of Cadence's coat. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Cadence replied with a playful smile, slipping off the coat and setting it on the table before returning to her seat and her now-cold coffee. “I’ll make your brother take it to the dry cleaners next time I see him. Might as well make himself useful.”

Twilight let out another laugh, this one louder and more distinct now that her sobs had nearly faded. 

“I’m sure that’ll make his day.” Twilight muttered, wiping the tears from her eyes, unsure if they were remnants of crying or born from laughter. 

Both laughed for a few more seconds before the room settled into a comfortable silence. Cadence finished her coffee, and Twilight composed herself, still letting out a stray chuckle here and there as she pictured Shining Armor’s frustrated face, driving across the city just to remove a tearstain from some random coat, all for the sake of keeping his fiancée happy. 

She truly appreciated that it was Cadence who was marrying him. 

“Well…” Twilight murmured; her voice now clear as she adopted a slightly more serious tone. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Right!” The principal exclaimed, finally setting her empty mug back on the filing cabinet. “I have some exciting news for you.”

“Exciting?” Twilight asked curiously. 

“Yes. After years of competing against other schools, expos, and cultural centers, this year, Canterlot High will officially host the Grand Galloping Gala!”

Twilight’s eyes widened as a lump formed in her throat, but it wasn’t the same as before. She’d known for years that Cadence had been lobbying city hall to make Canterlot High the host for the Grand Galloping Gala. But given the event’s prestige—what some might call an unattainable level—she hadn’t thought it likely. However, the sparkle in her sister-in-law’s eyes and the broad smile on her face, even as their conversation turned serious, told her all she needed to know. The most important gala of the year, the epitome of Equestria’s social scene, and the ultimate convention of global dignitaries was going to take place right here, at the school where she was currently sitting. 

Damn her mother; her plan was working. 

“Really?”

“I’ve never been happier to say something is true. Everyone will be here in Canterlot: the Wondercolts, the Pants family, Vignette Valencia, the Yak royal family…”

Cadence kept listing names, but Twilight could hardly believe what she was hearing. This was a brilliant move—a masterful move, even. The Grand Galloping Gala wasn’t just the event of the year for Canterlot or Equestria—it was the event of the year worldwide. Obscene amounts of money and influence changed hands every year thanks to this simple gathering of people. And it was all going to happen at her school, the school her mother so desperately wanted her to stay for just a little longer. 

Only a little longer. 

Before she could fully process what she’d heard, a stubborn thought took root in her mind—a powerful idea that no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t push away. It now occupied her entire focus. 

The thought that maybe—just maybe—her dream could finally come true. Could it be…? 

“And the best part, Twilight, the main reason I know this gala will be unmissable for someone like you.”

Twilight snapped out of her thoughts, startled, and looked directly at Cadence through her fogged-up glasses. She wasn’t sure when she’d started sweating or trembling, but that didn’t matter now. There was only one question she wanted to ask her sister-in-law—just one thing on her mind. 

Still, she kept her mouth shut. Somehow, she knew Cadence was about to give her the answer. 

“From Canterlot Palace, a very special guest has just confirmed her attendance—for the first time since her election.”

Twilight’s breath caught. 

“Celestia is coming to Canterlot High this December, Twi. You’re finally going to meet her.”

Chapter 8: The welcome party

It wasn’t normal for Principal Cadence to call for a school-wide assembly just two weeks into the semester. She usually waited a month or two to kick off the big announcements of the year, like the Spring Dance, the Halloween contests, or the rare trips to Camp Everfree. And yet, here they all were, the entire student body crammed into the school auditorium like sardines in a can, barely fitting together all at once.

Pinkie couldn’t contain her excitement.

“Excited, excited, excited, excited!” the bubbly, pink-haired girl chanted to herself, bouncing slightly where she stood and flailing her hands in the air. “What do you think it’ll be? Maybe a huge Fall Dance? Or a Christmas caroling contest? Or maybe the cafeteria’s going to have a permanent melted marshmallow fountain!”

Her imagination ran wild as she rattled off question after question to herself, not expecting answers from anyone—especially since she wasn’t with anyone in particular at that moment. Sure, she had come along with her class, but that didn’t mean much. After all, to Pinkie, everyone in her class was her friend. “Even if they’re more friends with each other than with me,” she thought.

Not that it bothered her much. She was Pinkie Pie, after all, the friend everyone wanted to have. She was the party girl, the fun one, the one with the best snacks and the loudest laughs. That was all she cared about—seeing her friends, all her friends, smile.

And a melted marshmallow fountain could definitely make that happen.

“Hopefully it’s that... If not, I’ll at least expect a free pizza buffet once a month as compensation. I think it’d be amazing for the school.”

“Maybe some silence would be amazing for this school,” quipped Echo, another one of Pinkie’s many friends, standing just a few people away and not even looking at her.

Pinkie’s head turned sharply, her signature ear-to-ear grin spreading across her face as she searched for her white-haired friend.

“Echo! Echo!” she yelled, raising her arm dramatically and waving it wildly. “Over here!”

Dressed in a sleeveless light blue top with a white skirt and matching jacket, Echo rolled her eyes in exasperation at Pinkie’s antics, letting out a small giggle and whispering something to the people around her.

“Laughter’s good! It’s me, Pinkie!” Pinkie shouted again, this time hopping higher to try and get Echo’s attention, much to the annoyance of the girl standing between them—someone Pinkie also considered a friend.

“You’re fine where you are, Pinkie Pie,” Echo replied with a condescending smile, waving dismissively. “I can see you from here.”

“And I can see you!” Pinkie stopped bouncing, returning to the calm demeanor she had when she first arrived at the auditorium. She turned her attention back to the stage at the front of the crowd, smiling to herself in satisfaction. “What a great girl, really,” she muttered, folding her arms as her thoughts drifted back to the pizza buffet.

Principal Cadence didn’t take long to appear before the crowd, climbing the stairs to the stage and positioning herself where everyone could see her despite the shoulder-to-shoulder crush of students. It was worth noting—Cadence was also her friend.

“Good morning, teachers, students, and school staff,” Cadence began, clearing her throat and adjusting the collar of her shirt beneath her blazer. “I’m so happy to see everyone so full of energy this morning.”

Pinkie gave a little hop in her spot, clasping her hands in front of her and irritating a mint-haired girl beside her.

“Could you stop?” snapped Lyra Heartstrings, one of Pinkie’s closest friends in her class, shoving her with her elbow and throwing her off balance.

“Sorry, sorry! It’s just that she’s about to announce the pizza buffet, and I just can’t hide my excitement!” Pinkie replied, arching her back and shrugging her shoulders in embarrassment, though her wide grin remained firmly in place as she continued bouncing slightly.

“What are you even talking about—” Lyra began before being abruptly cut off by Pinkie, who grabbed her chin with one hand, squishing her cheeks and forcing her to make a silly face as she turned her toward Principal Cadence.

“Just listen,” Pinkie said, her tone exaggeratedly mysterious.

Lyra jerked her head free, swatting Pinkie’s hand away and grumbling in frustration before shoving her farther away with her elbow. Pinkie, unfazed, simply kept her expectant gaze on the stage, her eyes wide and her smile intact.

“Today, I’m thrilled to share the most exciting announcement of the year with all of you,” Cadence said, her broad smile lighting up her face as she raised her arms.

“By Starswirl, please let it be a huge party!” Pinkie shouted, loud enough to make both Lyra and Echo glance at her uncomfortably but not loud enough to distract Cadence. “It must be a welcome party for the rainbow-haired girl!” she muttered more quietly, her eyes darting around frantically to see if she could spot the person in question.

She’d seen the girl a few times in the hallways and the cafeteria, sometimes hanging out with Applejack, other times with Fluttershy, or even both at once. The moment Pinkie first laid eyes on her—besides her strikingly awesome hair—something stood out: she didn’t know her name.

That was practically unheard of for Pinkamena Diane Pie, friend to all and everyone’s friend, the go-to person for names or the best party planning around. Granted, no one had asked her to throw a party yet, but when they did, it would definitely be the event of the decade. Not knowing someone at her school felt almost insulting to Pinkie, an affront she couldn’t ignore—unless, of course, they were new.

And if you were new at Canterlot High, surely that called for a grand welcome party. Now it was this peculiar rainbow-haired girl’s turn.

“We’re on the same wavelength, Cadence, absolutely.”

“After many attempts, Canterlot High has finally been chosen as the host of this year’s biggest event.”

“The biggest party in history…” Pinkie whispered, barely able to contain her excitement.

“The biggest event of the year!”

“Where I’ll meet the rainbow-haired girl…”

“Where you’ll meet the most important stars and celebrities in Equestria.”

“It’s my honor to announce…”

“It’s an honor for me, and everyone here, to announce that Canterlot High will be hosting the 24th Annual Grand Galloping Gala!”

“Party!” Pinkie screamed with uncontainable enthusiasm, throwing her arms up so fast she accidentally hit Lyra. She jumped in place energetically, drawing everyone’s attention in the auditorium.

She shouted a few more times with all her might, dancing and hopping with joy as the other students awkwardly formed a circle around her, backing away in every direction. From the stage, Cadence watched the tall, pink, curly-haired girl in confusion as Pinkie muttered unintelligible things between her grins and shouts. Every eye in the room was on her, and the same puzzled expression covered every face.

Noticing the audience’s mood, Cadence let out a nervous chuckle into the microphone, raising her right fist hesitantly.

“That’s the spirit, Canterlot!” she said softly, reclaiming the crowd’s attention. “Yes, indeed, Canterlot High will host the Grand Galloping Gala.”

Pinkie finally opened her eyes, halting her bounces but still shaking her fists with excitement as she whispered, over and over, "So exciting," at a speed that would leave even the trickiest tongue twisters in the dust.

“Since we’re hosting this year, the city council has granted us permission to give away one hundred tickets to some of you lucky students...” A loud buzz of whispers and questions started spreading through the auditorium as the students gradually grasped the true weight of Principal Cadence’s words.

The Grand Galloping Gala was an annual event that had been held in Canterlot for 24 years. On a cold winter night, the greatest celebrities and government figures from all over Equestria would gather to enjoy music, events, entertainment, and, above all, good company, in a designated venue. Sometimes it was the Canterlot Palace, other times the Canterlot Expo Plaza, and once, seven years ago, it was held in Starswirl’s public square, with the streets closed off, of course.

Attending the Gala meant status, influence, power, and popularity. It meant rubbing elbows with the biggest celebrities not just in Equestria but from around the world. If you wanted an autograph from A.K. Yearling, she might sign your books there. If you wanted to hear Songbird Serenade sing live, she’d probably perform a number during the ball. Want to meet someone important? At the Gala. Strike a major deal? At the Gala. Any question, dream, or aspiration could be fulfilled at the Gala.

And now, that same Gala was going to be hosted right there at Canterlot High, and one hundred students were going to attend.

The auditorium erupted into chaos, with some shouting, others running off for who knows what reason, and still more bursting with excitement over the announcement. Even the teachers were stirred, asking if they could attend or scheming ways to secure tickets for their favorite students. If Cadence hadn’t known better, she might have sworn that Professor Eclipse had leaped from his wheelchair in excitement.

“Calm down, calm down!” the principal exclaimed, raising her hands to try and restore order. “There are a few conditions you’ll need to meet to attend, so listen carefully.”

The chaos subsided significantly, though not entirely, as murmurs still floated in the air. Meanwhile, Pinkie was still celebrating the party she was envisioning in her mind, completely detached from the principal's words.

“First of all, students who wish to attend the Gala will need to register with Vice Principal Rouge to ensure only those genuinely interested get a ticket. We don’t want the tickets going to someone who doesn’t want to attend. Also, the Gala will take place here on December 3rd of this year, so we encourage all students interested in the ticket competition to consider their availability for that date. If anyone wishes to drop out at any point, they may do so, but once you leave, you can’t rejoin the competition. So again, we urge you to think carefully before withdrawing.”

Pinkie opened her eyes for the first time in what seemed like minutes, finally lowering her arms and paying attention to the front.

“After registration, the next step will involve continuous evaluation by your teachers, who will assess not only your grades but also how well you embody the values we uphold here at Canterlot High: honesty, loyalty, kindness, generosity, laughter, and forgiveness.”

“Registration, got it...” Pinkie muttered to herself, rubbing her chin thoughtfully as she processed Cadence’s words. “So, if I want to attend the welcome party for the rainbow-haired girl, I need to be honest, generous, kind, loyal, funny, and... forgiving? Forgive-ful? Forgivificate?”

“For Starswirl’s sake, Pinkie Pie, shut up already!” shouted Echo Mirage from several rows away, clenching her fists and glaring at the pink-haired girl with a furious scowl.

“Oh! Hi, Echo!” Pinkie shouted back, waving enthusiastically at the white-haired girl and resuming her bouncing. “Are you going to the party?”

“To anywhere you aren’t!” snapped Echo, rolling her eyes in exasperation, her voice dripping with disdain.

“Good... more room for me...” Pinkie muttered to herself, beginning to map out a plan in her head. “Okay, Pinkie Pie, think: how can I be all those things by the time I register?”

The girl became lost in thought, staring intently at the floor tiles and counting the cracks in each one to help herself focus, completely tuning out the principal’s speech.

“Alright... maybe if... no, that doesn’t make sense. Perhaps... no, that’s silly, Pinkie Pie, and you’re not silly.”

She rubbed her chin with one hand while scratching her voluminous hair with the other, analyzing her options. She needed to be generous, kind, loyal, honest, funny, and whatever the word for forgiveness was, but so far, she couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t a total disaster.

“Think, Pinkie, think... what would your best friend Rarity do in this situation?”

An image of the person she considered her best friend appeared vividly in her mind, almost as if a miniature version of Rarity had materialized in her field of vision, complete with her flawless purple hair and pearly white skin, framed by her striking eyes.

“Well, darling Pinkie, the answer is simple, isn’t it obvious?”

“I can’t see it—it’s really hard to see!”

“Sweetheart, it’s easy. The party is for the rainbow-haired girl, and if you want to be kind, honest, generous, and all that fine talk, you just need to make sure Rouge notices that when you sign up.”

“Be honest, generous, all that... how do I do that?”

But before the hallucination of Rarity could answer her, the solution struck Pinkie’s mind like lightning, making her jump from the sudden realization. A wide grin spread across her face as she tightened her grip on her backpack strap and turned toward the exit.

One step, then another. Cadence’s voice continued in the background, but it didn’t distract Pinkie from her mission. She now knew exactly how to secure her ticket to the exclusive rainbow-haired girl’s welcome party.

“Gotta go to the bathroom, Professor!” she yelled into the air, not really directing her words to Mr. Eclipse, who was seated several rows away and likely not paying attention to her.

Shoving past a couple of people and muttering quick “Sorry”s, Pinkie exited the auditorium to find Vice Principal Rouge’s office, determined to register before anyone else. This was going to be the best party ever, the most important, incredible party in all of Canterlot High, and there was no way Pinkie wasn’t going to be there.

She turned down a hallway, barely hearing Cadence’s powerful voice through the walls, as she reinforced her plan to get her ticket. It was a party for the rainbow-haired girl, after all. If Pinkie wanted to prove she embodied Canterlot High’s values, the first and most logical step would be to show her generosity by taking the time to register her and her two friends.

Yes, Rarity would be proud of her and her relentless mind. Maybe, if she had time, she’d also register Rarity.

“Oh, come on, of course I’m going to register Rarity,” she said aloud to herself, stopping in front of the bright fuchsia door marked: Vice Principal. Rouge Mirage. Taking a confident breath, smiling broadly, she knocked on the door.

Chapter 9: No filter

“Holy mares.”

“I hope it’s not too hard.”

“This is incredible! The Grand Galloping Gala, right here in this dirty cafeteria!”

“I wouldn’t call it dirty... Not entirely, at least.”

“Good academic performance, and I spend more time sleeping than paying attention.”

“The Wondercolts are surely going to be there! I’ll get to meet Spitfire in person!”

“First, we need to register.”

Fluttershy took a quiet bite of her sandwich, chewing silently on the lettuce leaf she had torn from the edge with her teeth. Meanwhile, as usual, Applejack had her head buried in her arms, resting on the table’s surface, with her hat covering her long braided hair. The difference today was that instead of her usual nap, she was wallowing in her sorrows, the result of Principal Cadence’s announcement earlier that day.

“The line’s too long. All of Canterlot High and their grandmas are outside the vice principal’s office, waiting for their precious registration. There’s no rush right now.”

“I still think it might be a good idea, I guess…”

“I always support you, AJ, but this time I’m siding with Fluttershy. The idea of missing out makes me nervous too,” Rainbow concluded, tapping the table with her fingertips and bouncing her foot under it unconsciously.

“Missing out on what?” Applejack asked, emerging from her hideout. “Principal Cadence was clear as crystal: we have until the Gala to register, and lining up now like cattle at the slaughterhouse with the rest of Canterlot’s herd won’t help anything.”

“We could start earning points,” Fluttershy suggested, discreetly tucking a piece of lettuce into her backpack. “I don’t know how the system works, but I think registering early might help.”

Rainbow nodded vigorously at Fluttershy’s words, turning to Applejack with a wide grin that stretched from ear to ear, finally calming her jittery legs under the table. Applejack simply let out a loud huff, dropping her head back onto her arms in frustration.

“You two go ahead; I’ll catch up with you in class.”

“Oh no, not this time!” Rainbow reached out, snatching Applejack’s hat and placing it on her own head. “The last time we left you alone here, you missed an entire class.”

The blonde lifted her face, a frustrated grimace twisting her lips into a deep frown as she glared at the rainbow-haired girl with swollen, red eyes, a clear sign of her exhaustion. She looked awful, even worse than the week before, but somehow she was still there, awake and in front of them.

“Give that back,” she tried to demand angrily, but what came out of her throat was a weak whimper that only underscored her fatigue.

“Starswirl, it’s like you don’t even want it,” Rainbow teased, adjusting the hat on her head before turning to Fluttershy with a sly grin. “How do I look? Horses and mules, do you think I could move to Ponyville now?” she asked in an exaggerated fake accent, while Fluttershy shook her head vehemently, a look of terror crossing her face.

“All right, Dash, I get it,” Applejack responded, unconsciously toning down her accent as she extended one of her massive arms to snatch the hat off Rainbow’s head and put it back on her own. “Okay, what class do I have next? Do either of you know?”

“Oh, just a second.” Fluttershy carefully rummaged through her backpack until she pulled out a small notebook adorned with a beautiful hummingbird design. She opened it, flipping through the pages until she found what she was looking for. “You have chemistry with Professor Fauna.”

“Thanks, Fluttershy,” the blonde muttered tiredly, resting her head back on her arms.

“Don’t mention it. I wish I had classes with Professor Fauna. She was always so nice to me in ninth grade and never made me talk during her lessons.”

“Not once?” Rainbow asked, nearly choking on the piece of energy bar she was chewing.

“Not once,” Fluttershy replied smugly—or at least what she thought was smug—before slowly raising her eyebrows and letting her face melt into a sad frown. “I suppose I’ll have to talk more to earn a ticket, though... you know, to show a good sense of humor.”

“Did she mean humor as in humor-humor? I took it more like conduct or something,” Rainbow responded, confusion in her voice.

“Or your attitude toward others,” Applejack added in a muffled tone, still buried in her arms.

Unable to stay focused on the same topic for too long, Rainbow quickly grabbed Applejack’s hat again, prompting the blonde to lift her head much faster this time, annoyed.

“Let’s go register, AJ! The longer we wait, the longer the line will get!”

“No, Rainbow Dash!” she exclaimed furiously, snatching the hat back much faster and more deftly than her haggard state should have allowed. “Quite the opposite. Tomorrow, there’ll probably be only three people in line!”

“Oh, Starswirl…”

“Uh-huh, didn’t know they could time-travel in Ponyville,” Rainbow quipped, taking a couple of steps back with a falsely confident smirk. “Go on, cowgirl, keep it up,” she thought to herself.

“What? What the hay are you talking about?” Applejack asked, her tone a mix of frustrated disbelief.

“So sure about what’ll happen tomorrow. What if it turns out to be a lie? Can you imagine, Fluttershy? Honestous Applejack telling lies?” Rainbow took two more steps back, goading the blonde into standing up to follow her.

“Are you as dumb as a mule? ‘Honestous’ isn’t even a word,” Applejack shot back, stepping right in front of Rainbow before she could retreat further.

“If I’m as dumb as a mule, imagine what that says about you.” Two more steps back.

Applejack let out a loud laugh, momentarily forgetting her exhaustion as she advanced toward Rainbow again, stopping right in front of her with an even deeper look of incredulity.

“Rainbow Dash, smarter than me! Now I’ve heard it all.”

“You have no proof otherwise,” Rainbow said, abandoning subtlety as she strolled across the cafeteria with Applejack following close behind, and Fluttershy trailing not far behind them.

“All through algebra, I’m asleep, and I still do better than you. Is that proof enough?”

“Better when you turn in your homework, which is... what, once every ten, twenty school days?”

“Done last minute on the bus, and still better than yours.”

“Better? We can ask Miss Harshwinny if you want. Oh no, better not, you’d just fall asleep.”

“Asleep is how I’m gonna leave your face, Rainbow.”

“Please, Miss Apple, no need to resort to violence,” Rainbow replied, halting her steps and raising her hands in mock surrender at the sight of the giant blonde before her, though the mischievous grin never left her face. “At least don’t ruin this amazing face before I get a chance to register for the Gala.”

With those words, Rainbow finally changed her expression to one of triumph as she gestured grandly to the scene before them: the enormous line outside Vice Principal Rouge’s office, filled with hundreds of faces chatting, listening to music, or doing homework as they waited.

“Ta-da!” Rainbow sang out, joining the line with a smug attitude, brushing imaginary dust off her jacket. “I’m awesome.”

It took Applejack’s vision a couple of seconds to adjust and relay to her brain what was happening. Once her pupils focused and registered the scene, she let out a deep, guttural groan that perfectly matched her rugged demeanor. She trudged over to a row of hideous green lockers and slammed her head against them with a loud thud. Behind her, barely visible behind her broad frame, Fluttershy smiled innocently, gently patting her back.

“Admit it, A.J., I herded you like a bull.” Rainbow commented haughtily, averting her gaze from her companions to survey the surroundings. She already knew the hallway well after a week of classes. The vice principal’s office wasn’t far from the cafeteria—in fact, technically, it was in the same corridor if you took the northern hall. Normally, walking from one to the other would take only seconds, but of course, this was no normal occasion.

“I hate you.”

“Oh, come on, it was fun!” Rainbow defended herself, flashing a grin at the blonde.

“And the best part is, now all three of us are here to sign up.” Fluttershy added softly, her pats on Applejack’s back never ceasing. “Can you imagine all three of us going to the Gala?”

“It’d be amazing! Applejack arriving on the most majestic horse, wielding a flaming lance and carrying an apple tree on her arm; you, being carried gracefully by an eagle and a hawk while they sing some mystical animal song; and me, riding in on a flaming motorcycle faster than the speed of sound!”

“I’m fine with the ‘flaming motorcycle’ part, but I don’t see why I’d be holding a flaming lance…” Applejack muttered, swallowing hard and licking her chapped lips. “Actually, what’s with you and setting everything on fire?”

“It’d be awesome! Add an explosion, too!”

“I doubt an eagle and a hawk would be comfortable with the sound of an explosion… though it would be impressive to see you arrive amid them.”

“Now you’re getting it, Fluttershy! Just like back in Cloudsdale!”

“For the love of Starswirl, just kiss already.”

“What? Jealous, Ponyville cowgirl?”

“I’d give all the apples in the world to rip out your vocal cords, Rainbow Dash, I swear on Starswirl.”

Rainbow let out a chuckle, which quickly escalated into wild laughter, drawing the attention of a few students patiently waiting in line. A few moments later, Applejack joined in, her laugh quieter and subdued by her physical exhaustion. Fluttershy, on the other hand, froze, panic swelling in her chest as she felt every eye turning toward them.

Her heart pounded violently, her breath hitched, and the lights around her flickered in an intimidating, seemingly deliberate pattern. The walls began to close in again, and though she briefly considered running, it was too late—the stares were already on her.

But behind the buzzing in her ears and the pounding in her head, Fluttershy heard a faint sound—so soft and distant yet steady and inviting that it captured her attention. The sound gradually grew into a regular hum, and the hum into a resonant, bright bell: Applejack’s voice.

She didn’t know when she had begun to laugh with them, but sharing in their laughter, her hand still patting Applejack’s sturdy back, made her feel it was okay. That she was okay.

She laughed quietly, her voice drowned out by Applejack’s and Rainbow’s, yet still present, still there.

Maybe she didn’t hate people after all.

Their laughter lingered for a few more seconds. Applejack rested her arm over Fluttershy’s shoulders, and Rainbow leaned against a locker to steady herself. When Rainbow finally opened her eyes, she noticed no one was looking at them anymore.

“Hopefully, despite everything, we can at least win one ticket to the Gala.” Applejack said in a breathy voice, still winded from laughing, though visibly more tired than amused.

“Of course we’ll get tickets! We’re awesome! Well, I’m awesome.” Rainbow replied, turning to her companions, equally winded.

“But let’s be honest, Rainbow. None of us really know what Principal Cadence’s instructions meant, and it’s not like we’re model students.”

“Fluttershy is. She’s every teacher’s dream: quiet and top of her class.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that…” Fluttershy began, only to be interrupted.

“Yeah, but Fluttershy’s just one person. The point is, all three of us getting tickets.”

“I’d love for all three of us to go.” Fluttershy concluded quietly, adjusting her backpack on her shoulders.

“We’ll figure it out, A.J. If you can pass Algebra even though you’re always late and constantly asleep, we can get those tickets.”

“By Starswirl, I hope you’re right, Rainbow.”

“Oh, come on! When have I ever been wrong?” Rainbow asked, mock-indignant.

The three burst into laughter again, this time less intensely. Applejack gave Rainbow a light punch on the shoulder, which she didn’t retaliate against. Instead, Rainbow simply turned away and continued laughing.

Amid the hearty laughter, Fluttershy noticed something peculiar: unlike before, no one was paying attention to them anymore. In fact, it had been a while since anyone had cast a glance at the towering, muscular blonde or the colorful, conspicuous girl with rainbow hair. This was unusual for the trio; there were always a few eyes on at least one of them.

Down the hall, near Vice Principal Rouge’s office, a cluster of students was forming, blocking part of the doorway and obscuring whoever was near it. A chill ran down Fluttershy’s spine, and suddenly, it didn’t feel like such a good moment to laugh anymore.

Fluttershy tapped Applejack’s shoulder lightly, drawing her attention. The blonde turned slowly, a smile still lingering on her scarred and worn face, her swollen eyes meeting Fluttershy’s.

“What’s going on over there?” Fluttershy asked quietly, discreetly pointing down the hallway.

Disregarding her companion’s subtlety, Applejack and Rainbow turned fully to face the commotion at the end of the hall, squinting to discern any figures amidst the growing crowd of students. With an exasperated huff, Rainbow stepped out of line and began approaching the source of the chaos.

The wall of students blocking Rainbow’s view framed the scene perfectly for Applejack, who could see and hear the person at the center of it all. Nervously swallowing, Applejack erased any trace of her earlier laughter from her face, her expression hardening with worry and discontent.

“Rainbow…” Applejack began, stepping toward the rainbow-haired girl to grab her by the arm. “We should stay out of this.”

But now the scene was crystal clear to Rainbow, who had moved far enough from the line to see what was happening at Vice Principal Rouge’s door.

“Well, well, Twi-Twi! Signing up for the Grand Galloping Gala?” mocked a girl with white hair and gray eyes, wearing a smug, intoxicating grin. “Hate to break it to you, but to go to the Gala, you actually have to attend classes. And I don’t think it’s very fair if your sister-in-law gives you a free ticket…”

“I know her,” Rainbow thought to herself, ignoring Applejack’s hand and inching closer to the scene. “She’s the Algebra whiz.”

“I’m back in classes now, Echo.” Twilight responded, nervously adjusting her glasses and forcing a small smile.

“How tragic!” Echo exclaimed, feigning horror so blatantly that just watching her set Rainbow’s blood boiling, though she didn’t quite know why. “Now it’ll look legal when they give you a ticket!”

The opposing girl didn’t respond, remaining silent instead, her gaze fixed on the floor in shame as her fingers fidgeted nervously with her neat and pressed skirt. Meanwhile, Echo’s smile only grew wider as the laughter around them intensified. Several boys and girls mocked the scene, some shouting things like “Cheater!” or “Liar!”—and even a loud “Stupid idiot!” rose from the crowd.

“She’s smart… she’s not stupid,” Rainbow thought, taking another step forward. But before she could go any further, a strong grip on her hand yanked her back. She spun around aggressively, only to find Fluttershy clutching her arm, pulling her away with a terrified expression, shaking her head frantically. Rainbow studied her friend curiously for a few moments before turning her attention back to the scene ahead.

“I’m sorry...” the bespectacled girl whispered, clutching the straps of her backpack tightly as she took a hesitant step forward, then another, and another. But before she could take a fourth, she fell face-first to the ground in a swift, hard-to-follow motion, tripping over Echo’s outstretched foot. The painful thud that followed was soon drowned out by a wave of laughter and louder insults.

Rainbow instinctively struggled against Fluttershy’s grip, feeling her blood begin to boil. Her jaw tightened as she clenched her teeth.

“Twilight, dear, you need to be more careful,” Echo exclaimed mockingly, circling the other girl, who was now fumbling on the floor for her glasses. They had flown off upon her fall. “We wouldn’t want you bothering anyone, now, would we?”

For a split second, Rainbow thought she saw a flicker of pure malice in Echo’s eyes as the white-haired girl continued her taunting loop around Twilight. She finally stopped just a step away from where the glasses lay.

“Right, Twi-Twi?” Echo teased, lifting her foot quickly and stomping down on the glasses. The sound of the crunch echoed through the hallway, momentarily silencing the laughter and insults. Beneath her shoe lay what were once lovely purple, anti-glare glasses, now nothing but a shattered mess of glass and metal.

Without thinking, Rainbow shook off Fluttershy’s hand violently and stormed toward Echo, her face contorted with fury. “Not a chance, you witch,” she thought, imagining how enraged she’d be if someone treated her mother’s glasses that way.

“Oh, sorry about that, Twi-Twi. There, you apologized, and now I’ve apologized too. We’re even.”

“You’re going to pay for that!” Rainbow shouted, stepping boldly into the circle of students, pushing aside a couple of people larger than her.

The clamor and laughter quickly faded into an awkward yet expectant silence as all eyes turned to the petite, rainbow-haired girl now walking deliberately toward the center of the group. Murmurs, snickers, and complaints rippled through the crowd, giving way to her slow advance.

On the ground, still fumbling, Twilight froze in place, her muscles tensing as her cloudy eyes widened. Her breath quickened as she spotted the remnants of her glasses beneath Echo’s foot. But her real focus was on Rainbow—and the mistake she was about to make. “Stupid, stupid!” Twilight scolded herself, swallowing nervously. “Just leave!”

Subtly, Echo shifted her weight onto the foot crushing the glasses, making the broken lenses crunch again under her sole, all while maintaining her mesmerizing smile.

“Excuse me?” the white-haired girl asked innocently, raising her eyebrows in amused curiosity.

Rainbow took another step before feeling yet another hand grab her arm—this time, a rough, strong hand with firm fingers: Applejack. But whether it was from adrenaline or sheer determination, Rainbow broke free of the grip with a single shrug.

“You’re going to pay for that,” Rainbow repeated, her gaze locked onto Echo, her fist clenching tightly.

Echo smirked maliciously, shifting her weight onto her other foot, finally lifting it to reveal the mess of what once were glasses on the floor.

“I know you… You’re that rainbow-haired girl everyone’s been talking about.”

“You’re going to pay for that,” Rainbow repeated again, now standing just a couple of steps from Echo, her head tilted upward to meet her eyes.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but wow...” Echo continued nonchalantly, her infuriating smile still plastered on her face as she crossed her arms casually. “You’re hard to find.”

The onlookers chuckled quietly, watching as Echo’s gaze swept over Rainbow again and again, emphasizing the obvious height difference between them. Rainbow was undeniably small, barely reaching 152 centimeters tall. But none of that mattered to her now; nothing about herself mattered at that moment. The only thought looping endlessly in her mind was:

“You’re going to pay for that.”

Echo’s smile faltered slightly, and her brows knitted together in a subtle frown.

“Is that all you can say?” she asked, eliciting another round of laughter from the spectators. “Must be hard for the giant and the animal-lover to hold conversations with you.”

More snickers rippled through the crowd, but they were abruptly silenced by Rainbow’s sudden movements. In a burst of rage and energy, she grabbed Echo by the collar and shoved her against the lockers behind her, producing a loud metallic bang.

Echo looked around, dazed, as if trying to process what had just happened. The students quickly backed away in fear and confusion. Applejack and Fluttershy stood frozen in place, the latter’s face painted with terror at what had just transpired—and at what Rainbow had just gotten herself into.

“I told you, you’re going to pay for those damn glasses, you fucking giraffe.”

Another wave of murmurs swept through the hallway, now devoid of any laughter or mockery, replaced instead with worry—worry for Echo and for what might happen to Rainbow.

“What did you say?”

“Are you deaf too? You’re going to pay for that!”

Echo’s face twisted in frustration and anger, her enchanting smile vanishing completely. Her steely gray eyes filled with fury as her fists clenched.

“You’re going to regret that, Rainbow Dash.”

The rainbow-haired girl opened her mouth to respond, but a sudden third grip on her arm distracted her. She turned to see Twilight desperately trying to pry her off Echo, her cloudy eyes wide and panicked. Behind her, Applejack, looking utterly shocked, approached to help restrain Rainbow.

“Stop it already! I have another pair—please!” Twilight pleaded, her foggy gaze locking onto Rainbow’s furious eyes, her breathing frantic. “Please…”

Applejack grabbed Rainbow’s other shoulder—the one Twilight wasn’t holding—and with one strong motion pulled her away from Echo, throwing the smaller girl off balance.

“That’s enough, Dash,” Applejack said heavily, letting Rainbow stumble back into Fluttershy’s arms. The pink-haired girl caught her delicately, her face still painted with fear. “Echo.”

“Applejack, my favorite farm girl,” Echo replied, her sinister smile returning but with no effort to hide her annoyance. She brushed off her shirt, smoothing it with her hands. “Can you keep your rabid dog in check? We wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt.”

Rainbow struggled violently in Fluttershy’s grasp, but before she could do anything, a muffled sound came from the nearby door to the Vice principal’s office. The pink wooden door creaked open slowly, revealing a figure standing behind it.

Vice Principal Rouge was a tall woman with a stern demeanor and ghostly gray eyes, almost white. Her head was crowned with a beautiful mane of long, white hair tied in a half-up style that cascaded over her shoulders like a silver waterfall. She wore a luxurious yet simple dark blue suit and high heels that added to her already imposing presence. The startled crowd shifted their gazes back and forth between Rouge and Rainbow.

Rouge adjusted her glasses with a light tap, turning her piercing gaze toward the girls in the middle of the hallway.

"What's all that commotion about?" asked the Vice Principal quietly, her tone of voice unchanging.

A few murmurs rippled through the crowd of students, who stepped back as the Vice Principal approached the scene, her hands clasped behind her back. Meanwhile, Fluttershy swallowed nervously, cautiously letting go of Rainbow while avoiding eye contact with Rouge, Echo, or Rainbow. She shrugged and took a step back.

However, she stopped short when Echo moved forward, positioning herself between the three girls and the Vice Principal.

"Oh, nothing, Vice Principal Mirage," Echo replied, turning her lofty gaze to Rainbow, the smile still fixed on her face. "Rainbow Dash tripped into me and accidentally pushed me against the locker. It was just an accident."

The rainbow-haired girl let out a loud snort, like a bull, shifting her gaze from Echo to the broken glasses with little discretion. This earned her a discreet pinch from Applejack, who, in that moment, appeared neither worn nor sleep-deprived. On the contrary, she seemed more alive—and more concerned—than ever.

"After all," Echo continued, turning back to Rainbow with a smile that revealed her pristine, perfect teeth, "we don’t tolerate loudmouths here at Canterlot, do we?"

Rouge scanned the albino girl from head to toe, her scrutinizing pause only serving to unsettle everyone else. At one point, Rainbow could swear Rouge’s gaze lingered on the shattered remains of Twilight’s glasses, but just as quickly as she noticed, Rouge shifted her attention back to the scene in front of her. Swallowing hard, Rainbow repressed the words choking in her throat.

"Of course not, Echo," concluded the Vice Principal, letting out an audible huff as she rolled her eyes before focusing on Fluttershy, Applejack, and Rainbow. "Are you three here for the gala?"

"They were just passing by, that’s all," Echo interjected before any of the others could even open their mouths.

Rouge didn’t respond; she simply nodded silently before turning back toward her office, leaving behind the ghost of her imposing presence where she had stood.

As the Vice Principal’s silhouette disappeared from view, Rainbow turned her glare to the albino girl, furrowing her brows and clenching her fists once more, filling her lungs with air to keep speaking.

"We should leave," Fluttershy managed to murmur, interrupting her companion, who was more than ready to resume her conflict with Echo. "Now."

"Let’s go," Applejack added, her face aging and darkening again under the heavy burden of exhaustion. She took Rainbow by the arm and began to walk.

The rainbow-haired girl momentarily glanced at the blonde before fixing her eyes on Echo, who smirked maliciously behind the growing crowd forming around her. She stared directly at Rainbow without blinking. “You’ll pay for that” Rainbow thought again, unconsciously putting up slight resistance to Applejack’s grip, planting her feet firmly in place.

However, it didn’t take long before someone else grabbed her other arm, pulling her away.

"Let’s go," Twilight said, forcing Rainbow to turn around and walk.

Nearly around the hallway corner, Rainbow glanced back toward the line near Rouge Mirage’s office door. Although Echo wasn’t looking directly at her anymore, that cursed smile still lingered on her face.

"Are you crazy?" Twilight yelled once they were out of sight from any students nearby.

"That was absolutely terrifying."

"Did you lose a few screws? Or your entire toolbox?"

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Rainbow asked, exasperated, as Applejack finally let go of her arm, leaning against a locker with her shoulders raised and arms crossed.

"It means you’re out of your god damn mind for what you just did!" Twilight exclaimed, clenching her fists in frustration and avoiding direct eye contact with Rainbow.

"Wait a second, four-eyes. Two things: Don’t you dare yell at me, okay? And two: Uh, you’re welcome?"

"Oh, that’s rich, legged Rainbow. ‘You’re welcome,’" Twilight shot back, letting out an ironic laugh, her frustration unmistakable.

"Sorry, Rainbow, but that was a very, very bad idea," Fluttershy added quietly, unconsciously averting her gaze in fear.

"A bad idea? A bad idea is leaving the corral gate open at night! This was a terrible idea!"

"A terrible idea to call her out for stepping on a pair of glasses? Do you realize how irrational you all sound right now?"

"You called Echo Mirage a ‘fucking giraffe!’"

Almost instantly, Rainbow’s eyes widened, her jaw slightly ajar.

"Mirage? Like the Vice Principal?"

"By Starswirl, she’s finally getting it!" Twilight exclaimed in frustration, running her hands through her hair anxiously, closing her eyes tightly.

Rainbow looked at Applejack and then at Fluttershy, who kept hiding behind her pink, straight hair while clutching her backpack straps tightly. Rainbow thought she might be hurting her own hands.

"No," Applejack concluded firmly, studying Rainbow closely and stepping toward her. "She doesn’t get it. Not entirely."

"Fine! She’s the Vice Principal’s daughter. We shouldn’t mess with her," Rainbow replied, glancing away resentfully.

"You’re right. She doesn’t fully understand yet," Twilight said, also stepping closer, adjusting her nonexistent glasses before realizing they weren’t on her nose. "You don’t really know Echo Mirage."

A grave silence fell over the four of them as they exchanged looks with Rainbow, their faces shadowed with sadness—and what seemed to be—determination.

Applejack stepped forward, extending her hand toward Rainbow. Rainbow stared at the gesture for a long moment, frozen, her eyes darting between Applejack’s hand and her weary, sorrowful face.

"Where does she usually hang out?" Twilight asked softly.

"The workshop on the second floor. She practically has it to herself," Fluttershy replied, finally letting go of her backpack and offering her hand to Rainbow as well, though more hesitantly than Applejack.

"What are we talking about?" Rainbow asked cautiously, stretching her hand toward Applejack’s, her movements filled with both curiosity and fear.

"There’s someone, from our grade, who can explain why you should never mess with Echo," Applejack began before heading toward the nearest stairs. "We’re going to talk to her."

Chapter 10: The story of my life

Twice, a cross, again, in, out, in, out. Thread, needle, thread, needle. Purple fabric over yellow fabric, a touch of white lace, and pink details. Tightened at the back to ensure it wouldn't slip, and vibrant at the legs to make her look taller.

Slowly and methodically, Rarity picked up the silver scissors and began cutting the stitches near the dress's skirt, shaking her head and biting her lip slightly. “Golden thread on a black background. You're better than this...” she thought to herself, snapping the scissors shut with a satisfying metallic sound that instantly released the tension from the dress's fabric.

She used her free hand to adjust her glasses and push back the dark violet strands of hair that had fallen from her long, beautiful mane and into her face, obstructing a fraction of her vision—a fraction she urgently needed.

She cut again, and once more, until she could pull at the delicate golden thread with her nails. She adored long, painted nails, but she rarely let them grow much past her fingertips, as it would hinder her movements and impact her performance at work.

And her work was everything to her.

She suddenly stood from her chair, leaving the unfinished dress on the table, and turned to look for something. She was in one of the school's workshops, specifically the one on the second floor of the building, which had been designated a year ago as the sewing room. This workshop, however, was frequently used only by her.

The room consisted of the same pastel beige walls as the rest of the school, with two large windows on the side casting a grid-like shadow on the green-tiled floor. Inside, there were nearly twelve double desks, designed to seat about twenty-four students, yet all of them (chairs included) were now crammed with clothing pieces, fabric rolls, ribbons, patterns, lace, and other sewing materials and tools she might need.

At the back, where there would normally be a chalkboard to teach lessons, hung a large corkboard precariously nailed to the wall. It displayed sketches, drawings, and computer designs of various dresses and garments. Front and center stood a striking design: a long dress for a young girl in purple and yellow, covered in annotations and doodles. One bold note stood out above the rest: "Canterlot Day Presentation. Sweetie Belle. 14.09.24."

Rarity grabbed a spool of silver thread and returned to her seat. With practiced precision, she threaded the needle on her first try, guided more by instinct than effort.

Adjusting her glasses on her nose, she pressed the needle's tip against the dress when three loud knocks echoed at the door.

She lifted her gaze, her expression indifferent, the sharp needle still poised against the fabric, waiting without moving a muscle. “Pinkie Pie, for the last time, no, I’m not putting confetti on a dress for Canterlot Day,” she thought, narrowing her eyes over the rim of her glasses.

Several seconds passed. Neither she moved nor the knocking returned, leaving only an uneasy silence in the room, broken faintly by the hiss of her own breathing.

Rarity rolled her eyes with exasperation and refocused on the dress, pushing the needle through the fabric a few times before the knocking broke her trance again.

“It’s open, Pinkie!” she called out, not looking up from her work, exhaling sharply through her nose.

Pinkie usually didn’t knock before entering. She would kick, shove, or leap through the door, shouting, hugging Rarity at breakneck speed, and rambling about whatever came to her mind. It might be about the new students that semester and her plans to throw them a surprise party, her latest mishaps with Mrs. Cake and spoiled pastries, her baking experiments, or even her failed attempt at being a painter.

Once, she had brought a dreadful portrait of Rarity herself, which, admittedly, had made her laugh—it was bad enough even Pinkie couldn’t call it good.

That was one of the good days, those when she wasn’t alone.

But it wasn’t the energetic girl with fluffy pink hair who entered the room. Instead, standing behind the poorly painted wooden door were four girls, as different as they were eccentric, all watching Rarity intently.

“Can I help you?” she asked quickly, setting the dress on the table. Her heart began to race, realizing these were the first people—besides teachers or Pinkie Pie—she had spoken to in over a year.

Echo’s words began replaying in her head like a broken record. She swallowed nervously.

“You’re Rarity, right?” asked the one at the front of the group—a blonde girl with green eyes and a freckled face. She wore a coarse cowboy hat and a terribly rustic white and green shirt. Instinctively, Rarity grimaced at her attire.

“That would be me, darling,” she replied, letting her gaze flit over the blonde. “Can I help you?” she repeated, forcing herself to look away from the cowgirl and focus on the rest of the group.

“Perfect!” exclaimed another of the girls, this one with tan skin, long purple hair streaked with pink, and glasses. “We came here to talk to you.”

Rarity frowned slightly, Echo’s words clear as water in her mind: “You won’t talk to anyone or make friends, understood, Flanks?” A heavy ache filled her chest as her hands brushed over the texture of the dress, a phantom sensation.

“Fine, but make it quick—I have work to do,” she said curtly, her gaze darkening as she returned her focus to the dress.

The four girls stepped fully into the room, allowing the light to illuminate them so Rarity could study each one carefully with her blue eyes. The third girl was tall and pale, her pastel pink hair falling in beautiful waves to frame a gentle face with mesmerizing green eyes. Rarity couldn’t help but acknowledge how stunningly beautiful she was.

Yet it wasn’t her who caught Rarity’s attention. No, it was the fourth figure: a petite girl barely over five feet tall, her face sun-kissed and her piercing magenta eyes daring anyone to approach her. But what truly captivated Rarity was atop that otherwise unremarkable figure—a vibrant, messy mane of short, rainbow-colored hair.

Fearlessly bright, unapologetically bold, it shimmered like a beacon, drawing all of Rarity’s attention.

Before she realized it, she had stood and moved closer to the girl, reaching out a hand to touch her colorful locks.

“Rarity Flanks,” the cowgirl interrupted, stepping forward slightly to place herself between Rarity and her target. “Name’s Applejack. That’s Fluttershy, that’s Twilight, and the grumpy kid over here is Rainbow.” She gestured toward the rainbow-haired girl.

“Rainbow, huh? I should’ve guessed,” Rarity thought, snapping back to reality. A faint blush rose to her cheeks.

“A pleasure.”

“Rainbow, sweetheart,” Applejack said, addressing the rainbow-haired girl, “Mind telling Rarity what happened in the hallway?”

Rainbow let out a loud sigh, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms.

“And what exactly are we doing here?” Rainbow retorted, ignoring the question.

“Do what I say, and you’ll get your answer.”

Another loud huff. This time, Rainbow shifted her gaze to Rarity, scrutinizing her for a few seconds before speaking.

“Some old hag broke four-eyes’ glasses,” she said, motioning to Twilight, “and maybe, just maybe, I reacted a little aggressively.”

“She slammed her against the lockers,” Applejack added.

“Rainbow, care to mention who this ‘old hag’ was?” Twilight asked, making air quotes as she stepped closer to Rarity.

Like a broken record, Rainbow let out another sigh, her right eye twitching nervously, her mouth twisting dramatically as she clenched her jaw. In a way, Rarity began to suspect who it was, and though her stomach churned momentarily, she couldn't help but smile.

"Rainbow…" Applejack insisted, stepping forward.

Rainbow muttered incoherently, avoiding everyone’s gaze, her words unintelligible.

"Excuse me?" Rarity asked, squinting as she stepped closer to Rainbow.

"Echo Mirage," Rainbow replied in a high-pitched, childish tone, finally looking back at Applejack, who simply nodded heavily, her eyes widening.

Her suspicions were confirmed. Even though she had just heard it, it still seemed impressive—almost unbelievable. A five-foot-tall sprite with rainbow-colored hair, confronting Echo Mirage in the hallway, slamming her against the lockers for everyone to see. A fiery sensation ignited in her stomach, but her lungs begged her to laugh—to laugh at the absurdity and at the satisfaction.

A muffled giggle escaped Rarity's lips as she covered her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes and letting a tear slide down her cheek.

"Oh, darling, my sincerest apologies," Rarity began, her words interrupted by the occasional hiccup of laughter. "You’ll have to forgive me—I love when things like this happen… Not that you confronted Echo, certainly not!" she exclaimed, still laughing, her hands raised defensively. "But I do admit, I love when someone puts Echo in her place now and then."

Rainbow broke into a wide, toothy grin, placing her hands on her hips and smugly glancing at Applejack.

"See, farm girl? She totally had it coming!"

"Rarity, do you think what Rainbow did was a good idea?" Applejack countered, stepping toward her and ignoring Rainbow's comment.

"Oh, not at all," Rarity replied, her laughter subsiding. "No one in their right mind would recommend what you just did, dear."

Applejack shrugged, satisfied with her response, while Rainbow's smug expression transformed into one of incredulous indignation, her mouth agape.

"I mean, darling, I love the thought of putting Echo in her place, but knowing what she's done—to others and to me—I truly wouldn’t recommend crossing her."

"Oh yes, I forgot to mention Rainbow is new to the school, didn’t I?" Twilight added, her tone bored, gesturing toward the rainbow-haired girl.

Rarity's remaining laughter vanished instantly, replaced by a look of pity and condescension. She forced a wide, fake smile.

"Oh… Well, that explains a bit..."

"Still, who does something like that in their second week of school?" Twilight asked, a note of disbelief breaking through her indifference.

"She stepped on your glasses!" Rainbow exclaimed, turning toward the brunette, grabbing her shoulders, and shaking her slightly.

"And that's not the worst thing she's done," Applejack chimed in, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You have to understand, you're on her radar now, and if we don't do something soon to prevent the fallout, things are going to get a lot worse for you."

"That wouldn’t be good…" Fluttershy murmured softly, not meeting anyone’s gaze.

"Whatever…" Rainbow said dismissively, clearing a spot on one of the fabric-covered tables before hopping onto it. "What’s done is done. If that giraffe lays a finger on me, I’ll make sure it’s the last time she uses them."

"Not to you…" Rarity said somberly, drawing the four girls’ gazes back to her. She felt the phantom weight of the dress in her hands again. With a swift motion, she removed her glasses and placed them in a beautiful purple case on her worktable, avoiding their eyes as she clenched her jaw in frustration. Echo's words replayed in her mind, along with the vivid image of Sweetie Belle’s damaged, defiled transcript.

She swallowed nervously.

A tense silence filled the room. The four guests awkwardly shifted their gazes between Rarity and various details of the room, Applejack leaning against a wall, Fluttershy sitting on the floor, and Twilight standing stiffly like a statue. Rainbow opened her mouth a couple of times, trying to say something, but the words stuck in her throat each time.

The awkward silence was soon shattered by a high-pitched, excited gasp—a sound Rarity knew all too well.

"New friends?! Rars, you didn’t tell me we made new friends!" Pinkie Pie exclaimed from the doorway, bounding into the room with clenched fists pumping the air. The four girls turned to the newcomer, visibly confused, and, in Fluttershy’s case, slightly intimidated by the sudden burst of energy.

Pinkie hugged Rarity tightly, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the others, bouncing with excitement. Rarity simply looked down in mild frustration, crossing her arms and grimacing.

"Oh! I know you all!" Pinkie exclaimed, pointing at the four girls. "You're Applejack, Fluttershy, Twilight, and…!" Her finger flitted from one person to another before stopping on Rainbow. Her face twisted into a wide, toothy grin, and her bouncing intensified.

"You know her?" Rainbow asked, visibly confused.

"By name," Twilight replied, her tone still indifferent. "Pinkie Pie, the ‘friend to everyone.’"

"It’s you!" Pinkie squealed, taking a giant, energetic stride to stand in front of Rainbow, uncomfortably close, their noses nearly touching.

Startled, Rainbow gave a slight jolt, her eyes wide as a shiver ran up her spine.

"Uh… I…" she stammered nervously, leaning back slightly.

"The rainbow-haired girl! The center of the exclusive welcome party!"

"Party?" Rainbow asked, still confused, pushing Pinkie back by the forehead.

"Yes! The exclusive event Principal Cadence mentioned this morning. She wanted to keep it hush-hush, but I figured it out right away," Pinkie said smugly, tapping her chin and snapping her fingers.

Pinkie’s words echoed in the room, leaving the others dumbfounded for a long moment. Fluttershy opened her mouth as if to say something but quickly closed it again, clutching her backpack and shrinking further into herself.

"I don’t think that’s what the principal said…" Rainbow began before being interrupted.

"Hold on, sugarcubes, we’re not here to talk about the gala."

"Gala?" Pinkie asked curiously.

"Rarity, you were about to tell us about Echo and why Rainbow should rein it in before she drags us all into the mess."

"All of us? Speak for yourself," Twilight muttered, her face tinged with embarrassment.

"All of us," Applejack repeated firmly. "You were there—you’re just as involved as Fluttershy and I."

"I like messes! They always come with surprises," Pinkie chimed in cheerfully.

"We know, Pinkie…" Rarity said with a sigh, gently pushing Pinkie aside. "But yes, Applejack is right, Rainbow."

"Here we go again…" Rainbow muttered, hopping off the table and tapping her fingers rhythmically on its surface, her leg bouncing restlessly. "Let’s just get this over with."

Rarity let out a loud huff, sitting back in her chair. She watched as Fluttershy, Applejack, and Pinkie settled around her, each taking a seat or, in Pinkie’s case, sitting on the floor. Looking down at her hands, Rarity once again felt the texture of fabric between her fingers, wishing she could just be working on Sweetie Belle’s dress instead of talking to them—risking talking to them.

"The sooner, the better, Rarity," she told herself, steeling her resolve as she lifted her gaze with determination.

"Alright… Echo Mirage."

"Oh! I know her! She’s my friend!" Pinkie exclaimed energetically, grinning ear to ear and raising her hand.

"No, Pinkie…" Rarity replied, her eyes filled with sadness as she lowered her voice. "She’s not your friend… She’s not anyone’s friend here, and if you forget that, she’ll do everything in her power to remind you."

Pinkie slowly lowered her arm, retracting her fingers toward her palm, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion and disappointment. 

"Echo is the most popular girl here. She has plenty of followers, she's had a lot of boyfriends, and there's not a teacher she doesn't charm. But friends? No, darling, Echo doesn't have friends—she chose that herself." Rarity sighed, clasping her hands in front of her and trying to maintain an expression of utmost neutrality. "When I transferred to CHS two years ago, Echo and I got along well enough. I thought we were friends, and you could say that, for a time, we shared the frivolity of being 'the most popular.' The boys adored me, the girls envied me, and everyone wanted to be seen with us... Or at least, that’s how it was at first. One day, Echo revealed her true colors—or at least part of them. We were on our way to the chemistry lab when she accidentally bumped into old Mr. Randolph from the library."

Twilight shifted unconsciously in her seat. 

"We were carrying some plant dyes that accidentally spilled on her blouse. A beautiful blouse, by the way, salmon-colored Crystal brand—it really brought out her eyes and hair, though she had paired it with…" Applejack cleared her throat loudly, abruptly cutting Rarity off and prompting a nervous giggle. "Ahem… Anyway, the point is, Randolph apologized, and instead of letting it go, Echo decided to pour the remaining dye onto the books he was carrying and onto his clothes, calling him a 'blind old man' and a 'worthless nobody.'"

Twilight shifted again, letting out an angry huff, her brows furrowing as she crossed her arms. 

"Of course, I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. I told her there was no excuse for what she'd done or said." Rarity continued, clutching the soft fabric of her outfit. "Naturally, the little mommy’s girl didn’t take that well, and she promised I’d regret it." 

"Did she really say that?" Pinkie asked incredulously, her eyes widening, the smile disappearing from her face for the first time. 

"That and more, Pinkie." Rarity replied somberly before taking a deep breath. "Days passed, and at first, I didn’t notice any difference other than the fact that she stopped speaking to me. Of course, it saddened me to lose my closest friend at CHS, but we’d only known each other for three months, so, honestly, it wasn’t the end of the world. However…" Rarity abruptly closed her mouth, biting her lip nervously as she looked down at her hands, deep in thought. 

"Everything okay, sugarcube?" 

"Yes… There’s something you should know before I continue: for the past three years, I’ve been living alone with my sister, Sweetie Belle. We do have parents, yes, but… our relationship with them isn’t the best. So, as the older sibling, I buy her food, her hygiene supplies, cook for her, accompany her wherever she needs to go, and also pay for her education." Rarity sighed momentarily, glancing at the chaos in the room with heavy eyes. "All these dresses, skirts, and blouses you see here are for sale. I make and sell them at my boutique to get by at the end of each month, saving what I can for more materials and Sweetie Belle’s college education. She doesn’t know exactly what she wants to study yet, but I know her; she’s always been incredibly caring and hates seeing others suffer. She’s an amazing listener when you need her and gives great advice, even if she’s not always the brightest…" She let out an innocent giggle, which Pinkie mirrored. 

"She’d probably get along with my sister," Applejack said calmly, and for the first time in a long while, she didn’t seem to be fighting to stay awake. 

Rarity just smiled tenderly before taking another deep breath. "She’ll be an excellent psychologist. The best in all of Canterlot." She paused briefly as the smile faded from her face. "But for that, she needs a good school—the best in Canterlot." 

"ITCAT," Twilight stated firmly, almost as if it were a sentence. 

"Which, as we all know, is wonderfully expensive," Rarity added, lowering her gaze to her dresses. "Selling trinkets would never raise enough for her career, which is why I’ve pushed her to excel in her classes since we started living together. With an impeccable academic record and considering our financial situation, I don’t think it’ll be hard to secure a substantial scholarship…"

"But only if she maintains her grades…" Fluttershy whispered to herself, to which Rarity solemnly nodded. 

"Which brings us back to Echo Mirage… Her mother, Vice Principal Rouge, is, pardon my language, a harpy in every sense of the word. It’s no secret that Principal Cadence doesn’t get along with her…"

"Oh, 'not getting along' is putting it lightly, trust me," Twilight interjected, interrupting Rarity as she stood up. "She would’ve been fired the moment she set foot in CHS if not for how chummy she is with Chancellor Neighsay. And she’s certainly tried." 

"She tried to fire her?" Fluttershy asked. 

"Unsuccessfully, as you can see. Sorry, Rarity, please go on." 

"No worries, darling," Rarity replied with a dismissive wave. "But I figured as much. Neighsay holds the keys to all educational records in Canterlot, and therefore, Rouge has access to them too. I think you can see where this is going." 

"And I don’t like it…" Applejack responded, crossing her arms irritably, a scowl forming on her face. 

"Echo accessed Sweetie Belle’s records and changed some grades she received in elementary school. It didn’t make getting the scholarship impossible, fortunately, but now the poor thing has to work three times as hard to make up for what she lost." 

"Are you serious?" Rainbow asked, utterly indignant as she stepped forward. "Did you say anything?" 

"What could I possibly say?" Rarity replied, still composed but with downcast eyes. "I’m seventeen, I was fifteen at the time, living alone with my sister—illegally, I might add—barely scraping by month to month selling my incredible dresses, and to top it off, the girl threatening me has the entire education system on her side." 

"But surely there was something you could do! Right?" Rainbow asked again, looking around at the others for support. Each one avoided her gaze, their eyes darting to the floor, the ceiling, or their hands, all with somber expressions. Even Pinkie, who moments ago had been grinning ear to ear, now wore a deep frown. 

"There was something. Whatever she asked of me." Rainbow turned her gaze back to Rarity, her eyes wide and her muscles tense. "Echo warned me that she’d make the damage irreversible unless I became a ghost at the school: no more talking to anyone, no more friends, and above all, no crossing her path again." 

Rainbow stared at her, struggling to process the words, her jaw clenching in anger and disbelief. She took a step back, then another, before sitting on the table, seemingly lost in thought. "I’m sorry, darling…" Rarity thought, seeing her terrible expression. "This is how things are handled here." 

"And that’s how it’s been ever since," Twilight concluded, sighing and finally allowing her stern expression to soften into one of pity and understanding. "You disappeared from the school’s spotlight overnight, no one really knowing why, but with Echo’s mark on the entire situation." 

"I didn’t know it was that awful," Applejack muttered, looking at the ground with wide eyes. "I mean, I knew she’d stirred things up enough for you to vanish, but to mess with your sister?" She let out a long sigh, shaking her head and gripping her hat. "I don’t know what I’d do if someone did that to Apple Bloom." 

"And now her sights are set on you, darling." 

A heavy silence fell over the room as everyone turned uncomfortably toward the small rainbow-haired girl in the center. Seconds stretched longer and longer, each one punctuated by the sound of six girls breathing as if in a storm: Applejack and Pinkie inhaled heavily, as if something was obstructing their breathing—perhaps exhaustion or excess sugar; Twilight breathed uneasily, the tension in her robust features clashing with her inner turmoil. Fluttershy, on the other hand, remained calm—almost too calm—her breath a soft hymn, though not a joyful or passionate one. It was more like a solemn, slow, and mournful dirge. 

Rarity wasn’t sure when she had stopped breathing, but she could see Rainbow’s breaths quickening as she clenched her fists tightly, her jaw set with intensity. "Who are you?" Rarity wondered, imagining that perhaps in another school, in another time, the two of them could’ve been friends—and she might have made a beautiful dress for that gorgeous hair. 

Rainbow growled, fixing her gaze on Rarity. 

"To hell with her having her sights on me."

A silent jolt rippled through those present, like electricity, making them all flinch in their seats, as though a sudden gust of wind had struck them. Oxygen re-entered Rarity's lungs, but instead of its usual comforting effect, it filled her with the sudden energy conveyed by her counterpart's words—a sensation she did not like, especially considering where this was headed.

Rainbow opened her mouth, raising her fist. However, it wasn't her raspy voice that drilled into the fashionista's ears like a jackhammer, but rather the shrill, high-pitched voice she'd grown accustomed to hearing sporadically over the past year—a voice she had learned to both despise and love.

"That’s not fair!" Pinkie exclaimed loudly, leaping to her feet, her normally cheerful and lively face twisted into an uncharacteristic scowl of anger. "And she called herself my friend after that?"

"Pinkie… She didn’t—"

"She’s right!" Rainbow interjected with vigor, stepping to Pinkie's side and crossing her arms, her muscles visibly tensing. "It’s not fair for someone like that to get away with it."

"Of course it’s not fair!" Twilight snapped, irritated, standing from her seat and moving toward the pair. "But didn’t you hear anything she just said? Echo is evil, and she’s got everyone on her side."

"To hell with everyone, then!" Rainbow retorted, stepping closer to Twilight in defiance.

"Yeah! To hell with—wait, who's called 'everyone'?"

"It’s an expression, Pinkie," Rarity interjected, her face returning to a mask of neutrality.

"You can’t just curse everyone!" Twilight argued, her emotions visibly twisting her features more and more.

"Oh yeah? Watch me!"

"Hold it right there, sugarcube—"

"No, don’t you get involved in this, Applejack!"

"She’s already involved, Rainbow!" Twilight shot back, grabbing the latter’s shoulder in a surprising move and giving her a light shake, causing Rainbow to flinch momentarily. "All four of us have been involved since your little outburst!"

"Make that five of us!" Pinkie shouted, suddenly gripping Rainbow’s other shoulder with a firmness surprising for her slim frame.

Rarity let out a frustrated sigh before standing and unsuccessfully trying to tug Pinkie away from Rainbow.

"Pinkie, you’re not understanding!"

"Oh, I understand perfectly, Rarity. I know I’m not always great at 'reading the room,' but I’ve never been clearer about something in my life." Pinkie released Rainbow and turned to face her best friend, wearing an expression of such grave seriousness that Rarity had never seen before. "My bestest, best friend is being blackmailed by someone I once called my friend, and friends are not something you take lightly!"

Rarity shook her head, letting out another exasperated breath. "Pinkie, I truly appreciate—"

"I’m not done, Rars! On top of threatening your family, she broke our new friend’s glasses and thinks she has the right to threaten another of our new friends!"

"Sweetie… I think it’s too soon to—"

"Pinkie’s right!" Rainbow declared, turning to Applejack and Fluttershy, raising her fist with determination as a mischievous grin spread across her face. "That stuck-up jerk messed with Rarity, messed with Twilight, and now she’s trying to mess with me. She can’t just do whatever she wants!"

"But she can!" Rarity shouted with all the strength her lungs could muster, clenching her fists in frustration and expelling the air from her chest. "She always could, and she always will!"

An uncomfortable silence followed her words, erasing the smirk from Rainbow's face and leaving Pinkie visibly uneasy as she instinctively stepped closer to Rainbow.

"I truly appreciate your concern, dear, really," Rarity continued, trying to regain her composure, her breaths shaky with the energy of her gestures. "But there’s nothing to be done in situations like this. Echo made it very clear—I can’t have friends, and I can’t talk to anyone, including all of you. So, you’d be doing me a huge favor if you dropped this now." The fashionista's words echoed in her own mind, reverberating and pounding, bringing on a mild headache that began to glaze her eyes with tears. A sudden hiccup escaped her as more and more energy drained from her body in an instant.

She quickly sat down, looking up in a silent prayer that her tears wouldn’t ruin her makeup, seeing in every stain and crack on the ceiling the face of Sweetie Belle and the monstrous tuition she hoped to pay someday.

Her attempt failed, and the tears began to flow freely. It wasn’t fair—it wasn’t fair at all. But by Starswirl, she had already started living this way. She couldn’t simply stop now. Rarity gripped the fabric on the table, holding it tightly between her fingertips as quiet sobs escaped her lips.

The room fell into an awkward silence, broken only by the violent but undeniably elegant sounds of Rarity’s restrained crying. Even in this state, she forced herself to cry as quietly and as little as possible. These were strangers, after all—new people. No matter how her body begged, she couldn’t allow herself to seem so disgraceful in front of them.

After a few tense seconds, the circle of girls around Rarity broke as Fluttershy stood up from her seat and walked over to her, silently placing a comforting arm over her back and shoulder in a gentle, warm hug that made Rarity flinch.

"There, there… I’m so sorry to hear that…" Fluttershy murmured in her characteristically sweet tone, gently patting Rarity’s back, her brows furrowing in genuine concern.

Rainbow looked down at the floor, ashamed, feeling a twinge in her heart at seeing Rarity in this state—especially after witnessing Fluttershy’s compassion. Unconsciously, she felt responsible for the tears. For a moment, she wanted to apologize. Why? She wasn’t sure—she just wanted to.

"Thank you, dear," Rarity whimpered, delicately wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. "I’m fine."

"No… you’re not fine," Fluttershy replied, clutching the straps of her backpack again, her brows tightening further. "I didn’t want to interrupt while you were talking, but hearing your story, Rarity, I’m…" She hesitated, biting her lip nervously and lowering her gaze in an expression that was unusually serious for her. "Forgive my language, but I’m so piffed!"

The five girls stared at Fluttershy, stunned, a mix of surprise at her anger and disbelief at the word she had chosen to express it.

"Sorry…"

"We’re all angry," Applejack finally said, relaxing her arms and taking a step toward Rarity, wondering if it was appropriate to comfort her as well. "No one said this was fair. But there’s nothing we can do."

Rarity took a deep breath a couple of times, doing her best not to break down again under Fluttershy’s delicate care. She felt an immense gratitude at that moment for having someone to talk to.

The truth was that since Echo had given her ultimatum two years ago, Rarity hadn’t been able to share her anguish with anyone. She barely spoke to her parents beyond paying the boutique’s rent. She certainly didn’t want Sweetie Belle to know what was happening in her efforts to secure her dream university. She wouldn’t risk scaring away any potential clients, and Pinkie…

Why hadn’t she ever told Pinkie? For twenty four months, Pinkie had been the only one to exchange words with her. Yes, Rarity had often reminded her that they weren’t allowed to talk, but the vivacious girl seemed unfazed; it seemed that the smiles she managed to bring out in Rarity meant more to her. And she certainly did make her smile.

She had never admitted it until this moment, feeling the calming, reassuring pats from Fluttershy and seeing the shared sadness and helplessness in Pinkie and Rainbow’s expressions. Pinkie was her friend—no, not just her friend. She was her best friend.

And now, she felt the same about the others. “Wow, Flanks,” she thought to herself, letting out a light chuckle. “When did you get so sentimental?”

But no amount of sentimentality could erase the noose Echo had tightened around her neck. The fabric burned in her hands like a cruel brand.

"We can only wait," Applejack repeated, pulling the seamstress out of her trance. "Leave Rarity to her business and wait like cattle in the slaughterhouse for Echo to come for Rainbow."

The mentioned girl looked down, disheartened, sitting on the floor with a heavy, clumsy motion. She was soon joined by Pinkie, whose hair, Rarity could swear, had slightly deflated, betraying that beautiful natural curl it usually had.

“Starswirl knows what she plans to do to her…” Fluttershy murmured, who had subtly and discreetly transitioned from pats on the back to soft strokes through Rarity’s hair. Normally, Rarity wouldn’t let anyone touch her fabulous hair, but this time, she felt so miserable, and the strokes felt so comforting, that she decided to allow it.

“To me or my family,” Rainbow replied, still staring at the ground, lightly stirring the dust with her index finger, tracing clumsy, unintelligible shapes.

“It really sucks,” Rarity muttered in a shaky voice, surprised at how ridiculous she sounded. “That a monster like her walks these halls…” she continued, slightly altering her tone.

“It’s not fair,” the six said simultaneously, raising their gaze in surprise at the recent occurrence. Somehow, it had felt right, natural, and meaningful. For the first time in a long time, Rarity felt that the world around her made sense, and it filled her with a warm sense of harmony and peace, as if she’d reunited with an old friend after many years.

However, one of the six girls remained particularly thoughtful at the back of the group. Twilight was staring intently at the ground, her dark eyes darting from one side of the room to the other without moving a muscle. After a few moments of silence, she began biting her lip, almost immediately opening and closing her mouth several times as if trying to say something.

Finally, the brunette stepped forward, doing her best to relax her expression and calm her breathing, which, as Rarity could tell, was pleading for something she couldn’t discern.

“There might…” Twilight began, stepping into the circle of girls and drawing everyone’s attention except Pinkie and Rainbow, who were still staring dejectedly at the floor. “There might be something we can do… about Rarity’s problem, at least.”

The eyes of the three paying attention widened, and Rarity herself felt her heart stop for a moment. During her two years of isolation, she had tried to devise plans within plans to reclaim her life, salvage her sister’s grades, and exact some childish revenge on Echo. However, those plans had never moved past the conceptual stage, let alone been seriously tested. Somehow, Rarity knew it was impossible to get back at Echo, and surprisingly, it was easier to accept that fact than to live with the frustration of her failed schemes.

Or so she thought, until now. The same warmth she felt from Fluttershy’s strokes also inspired her to trust Twilight, even though she had no idea what she was going to say.

“I hadn’t mentioned it before because it’s not something I like to do, but…” Twilight bit her lip nervously again, looking anywhere but at her listeners. “I get along particularly well with Principal Cadence. If Vice Principal Rouge was able to access Canterlot’s student records, Cadence can too.”

“To the national registry, actually,” Pinkie added, miraculously regaining her energy and cheer as she leaped to her feet, startling Rainbow in the process. “Principal Cadence is President Celestia’s niece, silly. Of course, she has access to all the records in the country!”

A bubble of air caught in Twilight’s throat, cutting off her breath for a second, as her eyes widened at Pinkie’s comment.

“Yes… That’s true,” the brunette added, tapping her chest lightly.

“Then…” Rarity began, standing up and leaving behind Fluttershy’s gentle touch, her heart racing a mile a minute. “Can we fix Sweetie Belle’s grades?”

“Not exactly,” Twilight replied thoughtfully. “We have no evidence of Echo’s involvement in all this besides your word. If she altered the information carefully, she would have ensured there were no traces left.”

“Oh…”

“But we can prevent her from making any more changes. If I ask Cadence to keep an eye on Sweetie Belle’s file—”

“Or by asking her to make a physical copy!” Pinkie interjected energetically, raising her hand.

“Of course!” Twilight responded, snapping her fingers. “You’re a genius, Pinkie! Even if she alters the online record, if a physical copy corroborates your story, there’ll be no choice but to believe that someone is maliciously interfering.”

“Would Principal Cadence really agree to help us? I wouldn’t want her to think we’re trying to harm Sweetie Belle,” Fluttershy whispered, furrowing her brows.

“Not if I’m the one asking,” Twilight replied, turning her gaze to Rarity with a confident smile. Rarity, for her part, was completely flustered by Twilight’s words, her mouth agape and her face flushed with the excess blood coursing through her veins. Her heart was pounding faster than ever, and her hands were trembling.

Finally, after a two long years of isolation, she could do something. Twilight, Fluttershy, Applejack, Pinkie, Rainbow, and herself could finally do something against Echo, finally gain the upper hand. A small voice in her head tried to remind her that Echo always found a way to stay one step ahead, to outmaneuver anyone who dared to challenge her, that she always won; but that didn’t matter much now. The excitement flooding her brain and the energy surging through her body silenced any voice other than Twilight’s or the others’.

She knew she looked terrible from crying, from the way Fluttershy had tousled her hair, and from working non-stop on the dress since she arrived at school. But none of that mattered, and she flung herself at Twilight, wrapping her in a warm, tight hug that caught the brunette by surprise, eliciting a small squeal before she awkwardly returned the embrace.

“Thank you,” Rarity said, her voice trembling with the little air she could hold in her lungs. “Really, thank you.”

“It’s nothing…” Twilight replied, softening her tone and finally reciprocating the hug properly.

After a few seconds, the two girls parted, smiling as they looked at the others, who, to varying degrees, were also smiling, as if all their problems had suddenly vanished, and everything was fine.

However, there was still one loose end—a nagging thread hanging in Rarity’s mind that she couldn’t simply ignore.

“Well… That solves one of our problems,” the seamstress commented, emphasizing the number as she turned to the petite, rainbow-haired girl. “But that still leaves you back where you started.”

Twilight’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come, and the others looked nervously at the ground before returning their gazes to Rainbow. The latter opened her mouth as if to say something, but she was quickly silenced by Rarity, who placed a finger on her lips, still smiling.

“One must be grateful in life, darling. You five have done something for me that, even with a thousand years, I could never repay.”

“But it was just Twi—” Rainbow began before being silenced again.

“There’s not much I can do, but I can assure you that no matter what happens, no matter what Echo does to you, I will never let you go through this alone like I did. None of you,” she concluded, glancing at Twilight, Fluttershy, Pinkie, and Applejack before returning her gaze to Rainbow, who still looked puzzled. “And I doubt anyone here would let you face this alone either.”

Rainbow lifted her gaze from Rarity’s finger to her eyes, seeing the confidence in those deep blue pools before turning her gaze to the others.

“Never! Ever! ¡Nunca! ¡Jamais! ¡Niemals!” Pinkie shouted, throwing herself onto Rainbow in a hug that caught her off guard.

“For heaven’s sake, you crazy mare. I came here to hear why tangling with Echo was like grabbing a bull by the horns, and now it seems y’all wanna enter the rodeo,” Applejack said, adjusting her hat and narrowing her eyes. However, after a moment, her expression softened, and she let out a hearty laugh. “See what you do to us, rainbow-head?” she added, giving Rainbow a playful slap on the back.

Fluttershy, for her part, said nothing, simply patting Rainbow gently on the back and smiling warmly at the group, nodding in agreement.

“I won’t lie, it’s scary,” Twilight said, crossing her arms but letting a sly grin creep onto her lips. “But who cares? That bitch stepped on my glasses.”

Rainbow let out a loud laugh at Twilight's comment before shrugging off Pinkie's hug and walking over to her, pathetically draping her arm over the brunette's shoulders and giving her a dedicated squeeze.

“No one deserves to go through what you went through, Rarity,” Fluttershy whispered, mustering the courage to step forward. “And that includes you, Rainbow…”

“How cheesy!” joked the rainbow-haired girl, laughing at her own remark. “Alright, so when’s the six-way kiss happening or what?”

“Oh darling, we’re not quite there yet!” Rarity replied, raising an eyebrow and smiling.

“Emphasis on the ‘yet,’” added Twilight, prompting all of them to burst into laughter together.

It had been a long time since Rarity had felt this—a warm connection of shared laughter with another person, with a whole group of people she felt comfortable and honest with. She had known these five girls for less than an hour, yet she already knew who she would be spending her breaks with from now on, who she’d chat with in the afternoons, who she’d cry and laugh with, and who she could share her secrets and all the school gossip with. She already knew who she could rely on.

Her friends. 

“Well…” Applejack said between chuckles, her laughter-induced tears still flowing. “This definitely didn’t go the way I expected. That said, it’s still a shame we haven’t gotten tickets for the gala yet.”

“Who cares? You can go tomorrow,” Twilight chimed in.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Me! Me! Me!” Pinkie shouted at the top of her lungs, energetically raising her hand, causing the others to cover their ears momentarily. “I did it!”

“By the horses and the apples, Pinkie, what did you do?” Applejack yelled over Pinkie’s deafening voice.

“I already signed all of you up! Except you, Twilight. No one told me you’d be our friend.”

“I’m already signed, don’t worry…”

“What do you mean you signed us up?” Rainbow asked, letting go of Twilight and taking a step toward Pinkie.

But Pinkie didn’t respond. Instead, she cautiously, though in full view of everyone, shuffled over to Fluttershy, leaning close to her ear with a mischievous grin, as if she were holding back the excitement of something big.

“She doesn’t know about the party Principal Cadence is throwing for her,” Pinkie whispered loudly into Fluttershy’s ear, leaving the shy girl squinting in confusion.

“I’m not sure I follow, Pinkie…”

“I don’t think you’re following, Pinkie,” Twilight quipped, letting out a little laugh as she spoke.

But the one truly not following was Rarity, who had spent the entire morning locked in the sewing room, trying to finish Sweetie Belle’s dress, and hadn’t heard a thing about any supposed “gala” or a “party” for Rainbow.

“Excuse me, darling, what are we talking about?”

Rainbow stayed confused for a few seconds, but then, after grasping the implication of Rarity’s words, she smiled.

Chapter 11: Interlude 1: The Police and the rat

The hiss of the spray paint against the plaster was one of those sounds that could drown out all the chaos of the city. The soft glide of air, the pressure of the can, the firm recoil—all of it combined into a beautiful mix of satisfaction and tranquility that, for a moment, made her feel like she could own the city, the world.

With a quick motion, without stopping her painting, she adjusted the bandana over her nose, preventing any semi-toxic fumes from reaching her lungs (and, in her own words, making her look even cooler).

Today’s masterpiece was a lonely beach, barely kissed by the faint rays of the sunset, with no one but a poor child in the distance, staring expectantly, as if waiting for something, anxiety glinting in his eyes. She’d been wanting to paint that poor child for days, ever since she saw one of her most frequented alleys defaced with Sombra’s political propaganda. "Idiots..." she’d thought then. "There’s more than a year until the elections, and they’re already ruining walls with their stupid slogans."

A stray, unruly curl of reddish hair fell over her eyes from under the hood of her sweatshirt, obstructing her vision for a second. Letting go of the can's valve, she fixed her hair, combing it back into the makeshift ponytail she’d hastily tied that morning.

She was dressed in worn-out black jeans, stained with countless uneven splotches of paint that dripped onto her battered black boots. On top, she wore a sleeveless purple shirt that had been too small for a couple of years, but she compensated with the oversized blue hoodie she was always forced to roll up so it wouldn’t cover her hands.

Sunset wasn’t very big, and that jacket had always frustrated her.

She made two graceful strokes with purple paint, shading a rock breaking the waves into white foam. For a moment, she almost believed that static sea of paint was moving, crashing, and she could almost smell the salt of the ocean.

She loved that feeling—the sensation of bringing the inanimate to life, of making real something born of her imagination, her mind, her thoughts. She wanted to breathe life into a better world, a world unlike the one she inhabited, a world far from the dirty city of Canterlot.

She stepped back from the wall, observing what, just a few hours ago, had been a mural with King Sombra’s poorly painted face. It was now a beach, a beautiful beach at sunset, with shades of orange, yellow, and purple enveloping a figure Sunset had never seen in her life.

She smiled and thought that, at least for today, she could leave it as it was; maybe tomorrow she’d come back to touch up the clouds, maybe the child’s small figure, and, if time allowed, perhaps she could retouch the sea foam again. She loved that foam and wanted it to be perfect. She looked up at the sky, watching as Equestria’s own firmament was painted in dark hues, blending into the warm rays of the setting sun on the horizon, and nodded at her decision to leave.

She grabbed an old rag from her paint box and cleaned her hands as best as she could, gritting her teeth as she scrubbed the dried stains off her arms and wrists. She left the rag in the box and began storing the cans one by one, running her hand over them and realizing she’d need to get more red paint soon.

"Great, Sunset Shimmer..." she thought, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "Time to convince Bellemere again that you’ll pay her back soon..."

She tossed an empty can behind her, causing a metallic clatter in the alleyway.

“Do you like red a lot?”

Sunset startled, grabbing one of the cans nervously and holding it defensively in her hand. She turned awkwardly, ending up face-to-face with the stranger who had appeared.

She hadn’t expected to find anyone in that alley; ever since she’d considered covering Sombra’s hideous propaganda, she’d scouted the narrow space and its surrounding buildings in advance: To her right was an antique shop called “Pillars of the Ancient Era,” which, in Sunset’s eyes, only sold overpriced junk. The owner was an old fossil who was rarely awake and never ventured outside his shop. Across from it was a small, narrow, six-story apartment building with two units per floor. Most were entirely unoccupied, except for a mother and daughter on the third floor, who also rarely stayed there. Sunset had once heard that the woman was still married but frequently argued with her husband, causing her and her daughter to occasionally retreat to the apartment.

The neighborhood beyond wasn’t much either: hardware stores and family-owned shops, a few more interesting apartment complexes, and so on. It was the perfect spot for a painting, especially since the few people who passed by would likely appreciate one of the famous murals by the street artist “Sunrise.”

But things hadn’t gone as planned, as she now stood face-to-face with a tall woman with long legs and strikingly colored hair, wearing an awful tourist cap that read “I Survived Canterlot,” a pink scarf, and a black trench coat. She also had on a pair of dull sunglasses that Sunset found odd for the time of day.

“Beautiful work,” the woman said in a calm, soothing tone that failed to disarm Sunset’s defensive stance. “Though I see you haven’t signed it yet.”

“It’s not finished,” Sunset muttered, straightening up with the can still in her hand, her voice muffled by the bandana.

“I can see that. I like how you’ve painted the child’s expression, but I feel like his shadows and highlights don’t blend well with the rest of the scene.”

A pang of frustration tightened in Sunset’s stomach, and she scowled, indignant that this woman would dare criticize her painting. The child was perfect—sure, she wanted to touch up his body, but not because it didn’t fit the beach, but because it still lacked details. Who did this woman think she was?

Yet she couldn’t resist the burning curiosity sparked by the stranger’s comment. With a subtle movement, she glanced back at her mural, analyzing the child. The lines made sense, the expression sold the soul of the painting, but the lighting... Now she saw it, and she couldn’t unsee it. The lighting was off, as if the child were a photograph clumsily pasted onto the wall rather than an integral part of the scene.

Biting her lip under the bandana in frustration, she turned back to the woman.

“What do you want?”

The mysterious woman smiled kindly beneath her sunglasses. “Well, I’d heard the famous artist Sunrise was in the neighborhood, and after seeing Sombra’s awful propaganda on my property, I figured this would be where you’d paint your next piece.”

Sunset felt a thick knot form in her throat, along with a rush of blood flooding her cheeks in embarrassment. Slowly, she relaxed her muscles and lowered her gaze to the ground. After all, she’d only run into the owners of the walls she painted a couple of times, and each time, it was either someone who had for the painting, or one of her many street enemies.

“I’m sorry...” she murmured, nervously clasping her hands together. However, the stranger didn’t respond. Instead, she burst into loud laughter that echoed through the alley. Somehow, Sunset felt like she’d heard that voice before.

“Don’t worry, Sunrise. This city needs more color, and you’re famous for a reason.”

“You’re not going to call the police?” she asked, still looking at the ground but somewhat surprised by the reaction.

“I should. The apartment complex is mine, and you defaced it without my permission...” the woman replied, taking a few steps closer to the painting, still studying its details intently. “But no. I don’t think you’re a bad person, Sunrise.”

“Actually, it’s Sunset,” the girl clarified, pulling down her bandana to reveal her small, thin lips twisted into an embarrassed grimace, her cheeks still flushed. “People see the sun in my signature and think it’s a sunrise, but it’s actually the sun setting.”

The woman, still focused on the painting, let out a soft laugh, which only served to further embarrass Sunset.

“What an unfortunate coincidence, then,” she replied, still chuckling. “Are you coming back tomorrow to finish it?”

“Yes,” Sunset answered bluntly, trying to calm her nerves and embarrassment.

“Do you live far?”

Sunset bit her lip and looked away from the woman.

“No.”

“Are you sure? You don’t sound very convinced.”

“I don’t live far, but I should get going,” she said, bending down to pick up her box from the ground. “Before it gets dark.”

“Are you sure you have a place to stay?” Sunset froze mid-motion, lifting her gaze toward the stranger, letting any trace of embarrassment or shame leave her body, as she stared at her seriously.

A tense silence settled between the two speakers, with Sunset trying to peer through the tinted lenses to decipher what the woman was thinking, what she was trying to achieve. "Why does she care?" she asked herself, questioning once again the idea of fleeing from the police.

This wasn’t the first time she faced the notion of running from the law. After all, she was a street artist, a homeless vagabond, a societal renegade. Of course, she had been accused of misdemeanors more than once—some she hadn’t committed, others she had—but it always ended the same way: with her having to move her temporary home and her face plastered on some poster outside a kiosk or store. "Undesirable: Sunset Shimmer" and other similar slogans had become a recurring theme in her life.

She didn’t want the same thing to happen in this area, not before finishing the mural she was so proud of, especially since it still needed touch-ups on the child’s lighting.

She breathed rhythmically and steadily, bracing herself to flee if it came to that, hoping the woman wouldn’t learn more about who she was. Suddenly, she felt incredibly foolish for having removed her bandana to speak more clearly. "That’s why you hide your face, Sunset," she thought, tightening her grip around the paint box.

However, the silence was first broken by a loud laugh, one that Sunset couldn’t decide if it reassured her, confused her, or made her even tenser.

"Relax, Starswirl…" the stranger remarked in an airy but solemn tone, reaching into her pocket. "I don’t want to hurt you. On the contrary, I want to help."

Sunset stayed silent, visibly doubtful of what she meant. However, she didn’t have much time to think, as with a swift motion, the stranger tossed something from her pocket into the air. It made a perfect arc before landing with a metallic clang in Sunset’s paint box, amidst all the cans.

"I live at my job, but apartment sixty-two should still have my old furniture. Better than sleeping outside, right?"

Sunset’s eyes widened as she noticed the small sun-shaped keychain holding a single key nestled among her paint cans. The small silver key bore a clumsily engraved "62," along with numerous scratches on its surface.

Her heart raced a million beats per second, and her hands began to tremble, making the cans jangle together audibly. The meaning behind the woman’s words, the keys, her laughter—it all felt surreal. For a moment, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she was dreaming.

Shouts in the distance caught the stranger’s attention. She began scanning her surroundings, her expression concerned but still smiling.

Sunset remained frozen, staring at the figure before her and the small metal key that could only mean one thing: a home, for her. A voice inside her begged her to run, to flee immediately because this woman must have ulterior motives. There was no way a complete stranger would just hand over her apartment keys—especially not to someone who had just been illegally painting a wall. It made no sense. It simply wasn’t possible.

But Sunset had heard that woman’s voice somewhere before, and for some reason, it made her trust her.

"Well, they’re after me, so I have to go. I’ll see you here tomorrow to check on the mural’s progress!" the woman said before jogging out of the alley without looking back. Sunset was so stunned she didn’t even notice the men in suits chasing after her moments later.

With caution and perhaps excessive care, Sunset set the box on the ground and picked up the keychain, inspecting the details closely. The voice in her head still insisted she should grab her things and leave, but where could she go? For the past four weeks, her "home" had been little more than a decrepit bench in Honesty Park, sheltered under an overpass that provided some relief from the growing autumn chill. Some nights, she couldn’t sleep from having to guard her paints, not to mention the Bellemere thugs who came around every few days to demand payments.

A dull ache in her stomach, the residue of a bruise from days prior, made her wince. Rubbing her abdomen absentmindedly, she hoisted the paint box back into her arms and headed toward the apartment building.

Step by step, Sunset noticed the old and battered paint and finish on the building’s walls, a clear sign of its age. She turned a couple of corners and climbed until she reached the sixth floor, taking in the stunning view of Canterlot from above: an endless sea of buildings and houses bathed in beautiful purple and orange hues as the sun began to set.

Sunset had never liked Canterlot; it was the city where her parents had abandoned her. But she had to admit, from up here, it looked incredible.

She set the box down and approached the door marked "62," nervously sliding the key into the lock and hearing the mechanical clink of the internal components. With a swift turn, the stiff doorknob loosened, allowing Sunset to open the door and take in the home that had been given to her.

The ceiling was high—perhaps too high—contrasting with the elegant and symmetrical wooden floor that adorned the entire space. To her left, a raised platform, awkwardly decorated with Hearth’s Warming Eve lights, held what appeared to be a soft but dusty queen-sized bed, flanked by several shelves. Beneath it, a wooden desk equipped with a mini-fridge and a microwave housed an extravagant triple-monitor computer setup. To Sunset’s amazement, it even included a drawing tablet like the ones she’d seen in ads.

To the right, two towering windows cast a grid of shadows across the room, leading to a small, dusty living area at the back of the apartment. A massive flat-screen TV, still wrapped in bubble wrap, stood prominently. In the far-left corner, a kitchenette with a small dining table completed the apartment, featuring a full-sized refrigerator, a sink, a dishwasher, and a modest pantry.

Picking up her paint box again, Sunset entered the room slowly, taking in every detail: a beautiful plant hanging from one of the exposed ceiling beams, a discreet bathroom door behind the TV, and a lovely guitar hanging from one of the maroon-colored walls.

She could hardly believe what she was seeing—or smelling. The apartment was old and dusty, but it was beautiful, and it was hers, at least for tonight.

She placed the paint box on the kitchenette table and continued surveying her surroundings until her eyes landed on a pink piece of paper taped to the refrigerator. Peeling it off with a quick motion, she saw it bore a handwritten message:

"It should last a couple of weeks. I’ll make sure my sister brings more if you need it. ;)"

Confused, she opened the fridge to find it fully stocked with food and drinks, both prepared and raw ingredients waiting to be cooked. A lump formed in her throat at the sight, and before she realized it, she was crying.

After hours of sobbing and eating in disbelief, Sunset prepared for bed. She climbed the steps to the elevated platform but froze at the sight of the bed.

By all accounts, it was an ordinary bed—slightly dusty, nothing unusual for its disuse. Yet, to Sunset, it represented so much more. It had been four years since her last failed attempt to live with a foster family, and she hadn’t touched a mattress since. She had seen many in ads, shop windows, and stores but had never touched one.

But it was the clean pajamas folded neatly in the center of the bed that brought her to tears once again. The voice in her head still urged her to leave, warning her this was too good to be true. But at this point, Sunset didn’t care anymore.

Wrapped in new clothes for the first time in years, Sunset had one of the best nights of her life, sleeping soundly for hours and waking up in a blanket for the first time—without swollen eyes from watching over her paints all night.

The next morning, with the sun fully risen over Canterlot, she dressed quickly and went to finish her mural, hoping to see the mysterious woman again and beg her to let her stay in the apartment, promising her she’d take care of it with every ounce of effort she could muster.

But as happy as she was, her smile vanished when she entered the alley and found it empty. "She’ll probably come later, Sunset," she reassured herself, adjusting her bandana and forcing a smile. "After all, you saw her almost at sunset yesterday."

She grabbed a can of sky-blue paint, ready to retouch the light on the boy’s face, when she noticed a crumpled piece of paper beneath her foot. With some hesitation, she bent down and picked it up, recognizing the familiar vinyl texture that had become more common as election season approached.

"A SAFE EQUESTRIA, A HAPPY EQUESTRIA, A PROSPEROUS EQUESTRIA."

"THE TRANSFORMATION BEGAN 15 YEARS AGO AND WILL CONTINUE FOR THE NEXT 5."

"VOTE FOR CELESTIA THIS 2026."

Below the ostentatious slogan, the vivid image of President Celestia smiled triumphantly from the glossy vinyl surface, her grin directed at Sunset.

She stared at the propaganda for a few moments, unable to look away, before finally recognizing that smile. Her eyes widened in realization.

She wondered how she could have been so blind not to notice before.

Chapter 12: The New Normality

Rainbow drummed her fingers rhythmically on the desk, her leg bouncing underneath it, causing a slight tremor on the surface. Her pink eyes darted from side to side, anxious, searching for something she knew wasn’t there but prayed to see soon.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and with a swift motion, she checked the notification:

"Four-Eyes Sparkle: @daSH, do you know if Applejack is coming? I’m afraid she fell asleep again."

Rainbow lifted her gaze from her phone, turning her head toward the empty seat beside her. While on the first day, it had been claimed by her backpack, it had since become Applejack’s usual spot—at least, on the days she actually made it to class.

"You: No no, Twi, at this point, I don’t think she’s asleep. She’s probably dead."

The professor’s muffled coughing suddenly filled the room, accompanied by the dry sound of the door opening and closing again. Rainbow instinctively glanced back at the empty seat next to her, hoping that, by some miracle, Applejack would appear in it—sleepy and disheveled as always, probably having forgotten her algebra book again or with her homework sloppily scribbled on a napkin. However, her friend was nowhere to be seen, and as much as she wanted to laugh it off, she couldn’t help but feel a bit worried. The first exam was approaching, and every class Applejack missed would only set her back more.

She looked back at her phone and typed again:

"You: Gotta go, Harshwinny is already here."

A couple of vibrations responded to her message almost instantly.

"Rarararararariti: Seriously 😳, what is it with that woman and not having a phone? 🤔🤔🤔"

"Rarararararariti: Her inability to reply is the worst catastrophe since Countess Coloratura thought dyeing her hair blue was a good idea 😱😱🤮🤢"

"Animal Obsessed: I don’t think it looked thaaaaat bad."

"Rarararararariti has removed Animal Obsessed from the group."

Rainbow chuckled under her breath and pressed the lock button on her phone before slipping it back into her pocket. She then turned to the front, where Professor Harshwinny was preparing her seemingly endless collection of teaching materials.

Even so, she couldn’t shake the image of Applejack lost on a bus, drooling from exhaustion onto a stranger’s shoulder—or maybe rushing around Sweet Apple Acres, getting dressed as quickly as possible to catch another bus. Either way, as much as she loved teasing Applejack about how tired she always was, right now, she really wished she were there, sitting next to her.

"Good morning," the professor announced, scribbling something on the blackboard at the back of the class. A faint wave of murmurs, barely managing a clumsy, "Good morning, Ms. Harshwinny," responded to her words before dissipating into conversations and gossip as quickly as it had formed.

"As you all know, we have our first midterms in a week, so today’s class and Thursday’s will be dedicated to reviewing any topics you’re struggling with."

The whispers died down slightly as students exchanged anxious or bored glances—except for Twilight, at the front, who was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement.

Since that day in the sewing workshop, Twilight had invited Rainbow and Applejack multiple times to sit at the front with her, but both girls quickly realized that military-level class attentiveness wasn’t for them. They much preferred their little corner at the back of the classroom. Sure, when she needed help with a tough exercise, Rainbow would take up Twilight’s offer, but the truth was, she always felt more comfortable at the back. That was her place.

Hers and Applejack’s, of course, when she actually showed up.

"I’ll be taking attendance and collecting last week’s homework, so please be ready."

The elderly woman sat down and shuffled through a stack of papers, adjusting her glasses with the back of her hand.

"Gwendy Aeburn?"

A tall girl with short golden hair stood up without fuss and walked over to Professor Harshwinny, placing her notebook on the desk as the professor’s eyes began scanning her notes and formulas, marking corrections as she went.

"Hurry up, Apples…" Rainbow thought, anxiously tapping the table again. "Your last name starts with ‘A,’ idiot, move it."

Second by second, moment by moment, Rainbow watched Harshwinny’s pen move across the girl’s notebook with unwavering focus, feeling an internal metronome ticking away—slowly, rhythmically, relentlessly, unchanging.

Another correction. Another. Then another. Finally, a number was scribbled down. Gwendy Aeburn took her notebook and returned to her seat.

"Alright…" Harshwinny picked up the list again before letting out a long sigh and rolling her eyes.

"Applejack Apple? Is Miss Apple here?"

The old woman craned her neck over the students, scanning the room with a bored expression, not bothering to check every corner.

Rainbow quickly looked at Harshwinny, then at the door, then back at Harshwinny, still praying to whatever higher power might be listening that Applejack would walk in soon. It wasn’t just about the feedback the teacher might give her—homework made up a big part of their final grade, and Applejack had already missed several assignments. If this kept up, she’d have no choice but to drop the class.

And Rainbow didn’t want that.

"Miss Apple?" Harshwinny called again before setting the list down and picking up her pen.

"Wait!" Rainbow blurted out, raising her hand before she could even think.

The professor glanced over her glasses at Rainbow’s wildly waving hand before the girl stood up and walked toward the desk, notebook in hand.

"Dash, I haven’t called your name yet."

"I know, I know, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention."

Rainbow inhaled deeply, trying to keep her heart from racing as if she had just sprinted a short distance.

Twilight watched her closely, questioning her with her eyes, but the rainbow-haired girl didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, she kept walking toward the professor.

"Miss Apple asked me to turn in her homework for her," she said, placing the scribbled notebook page on Harshwinny’s desk.

The professor examined her for a moment before shifting her gaze to the notebook, then back to Rainbow, looking unimpressed but with slightly narrowed eyes of suspicion.

"She knew she’d be late, so she gave me her notebook over the weekend to turn it in for her. Can you believe that lunatic did the homework the moment it was assigned? Who does that?"

Twilight audibly cleared her throat in irritation.

Harshwinny arched a skeptical brow, twisting her wrinkled lips into a dubious frown. For a few painfully long seconds, an impassive silence stretched between the student and the teacher. Rainbow just smiled more forcibly with each passing moment, while Harshwinny scrutinized her with an interrogating stare.

Finally, the professor picked up the notebook and flipped through the pages.

"You’re saying this is Miss Apple’s homework?"

"That’s right."

Harshwinny adjusted her glasses and read each operation and procedure on the pages.

"This is your handwriting."

"No, it’s not."

Rainbow’s tone was firm, masking the nervousness creeping through every inch of her body as she cracked her knuckles.

The professor didn’t reply. She merely smirked slightly, picked up her pen, and began marking corrections.

Stroke by stroke, Rainbow’s heartbeat slowed. As each line was checked or crossed out, she realized—Harshwinny had taken her word for it. She had accepted the assignment as Applejack’s.

It had worked.

"You owe me at least six acres of land for this, Apples," she thought, swallowing nervously as the realization hit her—now she was the one who hadn’t turned in her homework.

After a couple of minutes of reviewing, Ms. Harshwhinny signed the paper and handed it to Rainbow, a slight smile forming behind her usually dull expression.

“Tell Miss Apple that she still has her absence.”

“Sure,” Rainbow replied, taking the notebook in her hands, ready to leave.

“Dash,” Harshwhinny added, stopping Rainbow in her tracks. “What you’re doing for your friend is very noble. Congratulations.”

Rainbow felt a warm sensation rise in her chest, filling her lungs and flushing her face, unconsciously forcing her to smile. Cautiously, she turned her gaze toward the teacher, raising her eyebrows in a smug, proud smirk, masking the redness in her cheeks.

“I just brought her homework; I’m awesome, but it’s not like—”

“However, I know you’re also competing for one of the gala tickets,” Harshwhinny interrupted, cutting off the younger girl with her usual bored expression. “You need to work on those grades, Dash, especially if you’re not turning in assignments like this.”

The blush on Rainbow’s face disappeared in an instant, as did her smug smile and the warm feeling in her chest. She looked into the teacher’s dark eyes, trying to find some kind of reassurance behind them that would make her feel good about herself again, that would remind her that she was awesome. However, all she got was a cold silence, and upon that realization, she swallowed nervously.

“I expect great things from you on next week’s test. You’d do well to read the book twice over.” Rainbow nodded nervously, shifting her gaze back to her seat and resuming her walk. “And Miss Apple too, from what I see in ‘her homework.’ It might be worth revisiting the order of operations.”

She walked quietly to her seat, head down, thinking again about her chances of getting into the gala. Fortunately for her, just turning in the homework counted toward the partial grade, not how well or poorly it was done. So far, she hadn’t failed any of the assignments given by Harshwhinny or any of the other teachers. However, her teacher was right—Rainbow didn’t understand many of the topics covered on the board. No matter how much she listened to Twilight talk about them as if she had been born with the knowledge, her mind just couldn’t grasp what was happening in class.

"Applejack’s homework" today had been signed with four out of twelve correct answers, two of which Rainbow had to look up online. The one before that, three out of eight, and before that, zero out of ten.

A cold bead of sweat ran down her temple as she pulled out her chair and sat down, staring at the smooth surface of the board, her mind drifting to the exam. That exam could determine her entry to the gala, and therefore, her ticket to the Wondercolts. If she failed that test, who knew when she’d get another chance like this?

Unconsciously, she started tapping her foot nervously against the floor.

Applejack arrived nearly half an hour later, receiving a disappointed reprimand (and a confused congratulations on her homework) from Harshwhinny, followed by a couple of nervous explanations from Rainbow, who, as thanks, received a firm pat on the back. Coming from Applejack, she knew how much that meant.

Summoning all her mental energy, but unable to avoid getting distracted every five minutes, Rainbow focused as much as she could on the lesson, taking notes on every word Harshwhinny said, without truly understanding what was being said. However, after another hour of class, the bell finally rang through the hallways, and Twilight, Applejack, and Rainbow gathered to head to the cafeteria, where they would meet the others.

“Why the long face, Rainbow?” Twilight asked, picking up her impeccably organized backpack from the floor and slinging it over her shoulders, showing off her new pair of magenta glasses.

“You seem distracted, colors,” Applejack added, adjusting her hat and firmly holding the bag she used as a backpack.

“I don’t have a long face,” Rainbow replied, composing herself and reclaiming her usual confident attitude.

“Sugarcube, your face isn’t normally that long. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really,” Rainbow insisted, letting out a nervous chuckle and raising her hands defensively.

Twilight let out a small sigh, looking at her friend with a slight note of condescension that, for some reason she couldn’t explain, annoyed Rainbow.

“It’s okay, Rainbow. If you ever need to talk, we’re here for you, right, Applejack?” The named girl opened her mouth, as if to say something, before being cut off by Twilight herself, who started walking toward the classroom door. “So, shall we go?” she asked with an energetic smile, inviting her two friends to leave the room.

Rainbow nodded, forcing a wide, fake grin before following Twilight out, with a drowsy Applejack trailing behind.

They walked through the school hallways, chatting about various topics, first running into Pinkie, then Fluttershy, and finally Rarity. They arrived at the cafeteria and sat on the bench where Rainbow had first found her childhood friend.

However, no matter how many jokes she made about Applejack’s tiredness, or Twilight’s four eyes, no matter how exaggerated or dramatic Rarity’s comments were, or how nonsensical Pinkie’s words got, Rainbow couldn’t shake the thought of the gala, the fear of not being able to go, all because of her own incompetence.

"Come on, Dash, you’re awesome, right?" she kept thinking, her stomach twisting at the idea.

"Say you’re awesome, please," she told herself, not noticing that, all along, Twilight had been watching her.

Chapter 13: Normal Life

"Uhhhhhh, Twilight has a boyfriend," Spike teased, dropping his fork onto the table and flashing a mischievous grin at his sister.

"Again, I don’t like men," Twilight replied, locking her phone, leaving the conversation on read, and returning to the meal in front of her.

"Uhhhhhhh, Twilight has a girlfriend."

Unable to suppress a slightly frustrated smile, Twilight rolled her eyes and focused on cutting the lasagna in front of her, bringing a piece to her mouth and savoring its rich flavor.

To her right, Shining Armor gave their younger brother a light elbow, causing a sharp squeal to escape his throat as he dropped his fork onto the plate with a loud clatter. Twilight burst into a giggle, covering her mouth with her hand.

However, it wasn’t long before her phone reminded her of the reason behind the teasing, as it began vibrating uncontrollably, almost as if in sync. She turned it over and glanced at the notifications, unable to stop a small smile from forming.

"Rainbow Dash CHS: Don’t leave me on read"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: Four-eyes"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: hEY"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: I’m talking to you"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: No one leaves Rainbow on read"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: Dummy"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: Dummy"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: Dummy"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: Dummy"

"Anyway, who are you talking to?" Shining Armor asked, his mouth full of lasagna, snapping Twilight out of her trance. The brunette lifted her gaze, only to meet her older brother’s striking blue eyes locked onto hers as he chewed noisily.

"Oh…" Twilight started, before realizing she also had a mouthful of lasagna. She took a second to swallow. "A friend from school."

"A friend from school? Now that’s something you don’t hear every day," Spike commented, dramatically dropping his fork onto the fancy plate, his eyes widening—just like Shining Armor’s and their father, Night Light’s.

The reality was that the entire Sparkle family was shocked, staring at the only daughter at the table with their mouths open and eyes bulging, as if they had just heard the most astonishing news in history. Coming from Twilight, it probably was.

However, not everyone at the table was looking at her. The one exception stood out like a splinter in the skin—Twilight’s mother, who kept her gaze down, her lasagna untouched.

Memories from a few weeks ago rushed back to Twilight, like an unstoppable torrent flooding the roads of her mind. The images, vivid as flesh, flashing before her eyes: the slap, the yelling, the crying; sobbing herself to sleep in Spike’s arms, and then, the next morning, going to school as if nothing had happened, as if nothing had changed.

But everything had changed.

She could say the slap hurt the most, or the burning in her throat from screaming, or even the swollen eyes that followed—but it would all be a lie. It was the silence, that deafening, artificial silence that hurt the most, that continued to hurt.

Her mother preparing breakfast in the mornings—silent. Greeting Twilight after school—silent. Cleaning her room—silent. Family meals—silent. Everything—silent.

She wanted to go back to that night, back to the echoing sound of her mother’s screams filling the room. She wanted to hear her voice again, just one more time. She wanted to apologize for what she had said. She wanted to hug her. She wanted to fix what had broken.

How she hated that silence.

Right now, barely two meters away, Twilight felt like her mother was in another city, another country, another world—anywhere but here, with her.

"How is it possible that after two years, you still don’t have a single friend?" Her mother’s words echoed in her head, each syllable searing into her mind. She wondered what her mother was thinking at that very moment. "She thinks I’m lying," Twilight thought to herself, staring back down at her plate of lasagna.

Suddenly, she realized she wasn’t hungry anymore.

"And what’s this friend’s name?" Night Light, Twilight’s father, asked, still sounding surprised.

Twilight flinched slightly, snapping back to reality for the second time. She blinked a few times, readjusting to her surroundings.

She stammered a bit, the words stuck in her throat, while the impatient buzzing of her phone continued beneath her hand. She glanced at the screen, only to find that Rainbow had now sent the same message over a hundred times—"Dummy"—repeated over and over, still flooding in.

She chuckled under her breath before turning back to her father with a smile.

"Her name is Rainbow, well, one of them is. Rainbow Dash."

"‘Them’?" Spike asked incredulously, choking on a piece of lasagna. Twilight let out another laugh, nodding, subconsciously avoiding her mother’s gaze.

"There are six of us. We even have a group chat and everything. Well, five of us do—one of them doesn’t have a phone."

"Lies, Twili," Shining Armor teased, leaning over the table, brushing his blue hair out of his face. "I want names."

"Oh, please," Twilight responded in the same playful tone. "I know it’s weird, but is it really that weird?"

"Weird would be Spike talking to a girl," Night Light chimed in, adopting the same teasing tone as his eldest son, earning a quiet "Hey!" from Spike. "This is more like a miracle."

"It’s not a miracle!" Twilight shot back with a grin, though deep down, she felt a small, unpleasant pang at how unbelievable it seemed to them that she had made friends. "It’s not a miracle, right?"

"And for your information, Dad, I also made a female friend at school recently," Spike announced, stuffing another bite of lasagna into his mouth with a pout.

"Lots of claims, not enough names. I want names!" Shining Armor pressed, tapping his fingers against the table.

"Watch this," the youngest Sparkle smirked, pulling out his phone and frantically searching for something.

The room fell into expectant silence, all eyes locked on Spike’s movements. It didn’t take long before he turned the screen toward them with a triumphant grin, revealing a photo.

In the image, two figures stood front and center. The first was Spike, clad in his poorly maintained gym uniform: a pair of fancy but dirty white-and-yellow sneakers, loose gray sweatpants, and a sweat-stained T-shirt with the Canterlot Elementary logo. Beside him, with her arms wrapped around his shoulders and a beaming, pearly-white smile, was a girl no older than him, with beautiful, fluffy pink and lavender hair and bright green eyes. She waved enthusiastically at the camera, wearing the same uniform—but even dirtier and more disheveled.

"Call me a liar now, Shining."

"Still not hearing a name, Spikey," Shining replied, trying to act casual, but his awestruck expression betrayed him.

Spike just smiled smugly and took a deep breath.

"Her name is Sweetie Belle. She’s from Canterlot, actually."

Suddenly, Twilight’s mind went completely blank. Only two words filled her thoughts—the name her brother had just uttered.

"Sweetie Belle," she whispered, almost unconsciously.

Rarity had never shown them pictures of her little sister, always insisting that she was either too terribly dirty (which frustrated her even more when Rainbow flaunted pictures of her own messy sibling) or simply refused to be photographed.

And yet, there she was—right in front of Twilight, on her brother’s phone. A real, living image of Rarity’s sister.

Twilight nearly burst into laughter, barely holding it back behind closed lips as her eyes gleamed with amazement.

How incredible the world was.

What were the chances that the same girl who had unknowingly led her to her first real friends since elementary school and Moon Dancer, would also become her little brother’s first real friend?

And that, moreover, that same girl was the owner of the Kardex that she had illegally kept in her backpack.

"Are you okay, Twili?" Shining Armor asked, still somewhat surprised by his brother’s words, but noticing that something was wrong with his sister.

And truly, something did seem wrong with Twilight. In an instant, her skin had paled, while her cheeks flushed in a sickly, suffocating shade due to the laughter she had stifled in her throat. Her eyes were wide as plates, and for some reason, she was smiling.

“Oh, no, it’s nothing, don’t worry,” the brunette replied, taking a deep breath and filling her mouth with lasagna again. She still wasn’t hungry, but something in her made her believe that was what she should do at that moment.

Spike chuckled, putting his phone away and returning to his meal, just like their father and brother. For a moment, the table was filled with a heavy, expectant silence, everyone watching Twilight attentively, as if they wanted to know something about her. Maybe why her phone kept vibrating non-stop, or why she kept smiling like a fool for no apparent reason, or perhaps the reason behind her sudden sickly appearance.

Twilight swallowed a huge bite of lasagna with difficulty and smiled at her family.

“Well, I just think it’s funny how small the world is. I mean, just a few weeks ago, I met…”

“She seems like a nice girl. Maybe you should invite her over one of these days.”

The sweet and gentle voice of Twilight Velvet carved a horrible and painful hole in the brunette’s stomach. It had been weeks since she had heard her mother’s voice in any way other than videos or distant conversations. Having her so close, tangible, and yet so far, was a blow Twilight was not prepared to take.

With wide eyes, unable to breathe properly, she lifted her gaze, meeting the smiling face of her mother, looking directly at her adoptive son, without shifting her field of vision in the slightest. As if she hadn’t even noticed Twilight sitting right beside her.

"How is it possible that after two years, you still don’t have a single friend?" The words echoed in her mind again and again, relentlessly, chipping away at her thoughts with every repetition, like a pickaxe breaking a stone, destroying, erasing.

Twilight clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth in pain, gripping her fork tightly between her fingers. "I made a friend, Mom," she thought, her inner voice cracking with each syllable. "Not just one, I made five friends."

Yet, she heard her mother’s crying again, and her cheek burned once more.

In distant voices, her family continued talking about various topics. They had moved on quickly from the matter of Twilight’s friends—perhaps too quickly. She wanted to talk about it, wanted them to believe her, wanted to rub it in her mother’s face that she was wrong, that she had made friends. She wanted to scream again.

She lifted her gaze, setting her fork back on her plate, and for a moment, she thought she met her mother’s blue eyes—the gaze she had been searching for weeks, the gaze she longed to have again, the gaze that Spike had taken from her today.

"I have friends," she thought, and somehow, her own mind responded, "I know."

Loudly, Twilight got up from her seat, pushing her chair back, drawing the attention of everyone at the table—except for the one she sought the most. She picked up her plate of lasagna, carefully gathered her utensils and dirty napkins.

“Twilight?” her father asked, confused, his mouth still full of food.

“I have to go study. Thanks for the meal,” Twilight replied without looking at anyone, turning quickly and walking decisively toward the kitchen, ready to put away what was left of her plate and wash her utensils. She crossed the dining room threshold, and just before reaching the fridge, she heard a muffled “There’s the Twilight we know” from her older brother behind her. Somehow, that hurt even more.

She finished washing up and climbed the luxurious granite stairs, reaching the second floor and walking in a straight line to the beautiful room at the end of the hallway, where a sign on the door read “Twilight.”

With a silent motion, she closed the door behind her, letting herself be enveloped by the artificial darkness created by her drawn curtains. Normally, she would have pulled the cord at that moment to let the sunlight in through the large window, but right then, she felt that maybe the darkness suited her better.

Without looking exactly where she was going, Twilight threw herself onto the bed, unable to get out of her mind that sliver of attention her mother had given her at the end of the meal, racking her brain trying to decipher what it meant. What did Velvet Sparkle really think of her daughter? Was she happy that she had made friends? Was she still angry? She was obviously still angry, but why? She wasn’t the one who got slapped, she wasn’t the one called a disappointment, an antisocial, her mother wasn’t the one who was insulted. Twilight had remained cordial (yelling, but cordial) throughout the entire argument. Why was her mother angry?

"I wish I had never had you as my mother. I wish someone like President Celestia were my mom and not you."

She stopped breathing for a moment, realizing that, yes, if she were her mother, she would be angry with her too.

She didn’t notice when she fell asleep, wrapped in the darkness of her room, on the soft touch of silk pillows and the coolness of the air conditioning. She only knew that, all of a sudden, the vibrations of her phone in her hand became too much to rest peacefully.

She checked the time, realizing her little nap had lasted just over twenty minutes, and yet, it had been more than enough for Rainbow to flood her chat with the word “Idiot” over seven hundred and eighty-two times.

A part of her felt exasperated by her friend’s insistence, by her inability to read Twilight’s unavailability and realize that maybe now wasn’t the best time to talk. However, another part of her, larger and more pronounced, smiled a little more with each message from Rainbow that kept coming, feeling in some way relieved and flattered that, with such insistence, she needed her.

She felt a warm pulse in her heart and decided she liked that kind of attention from her friend. She liked feeling wanted, feeling needed.

She smiled and unlocked her phone.

“Rainbow Dash CHS: Dummy”

“Rainbow Dash CHS: Dummy”

“Rainbow Dash CHS: Dummy”

"You: Sorry, sorry, I was eating."

For the first time in what felt like hours, the torrent of messages stopped, replaced by a quiet but pleasant “Rainbow Dash CHS is typing…”

“Rainbow Dash CHS: About time, you dummy”

"You: Haha... Sorry for leaving you on read, Rainbow."

“Rainbow Dash CHS: Why do you put a period at the end? It looks weird”

“Rainbow Dash CHS: I'm TwiLai.”

She let out a chuckle, her fingers dancing over the keyboard.

"You: Because it’s the correct way to write."

“Rainbow Dash CHS: Nerd.”

“Rainbow Dash CHS: Look, now I’m like you.”

“Rainbow Dash CHS: Nerd.”

“Rainbow Dash CHS: Nerd.”

“Rainbow Dash CHS: Heyyy, so are you gonna help me with the algebra test??”

“Rainbow Dash CHS: Not that I need help, but let’s say I did”

“Rainbow Dash CHS: Just saying”

“Rainbow Dash CHS: I’m awesome”

"You: Yeah, sure…"

Without putting her phone aside, Twilight stood up from her bed and walked to the desk at the back of her room. Decorated with star and constellation motifs, it was framed by a massive dark metal bookshelf that gave the space a robust and somewhat menacing appearance. More than once, Spike had told his older sister that her interior decorating style was "beyond unappealing." However, the brunette couldn’t care less, as long as it allowed her to store more and more books.

She felt the phone vibrate in her hand but decided not to check it just yet, not until she had her math notes in front of her. Twilight could handle complex calculations without much trouble, but she always felt more secure with a good book or a well-organized notebook in her hands.

She sat down, pulled out her notebook, and opened the exercises she had worked on with Rainbow a week ago. Naturally, the pages were filled entirely with her handwriting, and the only problem solved in Rainbow’s rough and ugly script stood out, marked with a glaring red cross in the corner, followed by two question marks.

"Rainbow Dash CHS: Just try disappearing on me again, Sparkle"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: I swear"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: I promise"

"You: I’m here, I’m here."

"You: I went to grab the exercises we worked on together, to see what we should study."

"Rainbow Dash CHS: YOU’RE GONNA HELP ME???"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: Not that I need it, of course"

"Rainbow Dash CHS: BUT THANKS TWILAI"

Twilight smiled faintly at the nickname her friend had given her. It was different from "Twili," the one her family used, and in some way, it comforted her more than she cared to admit.

"You: You’re welcome, Rainbow. Pinkie and Rarity also asked me for help, so it’s not a big deal to assist someone else."

"Rainbow Dash CHS: You know, it’d be cool if we studied together. That way, we wouldn’t be such a hassle for you."

Twilight stared at the message for a few seconds, analyzing each word in front of her, thinking. Rainbow was right—it would actually be helpful to have a study session together. They could support each other, and above all, it would help Twilight save time and effort.

"You could show them," the brunette thought briefly, unconsciously locking her phone and leaving Rainbow on read. She could prove to her family that she was more than just a study machine. Prove that, despite the teasing, the arguments, and the fights—despite everything—she had made friends. She had truly connected with someone.

However, the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, crumbling like ashes on her tongue.

Had she really connected with them? Or was it just a coincidence that they now had a group chat, that they talked in the afternoons, that they hung out during breaks? She didn’t know. She didn’t know what it really meant to have a friend—to have friends. She didn’t know if what they had was truly friendship.

Her heart pounded fiercely, as if begging to escape from her chest, where suddenly, everything felt cold, empty. Just like with Moon Dancer.

Two soft knocks on the door snapped her out of her trance, reminding her that she was still sitting at her desk, staring into nothingness, while her phone vibrated furiously in her hand. She shook her head slightly, trying to rid herself of that cold, unsettling feeling—with little success.

"Come in," she croaked hoarsely, setting the still-buzzing phone on her desk.

Without much delay, the door swung open, revealing Spike’s small but chubby frame. He was a short kid—especially compared to Shining or Twilight. Neither of them were exactly towering figures like Applejack, but they weren’t particularly short either. Especially Shining, who, with his strict workout routine, always managed to appear taller than he actually was. Not Spike, though. He was small, even by twelve-year-old standards, with short arms and legs that gave him a somewhat comical appearance.

His hair was a bright green, unlike anyone else’s, styled into a puffy quiff that, while adding a few centimeters to his height, didn’t do much to improve his stature. However, people usually didn’t focus on his hair. What caught their attention were his peculiar eyes—almost as if crafted on purpose, they were the exact same shade as his hair. A mysterious glow made his irises resemble a reptile’s, stretching his pupils into an intriguing optical illusion.

He didn’t share the eye or hair color of his siblings or parents, making his adopted origins obvious to anyone even mildly observant. Velvet wasn’t his real mother, and Night Light wasn’t his real father. But it wasn’t as if he had any memories of his biological parents.

And it wasn’t as if he wanted to, really.

"Can I come in?" he asked softly, his high-pitched and somewhat feminine voice having been the subject of Shining’s teasing more than once.

Twilight tilted her head slightly, still somewhat dazed by her brother’s presence. "Sure," she replied, even quieter than him.

Spike walked into the dark and dreary room, heading toward Twilight’s bed and hopping onto it. His exaggerated movements had always amused his sister, and this time was no exception. However, something inside her kept the laughter stuck in her throat.

"Have you been…?" Spike trailed off, lightly touching the pillow where Twilight’s face had been buried just moments ago, examining the creases in the fabric.

Confused, the brunette craned her neck to see what he was looking at. But then, as if struck by divine revelation, she quickly realized why. Moving her eyes stung—her eyelids felt swollen, and she could feel the damp trails of lingering tears. Once again, she had cried in her sleep.

"It’s nothing," Twilight said firmly, drawing her brother’s attention back to her.

"Well, Twilight, if you say so…"

"What’s up?" she asked quickly, equally eager for him to leave so she could sink back into her solitude, and for him to stay so she wouldn’t be alone with her thoughts.

"Oh… Well, I just wanted to say that, jokes aside, I’m really happy you’ve found people who make you happy. You deserve to have fun with your friends until you start your internship."

The air suddenly felt warmer against Twilight’s skin, sending tiny electric shivers across her body—the comforting effect of being near Spike. Despite his usual innocence and foolishness, he never failed to find the kindest words for his sister. A few weeks ago, when they had slept in the same bed, he had soothed her to sleep, and now, he was doing the same thing again.

Twilight constantly told herself that she was the older one, that she should be the one comforting her brother. But in moments like these, she was grateful it wasn’t the case.

"Thanks… That makes me happy to think about, too," she replied, allowing a small smile to grace her lips—until it once again turned bitter in her mouth. Were they really her friends?

Her faint smile quickly twisted into a subtle yet unmistakable expression of sadness. Spike noticed right away, standing up from the bed and walking closer to his sister.

"Are you okay?" he asked cautiously.

Twilight bit her lip, clenching her fists against her thighs nervously as the question consumed her, bouncing around her mind over and over again.

What could she do? How could she know? Since Moon Dancer, no one had wanted to be Twilight’s friend—or rather, Twilight hadn’t wanted to be anyone’s friend. What was different now? What would make this time any different? How could she know?

“I hope you don’t get any rest, Twilight,” her mother said when she finally gave up on the argument and tried to get some sleep that night. The brunette walked into her brother’s room in a daze, kneeling down and hugging him without a word until she finally broke down in tears when she heard her own name being spoken by Spike. She hated remembering that moment, but for some reason, she felt that maybe Moon Dancer had wished the same thing for her back then. Or maybe she still does, right now.

“Spike,” Twilight began, stopping her brother in his tracks, her eyes glistening. “How do you know when someone is your friend?”

The boy’s eyes widened as he swallowed hard. He looked around before finally meeting his sister’s gaze.

“Well… I guess it’s just something you know,” he answered, stammering, nervously playing with his hands. “When you know someone is happy with you, and you’re happy with them, I don’t think there’s much more to it. You’re friends, just like that.”

“Just like that…?” Twilight asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Just like that. If you can make your friends laugh, and they make you laugh too, then you’re friends.”

Twilight lowered her gaze, furrowing her brow, still hearing her mother’s words in her head—but now, another sound wrapped around her thoughts, holding them firmly: the voices of Fluttershy and Rarity, two days ago.

"Why did you kick me out of the group?"

"Darling, you defended Colatura’s dye, you’re lucky I didn’t have you arrested."

"I was this close, this close to crying in the middle of chemistry class. Please don’t do that again."

"Why is Rarity the only admin of the group in the first place?"

"I was going to ask the exact same thing."

"That’s right, Twilight created the group. Why are you the admin now?"

"Not only that, sugarcube. I was there when she made it, she made all of us admins."

"Alright, gorgeous, calm down, no need to get worked up, stress is bad for your skin."

"My heart got damaged when you kicked me out of the group."

"I thought we all agreed I was right in that moment."

"When, literally when?"

"Oh, Twilight, darling, just now, yesterday, always—does it even matter?"

"This is why life is easier without your gadgets. Don’t you see how happy I am?"

"Applejack, you’re one step away from dropping dead where you stand."

"She’s just embarrassed to admit she’s from the countryside, Twilight. Just let her be."

"One of these days, Rainbow Dash, one of these days…"

Twilight remembered Rainbow’s sly chuckle, quickly followed by Fluttershy’s and then Rarity’s, until it finally caught up with her and even Applejack herself. She remembered the sound of their laughter so clearly—the tone, the pitch—but most of all, she remembered how it felt in her chest, in her ears, in her heart.

And right now, that same laughter sent shivers down her spine. She could hear it loud and clear—the laughter of her friends.

“Thanks, Spike,” the brunette finally said, kneeling in front of her brother and wrapping him in a warm embrace, doing her best not to cry. Confused, Spike returned the gesture with clumsy but honest movements, gently patting his sister’s back.

“…You’re welcome?”

After a few moments, Twilight pulled away, looking at her little brother’s face, which now bore a genuine, gentle smile from ear to ear. Slowly, she stood up and returned to her desk, turning back toward it.

On the spotless metal surface, Rainbow’s answered exercise still rested, topped by the infuriating phone that once again flashed the word “Idiot” across the screen. She had completely forgotten about it, and seeing that whirlwind of messages again made her feel equal parts guilty and loved.

“Spike,” Twilight began, looking back at her brother, who was already about to leave the room. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure,” the boy replied, looking curiously at his sister.

Twilight glanced back at her phone, feeling every angry vibration through the cold metal of the desk. She had to help Rainbow, she had to help Rarity, and she had to help Pinkie. She wanted to help them. She was good at studying, and she wanted to share that with her friends—her real friends.

She knew what she had to do.

“I don’t think I’m ready to talk to Mom just yet. Can you ask her something for me, please?”

Spike tilted his head, puzzled. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing important,” Twilight answered, trying her hardest to believe it at that moment. “Could you?”

“Sure, I guess… What do you need?”

Twilight smiled and looked back at her phone.

“I’m having a sleepover with my friends. Can you ask her for permission on my behalf?”

Chapter 14: Just a bit more

Everything ran before her green eyes like a massive montage without rhyme or reason. Sounds burst from one side to another, entering her ears like a chaotic song, never lingering long enough to be properly processed—or even heard. Every voice, every shout, every complaint, all intertwined in an impatient, irritating, and rough tapestry that struck her eyes over and over again, leaving her dazed and confused.

The only thing Applejack knew for sure was that she was tired. Too tired.

Her head ached, her eyes ached, her joints struggled to respond, and her memory was beginning to fail her. She didn’t know what day it was, nor what she was even supposed to be doing. One moment, she was preparing an energy smoothie with red fruits, the next, she was being scolded by her boss. Then she was rushing to the bathroom, feeling like she was about to explode, and later, she was simply staring into nothing, her gaze lost, wondering if she had forgotten something.

"What were they telling me?" she wondered, feeling her voice transcend from one moment to the next, echoing through her personal history, hurting her bones. She didn’t know if she had been the one who asked that question or if someone else had moved their lips for her. She didn’t even know what she was referring to. What did she mean—who was trying to tell her what?

She closed her eyes for another moment before a sharp, violent scream forced them open again. At least she could say for sure that this scream had come from her body, crying out for help. "Just a little more, Applejack," she told herself every day as she put on the rough apron of Doodle Shakes and started her shift. Every single day, without fail. Just a little more. Just make it to the next one. And then the next. And then the next.

But now, she no longer knew when "the next" would be.

Each day blurred into the last, one bleeding into the other like an overflowing glass of water, spilling and staining everything beneath it. Applejack’s glass had been full for a long time, but she kept pouring more and more into it.

"Just a little less... more."

A distant echo began to pound in her ears, calling for her attention, pleading for a response. She didn’t know exactly what it was saying, only that, as much as she could tell, it sounded important.

Countless other visions flashed before her eyes—a middle-aged, bald man yelling at her, her finger caught between two blender blades, blood in a kitchen, and an apron in her hands, stained. Another image: Granny Smith, asleep, as she always found her these days.

The distant echo drew closer, its syllables becoming clearer and clearer until she could finally make out a curious phrase within it: “Are you okay?”

"Of course, I’m okay," she answered herself before feeling the sting of blood on her fingertip again. She looked down at her hands, but once again, the image of Granny Smith was in front of her. On weekends, she helped Big Mac in the orchard, and during the week, she left so early and returned so late that she barely had time to say hello to Granny. To her, she only existed like this—asleep.

"I want to sleep," she thought, before mentally scolding herself for even considering the idea.

The echo grew closer, calling her, pleading with her. It was a voice, definitely, but whose? Who was calling her so insistently?

"Applejack, are you okay? You’re bleeding."

"I'm not..." she mumbled clumsily, as her eyes focused on the light in front of her.

"Yes, you are, Applejack," Twilight replied sternly, kneeling in front of her friend and taking her hand, gently dabbing at the wound on her finger with a handkerchief from her pocket.

She was sitting in the food court of Canterlot Mall, lined wall to wall with synthetic wood tables and surrounded by countless food stands. Applejack shook her head slowly, forcing her mind to focus on the present as various images continued to flood her thoughts. The light streamed violently through the massive windows, blinding her vision and making her head spin even more than it already was. She shook her head again, lowering her gaze to her friend, who was carefully pouring water over her hands.

"Am I?" she asked drowsily, not even sure what she was asking.

"Very much so. How did this happen?"

"I don’t know..." Applejack replied, still too confused to understand what her friend was referring to, until the burning in her finger forced her to focus on the state of her hand. With effort, she focused her eyes on the tip of her index finger, only to discover a deep wound gushing with blood. It stung—so much that it felt like a monstrous frost was exploding through her veins, beneath her skin. Within moments, the pain became almost unbearable.

"It’s deep. You’ll need alcohol, or it’ll get infected."

"How in tarnation did this happen?" she exclaimed, with an almost surprising amount of energy for her exhausted state.

"I was hoping you could answer that. How much sleep did you get last night?"

The question caused a sharp pain in her chest as her mind made a titanic effort to sort through her thoughts and memories. How much had she really slept? She didn’t know; she couldn’t even remember exactly what day it was, let alone how much rest she had gotten.

"Two hours... maybe three, I think," she answered, in a tone that was far from convincing.

Twilight looked up and furrowed her brow in frustration as she continued tending to the wound with patience, wrapping the now blood-stained handkerchief around Applejack’s finger.

"Your sleep problem is getting worse, Applejack. You need help."

"Help? Me?" the blonde exclaimed, suddenly regaining clarity, frowning. "I’m fine."

"You’re not. Not like this."

"It’s just an accident. Happens all the time on the farm."

"We’re not on the farm, Applejack. For Starswirl’s sake, you’re not even supposed to be here—you’re supposed to be at work."

She opened her mouth, but no words came out, just a few unintelligible sounds. Twilight was right. Judging by the sunlight, it had to be around six, maybe later. At this time, she should be at Doodle Shakes, serving bland fruit smoothies with a fake smile. What was she doing here?

She lowered her gaze again to her friend and to her injured finger, now covered by a makeshift pinkish-red knot, and tried to focus her mind on it. Somehow, she supposed that wounded finger was her answer—but an answer to what?

Then, suddenly, she saw it.

She saw herself tossing two kiwis and a strawberry into the blender, completely unaware that her hand was still inside before turning it on, slicing her finger on the sharp blades. She saw her boss yelling at her for getting blood all over the station’s equipment, and how that was the last straw for his patience. She saw him forcing her to take off her apron and leave, walking away humiliated to the center of the food court, clutching her bleeding finger to keep it from dripping onto the floor.

She saw herself sitting on the bench, losing herself in the whirlwind of her mind and exhaustion, just minutes ago. How had she forgotten all of that?

Worse yet, she was now fired. She had lost one of her two jobs, and without that money, there was no way she could cover tuition and bus fares at the end of the month. She’d have to drop out of school again. Just like last year, she thought, unconsciously narrowing her eyes in sadness, remembering when she was fired from SubNeigh for the same reason—her exhaustion.

"You’re an excellent cook, Applejack," her boss had told her that day as he took her apron. "Get your life together, and then we’ll talk about you coming back."

She had an entire year to put her life in order.

And now, she had been fired again.

"I quit," she lied—so smoothly that even she was surprised by it.

Twilight looked up, somewhat surprised, pausing her work on Applejack’s finger for a moment before shaking her head and continuing.

She had to find a solution. She always did. She always managed.

She had to find another job.

She wasn’t going to lose another year.

She wasn’t going to disappoint her family again.

Even if they never knew they had been disappointed.

Applejack wasn’t going to waste the opportunity that Granny Smith had worked so hard to achieve just because of simple exhaustion. It would take more than that to bring her down.

"What are you doing here anyway, sugarcube?" she asked, pushing those thoughts aside and focusing on Twilight.

The brunette rinsed the area around the makeshift bandage with her bottled water once more before straightening up and sitting beside the blonde.

"You’re not in the group yet, so you don’t know, but I’m organizing a sleepover for the six of us."

"A sleepover?" Applejack asked, surprised. The six friends had been talking every day and hanging out now and then for almost a month, but she hadn’t realized when their bond had reached that level. She had never slept over at anyone’s house who wasn’t family, and it was definitely something completely new for her—something that, in a way, didn’t quite sit right.

"Well, ‘sleepover’ makes it sound super fun, but it’s really more of a study night. The algebra midterm is on Tuesday, and a few of the girls asked me for help studying, so I thought, why not?"

"I didn’t ask you," Applejack replied, her tone perhaps a bit harsher than she intended. Twilight shrugged, blushing slightly.

"Well, I know you didn’t, but I figured that since most of us would already be there, it’d be a nice opportunity to have a good time. But if you don’t want to come, that’s okay, really," the brunette replied, her voice laced with embarrassment.

Applejack lowered her gaze, thoughtful, feeling a bit guilty about how she had spoken to her friend. She realized she was in a bad mood. Why? She couldn’t really say.

Or, well, she could. She had just been fired, she had nearly cut her finger, and on top of that, she had a math exam in less than a week—one she’d probably need a good night’s sleep for.

She was frustrated, scrunching her nose slightly as she kept applying pressure to her finger with the makeshift tourniquet Twilight had put together for her. Life was crumbling around her, and at that moment, nothing sounded better than just sleeping—sleeping and not waking up until next summer, when the orchard couldn’t last any longer without her.

"Oh, barns, I miss my bed," she thought, picturing her simple yet functional bedroom bathed in the silvery glow of the Ponyville moon.

She loved the Ponyville moon—bright and powerful, nothing like the Canterlot moon, which was dimmed by the city's own lights, just as the big city dimmed her.

She lifted her gaze, lost and defeated, still frustrated with life and herself, wondering if there was something more—something that would allow her to enjoy a sleepover with her new friends.

"Nothing…" Applejack whispered, closing her eyes.

"Did you say something?" Twilight asked innocently, leaning toward her friend again.

"Nothing, no reason, I guess."

Applejack took a deep breath and turned toward her friend, offering a sad but genuine smile.

"So, what time should we be at your house, sugarcube?"

Chapter 15: All-nighter

With a silly grin on her face, Twilight left the chaotic kitchen and headed toward the front door of her house, where Fluttershy, from outside, had told her she had already arrived.

She skipped along, passing the huge dining room where Shining Armor was having dinner, calling the florist for his wedding to sort out some issue, passing through the living room where Spike was playing frantically on the Hay Station, dying over and over again in Elden Reins, and finally passing in front of her father’s office, where he stood out for his absence.

Twilight’s parents had decided to spend the night away. Night Light Sparkle had an important dinner with some banking debtors in Fillydelphia, and Velvet had decided to accompany him. They wouldn’t be back until tomorrow afternoon, which, to some extent, frustrated Twilight a little; she wanted to show her mother how much fun she was going to have with her friends that night, and how much it meant to her that they were all studying together, in the same place.

Of course, her friends weren’t a weapon to use against her mother, and that morning, Shining Armor had made sure to make that clear.

She reached the front entrance, taking the luxurious silver handle with purple details in her hands, pulling it open and letting the cold night air in. On the other side, looking at her phone, Fluttershy waited, a slight smile on her face.

“Twilight!” Fluttershy exclaimed at the top of her lungs, which wasn’t much, brushing the pink hair off her face. “I hope I’m not the last one,” she finished, hugging Twilight.

Silently, Twilight returned the hug, smiling faintly, her eyes scanning behind her friend for something. After a few seconds, the two girls separated, with the hostess still inspecting the surroundings with a confused look.

“Did your parents leave you here?” Twilight asked, still looking around. “I don’t see them…”

“Oh, nothing like that,” Fluttershy replied, taking off her backpack and looking through it. “I came by myself, actually. Is it okay if I park there?”

Fluttershy slightly turned to the side, clearing the view for Twilight, revealing a small but adorable green Mini Trotter parked on the sidewalk in front of the house. A feeling of absurd disbelief flooded the brunette, dropping her jaw and wide-eyed, without realizing she had stopped breathing.

Her friend, on the other hand, shrugged, embarrassed, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

“Oh, I can move it if it’s in the way…” Fluttershy continued, pulling out the car keys.

Snapping out of her trance, Twilight shook her head aggressively, nervously smiling at her friend.

“No, no, not at all. It’s no problem… It’s just that I had no idea you could drive. Or that you had your own car.”

“It was a gift from my parents for my last birthday. Are you sure it’s okay if I leave it there?”

“Really,” Twilight responded, gesturing for Fluttershy to come inside. “The others have already arrived.”

Fluttershy nodded slightly, walking in front of Twilight, still a little embarrassed, now for being the last one to arrive. The brunette closed the door behind them, leaving the two girls in the house’s interior, only interrupted by the sound of Spike’s humiliating deaths that kept repeating over and over.

Taking her by the arm, Twilight guided them through the house, with Fluttershy shyly waving hello to both Spike and Shining Armor, before finally crossing the threshold into the kitchen.

To say that the room was spacious would be an understatement; the Sparkle kitchen was enormous, like the rest of the house. It was arranged in an L-shape, with a beautiful black marble island in the center, where the stunning quartz and glass stove stood out. On either side of it, and around the entire room, gray granite countertops gleamed in contrast with the pearly tile wall, each with a distinct marble vein pattern that made the warm, pleasant lights shine. At the back, almost like a tower, rested the enormous refrigerator, imposing and stoic, gleaming in a metallic and sober gray, nearly contrasting too much with the rest of the decor. The refrigerator stood out so much, in fact, that when Rarity first entered, she couldn’t help but make a sarcastic comment about it.

Scattered between the countertops and the stools around the island, Applejack, Rainbow, and Rarity were actively talking, but they set that aside when they saw their two friends enter the room, both of them flashing wide smiles.

“I thought you weren’t gonna show up, Flutters!” Rainbow called out, pouring herself a glass of water and drinking it.

“Darling, I was getting worried. I thought something had happened to you.”

“Oh, sorry about that…” Fluttershy murmured, nervously rubbing her arm. “There was quite a bit of traffic on Mare Boulevard.”

“My mom mentioned something about an idiot crashing there this afternoon. Didn’t know you lived south,” Rainbow commented, setting her glass down in the sink.

“Speaking of things I didn’t know, did any of you know Fluttershy has a car?” Twilight asked incredulously, walking over and sitting next to Rarity. At the brunette’s question, the other three quickly mimicked her reaction, dropping their jaws and opening their eyes wide.

“A car already? Our Fluttershy with a car?”

“Darling, why didn’t you say something earlier?” Rarity asked energetically, jumping toward her friend with excitement in her eyes, gripping her arm tightly, which made Fluttershy flinch. “Oh, you and I are going to have so much fun from now on, dear. Just imagine all the things we can do now! I’ll pay for the gas, of course.”

“Where’s Pinkie?” Twilight asked now, looking around, expecting to find her friend. However, there was no sign of her anywhere.

“She mentioned something about ‘Elden Reins,’ but to be honest, I wasn’t really paying much attention,” Rarity replied, still holding onto Fluttershy’s arm, a bored expression on her face.

However, before Twilight could respond, she saw a pink blur moving at full speed from the game room, hopping up and down, before lunging at Fluttershy and Rarity from behind, arms outstretched and hands open.

“Fluttershy!” Pinkie yelled, before landing on her friend, knocking her to the ground with a loud crash, accompanied by a quiet squeak from Fluttershy and a loud scream from Rarity. “I missed you soooooo much! You can’t even imagine what’s happened since the last time we saw each other!”

“Pinkie…” Fluttershy responded, out of breath, forcing a fake smile and rubbing her hands. “We saw each other this morning.”

Pinkie hopped up with her eyes wide open, then let out a loud laugh.

“You’re right! Silly me,” she concluded, then skipped over to one of the island stools. Rarity got up with a loud grunt, dusting off her skirt, and scowling, which only provoked more laughter from Applejack and Rainbow.

“Well, that answers the question,” Twilight commented, helping Fluttershy get up and taking her backpack off her shoulders. “You didn’t bring your animals, did you?”

“I didn’t want to cause you any trouble, Twilight, so I convinced them it’d be best if I left them at home today.”

“And where did you leave Sweetie Belle, Rarity?” Twilight asked again, now looking at the mentioned girl.

“Oh, dear, actually, that’s something I wanted to tell you. Rainbow here offered that Sweetie Belle stay at her place, since it seems like she and Scootaloo became good friends without us even noticing,” Rarity replied, dropping her exasperated expression and immediately replacing it with an innocent smile. “What are the chances?”

“Normal. Scoots learned everything she knows from me, which already makes her cooler than ninety percent of the other kids at school. If I were Sweetie Belle, I’d want to be her friend too,” Rainbow added, leaning back in her seat, crossing her arms behind her head.

Twilight flashed an honest smile, adjusting her glasses on her nose and taking a deep breath. “I could calculate the exact odds, but I can already tell you they’re definitely low,” the brunette continued, approaching the intimidating refrigerator and pulling out a can of sparkling water. “I already ordered dinner. How about we head upstairs to get started?”

“Slumber party!” Pinkie shouted, grabbing her suitcase from the pile on the floor and dashing toward the stairs.

With eager anticipation and energy, the six friends walked in a line through the house’s hallways, once again passing Twilight’s two brothers, who seemed frozen in place, acting exactly as they had since their arrival. The house was painted in a sober yet elegant white, with purple and blue accents on things like tablecloths and plant pots. The floor was the same grayish marble tile as the rest of the house, which, of course, drew more than a few compliments from Rarity. “Darling, the floor’s finish is simply magnificent,” “Yes, but have you seen the walls? Good taste truly abounds here,” “The fabric on this chair—seriously, the fabric on this chair! No, of course I’m not going to steal it!” were among the many comments heard on their way to Twilight’s room.

However, the group’s stylist had little to say about their host’s bedroom, falling completely silent at the sight of the stark furniture—a silence that was quickly interrupted by Pinkie, who threw herself onto Twilight’s bed and began bouncing up and down repeatedly.

“This is going to be so much fun!” she shouted, completely unbothered by the late hour. “We’re going to stay up all night, tell scary stories, have pillow fights, sing terrible songs from the 2010s…” She spoke so fast that half her words came out as an incoherent babble rather than actual sentences.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll be able to stay up all night,” Fluttershy murmured weakly, placing her backpack on the floor and glancing at her friend with an apologetic expression.

“That’s because we’re not staying up all night,” Twilight countered, approaching Pinkie, grabbing her wrist firmly, and yanking her down from the bed, forcing her to get off with a whimper that sounded oddly like a puppy’s. “We’re going to have fun, yes, but with the magic of Algebra!”

A loud groan escaped Rarity and Rainbow’s lips, with the latter dramatically throwing herself onto the floor with a loud thud. Twilight, on the other hand, merely frowned, took a deep breath, and walked toward her desk. Placing her hands on either side of it, she gave a slight tug, moving the furniture just enough to reveal a small wheeled whiteboard, which she dragged to the front of her five friends.

“Uh-oh, she brought out the board,” Rainbow quipped teasingly, lying on the floor as Rarity took Pinkie’s arm and invited her to sit on the bed.

“I brought out the board, so pay attention.”

With an exaggerated groan, Rainbow reached for her backpack, dragging it toward her and pulling out a battered, crumpled notebook, which she set on her lap before gesturing to Fluttershy for a pencil. The shy girl gently took out a grid-patterned notebook decorated with butterflies and handed her friend a pretty green pen.

“Just don’t make us fall asleep too early, Four-Eyes—at least not before dinner gets here.”

“Oh, come on,” Twilight responded cheerfully, already scribbling symbols and letters on the board, doing her best to keep her handwriting steady despite the obvious excitement in her movements. “It’s going to be fun! And the best part is that thanks to what we study tonight, we’ll all be able to pass!”

“Two bits says Applejack falls asleep in half an hour,” Rainbow chimed in, raising her hand with a mischievous grin.

“I won’t, Sugarcube!” the named girl shouted, still standing, stomping her boots and aggressively twirling a pen between her fingers. “I could eat a whole bull!”

Twilight turned toward Applejack, scrutinizing her closely. She looked the same as usual—scruffy and unkempt—but something was off, something that wasn’t typically present in her demeanor: energy. Her eyes were puffy, her pupils dilated; her right eyelid twitched uncontrollably, and her fingers wouldn’t stop moving, either spinning the pen or tapping aggressively on whatever was nearby.

In a way, Twilight found it amusing to see her usually exhausted friend bursting with so much energy. However, she couldn’t help but wonder… why?

“Are you okay, Applejack?” Fluttershy asked softly, taking a few cautious steps toward her.

“More alive than a wild herd of mountain goats, Sugarcube!” Applejack replied energetically, grinning from ear to ear, tripping over her words. “Yeehaw! Are we gonna crush this exam or what?”

Twilight shook her head in confusion, glancing at the rest of her friends to see if any of them had an explanation for Applejack’s odd behavior. Fluttershy looked bewildered, Rainbow smirked as she snapped a picture of the blonde, and Pinkie had her usual goofy grin. But it was Rarity who looked the most concerned—forcing a toothy smile, her eyebrows raised in guilty obviousness.

It didn’t take long for her to notice Twilight staring at her. Nervously, she scratched her head and swallowed hard.

“I may or may not have given Applejack a cup of coffee…” Rarity confessed anxiously, cracking her knuckles. “Or several… She was dozing off, so I offered to make her some while you were greeting Fluttershy. Turns out, my dear had never had coffee before—apparently, her grandmother doesn’t like it…”

“Seasonal apples! Granny Smith’s gonna pay for depriving me of this divine nectar my whole life!” Applejack shouted again, still grinning wildly.

“And I think she’s just now feeling the effects.”

Twilight stared at Rarity in shock, trying to process her words and mentally rearrange the night’s agenda to accommodate this new development. Meanwhile, Applejack approached Fluttershy, still smiling that unnervingly wide grin, pressing their noses together.

“I can see the color of your breath.”

“All right, all right!” their host exclaimed, pinching the bridge of her nose and shutting her eyes in exasperation. “Everything will be fine, Twilight, everything will be fine,” she told herself. “Anyway, we’ll all have plenty of energy after dinner, so we might as well get started now. Sound good?”

“This is a gold mine,” Rainbow whispered, recording every one of Applejack’s antics with her phone.

“What color is mine? What color is mine?” Pinkie squealed excitedly, jumping in front of Applejack and blowing in her face. Twilight could swear she saw tiny sparkles in her breath.

However, with an irritated growl, she grabbed Pinkie’s wrist and yanked her back onto the bed, frowning.

“Breath doesn’t have a color, Pinkie—not in a way humans can perceive!”

“But…!”

“It doesn’t!” Twilight snapped before violently turning toward Rainbow and smacking the phone out of her hands.

“Hey!”

“No distractions!” she scolded, walking impatiently back to the whiteboard before Rainbow could protest. “We’re here to study.”

“We just got here—give us a break.”

“I’ve been here since the afternoon!” Applejack announced, now seated in Twilight’s desk chair, aggressively spinning in circles.

“You’re seriously not going to let me record this?”

“No distractions, I said!” Twilight concluded, setting Rainbow’s phone aside and adjusting her glasses. She inhaled slowly, letting her energy dissipate and her body relax. “We’re here to study. Once we feel ready for the exam, we can relax, okay?” she asked in a much calmer tone.

Rainbow grumbled a quiet, unintelligible “fine,” rolling her eyes in exasperation before opening her notebook to a blank page. Rarity held Pinkie’s hand, keeping her on the bed as they both gave small nods.

“Good. Let’s begin.”

With a terrifying mastery of the subject, Twilight began explaining the topics they had "learned" under Miss Harshwinny's tutelage once again—from the hierarchy of operations to the law of exponents—answering any questions her friends posed. She also occasionally presented an exercise for them to solve, though, much to her dismay, things didn't turn out as she expected: Fluttershy was excelling, getting result after result correct with ease, and even, to Twilight’s surprise, Applejack wasn’t far behind, only making a few mistakes with symbols now and then but generally maintaining an impressive streak of correct answers.

However, Rarity continued to struggle with even some of the simplest operations, though she refused to admit it, and both Rainbow and Pinkie seemed like they weren’t even trying. The former looked tired and bored, avoiding participation as much as possible and giving any generic answer she could think of, while the latter had turned into a complete headache for Twilight—jumping and fluttering around the room as if she were constantly searching for something but never satisfied with what she found.

“Pinkie?” Twilight asked, hoping her friend would volunteer to answer the next exercise. However, she was not in her usual spot next to Rarity, and even the latter seemed surprised not to find her there. Twilight let out an exasperated groan, rolling her eyes. “Where did she go now?”

Rarity shrugged in ignorance, raising her eyebrows apologetically, while Twilight shook her head aggressively, grumbling under her breath.

“Maybe she’s playing hide-and-seek,” Rainbow commented disinterestedly as she tossed her pen into the air and caught it again, a movement that unconsciously kept Fluttershy mesmerized.

Twilight groaned in frustration, pressing her hand against her face, smudging her glasses with fingerprints. “Why would she be playing…?” she started, then suddenly stopped, closing her eyes as she realized who she was talking about. “Of course she would. Naturally.”

She set her markers down on her desk, her mouth twisted into a visible expression of exasperation, her eyes tired and furious. In truth, every part of Twilight radiated anger, so none of her friends dared say anything at that moment (or they simply didn’t notice, in Rainbow’s case). She then scanned every corner of the room, trying to find some trace of her playful friend.

“Pinkie?” she called, her voice surprisingly soft, not matching her expression. With slow but determined steps, she advanced through the room, glancing into its various corners. “Pinkie, we need to move on. Where are you?” she asked, only to be met with silence once again.

She let out a loud sigh, closing her eyes momentarily and adjusting her glasses on her nose. She didn’t care that they were smudged from when she touched them moments ago. She didn’t care that her friends were now looking at her with nervous expressions, swallowing hard. And above all, she didn’t care if Pinkie saw her face and realized how angry she was.

She was furious. She had planned the entire evening to help her friends ace the test, and no matter how hard she tried, Pinkie always seemed to be there to sabotage her. Yes, she loved Pinkie just as much as the rest of her friends, but this had to stop here and now. Bigger things were at stake.

“Come on, Pinkie. Come out now,” she called again, clapping her hands lightly as if trying to get her attention. “If you’re still in this room, knock on whatever’s nearby.”

Almost as if by prophecy, a muffled knock came from Twilight’s closet, hidden behind a pair of elegant (but clearly out-of-season, according to Rarity) wooden doors decorated with stars and clouds.

Grumbling once more, Twilight stomped toward her closet, grabbing the handle in one swift motion and yanking it open with inconsiderate force, causing the frame to creak loudly.

“Pink alert! Pink alert! The mission has been compromised! I repeat, the mission has been compromised!” Pinkie shouted at the top of her lungs, contorted inside one of the closet’s drawers. Twilight stumbled back for a second, stunned by the yell, before regaining her composure and focusing her gaze on her friend.

“What do you think you’re doing in there?” she asked, her tone perhaps harsher than she intended.

“What does it look like, silly? Now, if you’ll excuse me—this is not a drill! The mission has been compromised!”

With a swift motion, Twilight clamped a hand over Pinkie’s mouth, silencing her instantly, her furious eyes locking onto her friend’s as she breathed heavily. Her patience was wearing thinner by the second, and now was not the time to deal with Pinkie’s loud antics.

“We are not playing hide-and-seek, Pinkie!” she shouted, watching as her friend’s eyes widened in shock at her words, still holding her mouth shut. “For Starswirl’s sake, try taking something seriously for once in your life!”

Pinkie’s eyes grew even wider as her muscles relaxed and her eyebrows furrowed in sadness. Slowly, her breathing steadied, and with a gentle movement, she removed Twilight’s hand from her face, her mouth twisted into a sorrowful frown.

“I…” she murmured, her eyes glistening with tears. “I am taking this seriously, Twilight…”

“No, you’re not. You’re playing hide-and-seek when your ticket to the gala depends on tomorrow’s exam.”

“I’m sorry… I was just trying to make this a little fun,” she stammered, her voice cracking with every syllable.

“Fun?” Twilight asked incredulously, throwing her arms up in irony. “Oh, of course! Silly me! How could I forget the fun part in the middle of a study session? Oh wait! That is the fun!”

“You’re being sarcastic…” Pinkie whispered, on the verge of tears but with a slight note of indignation in her tone.

“Of course I’m being sarcastic! How else am I supposed to talk to you when you don’t take anything seriously?”

Pinkie clenched her hands into fists and brought them to her chest, lowering her gaze as she exhaled in sorrow and embarrassment. Twilight, meanwhile, simply turned away and walked briskly back to the board, grabbing the markers and turning aggressively toward Pinkie, her eyes burning with fury.

“Can you solve this now?” she asked, searching for Pinkie’s blue eyes. However, she was met with a sight she never, in the month they had known each other, imagined seeing: tears streaming down Pinkie’s face, falling and bouncing—not from joy, but from anxiety—on her trembling cheeks, which framed a pair of downturned lips struggling to find a smile that was no longer there.

A lump rose in Twilight’s throat, cutting off her breath as goosebumps ran down her skin and a heavy blush settled on her cheeks. She hadn’t realized when her eyebrows furrowed in remorse, but she quickly decided that she hated seeing Pinkie like this—hated seeing her without her iconic smile.

Pinkie slowly stood up, her gaze avoiding Twilight and their friends entirely. In fact, all of them seemed to be doing the same. Rainbow had stopped playing with her pen and was now just staring blankly at a sheet of paper. Applejack still twirled her pen between her fingers, but her gaze was lost, scanning the posters and infographics on the walls without truly seeing them. Fluttershy, blushing and ashamed, hid her face behind her knees, wrapping her arms around her head as if she might cover her ears at any moment.

However, one person was still staring directly at Twilight—one who had not taken her dark eyes off of her. Rarity’s expression conveyed only one emotion: disappointment. That same emotion Twilight had seen on her mother’s face countless times. That same emotion her mother had directed at her. Twilight decided she hated that look on her friends just as much.

Pinkie stopped in front of Twilight, staring at the floor as tears continued to flow, and that shadow of a smile still trembled on her lips, twitching slightly every few seconds.

“Can I…” she muttered softly, her voice nasal as if it physically hurt to speak. “Can I go to the bathroom before answering?”

“Sure,” Twilight replied instinctively, nodding clumsily. She no longer felt angry, nor frustrated, nor annoyed—only that painful tightness in her chest that grew stronger with every second she watched Pinkie cry, a pain that burned like a flame.

“If you can make your friends laugh, and they make you laugh, then you’re truly friends,” she suddenly recalled, as clearly as if Spike himself were standing beside her, reminding her.

Friends don’t make friends cry. Not like this.

“Down the hall, third door on the right,” she muttered awkwardly, watching as Pinkie nodded before she had even finished speaking and walked out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Aquí tienes la traducción al inglés:

The room was engulfed in a sepulchral silence, so heavy that, all of a sudden, Twilight began to feel as if her own clothes were burning her, as if something about her was inherently wrong. Inquisitive glances danced over her, vanishing as quickly as they arrived, only to return just as swiftly. And yet, the only thing she could focus on was the aching pain in her chest.

“Pinkie…” Twilight whispered to herself.

“I think she’s doing her best, darling,” Rarity said, breaking the silence that had sealed everyone’s lips and pulling the brunette out of her self-induced trance. “Even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes…”

“That wasn’t my intention…” Twilight murmured, clasping her hands together and shrugging her shoulders.

“Whether it was or not…” Rarity began, standing up and setting aside the notebook she had been taking notes in until that moment. “I’ll talk to her.”

With those words, and without waiting for a response, she walked out of the room, this time actually closing the door behind her.

Rainbow, Applejack, and Fluttershy avoided looking at Twilight, their expressions serious, their heads lowered, thinking, analyzing. Thinking about what I am, Twilight told herself, recalling what she had said to her mother in the heat of their argument. She had hurt Pinkie just like she had hurt her, and the realization of that parallel made her feel awful.

Wrapped in a whirlwind of sorrow, Twilight grabbed the eraser and wiped the exercise from the board.

“The answer was twenty-two,” she said quietly, not really expecting anyone to respond.

Chapter 16: Incomplete

She walked down the hallway, but she didn’t really want to go to the bathroom.

"A treat," she told herself, taking the stairs and descending to the ground floor of the house. As soon as she arrived, Pinkie had brought a whirlwind of different desserts and sweets to Twilight's house—treats her hostess had kindly accepted but stored in the refrigerator with the excuse of, "We'll eat them later." Of course, that now seemed highly unlikely.

The Sparkle house was shrouded in shadows, with all the lights off and the curtains drawn. The charming sound of crickets in the darkness reigned outside, while inside, the house had turned into a mausoleum of silence and expensive decorations, right in the middle of one of Canterlot's most elegant neighborhoods. The floor creaked under her bare feet, and the walls loomed high around Pinkie—perhaps too high.

Still, being afraid of the dark was something unbefitting of serious people, and Pinkie liked to think she could be serious.

She flicked on the secondary kitchen light with a swift motion at the wall switch, flooding the beautiful space with a warm, cozy yellow glow, so soft it created a mildly intoxicating atmosphere in the room. She strode toward the impressive refrigerator and stopped in front of it, attentively taking in the silver details of the polished steel.

"Great fridge," she whispered to herself before opening it and exposing her body to the rush of cold air that spilled out.

Running her finger over the different sections, Pinkie scanned all the food the Sparkle family kept in their impressive fridge—from bags packed to the brim with sunflower seeds (Twilight's favorite) to jars and jars of chocolate rocks stacked in a corner, presumably for Spike. Finally, she reached the drawer where she'd stored provisions for the sleepover, and with a sheepish smile, she pulled out a can of whipped cream, popped off the lid, and brought it to her face.

"Come to mama..." she whispered, aligning the nozzle with her mouth and filling it with that sweet, airy sugar and nothingness. One burst, then another, swallowing the soft deliciousness that bubbled out of her mouth like a volcano before realigning the can.

"Honestly, darling, I still wonder how you don’t have diabetes."

Pinkie spun around at lightning speed, eyes wide as saucers, feeling as if she’d been caught in the middle of a crime scene. She quickly hid the can behind her back, swallowing the mouthful of whipped cream with difficulty before flashing a nervous grin at her friend, who was watching her intently from the doorway, leaning against the frame.

"Rarity! What a coincidence that we're both here, in this house!" she blurted, an inexplicable embarrassment creeping into her voice.

"For sure…” Rarity replied, stifling a small giggle at Pinkie's remark. She was dressed in her autumn pajamas, which consisted of a pair of puffy white pants with light blue details, cinched at the ankles with delicate golden-threaded cuffs—probably sewn by her own hand. Above, she wore a thin sky-blue blouse adorned with a pattern of stars and diamonds along the bottom, leaving her arms bare except for frilly white ruffles that, when Pinkie first saw them, she couldn't help but think looked fantastic. Finally, draped over her shoulders and arms was a long, dark blue sweater that, in a way, matched her ensemble perfectly despite not actually being part of it. Really, that sweater wasn’t hers—it had been a loan from Rainbow to keep her from getting cold that night. Pinkie knew. She had noticed.

Pinkie always noticed those things.

Rarity walked gracefully toward the kitchen island, giving a small hop onto it and settling onto the cold marble countertop with a clear look of discontent.

"How do you not freeze?" she asked Pinkie, gazing at her as if she were pleading.

"Oh, easy!" Pinkie replied, momentarily forgetting about the whipped cream and setting it aside on the island. "Since you have Rainbow’s sweater, just make sure to tuck it under your legs before you jump up, like this," she continued, slipping her hands under her legs, mimicking the motion with an invisible layer of fabric.

Rarity let out a soft chuckle, tilting her head and patting the island as an invitation for Pinkie to sit beside her—a gesture Pinkie obeyed without hesitation. She liked being close to her friends, but most of all, she liked being close to Rarity. Rarity had always treated her well, and she always enjoyed their endless conversations, even when she claimed she didn’t.

"I thought you’d be in the bathroom," Rarity murmured as Pinkie fumbled around the island, searching for the can of whipped cream on the surface.

"I didn’t feel like it. I felt more like having something sweet."

"You always feel like having something sweet."

"I love sweets." Pinkie grabbed the can again, this time spraying a bit of fluffy sugar onto her finger before eagerly popping it into her mouth. Meanwhile, Rarity simply wrung her hands nervously, staring down at the floor with her head bowed.

"How are you feeling?"

With her finger still in her mouth, savoring the whipped cream, Pinkie started making muffled noises that, had it not been for the obstruction between her lips, might have resembled coherent words. Now, they came out as unintelligible, drowned-out murmurs.

Raising an eyebrow, Rarity gently took Pinkie’s wrist and pulled her hand away, freeing her mouth to speak clearly.

"… With my best friends! I’m so excited I could bounce and bounce and bounce until I find it impossible to sleep tonight! It’s like a dream come true—having you, Fluttershy, Rainbow, Applejack, and Twilight all together! I mean, it’s not the first time we’ve seen Applejack sleep, right? But it is the first time I get to sleep next to her without Rainbow waking her up by smacking her with her hat! That is, if I can sleep! Rarity! What if I can’t sleep? What if our first sleepover is ruined because I was too excited to sleep?! But I can’t help it, I’m just so—!"

Rarity swiftly reached out, pressing her index finger against Pinkie’s lips as they kept trying to form words behind the obstruction. She chuckled lightly and shifted her hand to cover all of Pinkie’s mouth.

"I know, darling. I was asking more about how you were feeling after that little incident with Twilight."

Pinkie’s jaw gradually slowed, falling silent behind Rarity’s palm. Her once-bright eyes slowly lowered, letting the warm shadows of the room cast over her hair and down her face. Rarity was always amazed by how much hair Pinkie had on her head—and how well-maintained it was, despite the little care she actually gave it, aside from occasionally covering it in cake frosting.

Rarity let go of Pinkie’s mouth, feeling a small pang in her heart upon seeing her signature smile suddenly vanish.

"I mean… I’m fine, I guess," Pinkie murmured, averting her gaze but unconsciously leaning her head against her friend’s shoulder. "I made Twilight mad, and that’s not a very friendly thing to do. I’m sorry."

"You’re sorry?" Rarity asked, clear indignation in her voice.

"It’s obvious that this is really important to Twi," Pinkie replied, resting her cheek against Rarity, still looking down with a pout on her face. "The last thing I want is to ruin her study session."

Scrunching her nose, Rarity rolled her eyes before wrapping an arm around Pinkie’s back, embracing her gently.

"It’s important to all of us, darling, including you. If your behavior was bothering her, Twilight should have expressed it differently," she said, still sounding indignant, making Pinkie furrow her brow once again.

That was something she struggled to notice. She could pick up on people’s favorite foods, their preferred colors, their comfort places in the city. She could recognize their friend groups, their most-watched movies, or their favorite video games. She could even notice things like what clothes they liked to wear or which season of the year they preferred.

But she couldn’t read their faces, their emotions.

Twilight was angry. She had made it obvious. And Pinkie hadn’t seen it—hadn’t noticed in time before her patience ran out. Even though Twilight was one of her best friends in the whole world, she hadn’t seen it, and that made her feel awful.

She hated that part of herself.

She hated that she couldn't tell the difference between a smile and a grimace, no matter how much she longed for smiles around her. She hated not being able to make people happy, and she hated not realizing it sooner.

"Do you think I’m annoying?" Pinkie whispered, eyes downcast.

Rarity's eyes widened as she looked at her friend with confused pain, tightening her grip on her arm and pulling her even closer.

"Pinkie… why are you asking me that?" she exclaimed, matching the other's tone.

"I annoyed Twilight. I didn’t realize it, but I annoyed Twilight."

"That doesn’t make you annoying," Rarity replied again, gently taking her hand. Pinkie, in turn, brought the whipped cream can back to her mouth, letting another mountain of sugar fall onto her lips. "Annoying someone doesn’t define who you are, not in the slightest, darling."

"It does if I do it all the time."

"Has anyone ever told you that you’re annoying? Because I didn’t hear Twilight say that."

"She said I can’t take anything seriously."

"And were you taking it seriously?" Rarity asked, lowering her gaze but keeping her eyes fixed on Pinkie.

The other's words sent an uncomfortable warmth through her chest. She subtly let go of Rarity's hand, once again filling her mouth with whipped cream. Had she been taking it seriously? She liked to think so, but it was clear that Twilight didn’t see it that way. Did Rarity think the same? She couldn't tell. Pinkie slid her blue eyes toward her friend’s face, trying to decipher her opinion, trying to uncover the words hidden behind those dark pupils. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. Her eyebrows, her lips, her eyes and nose, her cheeks, her jaw, her forehead, and her tongue—everything was a labyrinth that, the more she tried to figure out, only served to confuse her more.

She hated that. She hated not being able to know what was behind every expression. She realized she hated many things about herself.

"I don’t know…" she murmured weakly, her mouth full of whipped cream. "I swear I was trying, but I don’t know…"

"It’s okay, Pinkie," Rarity whispered softly, now resting her head against the other's, leaning into that soft mass of curls that adorned Pinkie’s head—so pink like frosting and as soft as silk. "It’s not your fault. Your mind is a fascinating thing, you know?"

"If you saw what’s in my mind, you’d be very confused."

"Do you know why I know I wouldn’t be?" Rarity asked, glancing at Pinkie out of the corner of her eye, a slight smile forming on her lips. "Because I know I’d find a fabulous girl, brimming with contagious energy, who—besides being unbelievably funny and beautiful—had the kindness to visit me every day for two years when no one else wanted to."

Feeling a warm and comforting hum rise in her chest, Pinkie closed her eyes, resting her head more against Rarity’s shoulder, her iconic smile returning. That feeling, that sense of security, that homely air—those were things she had always felt by Rarity’s side, things that had always accompanied them both. During the two years that Echo kept her friend isolated and locked away in the sewing workshop, Pinkie had never failed to visit her, to tell her jokes, and to play pranks on her. Yes, Rarity always complained and always said how “dangerous” it all was, but her smile never lied. Smiles never lied—unless, of course, it was Echo’s smile.

"I wasn’t going to leave you alone, silly," Pinkie muttered, caught between wanting to laugh and holding back the lump in her throat. Her strange tone made her companion chuckle.

"And I will never leave you alone, Pinkie. I don’t know what the heck you were thinking about yourself just now, but I can assure you it’s not true. You’re not annoying, Pinkie Pie. You’re not."

With a small jump and her smile now fully restored, she lifted her head from her friend’s shoulder, lightly taking her hand—but not before filling her mouth with another shot of whipped cream. She wrapped her arms around Rarity, pulling her close with enthusiasm, grateful now more than ever to have her as her best friend, without saying a word.

There were times when, for Pinkie, it felt like the whole world had frozen—when she discovered a new obsession or when some detail of her surroundings caught her attention too much. She was no stranger to that feeling. However, now it was different. Now time had stopped, yet somehow, everything kept moving, everything moved forward, everything shone. She didn’t know if she was truly seeing what she was seeing, or if it was just a hallucination, but either way, she knew she loved being in Rarity’s arms.

"Thanks for being my friend," she said, more to herself than to be heard, but it still brought a little smile to the other’s lips.

After another few seconds, they finally pulled apart, still holding hands but leaving a bit of distance between them.

"Should we go back?" Pinkie asked in a lowered voice, looking directly at Rarity.

"Darling, that’s entirely up to you. Do you want to go back upstairs now?"

Pinkie let go of the other’s hand, lowering her gaze, weighing the question for a few seconds while lightly shaking the whipped cream can in her other hand, trying to gauge how much was left. It was empty.

"I think we should," she concluded quietly but with her usual cheerful and lighthearted tone returning, taking a deep breath and hopping off the counter. "But not without grabbing a dessert for everyone first!"

Rarity let out a soft chuckle, covering her mouth with her fingers as she watched her friend start to load up her arms to the brim with whipped cream cans, candies, chocolates, and cotton candy. "That’s where I have to draw the line, darling—sugar stains."

Carrying a comical amount of sweets, Pinkie and Rarity left the room in silence—the former carefully balancing her haul, and the latter subtly recording the scene on her phone in case something memorable happened. However, Rarity soon showed her disappointment with a frown when they reached Twilight’s door, and nothing noteworthy had occurred.

With a quick movement, Pinkie shifted what she held in her left hand to her forearm, freeing herself up to cautiously grasp the doorknob.

"I hope she’s not still mad…" she mumbled to herself, unaware that Rarity could still hear her.

"She won’t be. She may not know about your condition, but personally, I don’t think she needs to in order to realize she overreacted."

Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.

On the other side of the room, things looked relatively the same as they had a few minutes ago: Rainbow was still sprawled on the floor, playing with whatever she had in her hands without much attention; Fluttershy stood beside her, still quietly doodling in her notebook; Applejack had changed the most—apparently, during their trip to the kitchen, the coffee had worn off, and now she was fast asleep in her chair. At the front, simply staring at a marker in her hands with a gloomy expression, Twilight muttered something to herself, not paying attention to her surroundings.

Pinkie quickly noticed that the whiteboard was blank.

For a fraction of a second, a chilling fear ran through Pinkie from head to toe, making her skin prickle and stopping her breath. Twilight was there, Twilight was looking at the floor, and she wasn’t smiling. She hadn’t smiled since she “went to the bathroom,” and it was all Pinkie’s fault—it was because of her condition.

She swallowed nervously, wondering if Twilight was still angry at her.

However, it didn’t take long for her to realize that wasn’t the case at all, because as soon as the others saw her, an embarrassed smile formed on Twilight’s lips before she rushed over and wrapped her in a hug, accidentally knocking all the desserts out of her arms.

"I’m sorry, Pinkie. I’m so, so sorry," she murmured, holding her tightly against her body. Pinkie was taller than Twilight, yet right now, she felt like Twilight’s arms could wrap around her completely, protecting her from whatever was out there. Exhaling, Pinkie realized she could breathe normally again.

"I’m sorry too, Twilight," she replied, returning the hug sincerely. "I know you’re doing us a favor, and I should be trying harder."

"No…" Twilight murmured, pulling away, blushing with guilt, unable to meet Pinkie’s eyes. "I’m not doing anyone a favor by being a bad teacher."

"You’re not—"

"Yes, I am," she cut in firmly, letting go and returning to stand in front of the board, once again holding the marker in her hands. "I am, because I tried to teach algebra the way Ms. Harshwhinny would, the way I learned it, and that’s not right. If that were enough, we wouldn’t need to be here now."

Pinkie's eyes welled up, her lower lip trembling as she fought back tears.

Twilight’s words had sparked a warm sensation in her chest, which quickly spread to all her limbs, filling her with a sense of calm that, until then, she had only felt with people like her sister or Rarity. Twilight was right—she didn’t want to lose them, not for anything in the world.

She felt stupid for thinking Twilight would still be mad at her.

“I made a mistake, and that’s why I’m apologizing. My study methods might work for Fluttershy, or surprisingly even for Applejack, but I think I need to try a little harder if I want to give you all even a fraction of what you’ve given me,” the brunette continued, letting a timid smile cross her lips as she took a couple of steps toward Pinkie but stopped just before reaching her. “And that’s why I’d like to know,” she began again, kneeling down and picking up one of the whipped cream cans from the floor, “since you’re the best at planning parties… How do you plan one? What’s the whole process like?”

Twilight flashed a mischievous grin as Pinkie’s silent sobs were replaced by an unprecedented burst of excitement and energy, her eyes practically sparkling. She took a deep breath, hardly able to believe what she had just been asked.

“Oh. My. Starswirl,” Pinkie began, raising her voice with each word. “This is the best night in history!” she shouted, grabbing a chocolate cereal bar from the floor and tearing the wrapper apart with her fingers. “Where do I start? Well, first, I need to know who the party is for or why I’m throwing it, you know? No two parties can be the same. I wouldn’t organize Rainbow’s birthday the same way I’d organize Principal Cadence’s.”

“Why not?” Rainbow asked teasingly.

“Okay…” Twilight responded, grabbing her marker and scribbling on the surface of the board, getting whipped cream on her finger and absentmindedly licking it off.

“… Or Derpy Hooves’ party the same way I’d do Adagio’s. Now that I think about it, I haven’t thrown a party for Adagio yet…” Pinkie continued, before realizing she had started rambling again. This time, however, she didn’t feel guilty about it. “Once I’ve got that figured out, I can move on to the guest list.”

“That’s it!” Twilight exclaimed excitedly, finishing a somewhat clumsy drawing of Rainbow on the board. “The guest list—excellent! Let’s start with that and begin talking numbers,” she added, a huge smile on her face.

Chapter 17: Empty threats

Mr. and Mrs. Sparkle weren’t going to return until later that afternoon, so it was up to the girls to beg Shining Armor to take them to school the next morning. It seemed Twilight had forgotten to ask her brother in advance, and due to the stress of the wedding, he hadn’t seen it coming.

It was a somewhat awkward experience for the others, but at least for Rarity, it was quite amusing to watch the playful and affectionate interaction between the two siblings—Twilight’s pleading and Shining’s grumbling. However, what truly intrigued her was Spike’s reaction upon seeing her. The little boy, who had been about to eat breakfast, simply froze, staring at her in shock.

After some back and forth, Shining Armor finally agreed to drive them to school, on the condition that Twilight would wash his dirty dishes after every meal for two days. The brunette accepted with her fingers crossed.

The ride to Canterlot High wasn’t particularly exciting: everyone was still groggy from the early hour, with Pinkie completely knocked out in the car. The only exception was Applejack, who, curiously, looked better than ever—her dark circles were practically gone, her skin radiant, her hair perfectly tied in a beautiful braid done by Rarity herself, and her clothes neatly arranged, though still a little wrinkled from the night before. It wasn’t surprising, considering that after the effects of the coffee wore off, the cowgirl had fallen into such a deep sleep that, according to a story from Rainbow, she wouldn’t have woken up even if someone had stepped on her face. The bright red mark on her cheek was proof of it.

That day was naturally tense—after all, it wasn’t every day that the entire school was subjected to the tyranny of a math exam, all at once. While it wasn’t an official rule, no teacher liked giving lessons on the day of the departmental algebra test. To ease the students’ nerves, they usually just played a movie or an educational game for the rest of the school day. Rainbow had come prepared for this, carrying two packs of microwaveable popcorn in her backpack and a high-definition copy of every Daring Do movie, "just in case," as she put it.

However, the inherent tension in the air didn’t seem to bring down any of the six friends. They were all in high spirits, determined to conquer the exam no matter what. Rarity couldn’t speak for the others, but she, at least, felt like she could take on the world today—like nothing could really touch them.

After some traffic on the main avenue but still with plenty of time for “one last review” (Twilight’s idea), Shining’s car finally parked a block away from the school, avoiding the congestion of parents and family members dropping off their students for the dreaded test. The crowd filling the school’s front garden gave the place a gloomy air, with the atmosphere growing heavier as each soul stepped into the hungry jaws of the building.

With a quiet thanks, the six friends grabbed their backpacks and stepped out of the car, waking Pinkie with a gentle shake—though she still kept a visible smile on her face.

With Rainbow and Applejack leading the way, they marched proudly toward the glass doors of Canterlot High. Rarity could still picture her first day at this school—sunny, with only a few clouds painting the sky, and a hopeful spirit looking toward the new chapter of her life. It had been a year since she had run away from home with Sweetie Belle, and while her dress and fashion business hadn’t fully taken off yet (she could argue it still hadn’t), the few sales she had made and the grand opening of her boutique in her parents’ vacant shop filled her heart with hope and pride, ready to take on any challenge ahead.

She was going to conquer the school, she was going to take control of her life—but she had made the mistake of befriending Echo.

Today wasn’t so different from that distant morning—just a few more clouds occasionally covering the sun, and definitely a much heavier and more depressing atmosphere, especially with the looming shadow of the Gala hanging over the students. Nearly everyone in the school had added their name to the list of potential invitees, almost the entire student body vying to get their hands on that precious ticket and distinguish themselves among the most exclusive elites of Equestria—and the rest of the world. Today was a decisive day for that.

Sure, the letters to the principal were an important factor in determining who got into the Gala, but without a good grade to back them up, what was the point of representing generosity, loyalty, laughter, honesty, kindness, or forgiveness?

They entered the school, walking past lines of determined or dejected students trudging heavily toward their exam. There was still some time before the official grading process began, but expectations were already being formed.

The departmental exam was a particularly important event at the school, one that happened three times a semester, bringing the entire schedule to a halt for the whole day. Classrooms were closed, teachers were in the staff room with Principal Cadence, and students were scattered like ants in every direction—most of them gathering in the cafeteria, the very place the six friends were now heading.

It didn’t take long for them to find their usual spot, with Twilight immediately pulling out her notebooks and flashcards, grinning from ear to ear as she revealed her pearly white teeth.

“Alright, girls! The moment of truth is almost here! How about one last review?”

“If I hear the word exponent one more time, I swear by Starswirl I’m going to throw up,” Rainbow joked as she plopped onto her seat, though she still pulled out her exercise book.

Twilight, however, kept smiling, picked up her phone, and randomly tapped the screen a few times before holding it to her ear with a mischievous squint.

“Hello? Daring Do? Yeah, it’s me, Twilight. So, Rainbow doesn’t want to study a bit more before the exam. Yeah, I agree—if she fails algebra, she’ll never get to go on adventures with you. But oh well, I guess that’s her loss.”

“Hilarious. You should totally do stand-up,” Rainbow said, rolling her eyes, grabbing one of Twilight’s flashcards while the rest of their friends took their seats around the table. “Do Equestria a favor and never become a comedian.”

“I wanna do stand-up! I have so many pet jokes that by the time I’m done, they’ll all be shorter! Get it? Shorter—like a short leash?” Pinkie shouted, grabbing a handful of flashcards.

Fluttershy gently patted Pinkie’s back and shook her head in quiet sympathy.

With grace and elegance, Rarity seated herself beside Applejack and picked up the last remaining flashcards in front of Twilight, reading their contents: laws of exponents, order of operations, and the quadratic formula, each highlighted with an exercise. After last night, Rarity could solve them all without even needing to write anything down—just by looking at the symbols in front of her. Saying their study session had been a resounding success was an understatement. Each of the six friends was more prepared than ever to tackle what, up until now, would be the most important test of their lives. And it was all thanks to Twilight’s dedicated tutoring.

Traditional study methods had worked perfectly for Applejack and Fluttershy, while Rainbow and Pinkie learned best through hands-on activities—forcing Twilight to get creative in how she delivered the information. Rarity was different too, but for her, it wasn’t difficult—she simply had to associate concepts with visual imagery, and that was enough for her to ace the practice test, even correcting a mistake Twilight had made. That had been the highlight of her night.

The six friends fell into silence, staring at the same exercises they had already solved countless times, murmuring and calculating under their breath—Twilight especially excited as she scribbled notes once more.

However, Rarity knew this wasn’t what they needed right now. She knew that solving those equations one more time wouldn’t change anything, wouldn’t correct anything—not at this stage. After all, studying could only take someone so far.

“I have an idea,” she murmured, but it was enough to startle Pinkie and Applejack out of their trance. “I think we can all agree that Twilight did an absolutely phenomenal job helping us study, and we wouldn’t have gotten this far without you, darling.”

“Even better—she actually made Applejack sleep for more than two hours!” Pinkie exclaimed, throwing her arms up in appreciation.

The cowgirl chuckled softly, scribbling something on her flashcard but keeping her eyes on Rarity.

“But in the end, it’s up to each of us to put in the effort to pass this exam,” Rarity continued, gathering their flashcards. “And I once read that while effort helps, we can’t achieve anything without a clear reason in mind. Each one of us knows why you want to go to the Gala, but I think it’d be a marvelous idea to know each other’s motivations as well, that way, we won’t be going to the Gala just for our own personal motives, but for all of us.”

With Pinkie giving a quiet round of applause, squealing with excitement, the others nodded and smiled at Rarity's idea—except for Twilight, who seemed not to have paid full attention to her words, still solving an exercise (or rather, verifying it, since she had probably solved it just by looking at it).

“I want! I want!” Pinkie exclaimed, raising her hand violently, bouncing in place, and nearly knocking Fluttershy over in the process. “I love, love, LOVE parties! I love watching people dance, play, laugh, talk, prank each other, and by Starswirl, just imagining how incredible the Gala will be gives me goosebumps! It’s the biggest party in all of Equestria! I have to be there!”

A bit intimidated by her energy, Rarity nodded slightly, once again flashing an honest smile.

“The party of the year, sugarcube,” Applejack continued, turning to her friend and handing her the study cards she had. “And what would the party of the year be without your friends?”

Before she could finish speaking, Pinkie had already thrown herself at the blonde, wrapping her arms around her head and screaming at the top of her lungs, drawing the attention of the students who were slowly flooding the cafeteria—making Fluttershy a bit nervous in the process.

“The best! Friends! In history!” she shouted, dancing in place while holding Applejack's head, causing the latter to let out a lively laugh as she struggled to free herself.

“Please, Pinkie. The most awesome friends, surrounded by the most awesome people in the world,” Rainbow added, leaning over the table, resting on her elbows. “The Wondercolts are going to be there! This could be my chance to finally make my dream come true—running with them. Imagine it, Rainbow Dash, representing Equestria on a global level, winning medal after medal, trophy after trophy! Celestia would look like a fool compared to how many times I’d win!”

“As long as your ego doesn’t grow even more than it already has, that’s fine,” Applejack quipped sarcastically, still struggling against Pinkie’s grip, who was still squealing unintelligibly.

“What do you mean, ‘even more than it already has’?” Rainbow asked indignantly, prompting a loud laugh from Rarity and a chuckle from Fluttershy. “Laugh all you want, but when I’m at the top of the world, we’ll see if I even remember you.”

“Knowing you, I’m sure you will,” Rarity concluded, stifling the last traces of laughter in her throat before turning to Fluttershy, who was still giggling. “Well, darling, tell us—why do you want to go to the Gala?”

“Me?” she replied, finally settling down with a slight jump, shrugging and lowering her gaze. “Oh, I don’t think my reason is worth mentioning.”

“Pinkie wants to go to the Gala just to have fun; surely you can do better than that,” Rainbow said.

Fluttershy looked at the floor for a few seconds, gripping her backpack lightly—out of habit, as she was used to carrying her noisy little tenants inside it. “Well…” she began, lowering her voice. “For the past few years, Sprout Treehugger, a very important and well-known activist, has attended the Gala. Just last year, she saved two species of lizards from extinction in Saddle Arabia, all by herself, with only a few Bits in donations.” Nervously, she took a strand of her pink hair between her fingers, absentmindedly running them through it as a deep blush spread across her cheeks. “If I could meet her, maybe I could talk to her about the Canterlot animal shelter and convince her that we could take care of some endangered species here. I know it sounds silly, but I’d be lying if I said just thinking about the tiny footsteps of an albino Yak bunny doesn’t give me chills.”

“It’s not silly, darling. It never would be,” Rarity murmured with a reassuring smile, reaching out to take her friend’s hand. “And I think what you want to achieve is absolutely wonderful, Fluttershy. Truly.”

The bashful blush on Fluttershy’s face quickly turned into a deep flush of gratitude as she looked into her friend’s eyes, her lips curling into a small smile.

“Thank you…”

“Well, we’re doing great so far, darlings. Pinkie wants—”

“I want a party!” Pinkie screamed, still shaking Applejack’s head between her arms, biting her lip in excitement.

“A party, yes,” Rarity continued. “Rainbow wants to meet the Wondercolts, and Fluttershy wants to meet Sprout Treehugger. As for me, I want to go to the Gala to fulfill not just my dream, but ‘The’ dream.” She clasped her hands into fists and gazed up at the sky with dreamy eyes, sighing softly. “Walking into the Gala, wearing the most beautiful dress ever made. The high society, the celebrities—everyone will stop to look at me and ask, ‘Who is she? Where is she from?’ Only to be told, ‘That, right there, is Rarity Flanks, the greatest and most talented designer in all of Canterlot… No, in all of Equestria.’ And among all that crowd, I will see Him.”

An expectant silence fell over the table, with all six friends watching Rarity intently, waiting for her to continue, but the next words never came. Even among them, Pinkie finally let go of Applejack, a puzzled look on her face, while the latter simply adjusted her braid over her shoulder before sitting up straight.

“Him?” Twilight murmured, having just snapped out of her study trance, grabbing more cards from the pile her friends had formed to solve the exercises.

“Yes, him,” Rarity continued, sighing again, closing her eyes, and flashing an adorable smile. “The man of my dreams, there at the Gala, waiting for a woman like me. He will be courteous, educated, and a gentleman, treating me the way I’ve always wanted to be treated.”

Rarity kept murmuring to herself, closing her eyes tightly and swaying her waist rhythmically in place, while the others simply stared at her with puzzled expressions—Rainbow even smirking in amused confusion.

“I think we lost her,” Fluttershy whispered to herself, letting out another small giggle.

“Definitely. Anyway, your turn, apples,” Rainbow said, turning to Applejack and completely ignoring Rarity’s silent babbling.

The blonde adjusted her hat on her head, cracking her neck after Pinkie’s rough grip, while shifting her gaze to the table. “I don’t have as deep a reason as you guys.”

“Again, Pinkie just wants to have fun. I think you can do better than that.”

“Well…” Applejack began, pulling an apple from her bag and taking a bite. “My grandma, Granny Smith—”

“More apple wordplay, I see.”

“She’s the one who sells the harvest every season. We make enough money to keep the business running, sure, but we don’t make as much profit as we’d like. Most of our luxuries are covered by selling apple cider.”

“Did you say cider?” Rainbow suddenly perked up, leaning forward to get a closer look at Applejack, over Pinkie, who was sitting between them.

“The Apple family’s cider is mighty famous all over Ponyville and even beyond. Either way, we barely make enough to cover family expenses, and since I started studying here, it’s been tougher. I’d like to go to the Gala to try and sell some of the homemade products we make—you know, apple pies, caramel apples, apple strudel, applesauce, apple vinegar—”

“Apples. Yes. Excellent. Why didn’t I think of that before? Go on,” Rarity interrupted, finally snapping out of her trance to listen to Applejack.

The blonde raised an eyebrow and let out a loud huff before continuing. “And who knows? Maybe I could land a lucrative deal with someone other than that crook Filthy Rich.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just say ‘crook,’” Rainbow muttered, her excitement draining as fast as it had appeared.

“It might not be deep, Applejack, but what you’re doing is really sweet and noble,” Fluttershy said, tilting her head slightly, making her friend chuckle nervously as her face turned red.

“In the end, we all need Bits, I guess,” she concluded, now turning her gaze to the only one who hadn’t yet shared her reason for wanting to attend the Gala. “Well, Twilight? Your turn.”

Before the brunette could respond, Pinkie let out an excited squeal, jumping onto the table and grabbing Twilight by the collar, pulling her face close to hers, their noses touching in excitement.

“How exciting! We’re all going to the best party of the year! You want to go to the best party of the year, right? Of course, you want to go to the best party of the year! We’re going to dance, sing, laugh, and play! We’re going to…!”

With a quick but gentle tug on her ear, Rarity forced her to sit back down, releasing Twilight's shirt from her grasp and bringing the brunette back to normal—though visibly shaken.

"Sorry, darling, but Applejack is right. It's your turn."

With a light movement, the brunette adjusted the collar of her shirt, laughing nervously. "Well... I also want to meet someone. Cadence told me that this was going to be the first year President Celestia would attend the gala, and being who she is, I’m really dying to meet her in person."

At those words, the five other girls stopped breathing all at once, their eyes widening, with Fluttershy and Rainbow letting their jaws drop to the floor. The air had frozen, time had stopped, and in the middle of it all were Twilight’s words—her statement so incredible it felt unreal. "By Starswirl, the president herself!" Rarity thought, as a chill ran from her head to her toes down her spine, a strangely thrilling cold settling on her skin.

"C-Celestia?" Fluttershy asked nervously, swallowing hard, to which Twilight simply nodded slightly.

"Holy mares," Applejack mumbled clumsily. "Whether she's going or not, I don't have a dress for that."

"Neither do I, darling," Rarity replied, feeling the cold air fill her lungs again, like a timid animal returning to its burrow. "Celestia never leaves the Canterlot palace. Why now?"

"I have no idea..." the brunette answered, shrugging, her face also showing a puzzled frown. "And Cadence doesn’t seem to know either. Luna hasn’t told her anything yet."

"This. Is. AMAZING!" Pinkie shouted, throwing her arms up in excitement.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! The six of us, at the gala, meeting not only the Wondercolts or Sephora Tree-something..."

"Sprout Treehugger."

"This is going to be the most awesome gala in the history of galas, ever!" Rainbow shouted, raising her arms in excitement, unable to contain the energy in her legs, stomping heavily on the floor. After a few seconds, she slammed her hand down onto the table with a heavy thud, grinning determinedly. "No matter what happens, girls, we’re going to that party, got it?"

"Party!" Pinkie cheered, once again jumping onto the table, drawing all the cafeteria’s eyes toward the six friends. Still overwhelmed by Twilight's words, they paid little attention.

Seconds passed—what felt like endless hours in Rarity’s mind. Hours where she saw the air around Rainbow ignite like an unexpected flame of excitement and energy, complemented by the same energy Pinkie spread wherever she went. Hours where she felt the fear in Fluttershy's eyes, tinged with nervousness and excitement that not even her hands covering her face could hide. Hours where, for the first time—even counting that very morning—Applejack seemed more alive than ever, chest puffed out, head held high, smiling from ear to ear without a single trace of her usual dark circles. Unlike Twilight, who, despite the determination shining in her eyes, looked more exhausted than ever.

One second turned into another, then another, stretching into hours and days. And yet, Rarity could still feel it—she could be infected by the energy and passion radiating from her friends, and she could feel her hands tremble just at the thought of it.

The Grand Galloping Gala—the event of the year, of the entire world. And they would be there, ready to conquer the night. When she had suggested they all share their different reasons for attending, she had thought it would be the small push they needed to pass the exam, not to take on the world.

"Screw it!" Rarity shouted, discarding any sense of class and elegance she usually carried. "Let's do it!"

"Let's grab the bull by the horns!"

"Whatever the cowgirl said!"

More cheers erupted from their table in the minutes before the exam. More than one student was puzzled; after all, it was a gloomy morning, a morning of pessimism and despair. And yet, there, in the middle of the cafeteria, six friends who had known each other for barely a month were cheering in unison. A strange sight, to say the least.

The bell rang, loud and piercing as ever, marking the first warning of most students’ torment. They began to scatter like ants through the tunnels of the nest they called school, ready to face their fate.

With a warm hug and some motivational words from Twilight, each of Rarity's friends headed to a different classroom—Applejack, Rainbow, and Twilight to room fifteen on the second floor; Fluttershy and Pinkie to room four on the third floor; and Rarity, alone, to room two on the ground floor.

The hallways felt wider than usual, cleared so she could walk like she owned the place, head held high, heart pounding. The yellow-painted walls stretched around her, and the floor extended endlessly. The world was growing larger, but somehow, that only made her want to conquer it, to make it hers.

"This is going to go well," she thought to herself as she turned a corner in the hallway—and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Hello, Rarity," Echo spat, flashing that damned smile of hers, sitting on the edge of a hallway water fountain.

Her heart, which had been running its own imaginary marathon, came to a screeching halt, as she felt the temperature around her drop suddenly. All at once, all that energy, determination, and willpower were replaced by something—something Rarity couldn't quite identify but made her feel restless, tense.

"It's been a minute, hasn't it, friend?" Echo sneered, hopping down and taking a couple of steps toward her. "I'd say you look good, but friends never lie to each other, do they?"

Finally, Rarity could identify it—it was rage. An uncontrollable rage.

"What do you want?" she spat, hatred dripping from every syllable. It had been almost two years since she had last spoken to Echo—two years spent isolated through half of high school, away from anyone who could bring her good or harm, thinking only of her little sister, pushing herself, forcing herself to be more. Two years since Echo had decided to ruin her life.

She clenched her fist, her nails digging into her palm.

"Can't I wish my best friend good luck on such an… 'important' day?" Echo mocked. "No offense, Adagio."

With a quick glance, Rarity realized Echo wasn’t alone in blocking the hallway—she was accompanied by three other girls she had never seen before. Among them, the tallest, whom Rarity assumed was Adagio, let out a loud laugh, crossing her arms, while the others simply smirked maliciously, wearing the same awful, sickening grin that Echo carried everywhere.

"Always so understanding, that's why I love her."

"What do you want?" Rarity spat again, barely holding back the urge to spit in her face.

But the other girl didn’t answer. She simply looked down at the floor, her grin widening even more, her eyes narrowing into an amused expression that made Rarity’s stomach churn.

Everything about her was disgusting—her face, her hair, her expressions, her mannerisms. Her, all of her. She wore a repulsive light-blue dress, far too revealing for the autumn cold, exposing the lack of humanity within her. Her shoes were hideous, her sweater was hideous, she was hideous.

Rarity hated every second she had to look at her, and she knew Echo’s smile well—she hated it too. "Or maybe she enjoys this," Rarity thought, exhaling slowly.

"Alright," Echo finally said, looking Rarity up and down. "Let's get straight to the point, since you like that so much." “What the hell did you mean by that, bitch?” Rarity thought to herself. "I can't help but notice that despite our little… 'agreement,' you've been slacking on your end lately. I could tolerate it with Pinkie Pie—after all, even I can’t keep that lunatic in one place for more than two minutes…"

Rarity furrowed her brow, feeling an energetic heat take over her chest.

"But six girls? Including the new one? No, Rars, I think that goes beyond our terms, don't you?"

"Oh, it definitely does, Mirage," Rarity spat, her last word dripping with venom. "But guess what? I couldn’t care less." She let a sweet, malicious smile creep onto her lips, revealing her teeth, white and polished like pearls.

Echo, however, simply chuckled in disbelief, licking her lips sinisterly.

"Wow, Rarity, I knew you weren’t the brightest, but this stupid? Not even in my wildest dreams did I see that coming."

"Bark all you want, Mirage. I’m not afraid of you," Rarity replied, frowning, taking a couple of steps forward, making Adagio and the others glance sideways. "If you wanted to hear me beg for forgiveness, you came to the wrong place."

Rarity noticed how Echo’s eyelid flickered for a fraction of a second, revealing through her grotesque smile a hint of anger and frustration growing inside her—a hint that was rarely seen in her. The immense satisfaction Rarity felt at that moment almost made her want to scream with excitement.

She had never rationalized it this way before, but wow, she really hated Echo.

"Looks like I’ll have to refresh your memory, friend," Echo whispered, leaning her face closer to hers. "Shall I remind you that you have a sister to send to college? What was her name again? Sweetie Drops?"

"If I hear my sister’s name come out of your mouth again, darling, the next time you see me, you’ll be picking your teeth up off the floor."

"If I were you, I’d check her academic record again, idiot," Echo suggested, once again regaining her usual tone of calm and satisfaction, narrowing her eyes as her false expression was replaced by a grotesque and malicious smile. A smile that, despite being genuine, somehow made Rarity feel even sicker.

At another time, in another place, that smile and those words might have inspired deep terror and anguish in her—a feeling of imminent danger and suffocation, like the sensation of drowning; no way out, no options. However, things were different now, and the fact that Echo was the one who didn’t know that filled Rarity with a sense of power she could never have described in words.

Rarity smiled, satisfied, and as her heart calmed, she stepped closer to Echo, placing a careful hand on her cheek, much to her rival’s surprise.

"Oh, darling," she sighed, letting every word drip with such evident condescension that even Pinkie would have noticed it if she had been there. "Look at you—so youthful and full of pride, without realizing that, for the first time, you’re the one who’s a step behind me."

Echo’s clear eyes wavered, and her smile vanished in an instant as her throat bobbed up and down, as if she wanted to say something. However, before she could utter a single word, Rarity had already let go and started walking toward her classroom. “Deal with that, bitch”, Rarity thought, struggling not to burst into manic laughter from the sheer thrill.

She walked past Adagio, the other girl with purple hair, and the other girl with blue hair, all of whom stared at her with surprise and fury as she slowly but triumphantly left the scene.

Rarity could only think about the look of frustration Echo would have when she checked Sweetie Belle’s academic record and saw her grade just as it had originally been. She imagined Echo slamming her phone against the ground, screaming and fuming in rage, throwing a childish tantrum fit for an infant—because, for the first time, she had been outdone. Rarity thought of a thousand different scenarios where Echo wailed and wailed like the little girl she had always been, and the mere idea sent shivers down her spine.

After two years—two sad and lonely years—Rarity was finally getting her revenge on Echo. Of course, the magnitude of suffering Echo had caused her was nothing compared to what Rarity had just inflicted, and yet, as pathetic as it was, she had never felt better in her life.

She had conquered Echo, and now she was going to conquer the exam. “Who knows? Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel like conquering the world”, she thought proudly.

"This isn’t over, Rarity!" Echo shouted behind her. "You and Dash will regret the day you decided to cross me!"

Chapter 18: Mirage

Notes:

Warning: This episode contains violent scenes directed at characters originally intended for children. While nothing is overly graphic or gory, discretion is advised if you feel discomfort with these themes.

A red X, then another, and a check mark.

Rainbow felt a cold bead of sweat trickle down her temple as her pink eyes darted from corner to corner of the paper in front of her, while it was being meticulously reviewed by Ms. Harshwinny. She had finished the test earlier than she expected, and although part of her felt proud and determined because of it, she couldn't quite silence the little voice in her head that kept repeating "you should've double-checked" or "a few more minutes wouldn’t have hurt." The voice sounded exactly like Twilight.

Another X, and another. She had never felt so prepared for a math test, nor so nervous about the grade she might get. Sure, it always stung her pride whenever she failed or barely passed, making her feel like maybe—under different circumstances—she could’ve done better, crushed all the brainiacs in the exam. But that feeling usually passed quickly; after all, someone as amazing as her wasn’t meant to be glued to a book or stuck in a library for life. No, she was born to run.

But this time was different. For the first time in her life, her real chances of running depended on numbers, exponents, and whatever Ms. Harshwinny was about to write in the dreaded "grade" box in the upper-right corner of the paper.

Two more check marks.

She stood at the front of the classroom, arms crossed, using all her willpower not to chew on her fingers in anxiety, while the sound of pencils scratching paper filled the room, occasionally broken by the awkward erasing of graphite. The feeling transported her back to her first day of class, that morning when she met Applejack and Fluttershy—the first real friends she’d ever truly connected with.

Harshwinny glanced at Rainbow inquisitively, sending a spectral shiver down her spine, then flipped the test back to the beginning and picked up a calculator. "A seventy," Rainbow told herself, giving in to impulse and nibbling at her fingers. "A seventy and I’ll figure out the rest."

Harshwinny tapped a few buttons, paused for a moment, then tapped a few more. She leaned back slightly in surprise, her eyes widening for a few seconds. Instinctively, Rainbow stretched her neck to try and see what her teacher had seen—but to no avail.

“Wow…” Harshwinny whispered quietly, before turning the calculator over and grabbing her pen.

“Is everything okay?” Rainbow asked, raising an eyebrow and making a face. The teacher didn’t reply. She simply wrote down a big, bold nine followed by a one.

“Congratulations, Dash,” she murmured, turning the test around to show it to Rainbow.

Even then, Rainbow didn’t immediately grasp what had just happened. The enormous ninety-one written in red on the paper’s surface seemed unreal—almost ethereal and intangible, like something from an idyllic dream. But as the seconds passed, she began to understand more and more what that number meant: she hadn’t just passed the test—she had excelled.

She had to cover her mouth abruptly to keep from screaming with joy, bouncing and lightly jogging in place as a wave of energy surged through her. She squealed silently, while her mind rang and clanged with chaotic, blaring victory hymns. She had done it. She really had. "This is the first step toward the Wondercolts," she thought, squeezing one hand with the other, still struggling not to shout.

“Miss Dash, please try not to distract the other students who haven’t finished yet,” the teacher remarked, though she couldn’t suppress a dopey smile of pride. It seemed Rainbow wasn’t the only one happy about her excellent score.

“Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled, the words spilling out in a muffled jumble through her hands. “This is real, right?”

“You’ve impressed me, miss. I hope you’re proud of this.”

Rainbow finally let go of her mouth, clenching her fists with excitement and doing a little spin in place, still gritting her teeth with glee.

“I imagine your good grades are also the reason Miss Apple looks so focused today, am I right?” Harshwinny asked, looking past Rainbow toward the back of the classroom. Rainbow quickly followed her gaze and saw Applejack still working on her test at the other seat they usually shared—eyes wide open, wearing a seriousness Rainbow had never seen in her before.

Seeing anything other than exhaustion and devastation on the farm girl was rare. And even though, after Twilight and Pinkie’s blowout the night before, Applejack had crashed hard and only just woken up a few hours ago—missing most of their study session—Rainbow knew deep down that all her friend really needed was a good night’s sleep. Applejack had always been smart—she was just tired.

“You could say that,” Rainbow replied, turning back to the teacher, letting the energy fade through her body, sending chills across her skin but relaxing her muscles. “We had an excellent tutor.”

“I bet. I’ve been watching her, and even though she finished the test over thirty minutes ago, she’s still going over it.”

“Yep. Classic Twilight.” The girl in question didn’t even flinch at the mention of her name, flipping back to the first page of her test to check her answers for what had to be the eighteenth time.

“Well, I’ll be sure to give Miss Sparkle the thanks she deserves for helping you study. I’ve always known you’re capable of more than you let on, Miss Dash—you just needed the right guidance.”

Rainbow couldn’t help but blush, a warm feeling blooming in her chest and spreading throughout her body. She was proud, she was happy—and now, she felt like she was on top of the world, ready to impress the Wondercolts at the gala. And she would.

With a nod of gratitude, she thanked Ms. Harshwinny, grabbed her backpack, and left the classroom, headed for the school’s side gardens—where the six of them had agreed to meet once the exam was over. Normally, they’d spend recess in the cafeteria, since, contrary to what she initially expected, the lunchtime chaos helped Fluttershy calm her nerves. It made her feel like just another face in the crowd—part of the sea of students just looking to eat and chat. Rainbow and Rarity had always found that odd, but they didn’t really mind.

This time, though, was different. This time, after finishing the exam, they had all of recess—and more—for themselves. And they planned to enjoy it, playing and relaxing on the soft, green Canterlot grass.

She eagerly pulled out her phone, popped in the one earbud that still worked—letting the other dangle against her neck—started one of her favorite songs (brutally ruined by the lack of stereo, she had to admit), and checked the group chat to see if anyone else had finished.

“Animal Obsessed: Hi”

“Animal Obsessed: I’m done with the test”

“Animal Obsessed: 98 •ᴗ•”

“Animal Obsessed: Seriously, thank you soooo much @Four-Eyes Sparkle”

“Animal Obsessed: I’m in the garden, on one of those benches with an umbrella”

She grinned wide, adjusted her backpack, and started walking.

She turned down one hallway, then another, then another—reaching the staircase that led to the first floor—only to stop dead in her tracks as nature came calling. She pivoted and headed for the nearest bathroom—the one she usually visited after first period.

She hummed her song softly under her breath, weaving past a row of lockers and a few other students who had also finished their tests, though she didn’t recognize them beyond vague familiarity. "I bet Pinkie knows them," she thought, just as she came to a stop in front of one of those unfamiliar faces—who was blocking the entrance to the girls’ bathroom.

She was a small girl, with long blue hair streaked with darker shades, tied up in a high ponytail. Her eyes were a shade similar to Rainbow’s own, that reddish-pink glow—but hers leaned more toward wine red. Her clothes matched, too—dark red tones, a rolled-up jacket lined with white stitching, and a pink skirt. She also wore tall neon-colored boots.

The girl stared intently at her phone, which Rainbow could see was running some kind of card game, where the goal was to knock down a king and two enemy towers. She hadn’t noticed Rainbow yet.

Rainbow leaned forward a little to catch her attention and clear the path to the bathroom, but the girl didn’t respond—just kept tapping away at her screen. Rainbow furrowed her brow and cleared her throat loudly, trying again to get her attention.

The stranger looked up, fluttering her long lashes at the other girl with a confused expression, just as her phone buzzed violently, signaling she'd lost her game.

“Oh, sorry,” she muttered, stepping aside to clear the way. Rainbow replied with a silent smile and reached out to open the door. “Excuse me, is your name Rainbow?”

The girl in question tilted her head slightly, turning again toward the stranger’s face, who was smiling innocently, her eyes fixed on Rainbow’s hair. “She probably noticed how amazing I am,” she thought, returning the smile.

“Yeah, Rainbow Dash. And you are?”

“Sonata Dusk,” her interlocutor replied, extending a hand in a friendly gesture, which Rainbow quickly accepted.

“Can I help you with something?” Rainbow asked, using the same polite tone her mother always used when meeting someone new.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I just needed to know.”

The girl’s words puzzled Rainbow, who subtly and gently pulled her hand back from the handshake. A slight tingle crawled up her back like a lizard over her skin, planting a sudden question in her head she couldn’t shake: “Where had she seen her before?”

“Nice to meet you, Sonata,” she said, opening the door and stepping into the depths of the girls’ restroom, still feeling the other girl's eyes on her back. She opened one of the stalls, entered, closed the door behind her, dropped her backpack on the floor, pulled down her shorts, and sat on the toilet, staring at the ground as she finished.

That question wouldn’t leave her alone. She felt she’d seen Sonata before, but where? At school, definitely, but why did it feel important? She didn’t recall seeing her with anyone, or hearing her name before; she didn’t remember this girl being anyone of importance until now, and yet her head was burning with the need to remember. Where?

She pressed the bridge of her nose gently, shaking her head, trying to push the thought away. After all, she had done amazing on her test, taken a big step toward joining the Wondercolts, and her friends had been there for her through it all. She hadn’t known the other five for long, but still felt a connection that neither she nor anyone could explain, one that went beyond just laughing together on the grass.

Twilight was strict and studious—someone Rainbow would've once called boring and dull, but now she found her one of the kindest and funniest people she’d met, always willing to help. Applejack always managed to push her buttons: when she wasn’t asleep, she was usually in some dumb competition with Rainbow that never went anywhere—yet they never stopped exchanging kind words to support each other, bouncing off like a tennis ball. Fluttershy was reserved, quiet, and it was easy to believe her attitude meant she didn’t like you, and yet Rainbow couldn’t imagine a tough moment without her steady support. Rarity was the complete opposite of Rainbow—hating physical activity and worrying too much about style and appearances, even faking a terrible Manehattan accent—which clashed with her cheeky, teasing personality and generous heart. And Pinkie, well, she was just Pinkie.

She’d never seen herself surrounded by people so different from her—and yet so compatible. If she needed help, there was Twilight. If she needed advice, there was Fluttershy. If she needed a good day, there was Applejack. If she needed a laugh, there was Rarity. And if she needed all of them? There was Pinkie.

She let go of her nose and smiled, forgetting what had her deep in thought just moments ago, and decided it was time to go find them.

She unlatched the stall lock with a loud clack, grabbed her backpack, and pulled up her shorts.

With determination, she walked toward the stall door, placing her hand against it—only to find that, just like the day she’d met Applejack in that very bathroom, the door wouldn’t budge, slamming her nose and face into the thick slab of black wood. The bounce-back made her stagger a few steps, eyes squeezed shut, rubbing her nose clumsily as she nearly tripped over the toilet behind her. “These doors hate me,” she thought, blinking curiously around her.

She let go of her nose and pushed the door again. It gave slightly outward, only to bounce right back and hit her palm. She frowned and tried once more—same result.

Puzzled, Rainbow looked around for anything out of place. The inner latch was unlatched, so the door should have opened easily. The hinges were intact and nothing seemed to be stuck. Light came in normally from above and below the door, making it unlikely something outside was pressing against it.

“Okay, Rainbow…” she muttered to herself, analyzing her options. It looked like she might have to try and break the door open.

The bathroom was silent; no water was running, and no other toilet seemed to be in use. The only noise was the soft hum of the fluorescent lights buzzing against the plain white ceiling. Rainbow was alone.

She rolled her shoulders with a few quick stretches, breathing deeply, getting ready for the impending charge. That door wasn’t keeping her locked in all day—not when she had a whole school day to spend with her friends.

She inhaled, exhaled, leaned sideways to hit the door with her shoulder, and ran.

The impact was brief but painful. She heard the unmistakable sound of wood cracking, and she shot forward as the door burst open, crashing noisily into the sink counter. She stumbled in the process, just managing to throw her hand forward to brace herself against the mirror, avoiding what could’ve been a face-first collision with cold ceramic and metal. The mirror beneath her hand cracked with a hideous noise. Though it didn’t shatter into shards on the floor, several pieces popped out of place, cutting her hand in the process.

She let out a soft, high-pitched squeak of pain, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out, trying to regulate her breathing to regain composure. Her heart was pounding wildly, galloping against her chest, making her loose shirt flutter unevenly. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and straightened up, already thinking about how she’d explain the cuts on her hand to her friends. “I figured if Applejack was going to be the only idiot who cut her hand, I might as well join her. That’s what friends are for,” she thought, grinning at the mental image of her friend’s reaction.

“Whoa! Breaking the door wasn’t part of the plan,” chirped a sharp voice behind her, amused and surprised. Rainbow jumped, eyes flying open as she nervously turned to the speaker, feeling a hot blush creep up her cheeks “But expected, of course, for a rabid mutt like you.”

Six people surrounded Rainbow, forming a half-circle that, aside from a small gap in front of the stall she’d been trapped in, blocked off all possible exits.

Two boys—one she recognized as Garble, the vice-president of the student council and (according to Rarity) Echo’s current boyfriend, and another chubby boy with white hair and bluish eyes she didn’t recognize. There were also three girls: a tall one with curly orange hair and bright red eyes, dressed way too extravagantly for school; a medium-height girl with two long purple pigtails with a mint stripe; and lastly, the same girl she’d met just a few minutes earlier: Sonata. Suddenly, she remembered where she’d seen her before, and fumbled for her headphone volume control, pressing the button four times—just as Twilight had instructed her.

“I knew I’d find you here, Dash. You’ve got a weak bladder,” Echo purred in a voice so soft and intoxicating that, for a split second, it confused Rainbow about her real intentions. Through her headphones, she heard the soft beep indicating the recording had begun. She swallowed hard.

“You want to do this here? Now?” she asked, glancing around nervously. As she’d suspected, the security camera lights were off, and the bathroom door was latched from the inside. There’d be no easy way out of this.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the day you laid your filthy hands on me, darling,” Echo replied, stepping forward until she was just inches away “But you’re so slippery, you little brat. Not to mention that two-meter gorilla you drag around everywhere.”

“Don’t you dare say her name,” Rainbow growled, letting the rage carry her words, only to be quickly cut off by Echo, who grabbed her cheeks aggressively, hissing through her teeth.

“I say what I want. You’d better get used to that.”

With a swift movement, Rainbow broke free from Echo’s grip, ready to launch herself at her like she used to when bullies messed with Fluttershy back in Cloudsdale Elementary. But before she could do anything, Garble grabbed her arms from the right, and the pigtail girl from the left, making her attack attempt fizzle into a violent lurch forward, which still managed to make Echo take a few steps back.

The albino girl flinched, surprised—only to quickly relax, grinning ear to ear. Unlike her usual smirk, this smile looked genuine. Rainbow had never seen anything so grotesque.

“She’s got fire in her!” she cried, baring her teeth, her eyes narrowing in cruel delight “I love your fire, kid! You make this school fun!”

Rainbow opened her mouth, ready to curse Echo in every way she knew, only for her voice to come out as a painful, muffled howl, the result of a powerful punch the albino landed on her abdomen. She coughed and screamed in pain, squinting her eyes tightly, barely noticing Echo bouncing with joy and laughing over and over again.

"I’ve waited so long for this!" Echo yelled, hitting Rainbow again. "You were always hiding! Always with those same whores!" She hit her again. "Every single day, without fail! Only slipping away to come to the bathroom!" Another punch. "I’ve been busy, as you can tell, but finally—" another blow "—I finally have you here!"

Rainbow’s head was spinning, feeling drool slide down her lips, soaked in a familiar metallic taste she hadn’t experienced since she left Cloudsdale. As a child, she hadn’t been particularly problematic, but it wasn’t like she didn’t give her mother headaches now and then. One highlight was when she picked a fight with four kids two grades above her because they were bullying a little girl she didn’t even know. That was always how she’d been—jumping into fights she knew she couldn’t win just to prove that she could, just to do what was right. “Just like with Four-Eyes”, she thought, as her thoughts grew hazy.

Echo hit her a few more times, muttering words Rainbow could no longer quite make out, her mind starting to drift as she subconsciously counted the painted lines on the floor, now stained with her blood, having to start over several times due to her lightheadedness.

With a harsh squeeze, the albino grabbed Rainbow’s cheeks again, forcing her to look her in the eyes, her grotesque smile barely visible amid the blur of lights and shapes in front of Rainbow. If she was saying something, Rainbow didn’t register it.

"You really are ugly…" she managed to mutter, her tongue numb from the mix of saliva and blood, trying to squint to see her better.

Echo went silent instantly, breathing through her mouth, her smile beginning to tremble with frustration. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Listen closely, you pathetic excuse—" she began, only to be cut off by a powerful spit that landed directly on her cheek, choking her words in her throat. The red-tinged drool slid calmly down her skin, and Echo simply trembled even more, this time her smile vanishing completely.

Rainbow let out a faint chuckle, exhaling as much air from her lungs as her dizzy state allowed, before being harshly punched in the nose by Echo—who, through her haze, Rainbow could tell was red with rage. A warm wave of pain spread from her skull through her body, clouding her vision and breaking her thoughts, all of it replaced by infernal pain.

It wasn’t the first time she’d felt that pain—but not in her nose.

“Shit!” Echo shouted, shaking her hand in pain, then wiping the spit off her cheek in disgust. “You’re repulsive, Dash, has anyone ever told you that?”

Rainbow didn’t respond, still focused on the pain in her nose. A few months earlier, during one of Canterlot’s sports trials, Rainbow had tripped in the obstacle course, landing hands-first and breaking her wrist while spraining her left shoulder. Yes, it was a pain she knew well.

“Let’s fix that, boys.”

With a yank of her hair, the pigtail girl forced Rainbow’s face back up, putting on full display the damage Echo had done: her nose was horribly bent, the bridge completely swollen and pressing out from beneath her skin, tinted in a sickly purplish white. Blood clumsily flowed from her nostrils, now so swollen and deformed they barely let the bleeding through. Her lips were dark purple, coated in the deep crimson pouring from her nose. Her eyes struggled to stay open, blinking and twitching rapidly, interrupted only by the violent rattle of her breathing—a whistling sound that, in any other situation, might have been comical.

Abruptly, Garble and the pigtail girl shoved her forward, passing her off to Echo and pushing her back into the bathroom stall she’d occupied just minutes before. Behind her, the albino kicked her calves, forcing her onto her knees. By the time Rainbow understood what was happening around her, it was already too late.

With a strange stumble, the pigtail girl shoved her head down into the toilet, forcing her into the water, which instantly sent Rainbow’s body into red alert. Feeling the water on her face, she kicked and clawed in every direction she could, using every ounce of energy she had left.

After a few seconds, she felt the grip on her hair loosen, and she used it to push her head back above water—only to be slammed back down again. She instinctively screamed, quickly realizing her mistake as the disgusting, foul-tasting water hit her tongue. She squeezed her eyes shut, once more trying to kick and claw, feeling the liquid slowly seep into her mouth and down into her lungs as her strength faded.

She managed to lift her head again, gasping for a fraction of a second, only to be shoved back under, letting in more of the toilet water. Her thoughts, once sharp with alarm, slowly faded into a prayer—any prayer to stop the burning in her throat as more and more cursed water entered her.

She kicked again, now just a pathetic twitch, before being yanked back up—only to be shoved under once more, before she could even take a breath.

“Twilight…” Rainbow thought, feeling her thoughts slip away, swimming out of reach. “Applejack…” she told herself, trying to picture her friend walking into the bathroom and pulling her out of there.

“Help…”

Her mouth was still open, but she wasn’t screaming anymore. The next time they pulled her out, she didn’t remember to breathe before they shoved her under again.

Chapter 19: Executive business

With a swift motion, Applejack removed the cover from her phone—affectionately nicknamed “the potato” by Rainbow—and quickly dialed her number, bringing the receiver to her ear.

Just a few minutes earlier, she had walked out of the exam room, her heart racing at a thousand beats per second after seeing the glorious ninety-five at the top of her test paper—a grade she wouldn’t have dreamed of getting at Canterlot High. When she first transferred to the school, Ms. Harshwinny, Ms. Fauna, and several other teachers quickly noticed the cowgirl’s sharp mind, often praising her for how easily she grasped and developed complex topics. But it didn’t take long before that remarkable performance vanished, replaced by a dismal mediocrity that always forced her to drop the class.

Applejack wasn’t dumb, and she knew it. That only made it more frustrating to realize she had wasted an entire year.

The dial tone rang in her ear a couple of times, dragging through the seconds like a slug, leaving a trail of uncertainty in her mind. "She always wears her headphones," she thought, frowning. "She should've heard the ringtone by now."

She pulled the phone away and carefully looked at the numbers on the tiny green screen, mentally checking to make sure she’d dialed correctly. "Twelve, twelve, seventy-three, forty-one, twenty..." she muttered, furrowing her brow.

She was standing in the middle of the hallway, back to the door she had just exited, surrounded by a few other students who had also finished the departmental exam (though they didn’t look nearly as satisfied as she did). The clear exception was Twilight, who was still inside, reviewing her answers for what must’ve been the hundredth time. “Use every second you have; you never know how many tenths of a point are hiding in those seconds,” she’d said the night before during one of those brief moments when Applejack had managed to stay awake just long enough to pretend she was still paying attention.

Perplexed, she bit her lip, thinking of her friend and why she wasn’t answering her phone. It wasn’t unusual for Rainbow not to pick up; Rarity always complained that Rainbow demanded instant replies in chat only to vanish for hours—or even days—without answering anything. Sometimes she’d gone off running laps at the park near her house, timing herself. Other times, she’d impulsively decided to binge-watch the entire Daring Do saga again for the fifth time that month. Whatever the case, Rainbow wasn’t exactly the most sociable person when it came to her phone—and Applejack knew that.

“But not today, sugarcube. Not today,” she thought, releasing her lip, unable to shake the feeling that something else was keeping her friend tied up.

Uncertain, she now dialed Fluttershy’s number, quietly praying she had already finished her exam and was the reason Rainbow wasn’t picking up. Once again, she brought the receiver to her ear and waited.

“Hello?” Fluttershy’s distinctively timid voice came through the line.

“Flutters! It’s me, Applejack. Did you finish the exam?”

“Oh! Hi, Applejack! Yeah, I’m already outside” she replied cheerfully, and Applejack could hear the innocent smile in her voice.

“Good!” she said, glancing toward the sky, trying to share in her friend’s happiness, but unable to shake her concern about Rainbow’s whereabouts. “Hey, are you with Colors? She left a while ago, but that stubborn ol’ mule isn’t answering her phone.”

“No, I’ve been out here by myself for a while. A couple minutes ago, Rarity texted that she was done with her exam, but I haven’t seen her either.”

Applejack frowned, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers like she always did when trying to calm her mind from exhaustion—though this time, it wasn’t fatigue driving her mind wild.

“Hasn’t she said anything in the group chat?”

“No… I didn’t even know she’d finished. Oh, there’s Rarity now—let me ask her. Rarity! Hi!”

Applejack heard a faint murmur on the other end of the line, marked by that faux Manehattan accent Rarity loved to put on—prompting an unconscious eye-roll from Applejack.

For a few seconds, nothing but the distant echoes of someone else's conversation filled the call, leaving the cowgirl alone again with her thoughts—thoughts of Rainbow. Within their group, it was no secret that the two of them had bonded the fastest—even more than Pinkie and Rarity, who’d been friends for years. That weird back-and-forth of teasing and bickering between Rainbow and Applejack, which from the outside might have looked borderline toxic, was in reality a fast-paced dynamic the two of them enjoyed more than anything. Applejack constantly laughed internally at Rainbow’s jabs about her hometown and could bet every last horse on her farm that Rainbow enjoyed having someone around who challenged her regularly (even though Applejack was convinced that if not for her sleepyness, she could easily win every single one of their spats).

Applejack knew Rainbow. And Rainbow knew her. She knew that wherever her friend was, she could handle herself. There was no real reason to worry about her.

And yet, there she was—standing still, listening to some nonsense buzz coming from the phone, thinking about her friend’s well-being. It was the first time in a long while that Applejack had worried like this about someone who wasn’t her family… or herself.

It was the first time in a long time that Applejack had a real friend.

“Rarity doesn’t know either… I’m really sorry” Fluttershy said quietly, lowering her voice.

“Don’t worry about it” Applejack replied, bringing herself back to the present. “Any idea where she could be?”

“Well…” Fluttershy began, before her voice was interrupted by a couple of muffled thumps against the mic.

“Darling, are you sure Rainbow didn’t tell you where she was heading after the exam?” Rarity’s voice now came through the line.

“No… We haven’t talked since this morning” she answered, followed by a heavy silence that felt endless.

“Well, honey, as much as I adore the idea of being the protagonist of my own mystery novel, I really don’t think you need to worry too much. You know how Rainbow is—she probably saw a Daring Do booth at the track and is right now selling her own mother for collector’s cards or something.”

Applejack closed her eyes, once again pinching the bridge of her nose, sighing heavily. Rarity was right—there really was no reason to be worrying like this over Rainbow. Trying to predict her friend’s behavior was about as pointless as trying to keep Pinkie in one spot for more than five seconds.

“Well…” she sighed in frustration, opening her eyes and starting to walk down the hallway. “All right, I guess I’ll see you outside then.”

“We’ll be here, darling.” Rarity assured her before hanging up the call.

Applejack closed her phone and slipped it back into her pocket, adjusting the straps of her bag before heading down the school stairs, trying to push the thought of looking for Rainbow out of her head, trying to push away the idea that something might’ve happened to her. "If Colors saw me right now, she’d be dying of laughter," she thought, grabbing the stair railing and making the sharp turn downward. She could hear Rainbow’s voice, clear as day, laughing at the stoic, serious Applejack going around asking about her—and without a doubt, she’d throw out a comment like “What, you in love with me or something?” or “Dang, Ponyville, what would you do without me?” She frowned, letting a slight smile tug at her lips as she shook her head.

“Not giving you that satisfaction, Rainbow” she muttered to herself before stopping abruptly on the last step, swaying a bit from the momentum.

She’d reach the school gardens, meet up with Fluttershy, Rarity, Rainbow, and probably Pinkie, and they’d have an amazing morning. They’d ask Professor Eclipse if they could skip movie session just to hang out, and suggest to Ms. Fauna they do some kind of outdoor activity so the six of them could be together.

They’d be together—she knew it. She wanted to know it.

Letting out a frustrated groan, she looked up, remembering that whenever they left class—any class, lab, or studio—there was one place Rainbow always visited, the place where the two of them had first met. "I could…" she thought, narrowing her eyes as her mind wavered back and forth on whether or not to go up there.

The odds of unnecessary worry—and teasing—still clung to her, begging her to keep walking down to the gardens, pull out the apple cookies Pinkie had made for her the night before, and enjoy a peaceful day with her friends. And yet, that little voice, that aching itch in the back of her head still lingered, still urged her to go, to check. "It’s just a bathroom, Applejack," she thought, rolling her eyes and exhaling sharply. "You’ll be back before a rooster crows," she told herself, though deep down, she wondered if maybe—just maybe—she was lying.

She turned around and climbed the stairs again, now walking towards the girls' bathroom on the second floor, feeling silly for doing so.

She turned right, then left, before finally spotting that fuchsia door with the vinyl engraving on it in the distance. She dodged a couple of students she didn’t recognize before stopping abruptly when she heard the loud crack of plastic under her boots. Curiously, she checked, finding a broken black pen, with the engravings completely worn and erased.

She squinted slightly, crouching down over the pen, the awful feeling in her throat telling her she had seen it before, while the little voice in her head grew louder and louder. She swallowed dryly and picked it up.

It didn’t take long to recognize that old item; after all, she had seen Rainbow play with it all night before falling asleep.

The plastic was broken, she didn’t know if it was from her boot or something else, with the pen tip completely exploded in ink, and the inside painted black, still fresh. Applejack turned the pen around, staining her hands in the process, before raising her gaze back to the bathroom door: somehow, it looked strange, almost threatening, slightly ajar as if it were toying with the cowgirl, tempting her to enter its gloomy insides, though she wasn’t really ready for whatever she would find.

She swallowed again, realizing her throat was completely dry, and stood up, extending her hand toward the door.

The bathroom looked the same as that day: white and pristine, bland and uninspired. It was completely empty, with all the stalls shut by the natural inertia of the doors forcing them closed, with nothing out of the ordinary, and yet, there was something in the air that made it feel different, as if Applejack wasn’t welcome there.

She took a few steps inside, looking at the walls, before her gaze landed on the mirrors, or rather, the one mirror that was different, broken and cracked, with specks of blood scattered on it and the sink.

Her stomach flipped, feeling the sandwiches of daisies they had had for breakfast climb up her esophagus, burning her throat. She didn’t like that, didn’t like it one bit, and now no part of her suggested that Rainbow was fine. She had to find her, now.

She picked up one of the glass shards, inspecting it carefully, feeling the still-fresh blood on its edges, like the one she had had in her hand a few days ago. The pain from the scar crawled up her palm to her forearm, forcing her to leave the glass where she found it, unable to really look beyond it.

She looked back at the bathroom, trying to notice anything unusual, finding it almost immediately in the same stall where she had been asleep the day Rainbow and her met: the latch was broken.

She frowned, exhaling sharply before moving toward the door, not even noticing the diluted blood still speckling the floor under her soles. She placed her hand on the handle, and, feeling the nausea of maybe, just maybe, being wrong, pulled the door toward her.

Rainbow was on her knees, her short hair a mess behind her neck, wet and dirty with blood and other fluids she couldn’t identify. Her face, equally wet and disheveled, was smashed against the toilet, her lips drooling a disgusting mix of blood, saliva, and water that made Applejack’s stomach churn. Overall, her face was a disaster, with her mouth swollen and bloody, her eyes purple and irritated, and her cheeks as red as a tomato; however, what really took Applejack’s breath away was her nose, as she swore on her boots that no septum should bend that way.

Her heart began to race faster, her green eyes dancing from point to point, while her mind ran a thousand miles an hour trying to figure out what to do. Rainbow was still breathing, though slowly; her chest rose and fell at a terrifying pace, and none of her muscles were really moving on their own.

She needed help, she needed help right now.

Applejack knelt in front of her best friend, holding her face between her hands, forcing her to look her in the eyes. The poor girl was freezing, with the tip of her nose, as crooked as it was, tinted a deep purple that almost resembled a bruise. She patted her cheeks a couple of times, trying to provoke some reaction, fearful of hurting her in any way.

"Colors?" she asked, her tone so high-pitched and fearful that even she was surprised "Rainbow? Can you hear me?"

Silence. Applejack had never hated silence so much in her life.

She patted her again, this time harder, stretching her eyes carefully so as not to hurt the swelling. This time, she swore for a fraction of a second that the other girl responded by slightly opening her eyelids, revealing a sliver of her pink eyes behind the heavy layer of pain and unconsciousness. Applejack knew Rainbow, she knew her better than anyone at that school, and even though it was for less than a second, she knew what that look meant, what that look communicated: anger.

Carefully, she placed Rainbow’s head back on the toilet, trying to think about what to do, while wiping the drool with her fingers, not caring about the grossness. On another occasion, she would have found it funny to think about Rarity’s reaction when she saw her covered in that mess of fluids, but this was not that occasion. No, now the cowgirl’s mind had no time to think about anything else.

She would have to take her to first aid, definitely, something had to be done with that nose if Rainbow wanted to breathe normally; but then, what would follow? Tell Mrs. Dash? Tell Cadence? About what? About who did this?

As soon as that question popped up, as soon as her mind made the necessary connections to get an answer, she realized Echo Mirage was going to regret doing that to her best friend on the one day her mind was functioning as it should.

A terrible heat ran through her body, normalizing her heart rate, unconsciously clenching her jaw and making her teeth grind. That scene had Echo’s signature all over it, and not having seen it before made her feel stupid. "No wonder you were angry," she thought, turning her gaze back to her friend.

Rainbow really was in a deplorable state, barely breathing through her battered nose, sweating blood and toilet water everywhere. Her clothes were torn, stained, and ripped in some places. She was wearing long pink shorts with a light blue interior, now nothing more than a mess over each of her legs; her socks, usually long and stained with dirt, were now torn and wet; and the white shirt she was wearing to cover her sports top was nowhere to be found. However, what angered Applejack the most were her shoes: Rainbow never stopped proudly reminding her how those reliable Neiks had been bought with the sweat of her brow and the calluses on her fingers, and although the cowgirl usually rolled her eyes just thinking about how her friend would tell her the same story for the umpteenth time, now she couldn’t help but mentally recite each one of her words as she looked at the broken soles of the sneakers, torn and frayed like the jaws of a crocodile.

Yes, Rainbow looked terrible, but right now, Applejack could only think about how much she wanted to hit Echo.

"I’m sorry..." she whispered, pulling the phone from her pocket again, doing her best to dial Fluttershy’s number despite her trembling fingers from the anger.

She put the receiver to her ear, and waited what felt like years, hearing the beeping over and over, losing her patience with every repetition.

She looked back at Rainbow, and could only imagine Echo’s hypocritical smile reflected in the scattered glass. She was going to erase that smile, even if it was the last thing she did.

"Hello?" Fluttershy asked again, in her usual soft and quiet tone.

"I found her," she replied firmly, her voice so flat and dull that it gave her goosebumps "Bring Rarity, and find a way to get Twilight out of the exam. We can’t wait any longer. Are you with Pinkie?"

A heavy silence followed her words, leaving her thoughts floating in the air, barely able to hear the other girl’s breathing through the receiver, which, slightly interrupted, conveyed something Applejack had always known: No one had ever heard Applejack angry, really angry.

"Yes, she just arrived," Fluttershy answered fearfully, her voice cracking with every word.

"Tell her to meet me in the cafeteria," she replied, not even rationalizing her response. Something told her Echo had to be there; she was always there after an exam. That’s where she needed to find her "She’s in the girls’ bathroom on the second floor. Take Rainbow to Nurse Redheart."

"What are you going to do?"

"Kill her," she thought unconsciously, taking a deep breath.

"Probably get myself expelled," she concluded, before hanging up the call and standing up.

She wanted to leave, to go after Echo Mirage and finally give her a taste of her own medicine, but she couldn’t just leave her friend like that. Rainbow was still semi-conscious, sprawled on the toilet, barely shivering from the autumn chill and the water.

She searched around for her friend’s disheveled backpack, checking beneath the toilet, in the adjacent stalls, or at the sinks, but found nothing. Frowning, she left the area, trying to see if, maybe not her backpack, but perhaps her shirt or jacket was scattered somewhere, or anything to cover her from the cold. She took a few steps, still clenching her jaw and fists, bending down beneath the doors, without any luck.

After a couple of seconds of searching, she noticed a thin black silhouette behind the trash can. She leaned down to pick it up and found Rainbow’s phone, its screen shattered and the case slightly bent inward, the headphones still awkwardly plugged into the audio jack. “What else did you do, Echo?” she thought, squeezing her eyes shut and placing the phone beside her friend while pulling out her own jacket from her bag, laying it over Rainbow like a blanket.

“I’ll be back. Help is on the way, Rainbow,” she whispered, gently stroking her cheek while adjusting her hat with the other hand. She figured there were just a few more minutes left before the exam time was up and recess started, so whatever she needed to do, she had to do it now.

She wiped her nose and stepped out.

The school was strangely empty. Even on normal days, this close to the bell, it was common to see students roaming the halls—especially now, when more than half the student body was probably already outside celebrating or crying over their results. Rainbow had been the second to finish her test in class, and Applejack the fifteenth. She wondered how different things might’ve been if she’d finished the exercises faster.

She went down the stairs, and down again, spotting a few familiar faces but ignoring them entirely. She walked briskly, swimming through the crowd like a carp upstream, somehow feeling like the world was conspiring to slow her down. “They’re gonna expel me. By my boots, they’re going to expel me,” she thought, biting her tongue to silence any trace of doubt in her head. Echo was the vice principal’s daughter at Canterlot High, not to mention the strange, shared fondness many teachers and students seemed to have for her. It was a disease—an ugly, disgusting parasite infecting everything it touched with its vile smile and rancid words. She was a rat, straight from the sewers, dressed like a pheasant, and that always made Applejack furious. You could be a terrible person, like Garble from her year or Lightning Dust from the year below, but at least they owned it, at least they were honest. Not Echo. And that made her boil, now more than ever.

She was making a mistake, sure—but at least she’d leave this school with the satisfaction of seeing Echo Mirage’s lip swollen.

She turned again, and again, until finally she found the hallway that led to the cafeteria. Behind her, almost as if to trap her in, Rouge Mirage’s office loomed, pushing her toward the doors, mocking her. She looked carefully down the hall, at the lockers and the drinking fountains—somehow feeling like this might be the last time she’d see them. She let her green eyes engrave every image into her mind forever, just in case.

Just in case, she thought, fully aware she was lying to herself.

At the end of the hall, standing like a pair of rigid, intimidating statues, were Pinkie and Rarity. Contrary to what she had told them on the phone, both wore expressions of terrible seriousness that made Applejack’s chest swell just a bit more. She approached them with a determined step, brow furrowed, fists still clenched. Anyone passing by would’ve thought the tension was between the three of them.

“Fluttershy asked me that whatever it is you’re about to do, we try to stop you,” said Pinkie, in a surprisingly low tone, devoid of her usual chirpiness.

“Are you going to?” asked the blonde, raising an eyebrow. Pinkie only shook her head gently from side to side.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

Pinkie stepped aside, revealing the cafeteria doors behind her. Applejack turned to Rarity, briefly relaxing her muscles.

“What are you doing here?”

“Echo… am I wrong?” asked Rarity, her gaze shadowed by something that looked like desire—a deep, guttural desire that Applejack had never seen in her before—woven into a tapestry of anxiety and rage that momentarily stunned her before making her feel even more certain. “She took two years of my life. I had to see it. With my own eyes. Twilight and Fluttershy are with Rainbow.”

Applejack nodded, turning her gaze back to the cafeteria doors and the white vinyl print of the Canterlot High crest—the crest of her school. Not for much longer. She pushed the door open and walked in.

Just as she suspected, the room was completely empty—devoid of students or staff—bathed in a hot, heavy aura that made Applejack’s forehead begin to sweat. The air was thick, and the lights, though working as usual, made the room feel more like an arena than a cafeteria.

A desert, just for her—stained by the putrid presence of Echo and her friends, sitting at the bench where they usually had lunch. This was personal.

One step, then another. Without even checking if her friends had followed, the cowgirl walked deeper into the cafeteria, slowly approaching her target, who laughed and joked, pristine and pure. Echo was clean. No trace of blood, water, or anything else that might show what she did to Rainbow. She had washed her hands—far too well.

“Not well enough,” thought Applejack, clenching her fists again, nails digging into her palms.

Another step, and another.

Echo finally noticed the three new arrivals—Rarity and Pinkie standing like sentinels at either side of the entrance, watching, and the towering Applejack approaching, her face and freckles glowing a furious red. The albino girl smirked playfully, as she always did, and quieted her group with a wave.

“Applejack! My favorite farm girl! What brings you here?” she asked, getting only silence in return. “Lost something, darling?” she tried again, still keeping her composure.

Applejack walked past a table that blocked her path, shoving the wooden and metal structure aside with a screech that echoed through the entire cafeteria. The sound made Echo’s smile falter, and for a moment, she seemed to realize what was coming.

“I assume you saw my little work of art, hmm?” Once again, silence. Her patience wore thin—and so did her tolerance. With a sharp gesture, she motioned to Garble to do something. He approached Applejack with a goofy grin, stopping in front of her and placing a threatening hand on her shoulder.

If this were any other occasion, Pinkie would’ve laughed at their height difference, and Rarity might’ve commented on how absurdly muscular Applejack was. Both stayed silent.

“Echo asked you something, farm girl,” Garble growled in a low, sultry voice.

In one swift move, Applejack grabbed his wrist tightly, clutching his shirt with her free hand, and flung him violently. Garble didn’t react in time, crashing face-first onto a bench, his wrist twisted harshly, unable to do more than whimper in pain, still shocked by the blow.

Echo flinched, watching the cowgirl resume her march. Her smile vanished instantly, replaced by a sneer of anger and disgust—twitching at the corners. For the first time since she had entered Canterlot, she was trembling.

Applejack had been at this school longer than Echo. She had seen her arrive with Rarity, had watched her make friends, get boyfriends—and make a lot of enemies. Echo had never messed with her, though. Applejack didn’t know if it was out of fear or disinterest—but right now, she liked to think it was fear. Echo had never touched her because she knew that was a bad idea.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Echo asked again, instinctively leaning back in her seat.

Grubber, another one of her cronies, trotted toward Applejack, brows furrowed, ready to fight—only to be intercepted by her hand, grabbed by the face, and slammed to the ground violently.

Echo didn’t bother hiding it anymore—she was scared. Terrified. Another of her girls, one with pigtails, tried to intervene, only to be stopped by another who couldn’t be identified. “Good”, thought Applejack, her cheeks begging for a grin but still unable to shake off the furious scowl. “Let them be afraid”.

Echo kicked at the floor and jumped up from her seat—only to be caught mid-air by Applejack, who grabbed her fiercely by the collar. Watching in slow motion as the blonde raised her fist, Echo shut her eyes.

Hell itself came crashing down upon Echo Mirage’s pretty face in an instant. A wave of fire tore through her insides as something broke beneath Applejack’s knuckles. The punch was swift and merciless—gone as quickly as it came—dropping Echo violently back onto her seat with a thunderous crash that made the entire cafeteria tremble.

Applejack didn’t see it, but Rarity was smiling.

“You lay a single finger on Rainbow again…” Applejack growled, spitting out each word with all the hatred she could muster. “Just one! And I swear I’ll fucking kill you!” she shouted, eyes burning with fury, as she watched Echo spit out a broken tooth in contempt.

Chapter 20: What could end up sinking the ship

Cadence hadn’t smoked in a long time—years, actually—but at that moment, all she could think about was how badly she wanted a cigarette.

She was standing outside Rouge’s office, swaying slightly back and forth as her mind raced a mile a minute, analyzing every possible angle of the news. “A student broke my daughter’s tooth, Cadence,” the vice principal had said over the intercom. “I want you here. Now.”

Normally, she didn’t let Rouge push her around. In her eyes, the vice principal was little more than a nauseating nuisance Chancellor Neighsay had forced onto Canterlot High to unofficially keep the school in line with the educational board. Years ago, Cadence’s predecessor, Judge Chrysalis, had pulled CHS out of the Secretariat’s network of schools—much to the Chancellor’s dismay—and when Cadence took over, though she changed many aspects of the former administration, that particular decision was one she chose to keep; much to the Chancellor’s dismay, again.

Celestia had insisted on letting Rouge stay at the school, if only to silence Neighsay’s constant whining and demands. After all, she could always just ignore the new vice principal and carry on as she pleased.

But it hadn’t turned out that way. It hadn’t been that way for years. Rouge had long fingers—very long—that slowly strangled and drained the school. First it was the payroll, then the academic records, and then the quarterly budgets. Little by little, more and more of CHS’s sensitive information ended up in the Secretariat’s hands, and Cadence hated it. She didn’t want someone like Neighsay above her.

Much less someone like Rouge.

She didn’t want to go in—not yet. From the other side of the door, she could hear Echo’s yelling and cries of pain, the girl sobbing between furious outbursts at someone Cadence couldn’t identify. They’d told her it had been a student from Twilight’s year, Applejack Apple, who was responsible, and she had summoned her, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she was the one Echo was referring to.

She glanced again down the hallway, unconsciously tucking her pastel hair behind her ear so it wouldn’t get in the way of the composed and commanding image she wanted to project. She was tired, so very tired; it had already been a month of running around, organizing her upcoming wedding and planning every detail needed to bring the Grand Galloping Gala to Canterlot, just as she envisioned. Handling her wedding alone wasn’t easy—much less the Gala—and the last thing she had time for was Echo and Rouge’s tantrums.

Still, in that moment, she found herself genuinely enjoying the quiet solitude. The students were scattered—either out on the fields or in the cafeteria—enjoying a well-deserved break after the brutal departmental exam, leaving the hallways as peaceful as a desert. Her office had become more than just a prison to her—somehow, she had to remind herself that she was there by choice, making phone calls, filling out endless paperwork, replying to email after email just to ensure the prince of Yakyakistan wouldn’t skip the event. And somehow, those bland hallway walls felt strangely comforting.

And above all, she wanted a cigarette.

Applejack showed up a few minutes later, accompanied by Rarity Flanks, to whom Cadence had entrusted the key to the sewing studio over a year ago. The blonde looked normal—surprisingly well, compared to how Cadence was used to seeing her. Usually, the girl wore drooping dark circles under her eyes, swollen lids, and messy clothes. But now, Cadence could see the green of her eyes, clear as water, and more importantly, there was a different expression on her face—one she couldn’t quite define, but it wasn’t her usual weariness.

Cadence unconsciously adjusted her hair again, brushing off her blazer for any speck of dust. She wanted to be seen as the principal this time, at least by these girls—because she was certain neither Rouge nor Echo ever would.

She wondered what her mother would think if she saw her so concerned about how others perceived her.

“Miss Apple,” she said softly, lifting her gaze as the towering girl approached. Neither her mother, her aunt, nor she herself were small women, but next to Applejack, they might as well have been toddlers. Thankfully, Rarity looked more appropriately sized beside her. “Miss Flanks.”

“Good morning,” Rarity replied, forcing a smile onto her face while gripping her friend’s arm more tightly. Applejack simply stared at the floor, clenching her fist.

Cadence gave her best imitation of a smile, nodding slightly.

“Thank you for bringing Miss Apple. You can return to your break now.”

“Actually…” Rarity began, mirroring Applejack as she looked down, almost as if ashamed. “I was going to the nurse’s office. I wanted to ask for permission—on behalf of myself and some friends—to skip class for the next few hours, Principal.”

Cadence’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, puzzled by the request. While it wasn’t uncommon for students to sneak off during her movie-and-games sessions to do other things, it was unusual for them to ask permission for it—almost like it was something official. More than that, the nurse’s office didn’t seem like the ideal spot to spend a morning with friends.

"Did you take her to Redhart?"

"No. She says she’s 'too busy' to tend to Echo here, and she won’t go to the infirmary until there’s been justice."

At the time, Cadence hadn’t given much weight to Rouge’s screeching. But now, it took on an entirely new meaning.

“Is everything okay?” she asked cautiously. Now it was Applejack who looked up, her eyes still shadowed.

“A friend. I think it has something to do with why I was called here.”

Cadence frowned, thoughtful. It wasn’t unusual for Redhart to be busy with a student feeling ill—or faking it to skip class—but never (at least under her administration) had anything kept the nurse “too busy” to answer the vice principal’s call. A silent rumor stirred in her chest, making her nervous—anxious about whatever was coming.

“Stay calm,” she told herself, almost like an order, swallowing hard. “You’re the principal, Cadence. You’re the principal.”

She nodded silently, giving Rarity permission to leave, then stepped aside to let Applejack go ahead of her. The vice principal’s door looked just like any other, but now it felt different—hostile, somehow. She pushed that thought away and opened it.

The first thing she noticed was the smell—before the sight of blood on the desk. Echo, Rouge’s daughter, was curled up on one of the office chairs, hugging her knees like a child, pressing a crimson-stained tissue to her mouth, with another just like it left on the desktop. Rouge sat on the other side, in her chair, flipping through a file, ignoring her daughter’s screeching. Echo, caught between tears and blood, was now completely incoherent.

Cadence narrowed her eyes, both disgusted and concerned by the scene, closing the door behind her, anticipating—just maybe—that the volume would soon rise.

“Cadence,” Rouge spat with contempt, eyes still glued to the file. “It’s about time.”

“Good morning, Rouge,” Cadence replied, pulling up a chair so Applejack could sit down. Echo shrieked louder, kicking in place and pointing at the blonde, who simply kept her gaze on the floor, calm and composed, ignoring the pale girl.

“Echo!” her mother shouted, slamming her hand on the desk, silencing her daughter instantly. Echo whimpered quietly, her eyes puffy, still pressing the tissue to her lips.

The air was heavy—too heavy. Cadence hated Rouge’s office, and this time was no exception. She didn’t like being there, especially because, even though she was the one standing, even though she was the principal, in that office she always felt at a disadvantage—cornered.

“You’re the principal…”

“Applejack Grace Apple, eighteen years old, repeating the eleventh grade. Am I wrong?” the vice principal asked, finally lifting her gaze from the file to the blonde, bypassing Cadence entirely. “Don’t answer.”

Echo’s pale eyes were locked onto Applejack, burning with a fire Cadence couldn’t explain. That girl had always given her a bad feeling, but she’d never actually caused any trouble—not for the school, not for anyone. “Or so she’d like us to believe, at least.”

“Poor academic performance, an alarming number of tardies and absences at this point in the semester, not enrolled in any clubs or teams, no auditions for school productions, and no record of community service,” Rouge continued, slapping the file down aggressively onto the desk, her eyes as cold and unreadable as ever. “Not exactly our model student, are you?”

“What are you doing here?” Cadence thought, hearing her own voice sound like her mother’s, sending a chill down her spine. She was the authority here, the one in charge, and yet now she felt like little more than the furniture in the office. She thought of Vice President Luna’s face, buried in her endless law books and tax codes, reflecting the constant impatience she always carried, masked behind serenity. She heard her say her name.

“What is this about, Rouge?”

The woman finally tore her eyes away from Applejack, dragging them toward her interlocutor with disdain, while Echo resumed her unintelligible babbling in her seat. In many ways, Rouge was very much like her daughter: both had that pale hair tone, nearly white like frost, although the mother always kept it in a tidy bun made of intertwined braids. Both of their eyes were that ghostly white that gave everyone chills, and Cadence could even say they shared the same gestures and mannerisms.

But she knew their similarities went deeper than that. Yes, even though there had never been any formal complaints about Echo, she knew deep down that the daughter was just as fierce and ruthless as her mother. Having both of them in front of her like this was anything but reassuring.

Rouge narrowed her eyes, glancing back down at the file in a small but cutting display of contempt that chilled Cadence’s spine.

“This girl, Applejack, assaulted my daughter.”

“She’s crazy! She’s crazy!” Echo screamed aggressively, pulling the cloth from her mouth just long enough to send a couple of drops of blood flying to the principal’s feet, before her mother hissed at her to be quiet.

“Is that true, Applejack?” Cadence asked, now directing her attention to the blonde girl, resting a hand on the back of her chair.

The blonde said nothing, sitting with her back to Cadence, pressing her hands tightly against her legs. It was certainly odd to see someone so big and strong making that kind of gesture, but instead of amusing her, Cadence couldn’t help but feel sorry for the girl—for whatever it was she was feeling. It wasn’t exhaustion, that was certain. And that was a first.

Applejack nodded slightly, still silent.

“Good, she admits her guilt,” Rouge went on, closing the file as Echo resumed whining behind the paper. “We don’t tolerate violence here at Canterlot High. I hope you understand that, Miss Apple.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she whispered faintly, still looking down.

“Then you understand we won’t tolerate you here, right?”

A deathly silence fell over the room, Rouge Mirage’s words still floating in the air, their true meaning etched into every syllable: You’re expelled.

Somehow, it felt wrong. Off. Like that wasn’t what this girl truly deserved. Cadence’s eyes widened, turning to face her fully, trying to decipher something in Applejack that wasn’t visible at first glance. The cowgirl was hunched in her seat, staring intently at her hands, clenched tightly together, her eyes hidden beneath the bangs that fell gracefully over her forehead. The dim light barely lit up the violet irises of the principal, who twisted her mouth in concern.

It was true the school had a zero-tolerance policy on violence (courtesy of Chrysalis), but Applejack had always been a quiet student—performance could improve, sure, but never a troublemaker.

And yet here she was, sitting there, looking almost defeated, not even trying to defend herself, only admitting guilt. Something wasn’t right. Not at all.

“A friend. I think it has something to do with why she called me here”, she recalled, before raising her face toward Rouge again.

“I want to hear her side of the story.”

The vice principal arched an eyebrow, narrowing her eyes in a subtle but unmistakable gesture of anger. It was clear that to Rouge, Cadence was nothing more than part of the furniture in this affair—a silent witness who wasn’t meant to do anything but affirm the sentence she handed down. But Cadence wasn’t going to do that. She was the principal. She was in charge. She had to be more than a witness. “Be the lawyer”, Luna would’ve said, before dumping another impossible dilemma on her.

“She already gave it, Cadence. She admitted guilt to the accusations.”

“Why did you do it?” Cadence asked, ignoring her subordinate, crouching beside Applejack, who continued to stare at her hands, making a face as if she were about to cry.

“She hurt my friend. I was coming out of an exam, and… was heading to…” she took a deep breath, suppressing a whimper, “…see my friends, when I noticed Rainbow—one of them—was missing.”

“She’s lying! She’s a crazy liar and she’s lying! I didn’t do anything to anyone!” The vice principal hissed again, this time glaring furiously at her daughter, while Cadence merely lifted her gaze slightly, feeling that Echo’s outburst only reinforced Applejack’s words.

“I found her in the girls’ bathroom on the second floor. Unconscious.”

“Is she the one with Redheart?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Applejack finally replied, raising her gaze to meet Rouge’s ghostly eyes. While her expression remained calm and still, Cadence could tell she was beginning to lose her patience, inch by inch.

“So that’s why Redheart didn’t come to see my daughter. Brilliant,” Rouge said, letting some exasperation slip into her voice.

“I’m sorry for that, ma’am.”

The room was once again consumed by an eerie silence, occasionally broken by Echo’s heavy breathing. Her eyes remained fixed on Applejack’s expression, filled with a fury and desperation Cadence had never seen in any student—not even the worst of them. Yet the blonde remained stoic, unmoving, almost defiant. A few seconds ago, she looked about to cry, and although her eyes were still watery and swollen with emotion, that didn’t weaken the grimace she wore—one that openly challenged the vice principal.

Cadence wondered if she too was challenging Rouge, before realizing she’d been staring at her for a while, and Rouge was staring right back.

“How do you know it was my daughter?” the vice principal asked, unafraid to show bias, tapping her fingers rhythmically against the desk.

But Applejack didn’t answer right away. She kept her gaze locked on hers, then snorted loudly and shook her head.

“Echo and Rainbow have had issues…”

“That’s not true!”

“Shut up!” Rouge snapped again, startling both her daughter and Cadence.

“With all of us, actually,” the blonde went on, finally looking away and lowering her head, adjusting her hat slightly.

“Do you have any proof it was her?” Cadence asked, standing and walking a few steps around the room.

“You can ask Rainbow, if she can talk by now.”

“What kind of answer is that?” Rouge exclaimed, slamming her hand on the desk and leaning closer to Applejack. “You went to the cafeteria and knocked my daughter’s tooth out over something you think happened! You call that justice?”

“I didn’t call it anything, ma’am.”

“You must think you’re so smart, Apple, don’t you? Assaulting the vice principal’s daughter and thinking no one will say anything just because you’re some two-meter-tall mule, huh?” Suddenly, the room's atmosphere heated up, and Cadence felt it immediately. Rouge was nose-to-nose with Applejack, her daughter recoiling in her seat, still scared, yet grinning wickedly behind the paper. “Guess what, little farm girl? Things may work that way on your ranch, but not here. This is Canterlot—not some third-rate pigsty.”

The blonde didn’t respond, merely shrugged, and shut her eyes tightly as the vice principal pressed down on her harder and harder. Deep down, Cadence knew that, one way or another, Applejack was right. Applejack was telling the truth. And yet, once again, she had become what she feared most: nothing more than a spectator.

Rouge was tearing her apart, and Cadence was just a spectator.

"Enough, Rouge!" she exclaimed, stepping forward, hesitating with every word she said.

"I’ll tell you what’s enough, Cadence! That this vile farm girl thinks she can waltz into this school and fix things like she would at home—while my daughter pays the price for it!"

"A proper punishment will be issued, but she’s still a student."

"Really? A student? You say that as if you’re not going to expel her right this instant!" Rouge snapped back, stepping away from Applejack and now facing the principal head-on. Cadence immediately noticed the height difference between them. "I don’t think your dear mother would agree with that, Cadence. Want to call Vice President Luna and ask her? Oh, that’s right—she wouldn’t answer. She never has time for her daughter. No wonder you can’t see the damage Miss Apple has caused."

The words surged up Cadence’s throat, desperate to respond in a thousand ways, but they stayed dry and limp in her mouth, flooding her with a bitter, rotting taste that churned her stomach. It was no secret that Rouge had some political and personal influence in Canterlot, but she’d never known just how much.

Her hands trembled, clenching into fists—and though she didn’t notice, so did Applejack’s—remembering that Cadence had saved Sweetie Belle’s grades without even realizing it.

Rouge scanned her superior with disdain, dragging her gaze through every corner of Cadence’s body before locking eyes with her again. Her eyes, full of fury, were overshadowed only by the deep helplessness of being unable to stand up, to fight back, to do something—anything—against her.

She hated her. God, she hated her. But no matter how hard she tried, nothing came out of her mouth. “You’re too kind,” Vice President Luna had once told her when she still hoped Cadence would become a lawyer like her. “They’ll eat you alive in court.”

Apparently, you didn’t need to be in court for that to happen.

"I figured," Rouge scoffed, regaining her serious demeanor and returning to her seat, while Cadence merely shrugged and looked at Applejack. "Well, Miss Apple. Echo. I’m sorry you had to hear all that," she continued, pulling a tablet from her briefcase behind the desk and starting to type. "I hope you understand this isn’t personal, Miss—but we can’t have someone like you at Canterlot."

If her words had affected the blonde in any way, she didn’t show it. For a moment, Cadence envied her tenacity and grit—how she held back her anger and kept her emotions in check like a real woman, instead of being weak and staying silent like she did. “You’re too kind,” she thought again, trying to hear her mother’s voice but only hearing her own.

Rouge typed a few more things before pausing, waiting for the tablet to sync with the school’s network—ready to expel Applejack and send her back to Ponyville.

It felt wrong. She knew it. It felt wrong, as if somehow, the real person getting away with it all was the supposed victim—not the aggressor. There had to be some way to verify Applejack’s story.

"Wait," she murmured, not really knowing what she hoped to accomplish.

"No, Cadence. I’m doing this now."

"I said wait, Rouge. I’m the principal—and you’re going to listen to me," she repeated, letting a flicker of emotion escape her lips. The vice principal didn’t respond, merely glaring at her superior before setting the tablet down on the desk with disdain. "We still have to verify her story."

"If what she says is true, and this ‘Reylod’ girl is as traumatized as she claims, it’ll take hours—maybe more—for her to tell us what happened. Not to mention that Miss Apple herself admitted there’s been past conflict with my daughter. Whether she was the perpetrator or not, they could use this as an excuse to get back at her for something she didn’t do. Kids can be that petty."

"There might be another way," Cadence replied, recalling the budget she’d approved six months ago to improve the school’s security infrastructure. She bit her lip, thinking about the pristine signature she’d put on the paperwork—and the heavy monetary cost. "The restroom cameras record the sink area. We might catch something."

"It won’t help," Applejack responded, lifting her gaze. She looked like she’d aged ten years in an instant. Both women turned to her, curious, though Rouge still wore a smug expression. "When I found Rainbow, it was one of the first things I noticed: the camera lights were off. Someone sabotaged them."

By now, silence had become a recurring guest—and yet, it still didn’t sit right with Cadence. Her bright idea, the one that might’ve handed her the imaginary victory she longed for over Rouge, led nowhere. It meant nothing. The cameras had been sabotaged, and somehow, she felt Rouge’s hand behind it—those long fingers tightening around that girl’s throat more and more.

Cadence remembered Rainbow’s name and had occasionally seen the cartoonish rainbow-haired girl in the halls, but she never really knew anything about her beyond the enrollment records. She did remember her mother, though—Mrs. Windy Whistles had almost cried with joy when Cadence called her back in Cloudsdale to say her daughter had qualified for a partial scholarship at Canterlot. She’d left the phone dangling while she and her daughters screamed and jumped for joy. Cadence loved those moments—loved being the one to deliver good news and give opportunities to someone who, more often than not, truly deserved them. She loved spreading that kind of happiness.

“They’ll eat you alive,” she heard again—this time in her own voice.

"Well, rather than proving Miss Apple’s innocence—who, let’s remember, already admitted her involvement in this mess—all you’ve done is expose the incompetence of certain members of the school executive board, don’t you think, Cadence?" Rouge asked, making it clear she meant her.

"I suppose…" she replied almost reflexively, lowering her gaze, before her train of thought was interrupted by violent, muffled knocks at the door.

"Not now! Come back later!" Rouge shouted, turning back to her tablet, expecting the knocking to stop as suddenly as it had started.

But it didn’t. A second hadn’t passed before the knocking came again—louder and harder than before. Cadence looked up at the door, puzzled.

"I said come back later!"

"Principal Cadence?" a muffled voice called through the door—a voice she knew far too well. "I have important information you should hear."

Almost on autopilot, she walked straight to the door, tuning out whatever Rouge was yelling at that moment. She grabbed the handle and opened it quickly.

Twilight looked as she always did. Maybe a bit tired—but otherwise the same. Strange, for an exam day, when her sister-in-law usually overflowed with excitement and pride for what was sure to be another spectacular performance. No, now she just looked normal—almost too serious for how well Cadence knew her—and that, in a strange way, filled her with confidence.

Suddenly, it wasn’t Echo and Rouge versus Cadence anymore. Suddenly, the board was even.

"Miss Sparkle! This is neither the time nor the place…!"

In a sudden rush of adrenaline, Cadence hissed sharply, silencing her subordinate on the spot. Rouge’s eyes widened in surprise. Cadence loved being around Twilight—that girl was the daughter she’d always wanted. She always filled her with determination, with courage. Now it was time to put that to the test.

"Thank you, Principal, Vice Principal. I’ve come with proof that Echo Mirage hurt my friend Rainbow Dash about an hour ago," she said, stepping slowly into the room. Cadence barely noticed she was holding a destroyed phone in her hands.

"Proof?" Rouge asked, disbelieving, unable to process what she was seeing in front of her. But before she could speak again, Twilight cleared her throat loudly.

"Yes, proof. When my friend, Fluttershy Breeze, took me to the bathroom to help get Rainbow out of there, I immediately noticed the cameras were off. So, I looked for another way to figure out what happened."

"She’s crazy…" Echo muttered, still curled up between her knees, but without her usual wicked grin. There was something in her expression—something Cadence had never seen before—and it looked like fear. That realization made the principal feel secure, confident in her sister-in-law.

"Quiet, Echo, please," Cadence replied, feeling as though she could do anything.

"While Echo Mirage was smart enough to cover her tracks, she was too focused on exacting her revenge on Rainbow to notice that Rainbow herself had already planted the seeds of her downfall."

"She’s crazy! She’s lying! I wasn’t there!"

"Silence!"

"She’s crazy!"

"I said silence!" Cadence shouted, her chest puffing up as she felt her face flush red. Normally, she would have hated yelling at anyone, and part of her did scold herself in that moment. However, another part—more present, stronger—could only feel proud. Her voice was that of Vice President Luna.

"Behold, Exhibit A," Twilight continued, revealing a broken and shattered phone between her hands. "This is my friend Rainbow Dash’s cellphone, the same one that was aggressively destroyed by her attackers."

"Get to the point, girl," Rouge demanded, though it failed to faze Twilight.

"Broken, yes, but not useless. Because, with care…" With a couple of smooth, delicate motions, the brunette managed to pull a tiny electronic card from an undamaged slot in the phone. "We can extract the phone’s SD memory card, which stores all media generated by it."

Twilight set the wrecked device on the desk, still holding the card, while pulling her own phone from her blazer pocket. She slid the SD card into her phone with graceful precision, powered it on, and searched for something.

"After the first incident between Echo and Rainbow, I took the liberty of programming a macro that would start an audio recording if the volume-down button was pressed four times. Luckily, Rainbow remembered that during her assault." She placed her phone next to the shattered shell, displaying—almost victoriously—a four-minute audio file dated today. "I’d like you to hear what her headphones picked up an hour ago."

Twilight pressed play, and the recording began.

One insult after another, one threat after another—and before even a minute and a half had passed, the first hit could be heard. Then another. And another. That was unmistakably Echo’s voice, laughing and striking who could only be Rainbow.

The entire room fell silent, listening to the horrifying details captured by the recording, each second dragging slowly. But before much more could pass, Echo began hyperventilating, kicking her legs.

"That’s not me! By Starswirl, I swear that’s not me!" she screamed, more like a desperate plea than a firm denial. "It wasn’t me! She’s lying! She’s a liar!"

But this time, no words were needed. A single, searing glance from Rouge—barely caught by Cadence out of the corner of her eye—shut her daughter down instantly with a small, choked whimper of terror. Honestly, she couldn’t blame her; if someone like Rouge were her mother, she’d be scared too.

The hits gave way again to insults, then silence, then an overwhelming wave of unintelligible sounds—occasionally broken by desperate gasps for air, each beginning and ending quickly, swallowed again by more noise.

"Rainbow was soaked when AJ found her," Twilight continued over the audio. "We can assume her head—along with her headphones—was submerged in the bathroom toilet."

Cadence stared at her sister-in-law’s phone, listening to every chilling detail that microphone had managed to capture, until the recording ended abruptly with a flat note. Something like that had happened right under her nose, on her watch as head of Canterlot High. She was the principal, and yet she had allowed a student to do this to another. She couldn’t stop trembling, her gaze unfocused, unsure of where to look. Rouge, too, was silently watching the playback, her expression darkened in what Cadence could only assume was the weight of undeniable evidence—evidence that confirmed what Applejack had said. The vice principal was cornered, but that didn’t bring Cadence any joy.

Right now, all she wanted was to be with that student, to calm her down and assure her that everything would be okay—maybe give her a chocolate or something. She wanted to call her mother and tell her what had happened, apologize on behalf of the entire school, and promise her that nothing like this would ever happen again. That Canterlot High was a safe place.

And yet, here she was, facing two accused of assault—one worse than the other.

"She’s lying…" Echo whispered, drawing no reaction from her mother.

"The recording stops when the phone is destroyed," Twilight said sternly before picking up her phone again, not without first leaving the evidence on Rouge’s desk. "I hope I’ve been helpful."

"Very. Thank you. You may leave."

The brunette gave a small nod of thanks, gently squeezed Applejack’s shoulder with a soft “Good luck,” and left the room.

Once again, Cadence was alone, the two Mirages before her—and yet, now she felt her chest lifted, her pride restored. The truth was horrible, yes, but somehow it felt like it was on her side. That it was working in her favor. She turned her gaze toward the vice principal, trying to muster the sternest scowl she could find, imagining what her mother would say in a situation like this—how Vice President Luna would conduct herself in a trial.

Suddenly, she wasn’t the prosecutor anymore. She was defending the victim. She smiled slightly, wondering if maybe the lighting in the room had changed.

"Anything to say, Echo?" Rouge asked, every word dripping with bitter resentment. Her daughter stayed silent, shooting her the occasional death glare before hiding her eyes behind her knees once more.

Rouge let out a loud sigh, finally placing the tablet back in its place. A sweet taste bloomed on Cadence’s tongue, and she savored every second around her.

"I think that leaves us with few options, Rouge."

"Save it, Cadence. I know what you’re going to say."

"Both of them," she continued, completely ignoring her subordinate. "You said it yourself: zero tolerance for this kind of behavior. So, if we expel one, we expel them both."

Rouge didn’t respond, her eyes lost in thought as she stared at the floor, her expression darkened by something Cadence couldn’t quite place—anger or shame. The truth was, with how heavy the Mirage name weighed in the world of education, having a daughter expelled could very well mean the end of Rouge’s career, the end of her life as she knew it. She had come this far thanks to the influence of people like Neighsay, but a scandal like this would do nothing but cast her out of that world—away from everything she wanted to achieve, from her dreams. Cadence didn’t know what those dreams were, and frankly didn’t care in the slightest. But she admitted to herself she enjoyed watching them slip through Rouge’s fingers.

“You’re too kind,” she remembered, wondering how her mother or Aunt Celestia would’ve reacted to all this.

She thought of Shining Armor, and for a brief second, she felt dirty for enjoying someone else’s suffering.

“You don’t expect me to expel my own daughter.”

“I know you won’t,” she replied, meeting Rouge’s gaze again. “Just like I know Miss Apple will stay. She’ll receive her punishment, as will your daughter—but neither of them will be expelled.”

“Sounds fair,” the vice principal sighed in defeat, turning back to her daughter. Echo remained still, still silenced by her mother’s fierce glare, though it was obvious she had words stuck in her throat, desperate to come out. It was clear Echo wasn’t used to hearing “no” from anyone—and when she did, she completely unraveled.

“What punishment will you give her?”

“I’ll decide that in time. For now, I’d rather stop thinking about this and go check on Rainbow Dash as soon as possible,” she replied, unsure if she truly meant that, or if she just wanted to escape that office as fast as she could.

“Alright.”

Cadence gave Applejack a small signal to stand, walking with her to the same door they had entered through just minutes ago. In truth, the whole confrontation had lasted barely any time at all, but it felt like the world had moved forward in eons while she was in that room. Worse still, Applejack looked older, worn down, and exhausted—like she was just holding herself together until she could finally fall apart. In her eyes, Cadence saw shame and anguish, the kind that begged for a way out without confrontation or having to face Vice Principal Rouge’s endless contempt.

And yet, she saw not a single trace of regret. Echo had deserved it—and though she could never condone that kind of behavior in her school, she couldn’t help but think that, in Applejack’s shoes, she might’ve done the same.

She closed the door behind them before turning again to face the blonde, who stood tall as a monolith and strong as stone, though her eyes stayed low, her lips twisted in sorrow, and her gaze lost in the floor.

“Applejack.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You never should’ve taken justice into your own hands. There are people in this school who could’ve helped you—without resorting to violence.”

The blonde shrugged, swallowing hard.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Don’t let it happen again, alright?” Applejack nodded eagerly, the faint trace of a smile curling at her lips.

“Go on now. Go see your friend—I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

That tiny glimmer soon turned into a full, sincere—if still sheepish—smile. She turned on her heel and started walking down the hallway, slowly.

“Applejack?” Cadence called, stopping her in her tracks. The blonde turned around again. “You’re a good friend, and I appreciate your honesty.”

Applejack smiled again and nodded softly before turning back to the hall, disappearing into the heart of the school. Cadence let out a quiet, strangled sigh, worn out and drained from the confrontation. It was always like this after talking with Rouge—this time was no different.

She hated the vice principal. She really did.

The craving for a cigarette returned, dragging a wistful sigh out of her. She picked up her phone and dialed Shining Armor’s number, hoping she could, for just a moment, stop being the principal of Canterlot High—and just be Cadence. Only Cadence.

Chapter 21: Interlude 2: The Future of Equestria

It was Wednesday, and that meant a visit from President Celestia.

By now, Sunset was used to expecting a visit from the president—sometimes accompanied by her sister—every week. They were usually on Wednesdays, though occasionally they happened on Mondays or Sundays, depending on how free Celestia’s schedule was. She was a busy woman, incredibly busy, and yet she always managed to make time to see her.

She tightened the apron around her waist and continued kneading the dough with strength.

That day was special; she had been reminding herself of it for a while, and the gift on the table confirmed it. Exactly a month ago, on September eleventh, she had met Celestia for the first time, and had agreed to live in her house—one that, apparently, the president had already planned to give her from the beginning. Sunset found Celestia’s actions at the very least intriguing, and although the deep gratitude she felt for her washed away almost every doubt, she could never quite silence that little voice insisting that maybe—just maybe—it would be best to leave and fend for herself once more.

But she couldn’t anymore, not now. The comfortable life in apartment sixty-two on Harmony Boulevard had completely swallowed her up, with the promise of always waking under the warm embrace of a blanket, being greeted by a fridge full of fresh, good food, a faucet that poured out clean, crystal-clear water, and clothes that, while not quite her size, weren’t stained with hideous paint marks or ruined by beatings from the past.

Heck, the last time she tried to paint on a wall, it took her a couple of minutes to find the rhythm that used to come back to her in seconds.

She paused for a moment to rest, taking in what she was doing: she wore a pretty but oversized blue-and-green apron (a little nauseating, if she was being honest), which clashed terribly with her scruffy jeans and the magenta blouse she was wearing. That outfit used to belong to President Celestia, gathering dust in the closet of her old home. Sunset’s hands were covered in dough, dusted with white flour that irritatingly kept getting under her nails.

She had never had the chance—or the urge—to make homemade dough before. Food had never struck her as a form of artistic expression; she considered it a vanity for those who had the luxury to think about anything beyond what they were going to eat that night, or where they’d have to run if the law started chasing them again. But that was then—when Sunset slept on park benches or in relatively clean drainage pipes, ate scraps from fourth-rate restaurants, and her biggest problem was Bellemere and her goons.

Not anymore. Now her biggest worry was why her latest artwork didn’t do well on Hoofstagram and getting to the shower as soon as possible to scrub the flour off her fingers.

She redoubled her efforts, preparing the dough before rolling it out with an old rolling pin Celestia kept in the kitchenette. She was making a mess, sure, but in the end, she’d be the one to clean it, so she didn’t really care. Shaking off her hands, she turned to the next page of the recipe guide on her mobile tablet—a gift from the vice president on her first visit—and began cutting long strips of dough with a pair of sterilized scissors.

Today was a special day.

She continued cooking the pasta as best she could, garnishing it with parsley leaves she may or may not have overused, then burying it all under a thick layer of ground beef. She mixed everything and placed it in the pot—burning herself in the process by grabbing the metal handle without a glove, and realizing too late that she’d messed up the steps.

By the time the rhythmic knock echoed at the door, announcing the president’s arrival, Sunset was plating a strange amalgam of pasta and half-cooked meat in a clumsy arrangement that looked better in her mind than it did in reality.

“One second!” she shouted, wiping her hands on the apron, staining it with water and ragù sauce, then quickly combing her hair with her fingers.

She hurried to the door and opened it wide, revealing the tall, poised leader of all Equestria, dressed in a beautiful cream-colored floral dress and wearing the same sunglasses as the day they first met. She wore open-toed heels the same shade as the dress, which, paired with her outfit, made Sunset wonder if she wasn’t freezing. The president looked very summery for October.

“Come in, come in,” she said, stepping aside to let her guest through. Celestia nodded politely, smiling from ear to ear, her pearly teeth gleaming.

“It’s so good to see you, Sunset. What’s that smell?” she asked, stepping into the apartment and placing her bag on the desk beneath the bed.

“It’s dinner, actually,” Sunset replied, closing the door behind her, trying again to wipe her hands as she untied her apron. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“A surprise? What’s the occasion?”

“Well…” she began, pulling glasses from the cupboard. “You probably don’t remember, but a month ago today, you found me downstairs painting the kid. Today marks a month since I moved in here.”

“I didn’t know it meant that much to you,” she replied, a hint of irony in her voice.

“It’s… the first place I can truly call home,” Sunset said, setting the glasses on the table and beginning to pour a sugary, strawberry-based drink. “And it means the whole world to me.”

“I see…” President Celestia walked through the apartment, looking at the little details, just like she always did. Sunset often reminded herself that this used to be Celestia’s home, her personal space—where the president had once felt as comfortable as Sunset did now. From time to time, she’d comment on the new paintings Sunset had hung, or how the furniture had been rearranged to better match “the artistic vision of the famous painter Sunrise,” but never in a judgmental or accusatory way. Celestia always made an effort to show her that, while the deeds and property were still under her name, the apartment now belonged to Sunset—to do with as she pleased.

Sunset pulled a pair of utensils from a drawer and placed them by the plates, before remembering the gift on the counter. She grabbed it abruptly with both hands.

“By the way,” she mumbled awkwardly, standing in front of the other woman, hiding the battered gift box behind her back. “I got you something.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow, visibly amused by Sunset’s efforts, tilting her head from side to side, pretending not to see the gift.

“Something?” she asked innocently, taking off her sunglasses and hanging them on her blouse.

“Yes, something for you, Ms. president.”

“Sunset, I’ve told you—you don’t need to speak so formally to me, sweetheart.” At her words, the girl laughed softly, feeling a relentless, embarrassed blush rise to her pale cheeks. “You’ve got flour in your hair, dear.”

With a swift motion, Celestia licked the thumb of her right hand and gently brushed away the specks of flour that had landed in Sunset’s hair, leaving her stunned by how fast it all happened. Not only her reddish hair but her entire face was dotted with spots of flour, dough, and ragù sauce that had somehow found their way there. The president smiled, carefully grabbing a napkin and proceeding to clean the girl in front of her. She was reminded of the times she had to care for her niece when her sister had a particularly demanding court case—Celestia had loved those days with Cadence.

Sunset’s heart began to race faster, her fingers tightening around the gift box so she wouldn’t drop it in the heat of the moment. For years, she had longed for that kind of interaction with a foster mother, only to come up empty.

She hadn’t been a problem child, just a distant one. Adoptive families always wanted the same thing: a quiet, loving kid who did all their homework, went to bed early, and existed only to give hugs, kisses, and prayers of gratitude for being “rescued.” They all wanted to adopt a doll shaped like Sunset—not one with Sunset’s soul.

But now, here she was, being cleaned up like a daughter by the President of Equestria herself, who, without asking or complaining, had taken her in, fed her, and given her the wings to grow her talents—asking for nothing in return. Not even now, when Sunset’s clumsiness had left her covered in flour.

Celestia adjusted her hair, curling with her finger the lock that always fell across her forehead, before clicking her tongue and smiling at Sunset from ear to ear. All that—just because her hair was dusted with flour; so many feelings over something so trivial. Sunset realized that if she kept thinking about it, she’d soon start crying.

“All set. Did I mention how much I love your hair?”

“For you,” Sunset replied, ignoring the question and presenting the poorly wrapped box in blue paper in front of her. Celestia softened her gaze, delicately taking the package, letting a look of bashful happiness settle on her face.

“For me?” she asked, touched. “You didn’t steal it, did you?”

Sunset let out a nervous laugh, feeling the blush rise again to her cheeks, but the urge to cry fading from her skin. “No, no, not at all. I don’t do that anymore.”

“Good. Imagine the President of Equestria receiving stolen gifts—especially so close to the elections.”

Sunset laughed nervously again as Celestia swiftly unwrapped the paper, revealing a smooth brown cardboard box. Inside was a beautiful white tie, lined with soft pastel pink stripes that subtly divided the fabric into even segments, ending with a sun of the same color. On the inside of the box read “Raffiné Royal,” one of the finest and most expensive tailor shops in all of Canterlot.

The president's eyes widened, surprised by the thoughtful gift, but even more so by where it came from. That tie had to cost a monstrous amount of bits—at least two hundred.

“Sunset… you shouldn’t have…”

“I saw it online and immediately thought of you. The sun and all that,” she continued, her words stumbling out one after the other, her gaze darting anywhere but at Celestia. Suddenly, she felt deeply embarrassed to look her in the eye. “The food’s going to get cold, we should sit down.”

With those words, and without waiting for a reply, Sunset plopped herself into the opposite chair, staring at her plate as her heart refused to slow down—and as much as she tried, the blush wouldn't fade.

After a few seconds, the president took a seat across from her, placing the tie back in its box, still wide-eyed, staring blankly at the strange mixture of pasta and meat on her plate.

Sunset began eating hastily, nervously swallowing bite after bite, without her stomach even noticing the horrible taste sliding down her throat. Why was she so nervous? Sure, a visit from the president was a nerve-wracking occasion—after all, she was the president. But she had never felt this insecure before. Every time Celestia visited apartment sixty-two, she’d simply offer Sunset advice or critique her drawings, occasionally sharing a book or a childhood story. She’d once told her that she and Luna used to play jacks with soda bottle caps, and another time that her niece—Principal Cadence of Canterlot High—had been caught more than once as a baby eating talcum powder straight from the container, needing a hospital trip to avoid poisoning.

It was one silly story after another, and it hadn’t taken Sunset long to realize that—even if she worked in the highest office in the entire Canterlot Palace—Celestia was a person too, just like her, just like anyone else.

But this time was different. Sunset had cooked for her, had bought her an outrageously expensive tie, and had even drawn something especially for her. Yet somehow, just that simple gesture with the flour and her hair made her feel ridiculous, like nothing she could ever offer Celestia would compare to what Celestia had just given her.

She quickly wiped away the tear slipping from her eye, stuffing her mouth with more pasta as fast as she could, while unconsciously wondering whether Celestia had a last name—and how it might sound next to her own.

“Sunset,” the president whispered, causing the girl to jolt, as if violently yanked out of her own head. “Thank you. Truly.”

She swallowed as best she could, coughing a little.

“It’s nothing, really. I should be the one thanking you. You changed my life.”

Celestia smiled again, lowering her eyes a bit bashfully before taking a bite of pasta. If she found the taste repulsive, she didn’t show it.

However, among all the childlike desires for connection swirling in Sunset’s mind, one thought rose above the rest—a question that had haunted her all month and was now impossible to ignore: Why?

Celestia was a busy woman, no doubt about that. She spent most of her time locked in the star office of the Canterlot Palace, responding to petitions and rejecting legislation, sometimes going days without sleep to keep up with her work. She was likely the busiest person in all of Equestria—and yet she made time to spoil a carefree girl from the streets.

Why?

She looked at the president, the blush finally fading from her cheeks, watching as she took another determined bite of the terrible pasta. Sunset swallowed, feeling a thin bead of sweat slide down her temple, heightening her senses. For some reason, asking that question felt wrong—rude, or maybe just… dangerous.

But it wouldn’t leave her mind: Why?

“Celestia…” she began, her voice unnaturally high, even to herself. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She adjusted the collar of her blouse and tried to make eye contact.

“Just so we’re clear, you really don’t know how grateful I am for everything you do. You’ve changed my life completely, and I truly have no desire to go back to the way things were,” she began, once again stumbling through her words. “But… I can’t help but wonder—why? What’s so special about me?”

The question hung in the air, draining the girl’s lungs, as if she had just made a terrible mistake. The walls closed in on her, the floor felt sticky beneath her feet. She barely noticed the pasta’s awful taste.

But that panic vanished as quickly as it came when Celestia began to smile, her gaze softening. The president set her utensils down on her plate, crossed her arms in front of her, and rested her chin on her hands, wearing a playful expression.

“There’s something I haven’t told you yet about Luna and me,” she began in a low voice, looking straight into the girl’s green eyes. “Just like you, we grew up on the streets—no parents, no guardians to help us move forward—always running from whatever gang of thugs we happened to run into.”

Sunset narrowed her eyes, stunned by what she was hearing. Celestia had always been frustratingly vague when it came to her childhood, and the internet didn’t offer much more—just basic facts like her date and place of birth, then a huge time skip until her political career began.

“For years we wandered aimlessly through the city, getting by however we could—stealing or working odd jobs, scraping together a living day by day. That’s how things were until we met the man who would eventually become Luna’s husband and Cadence’s father—a guy with noble intentions and noble goals who pulled a few strings and got us into Canterlot Public University: Luna in the law program, and me in physics.

“It was tough at first, no doubt. We were two orphans who had never been to school, barely able to do simple multiplication on our fingers. But—and forgive the lack of modesty—Luna and I caught on quickly. The general concepts made sense, and once you understood how data flows, the rest followed naturally. At least in physics it did—Luna might tell you something different about law...

Sunset stared at her in disbelief, jaw practically on the floor. Never in a million years would she have guessed that the longest-serving leaders in Equestrian history had actually grown up as orphans on the streets—much less that someone with no formal schooling could graduate in physics or law.

“In the end, we made it to our final semester. Before we knew it, it was time to decide what we wanted to do with our lives—what kind of impact we wanted to have on the world. It wasn’t easy, especially since, in a way, my sister and I were still reeling from the fact that we’d even gotten into college at all. But around that time, Luna had Cadence—and the moment we saw her chubby pink face, we knew what we wanted for our lives, and for this world.

“Thousands and thousands of children go through what we went through every year—most of them never as lucky as we were. Any one of those children could easily be Cadence. And that was a thought Luna and I simply couldn’t tolerate. We became politicians, won the elections, and started working to make sure our story wouldn’t repeat itself. We’re not there yet, of course—but that’s been the goal all along.”

Celestia took a moment to breathe, twirling her fork into the pasta and bringing it back to her mouth, murmuring a quiet “this is good” to herself.

“We’re doing what we can, and even though we’re the longest-serving president and vicepresident in office, the truth is I doubt the thirty years the constitution allows are enough to realize this vision. That’s where you come in.”

A piece of ground meat got violently lodged in Sunset’s throat, cutting off her breath and clouding her mind. She pounded her chest a couple of times, trying to breathe, as her thoughts spiraled frantically; she had been so caught up in Celestia’s story that she had almost forgotten why she asked in the first place.

The President let out a loud laugh, now taking a sip from her glass to clear her throat as Sunset regained control of her breathing.

“This is going to sound strange, and I hope it doesn’t unsettle you, but I’ve really had my eye on you for a while, Sunset,” she continued, leaning back in her chair as Sunset furrowed her brow, now free of the chunk of meat that had nearly choked her. “I’d already heard about your artistic feats, but what struck me most was that the people who knew you always talked about your gentle heart and your fierce yet kind nature. You are… a unique person, in many ways.”

With or without meat stuck in her esophagus, Sunset didn’t breathe, feeling a warm and comforting flush rise across her skin, while her mind spiraled through thoughts like “Who said that?”, “Why?” She had never seen herself as a good person, a kind or gentle person; she was a runaway, a street artist who stole to eat, who messed with thugs for a bit of paint and then ran from responsibility. Sunset wasn’t someone with a “gentle heart”… was she?

She looked down at the mess of pasta she’d made, thinking about the four walls around her. Her life had changed in just a month; she hadn’t stolen a single piece of food since then. Now she sold drawings online to pay her bills and buy gifts like that tie. In her spare time, she read the legal codes that Vice President Luna had “accidentally” left in the apartment more than once, or played video games on a TV still wrapped in bubble wrap—too embarrassed to unwrap it and see the screen properly.

What had she become? Who had she become? Someone with a gentle heart? No, she had become a person who was… unique, in many ways.

“I see a lot of what I used to see in myself when I was young in you; and precisely because of that, I would never want you to go through what I have.”

Celestia rose from her seat, her plate of pasta now finished, and took a few steps toward Sunset, standing beside her. The girl couldn’t say a word, the lump in her throat blocking anything she might say, so she just stared at the president, disbelief pounding in her chest with every step Celestia took. The woman crouched in front of her, gently taking one of her hands, sending a wave of warmth and comfort swimming across Sunset’s skin.

“Sunset Shimmer, you are a talented and intelligent artist, with great potential for good, and for justice. Luna and I have talked about it many times, and we’ve agreed that once we step down from our roles… we would like you to run and win the election. We want you to be the next President of Equestria.”

President Sunset Shimmer. President Sunset Shimmer. President Sunset Shimmer. The words echoed again and again in her head like a deafening roar, each time sounding more surreal than the last, yet settling into place as something real—more real each time. Celestia wanted her to lead the nation of Equestria, the most powerful country in the world. Her, no one else.

President Sunset Shimmer.

She felt the little air in her lungs escape all at once, and her hands trembled.

“Of course, I know this is a lot to take in, and the presidency is a huge responsibility, so take all the time you need to—”

“I’ll do it,” Sunset interrupted, locking eyes with hers as her chest rose and fell violently with each breath.

Celestia raised an eyebrow, giving a small, amused, disbelieving smile, opening her mouth as if to say something.

“You didn’t even get to hear my ominous warnings.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do it,” she repeated, turning fully toward Celestia, nearly falling out of her chair in the process, every inch of her skin trembling. “Whatever it takes—whatever it needs—I’ll do it, I swear I will.”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Celestia whispered, letting go of Sunset’s hand and instead holding her gently by the arms. “This is a lot to take in all at once, you shouldn’t—”

“No!” she exclaimed, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing her lips tight, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall. “No… No, it’s not. I used to hate the city of Canterlot—I hated it more than anything—but the first time I came here to sleep, and climbed those stairs, I saw something different. A city I’d never seen before. Things look so different from up here… the city, the world, everything looks like a painting—a painting I’d never have been able to paint.”

Celestia’s expression softened, her eyes narrowing gently, her lips slightly parted. She released Sunset, stepping back a few inches, watching the girl on the verge of tears.

“All my life, I’ve been running. Painting and running, over and over and over again, nonstop. I want something more. I want to see the world from up here, forever. I won’t go back to the streets. Not again,” she said, pausing to breathe heavily, her whole body trembling from head to toe, a silent tear rolling from her left eye. “And if I can pull someone like me out of that place—even just one person—I’ll know my life meant something. That it was finally worth something.”

Celestia frowned slightly, hesitating, examining her future protégé from head to toe. In a moment of lucid determination, Sunset had stopped trembling. She was still crying, yes—but she no longer shook.

“I’ll be worth something,” Sunset had thought the first time she was adopted, the first time she worked for Bellemere, and the first time one of her paintings got some recognition. That was what she wanted—to be worth something. What she needed. And now, it stood right in front of her. Her mission. Her destiny.

She was going to be President Sunset Shimmer, no matter what. She was going to turn Equestria into the country she wished she had grown up in.

The other woman gave her a faint smile, finally letting go of her arms before standing tall once again.

“Well…” she whispered, almost to herself. “Then I guess it’s a good thing you’ve been reading the legal codes Luna wrote… candidate.”

Chapter 22: Improvement plans

Rainbow’s house wasn’t very big—two relatively cramped floors, a low shed, and a basement that also doubled as a sunken garage. The structure was wooden, with rows of blue-green shingles that had clearly gone a long while without a fresh coat of paint. The roof, also shingled, was black and covered in hideous patches of mold and dampness that would have surely given Rarity a heart attack.

However, the most notable feature of the Dash household was the garden—or more specifically, the small patches of flowers in front of it. Rainbow had once mentioned that before her father died, those flowers used to bloom in every color imaginable. Now, though, they bore a refined but somber black; black flowers which, according to her, required more care than the girls living in the house.

Twilight blinked a few times, adjusting to the city light. The sky was clear that day, without a single cloud to block the open view. She didn’t like days like this—the sun bothered her eyes, and sometimes even managed to reflect annoyingly off her glasses, causing her some sort of discomfort. No, these weren’t days when the only daughter of the Sparkles liked to go out, but she had to. She knew she had to.

She tightened her grip on her backpack and walked.

That had been the first time Twilight had ever ridden a bus. Shining Armor did it all the time, and even her father didn’t hesitate to hop on one when their favorite cars were at the dealership or with the mechanic. Still, neither she nor Spike were ever allowed to set foot on those metal beasts, labeled as “dangerous” or “unnecessary.”

But neither Velvet Sparkle nor Night Light Sparkle knew where their daughter was at that moment—not just because of the bus, but because of the neighborhood itself. Riders' Providence wasn’t exactly a wealthy or exclusive area—quite the opposite, in fact. Thieves, dealers, gang members, and plenty of street performers made up what Rainbow breathed every morning, and Twilight’s father would probably have a heart attack just by stepping foot in there.

“But I have to be here,” she thought, dodging a leaning utility pole with several fallen wires, and a man sleeping nearby.

Her friend’s house was only a few steps away from the bus stop—quite convenient for Rainbow’s speedy arrivals (and the teasing of Applejack, of course), so she was already able to take in all the small details of the structure.

She passed another stop sign before halting in front of the small blue porch, mesmerized by the black flowers. She couldn’t deny it—they were beautiful flowers that, she supposed, not even with all the care in the world could bloom in her own home. There was something about them that made them flourish here, something that made them feel right in this setting… but she couldn’t quite name what it was.

To the side of the entrance steps, down the garage ramp, Twilight noticed the white wooden door was open, tucked into the ceiling of the storage room that would normally house a car. There, at the back, panting and muttering, was Scootaloo—Rainbow’s younger sister—pounding away at a large, rigid punching bag.

Twilight adjusted her glasses on her nose and jogged toward the garage entrance, hoping to get the purple-haired girl’s attention.

Step by step, she entered the dimly lit room, which was packed wall-to-wall with shelves full of tools, construction materials, and household equipment. A massive coil of wire and cable hung from the ceiling, crowning the room, along with a rudimentary knot of chains that held up the punching bag. Behind it rested four bicycles, each smaller than the last. It didn’t take Twilight long to figure out which one belonged to Rainbow—she spotted the one with the rainbow print right away.

“You must be Twilight.”

The younger girl had stopped her movement for a second, catching her breath while carefully rubbing her hands.

Twilight gave a slight nod, turning fully to face her. Scootaloo had bronzed skin, with her sleeves marking a lighter tone—just like her sister. Unlike Rainbow, though, she was quite tall for her age, at least half a head (Twilight estimated) taller than Spike, who was in the same grade as her. Her short hair was a bright shade of purple, contrasting with Twilight’s own violet, but matching her eyes. She wore exactly the same style as her sister: long green shorts and a loose sleeveless shirt over a sports bra—far too light an outfit for late October.

Still, the girl had something Twilight had never seen on Rainbow—a pair of clumsily wrapped bandages around her reddened fists, pulsing with the pain of boxing inexperience.

“Isn’t that bag a little big for you?”

“It’s not mine,” she said, going back to punching it relentlessly. “It’s my sister’s.”

“I didn’t know Rainbow boxed.”

“She doesn’t. It was one of her many phases. She convinced Mom that boxing was her new thing, and she didn’t take long to buy her this second-hand bag. She dropped it two months later.”

“Right…”

Twilight continued watching her, pounding the bag again and again without rhythm or technique, barely moving it a few inches in place. Apparently, Scootaloo—like Rainbow—wasn’t built for upper-body strength.

She noticed just how much the two sisters resembled each other.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep that up.” Twilight grabbed the girl’s hand, stopping her mid-punch. “You need to redo those wraps, or you might dislocate a finger.”

“Yeah, I figured it was hurting too much…” Scootaloo muttered, shaking out her arms before beginning to peel the bandages off with small circular motions.

“I’m not an expert, but I read a book on boxing once.”

Scootaloo raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

“You’re supposed to hit with the knuckles of your index and middle finger, always keeping your wrist aligned with your forearm and shoulder. That way, the impact spreads through your body rather than focusing on a single point. You know—Newhoof’s third law.”

The resemblance between the sisters became even clearer as Twilight watched the younger girl pull the exact same expression Rainbow made whenever she explained the law of exponents for the third time, using the Wondercolts’ ’86 race as an example.

Scootaloo nodded slowly, eyes drifting toward the floor as she lightly clicked her teeth, still unwrapping her hands.

“Is your sister here?” Twilight asked, her gaze also shifting awkwardly around the garage.

“She was making food a while ago, but she should be in her room by now.” Scootaloo walked over to a plastic chair a few steps from the bag, collapsed onto it, grabbed her water bottle, and squirted a stream straight into her mouth.

Rainbow didn’t usually talk much about her home life—partly because she didn’t like it, and partly because she rarely spent time there. Twilight knew Mrs. Dash worked from sunup to sundown, leaving her daughters alone all day unless there was an important event to attend. Other than that, Rainbow often cooked for Scootaloo (even if she wasn’t afraid to admit she hated it) and then went out to the park or the local gym, always running, working out, or playing something.

But right now, Rainbow was in her room. Alone. And Scootaloo was down here, punching a bag way too big for her. Also alone. Twilight knew that wasn’t right, and she felt it probably had something to do with the same reason that had brought her here in the first place.

“I’m not going to let you fall, Dash,” she thought, biting her lip, remembering that distant Thursday when she first met the girl. Rainbow standing up to Echo, despite the clear warnings from Applejack and Fluttershy, making herself the enemy of the most dangerous and intimidating person in all of Canterlot High—for her, for a stranger.

She hadn’t said it back then, but part of her had been relieved Rainbow had done it. Crazy, yes—but a crazy thing done for her.

“Can I go up to see her?”

“I don’t see why not,” Scootaloo replied, pulling her phone from one of her pockets and typing something Twilight couldn’t make out.

She made her way to one corner of the room, beside the rusty, old washer and dryer machines, where a staircase led up to the main floor. Step by step, she entered the Dash household, now finding herself on the ground floor of the home.

"Claustrophobic" would surely be one of the words Rarity would use to describe the house, which, decorated with enormous furniture that made Twilight feel cramped from every angle, was a fairly accurate descriptor. The basement door was beneath the main staircase, along the entry hallway of the house. In front of it, a massive dark-wood vanity held countless family photos, documents, and even a mirror so large it significantly blocked the way into the kitchen. Beside it, an archway—once considered elegant years ago—marked the entrance to the sitting room, which, littered with clothing and takeout trash, didn’t give off a very friendly vibe.

Somehow, she expected no less from Rainbow.

She took a step, stepping on an old Mare-Do-Well doll missing an arm, making a painful crunch that surely would’ve hurt Spike, given his obsession with action figures and comics. She walked through various pieces of trash and utensils, avoiding a cooking spoon, a decapitated stuffed animal, and several Yak food packages, until she came to a stop at a small nightstand that stood out for its size, next to the door.

Covered with a cute multicolored blanket, a photo of a middle-aged man with golden eyes and short military-style hair—dyed in countless colors just like Rainbow’s—rested on top. He was smiling, though it was a sickly smile that bled through the glass, a fake one, the kind someone only puts on when someone else is holding the camera and tells them to “smile.”

Behind the photo, a lit candle flickered weakly, succumbing to a draft Twilight couldn’t feel, doing everything it could to stay lit despite the odds.

“Bow,” she read aloud, seeing the beautifully engraved rainbow-colored letters on the edge of the frame. Her heart sank for a second, imagining how she would feel if those letters read “Velvet” instead of Rainbow’s father's name.

She moved the candle slightly back, shielding it with Mr. Dash’s frame to keep it from blowing out, and shook that thought from her mind. She climbed the stairs, dodging toy after toy, garment after garment, until she reached the upper floor, which contrasted sharply with the clutter below thanks to the hallway’s stark white and unadorned look.

There were four doors in total: one with the symbol of a rooster and hen, another with a chick, another with a stack of eggs, and one with no marking at all—probably the bathroom, she guessed.

She took a few more steps, venturing deeper and deeper in, still thinking about Bow Dash’s face in the photograph. She wondered what kind of expression Rainbow had made the day he didn’t come home.

Rainbow rarely talked about her mother, and even more rarely about her father. All Twilight and the others knew was that Mrs. Dash had been diagnosed infertile early in her marriage, which led them to adopt their daughters. They knew Bow had died a few years later, and that since then, Rainbow had taken on the housework while her mom worked. They knew Scootaloo had gotten into trouble at school more than once, and although her older sister always tried to take her side, that had caused several conflicts between Rainbow and Mrs. Dash. And they knew that, despite everything, her mother was her greatest support, her backbone. Without her, Rainbow wouldn’t run, wouldn’t try every sport imaginable, wouldn’t be who she is. Her mother was the one who dyed her hair—just like she used to dye her father’s.

However, Rainbow had never talked about her father’s death—how it happened, or how they found out. She simply said it happened, and left it at that.

A chaotic, shrill noise emanated from the door with the chick on it, which, judging by age order, she assumed was her friend’s. She made her way to it, stopping just before opening it. What would Rainbow think of all this? The girl was private about almost everything involving her personal life—including her house. Would she feel invaded or attacked seeing Twilight here? The brunette didn’t mind when her friends came over unannounced; though really, the only one who did that was Rarity (dragging Fluttershy and her car) to go shopping. Still… would Rainbow mind?

Either way, she had to be there. She had to help her friend, had to pull her out of the hole Echo Mirage had thrown her into. She placed her hand on the door and opened it.

Rainbow’s room was a perfect reflection of the house, but with that “awesome” touch so characteristic of the girl. The walls were a bright sky-blue—though more saturated—plastered with thousands of posters and Wondercolts flags: a Spitfire here, a photo of Soarin and Fleetfoot there, huge and intimidating Daring Do posters on every corner, and of course, several framed photos and posters of Rainbow herself. The ceiling was decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars and lightning bolts—so yellowed and worn that Twilight wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t glow at all anymore. A massive window at the back of the room was covered with awkwardly placed colorful fabrics, casting uneven light and shadows over every surface.

To her right, leaning against the wall, a worn-out uneven cabinet held a small, chubby TV, covered on its edges with Daring Do and lightning bolt stickers. Opposite it, two beds stood against the far side of the room—one perfectly made, like it had never been used, and the other a complete mess.

But none of that was what caught Twilight’s eye.

Hung on one of the used bed’s headboard posts was a multicolored pennant that read: “Se atrevido, se valiente, se gentil.” Twilight didn’t know what language that was.

Rainbow was lying across her bed, twisted like an eel, holding her electric guitar between her legs and a PonyStation controller in her hands. The loud noise came from the TV, which was blaring a video game Twilight didn’t recognize, but felt like she had seen before.

“Don’t get mad, sweetie,” she thought, stepping inside, accidentally stepping on a piece of clothing.

“Hey,” muttered the rainbow-haired girl disinterestedly, not taking her eyes off the screen.

Twilight froze, eyes wide like she’d been caught in some kind of secret operation. Her heart started to race, and she forced herself to breathe, silencing her panicked thoughts. This was her friend—not a security guard or dangerous criminal.

The seconds dragged on like snails, each one heavier than the last, while Twilight’s mind spiraled further and further. Rainbow was angry. Rainbow felt invaded. Rainbow felt violated. Rainbow never wanted to see her again.

“I can’t pause. You just gonna stand there?”

“No…” Twilight shook her head quickly, eyes on the floor, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. “Can I come in?” she asked politely, doing her best not to look at her friend.

“You’re already in, four-eyes.” Rainbow let out an irritated groan, gripping the controller tightly as a huge “You Died” message flashed on the TV screen.

She didn’t sound angry—at least, not at Twilight. She didn’t sound upset, invaded, or offended. There was nothing wrong between them. “Well, Sparkle, there goes another month of anti-stress therapy,” she thought ironically, letting a small smile creep onto her face, finally daring to look her friend in the eye.

She looked pretty much like always. She was wearing dark wine-colored shorts—official Wondercolts merchandise—and a short-sleeved white shirt (sleeves rolled up to her shoulders) with a big black star on the side. She was barefoot, and the absence of her trusty old sneakers stood out more than anything else in the room.

“Right.”

Twilight shut the door behind her and approached the clean bed to sit down.

“If you’re gonna sit there, just don’t mess it up too much,” Rainbow mumbled, shaking her head quickly. “Took me forever to make it look decent.”

The brunette obeyed, settling carefully onto the perfectly made bedspread. It was true—this bed stood out like gold in a sea of sand, order in the middle of chaos. Still, Twilight didn’t dwell on it and turned to her friend.

“Want some?” Rainbow asked, holding out a bowl filled to the brim with cheese-covered chips drenched in a pungent, fiery chili that made Twilight’s stomach churn just looking at it.

“No, thanks…”

“Your loss.” Rainbow shoved a handful into her mouth, chewing loudly. She wiped her hand on a wad of napkins crumpled beside her and kept playing, still chewing. Twilight noticed almost immediately how, even while eating, Rainbow was trying hard to move her face as little as possible, and assumed the compression band over her nose had something to do with that.

She felt a small squeeze in her heart as she saw Echo Mirage’s awful signature all over her friend, while a flood of memories filled every corner of her mind—Fluttershy bursting into the exam room, red as a tomato, practically begging Professor Harshwinny to let her out, saying she didn’t know what was happening, but Rainbow needed them. She remembered arriving at the girls’ bathroom, finding the mirror shattered, and specks of blood scattered across the sink; her companion’s choked scream, and the ominous, threatening door of the stall. She remembered her friend hiding behind her as she opened the door, and how her heart sank when she saw Rainbow on the floor.

They did everything they could to help her; the girl was freezing, barely breathing from the irritation of having inhaled water through her nose. They wrapped her up more, called Nurse Redheart, and held her in their arms, Fluttershy crying over her in shock, and Twilight paralyzed, searching and searching her mind for something she could do, something where her brilliant mind could be of any use.

She felt empty, exposed. For the longest time, Twilight had only wanted to study, to know more, to keep learning under the guidance of someone brilliant, someone as sharp as her, who could guide her through the infinite ocean of knowledge, as she dipped her feet in the water, feeling the tide rise around her—someone like President Celestia, someone brilliant.

But her mother had been right: what good was all that knowledge, if in situations like that—where one of her only friends was lying on the floor, shivering in pain—she couldn’t use it to help others?

None. It was no good at all.

She looked at her hands, empty, then looked at Rainbow, who had just died again. She saw that awful red message—"You Died"—and wondered if what she did, who she was, even mattered. If she, Twilight Twinkle Sparkle, mattered at all.

She felt another squeeze in her heart, imagining her mother saying, "No."

"You're overthinking again."

The sound hit the brunette like a lightning bolt to the skin, spreading through every inch of her body, snapping her painfully back to reality, barely able to focus her vision ahead.

"Sorry?" she muttered, awkwardly.

"I know your faces, Four-Eyes, you’re making the exact one you always do when you overthink. Exams, presentations, big meetings—you always make that face," Rainbow said, putting the controller aside and turning her whole body toward her. "Stop it."

Twilight lowered her gaze, embarrassed. She was sitting there playing games, when just a few weeks ago, she had cried over her like never before with anyone.

"I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. Just don’t do it."

She nodded slowly, mentally retracing what had led her there. It had already been three weeks since the incident in the second-floor girls’ bathroom, and not a moment went by when that terrifying memory didn’t haunt her and her friends—and especially Rainbow.

"What are you playing?" she asked, trying to break the ice.

"Dark Hooves. I saw your brother playing Elden Reins at your place, and I remembered I had made a character for this game like two or three years ago, so I thought, ‘Why not?’”

The screen once again displayed the ominous “You Died.”

"Yeah… When he finishes it, I’ll tell him to lend you Elden Reins. I heard it’s the latest in the series, right?"

"One, it’s not a series. Two, I don’t have a console to play it. And before I buy a Pony Station Five, I need to buy a new phone… and a new pair of sneakers, while I’m at it."

Rainbow never stopped ranting about her sneakers—her trusty old ones—which now rested defeated in a trash bag, the sole torn away from the rest. Applejack had said that was the last straw for her, the thing that broke her patience and led her to impulsively—but heroically—punch Echo Mirage in the face, knock out a tooth, and swear eternal enmity. Twilight had wondered if she would’ve done something similar, and though her rational side told her it would’ve been smarter to stay out of it, she liked to think that, if the situation had been right, that fiercer, more passionate side she swore she had might’ve come out—a side that proved her existence wasn’t just about her mind, but also about her heart.

Be that as it may, it hadn’t been her. It had been Applejack who stood up to Echo, and who had almost been expelled for what felt like a conspiracy between the albino girl and her mother. If it hadn’t been for Rainbow’s quick thinking—and that random piece of advice about using her phone’s voice recorder—her friend’s fate might’ve been completely different. At least now, they could try to recover.

And it all would start with the gift.

"Speaking of that," Twilight began, slipping off her backpack, "after the incident, Rarity thought it would be a good idea to give you… a little something from the five of us."

Without waiting to die again in-game, Rainbow put down the controller, placed the electric guitar on her bed, and sat up, facing Twilight. Once again, trying her best not to move her face too much.

The brunette placed the backpack on her lap, which, strangely, looked much fuller than usual, its shape marked by four sharp corners poking out where the zipper usually curved.

"I know they might not be the same, but we thought they’d make you happy." With a slow movement, Twilight pulled a bright orange box from her backpack that read "Neik" in big white letters. Rainbow’s pink eyes widened as her friend nervously handed her the box. "I hope you like them."

Without saying a word, jaw dropped and breathing irregular, Rainbow opened the box to reveal a stunning new pair of sneakers, vividly customized with rainbow-colored paint—Rarity’s handiwork, probably.

She took them out, touching them with the careful reverence of a priceless jewel, gazing at them like they belonged in a display case. Twilight couldn’t hold back a huge ear-to-ear smile as she watched her friend’s reaction. For a moment, her tormented mind calmed, her friend's smile becoming the center of her universe.

"I don’t know if I should mention it, but Cadence and Professor Harshwinny also helped us buy them. She was really impressed with your exam."

Rainbow’s eyes darted from the shoes to Twilight and back again, as they began to fill with tears and her throat tightened.

"I… I don’t know what to say. This is too much."

"You like them?" Twilight asked again, leaning forward, barely sitting on the edge of the bed.

"They’re perfect," Rainbow whispered hoarsely, as a tear slid from her eye, down the bandage, and to her lips. Several words tried to come from her throat, unsuccessfully, stuck in a tunnel of surprise and disbelief. "Why?"

"Because you’re our friend. And when friends have a bad day, nothing beats a gesture of goodwill to lift the spirit." Rainbow let out a soft laugh through her lips, still with disbelief in her eyes.

"What book did you read that in?" she asked teasingly, making the other girl laugh and cover her mouth to avoid making too much noise.

The rainbow-haired girl looked at her brand-new sneakers, decorated to match her hair and her name, bearing the signature of a fine artist across them. It was more than she had ever expected from anyone who wasn’t her mother or Scootaloo. And to think it hadn’t just come from her friends, but also from school staff, still didn’t make sense to her.

But then again, lots of things didn’t make sense to Rainbow. That wasn’t unusual.

"Thanks," she sighed quietly, hugging the shoes to her chest before gently setting them on the floor and lifting her feet back onto the bed.

"There’s nothing to thank, Rainbow. We all love you." Twilight had stopped laughing, but her wide smile remained, her eyes tender. "So? Ready to try them on? You against me—let’s see who wins."

She had rehearsed those lines a million and a half times in her head, always imagining Rainbow jumping from the bed, landing in her new sneakers, fitting them perfectly, and taking off into the streets without even waiting for her. She’d see her smile, see her pride, and see her speed in person again—like before Echo, before she lost her sneakers, and with them, her spirit.

The three weeks since the incident had been unusual, to say the least. When the norm was to see her friend overflowing with energy, skating through the air with leaps to get wherever, joking and playing pranks left and right, now she carried a quiet, calculated demeanor, with fewer and fewer things to say. Rarity used to joke that Rainbow never stopped talking, saying that next to her, a parrot looked like a cloistered nun. That wasn’t the case anymore. Now Rainbow was quiet, rarely stayed past school hours, and hadn’t turned in a single assignment.

That had worried the five of them (and Miss Harshwinny, though she would never admit it), leading them to the sneaker plan—where Pinkie, Twilight, and Applejack would put up the money (with help from the teacher and the principal), and Rarity and Fluttershy would do the painting.

Those sneakers were a ticket, a pass to give their friend her spirit back. And while the plan had been thrown together in far too little time for Twilight’s liking, she still couldn’t see how it could fail.

Rainbow was going to run again—Twilight could already see it.

However, her smile vanished quickly when, instead of leaping into the air, her friend just lowered her head, her smile twisting into a fake, hollow expression, the kind worn by someone trying too hard to pretend they were still happy. Rainbow clasped her hands into fists, hiding them between her legs, ashamed.

"Thanks, but… it’s not that simple."

The words hit Twilight like a typhoon making landfall, leaving her dazed, forcing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat.

"What do you mean? You didn’t like them?" she asked, unable to keep a tone of genuine concern from coloring every syllable.

"No! No, it’s not that at all. I loved them—they’re perfect…" Rainbow shifted on her bed, grabbing a chip but not eating it. "But it’s not about the sneakers."

Twilight adjusted her glasses, leaning closer to her friend, wanting to take her hand, though she didn’t dare. “Then what is it?”

"This happened." Rainbow pointed to the pressure band on her nose, her eyes darkened with a mixture of shame and anger.

Twilight stared at the beige elastic strip, racking her brain over what Rainbow meant. When Redheart had given her first aid, she’d been sent straight to the hospital, where she’d spent the rest of the morning being treated. During that time, the girls lost contact with her, not seeing her again until the afternoon, when she came home alone—furious and indignant—with that band on her face. After that, Rainbow stayed mostly silent about how bad the injury from Echo really was, only ever showing that band and a couple of anti-inflammatories as proof that anything had even happened.

But the pieces clicked quickly in Twilight’s mind, the air fleeing her lungs.

"You saw Echo’s little gift. Without a surgery we couldn’t afford, there was no way to make it like before." Rainbow pulled her feet back onto the bed, grabbing her controller again and sending her character toward what would surely be another death screen. "I can’t breathe."

It hit Twilight like a bucket of cold water. Her eyes widened as she saw a flicker of anger and frustration in Rainbow’s eyes fade into a disheartening emptiness. She had never considered that—not even once. She felt stupid for not having thought of it. She, the brilliant, perceptive, intelligent Twilight Sparkle, had never once considered that Echo Mirage might have ripped away her best friend’s ability to run—to be herself.

Her stomach twisted, her heart breaking in grief and rage. Not even when Echo had stomped on her glasses or when she saw Rainbow crying in the bathroom had she wanted to be Applejack as much as she did now.

She realized that, had she been in the farm girl’s place, she would’ve hit the albino too.

“That’s not fair,” she mumbled, clenching her fists over her lap.

“It’s not.” Rainbow died again in the video game, shoving another handful of chips into her mouth. “But what can I do?”

“What can you do?” Twilight jumped to her feet, torn between crying out of helplessness or screaming and punching something. One way or another, she knew they’d get through it together. “You’re Rainbow Dash! Future Wondercolt! And you’re just going to sit there dying in a game?”

“Hey! I didn’t ask for this! It’s not my fault!”

“Of course it’s not your fault, Dash! But I’m not going to sit back and watch Echo knock you to the ground like it’s the end of the match.” Somewhere in the chaos of her thoughts, Twilight mentally patted herself on the back for the sports reference. “Get up!”

“I can’t! I’ve tried, okay? I went running with Scootaloo like always, and before I hit the corner I was panting like an old dog. I can’t run!”

“Did Echo take your legs?”

“You know what? Screw you. I don’t need some half-assed pep talk trying to make me feel bad about what that psycho Echo Mirage did. I can’t breathe, and I can’t run, okay?!”

Twilight choked down a sob, feeling tears sting her eyes, but she forced herself not to break down in front of her. Rainbow was her friend—her best friend, officially—and she couldn’t stand the thought that she’d never run again, that she’d spend the rest of her life playing video games, eating chips, and cooking for her sister, hating every second she wasn’t outside chasing her dream.

She was meant to be a Wondercolt. She was meant to run faster than anyone. And in Twilight’s mind, there was no other future for her. "Your mother would be jealous of Rainbow’s dream," she thought, clenching her jaw, imagining where she’d be when the moment came to watch her friend cross the finish line. What would she have done with her own life by then? What would she have achieved?

She hoped that at least one of those answers would be getting the best runner in history back on her feet.

“You don’t need a speech. You need to run.”

Caught in something she couldn’t quite name—rage, euphoria, or madness—Twilight grabbed the electric guitar and held it tightly to her chest before bolting out of the room and down the stairs. Behind her, a loud “Get back here, you four-eyed freak!” echoed through the house, weighing on her mind but somehow fueling her legs to run even faster.

Twilight had never been particularly fast—or remotely athletic, really. She wore a pretty, luxurious purple skirt dotted with stars and sparkles that, while aesthetically pleasing, was hardly ideal for a sprint. Or any kind of run, actually.

She jumped the last step, turning sharply, her feet skidding across the floor, almost knocking over the small memorial to Bow Dash. She sped toward the basement, just catching a glimpse of Rainbow coming down the stairs behind her—wearing the new sneakers.

Twilight smiled.

She burst into the basement, heart racing a mile a second, flying past Rainbow’s little sister, who was still punching the heavy bag all wrong.

“Hi Scootaloo! Bye Scootaloo!”

The brunette dashed out into the street, still clutching the guitar, her friend’s furious roars echoing behind her. She ran along the sidewalk, not really watching where she was going, reaching the end of the block and nearly slipping in her clean but worn-out school shoes.

She reached out to catch her balance with a streetlight pole, making a sharp turn before continuing the chase. Rainbow’s shouts grew louder, closer, joined by the ominous sound of her new sneakers pounding the pavement behind her like the wrath of a furious thunderbolt.

Twilight smiled again, picturing her friend as lightning, just before she was tackled from behind—strong arms wrapping around her, stopping her cold. She held tightly to the guitar, praying nothing happened to it as her balance wavered and slipped.

But she didn’t fall. Instead, they spun a few times on the spot, Rainbow’s strong legs anchoring them like a counterweight, her heartbeat thundering against Twilight’s back like a war drum.

“Okay! I give up!” Twilight yelled, maybe a little too cheerfully for someone who had just lost a race.

They spun a few more times, slowing gradually until Rainbow let go, collapsing against the fence of a nearby house, coughing as she tried to catch her breath. Twilight finally relaxed her arms, still holding the guitar, watching her friend closely.

And somehow—despite everything—Rainbow looked more alive than she had in the past three weeks.

“You can run,” Twilight whispered through heavy breaths, shifting her feet, which were now aching from her shoes’ hard soles. “You’re going to run.”

“Shut up.” Rainbow dropped to the ground, leaning back against the fence, trying to breathe again. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“Or what? You’ll chase me again? Works for me.”

The other girl gave a faint smile, spitting on the ground, doing her best to stop breathing through her mouth and use her fractured nose instead.

"I'm not as fast as I used to be."

"Then" Twilight sat down next to her friend "get fast again. Learn how to breathe. Injuries like this get fixed by forcing yourself to adapt. Cadence told me the sports club is organizing a friendly track event in two weeks. You're going. And you're going to win."

Rainbow lowered her gaze, still smiling, swallowing hard. After a few seconds, she lifted her head again, this time looking up at the sky.

"You're crazy, four-eyes."

Chapter 23: Bad place

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized how close she had come to cutting her foot with the axe—about fifteen seconds after the fact. She wondered how many times in the past half hour she’d come close to accidentally mutilating herself while chopping wood.

She looked behind her, then ahead, searching for Fluttershy with her eyes. Behind her, an impenetrable wall of apple trees stretched as far as she could see. In front of her, there was only the lonely barn, filled with seeds and feathers scattered everywhere. She looked back at the stump, and at the powerful axe lodged in it, just inches from her foot. That last log she’d chopped had been a poor cut, barely scraping the bark, which now lay gently atop her boot.

She shook her head, took off her hat, and wiped the sweat from her forehead without moving her leg an inch. She didn’t know why, but she felt as if moving it might cause something terrible to happen, even though she knew, logically, that wasn’t true.

She adjusted her hat again and took the axe in her hands, pulling it from the stump and laying it down beside it, along with the poorly chopped log that had fallen to the ground.

"Close again," she muttered, pulling her leg back at a painfully slow pace, and looking down, confused.

She was tired—just like yesterday, the day before, and probably tomorrow. She was dead tired, so much so that, no matter how hard she tried to stay still, she couldn’t help but sway side to side in a ridiculous wobble that Rarity had nicknamed “the traditional Ponyville dance.” She squinted, doing her best to stay conscious as she stood in front of the firewood pile, rubbing her eyes with the rough tips of her fingers, trying to push the image of the axe out of her mind.

There was still a lot to do. Big Mac was surely resting after picking apples since six in the morning, and Applebloom was either doing her elementary school homework or milking the cows. Her younger sister was always in charge of getting the milk at noon, and judging by the time, she was probably doing just that—probably.

She looked up at the sky, shielding her eyes with her hand, searching for the sun. The clouds were low and dark, likely one of the last rains of the year. However, behind them, she saw only a deep blue sky streaked with orange. She swept her green eyes back and forth, no longer shielding them, and found the sun was just a couple of hours from setting. How long had she been out here?

She swallowed nervously, bent down to gather the firewood, and loaded it into her basket, slinging it over her back before heading toward the farmhouse. How long had she been out here?

That morning, Granny Smith had given both her and Fluttershy a list of chores: chopping wood, cutting down a few old trees, feeding the pigs—typical farm duties. Fluttershy was supposed to take care of the animals, and Applejack, the heavier tasks. The eldest Apple was in charge of collecting the apples from the orchard, the most important job in all of Sweet Apple Acres.

However, she remembered that Fluttershy had already finished her tasks and had been keeping her company. “We were talking about…” About what, exactly? She couldn’t recall. She thought she remembered Fluttershy’s gentle voice behind her, chatting, but about what?

Maybe she was confusing it with this morning, or even yesterday, or last week. She didn’t remember what day it was or why Fluttershy was supposed to be in the orchard with her. She only knew that she was, and that was all that mattered.

She passed the barn, walked through the pig pens and the chicken coops arranged in rows, reeking of manure and straw—a scent she had long since grown used to. She paused a moment, scanning her surroundings, trying to make sure everything was as it should be. The sun’s shadows were long now, and indeed the herd was already settled to sleep beneath their shelters. Fluttershy had done a good job.

She adjusted her grip on the basket and kept walking. She had to think of some excuse to give Granny Smith for bringing so little wood tonight. Though, to be fair, she never brought much on the days she helped anyway. The scolding was always the same, whether from Granny or from Big Mac, and she always had to stay quiet. After all, if she tried to lie, she’d just turn red as a tomato and give herself away before a rooster could even crow.

She turned again, now passing one of the three silos, spotting the Apple farmhouse beyond it: a battered mix of timber and bricks rising two stories above an old stone foundation, which had once been the original Apple family home. When the family first came to Ponyville nearly three generations ago, that area had been nothing but a wild mess of trees and meadows, entirely bordered by the fearsome Everfree Forest. But after the founding of Sweet Apple Acres, a small, cozy town began to form around it, becoming what was now known as Ponyville: “Home of friendship and apple cider.”

The lights were on—oil lamps, a warm stove, and the newly installed electric lines. Applejack always left out the detail that, for most of her life, she’d lived without electricity—having grown tired of Rainbow’s endless teasing after finding out.

She dropped the basket of wood at the doorstep, with the rest of the firewood for the night, just as the sky finished turning black, the sun giving its final kisses to her skin. She stood in front of the door, blinking a few times, wondering what kind of scolding she’d get for being late, and whether Fluttershy had already left. That thought made her stomach churn—still unable to stand still. She didn’t know what her friend was doing there, but she didn’t want her to leave without saying goodbye.

Unless, of course, she already had, and Applejack just didn’t remember.

She shook her head, trying to focus her vision, and stepped inside.

A high-pitched bark greeted her, swirling around her like a planet around the sun, tail wagging with excitement. Applejack knelt, petting Winona with an energy that didn’t match her exhaustion, her ears ringing and head spinning under the dog’s joyful barking. Winona responded by leaning against her knee, stretching, and giving her a couple of wet licks on the face.

“Sis!” came the even shriller voice of Applebloom, the youngest in the house. “Where were you? Granny was about to send me out to look for you.”

Applejack stood up, letting her dog spring off her knee with a nimble kick, running back through the house, her claws making a satisfying clatter across the rustic wooden floor.

“Chopping wood,” she replied, trying to summon all the strength she had left in her voice. “Where’s Granny?”

“In the kitchen, talking to your friend. She didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to you.” A sense of calm washed over the older sister—thinking that at least she could talk to Fluttershy a little longer and thank her for the help she’d given.

“All right.” Applejack ruffled her sister’s red hair, offering her a tender smile. “Tell Big Mac to get ready for dinner. I’ll ask Fluttershy if she wants to stay or if she needs to go.”

Without waiting for a reply, Applejack walked past Granny Smith’s old rocking chair, beneath a lovely arch carved from zap-apple wood, removing her hat and beginning to undo her braid.

The kitchen wasn’t a very big or fancy room; it was decorated with ugly green and white tiles that, according to Granny, had been insisted on by Applejack’s mother—though she never gave much detail as to why. The floor was wooden, matching the rest of the house, as was the breakfast table—a lovely carved piece with the classic apple motif stamped at each corner. At each end sat four chairs, each padded with red-and-white checkered cushions, waiting every morning for the four Apple family members, with Big Mac’s seat specially adjusted to his monumental size. On the far side, a row of wooden cabinets framed the blonde’s pride and joy: the stove. A massive reddish metal contraption that, when lit with the firewood she and her brother collected, burned so fiercely that Applebloom had affectionately named it “the forge.”

Applejack liked that nickname. It made her feel that every time she cooked there, she was crafting some kind of art for a prince—or even a king. Being behind those burners, feeding the flames and mixing ingredients—she loved it.

Granny Smith wore a grin from ear to ear, showing off her old, yellowed teeth, laughing heartily like she rarely ever did. Her grandmother wasn't exactly the most cheerful or lively person in the world—she usually spent her time scolding her grandchildren, coordinating tasks in the orchard, or reminiscing for longer than she’d like to admit about some glory from the past. If she laughed, it was usually to mock someone—whether it was Big Mac tipping over an entire wheelbarrow of apples and cursing in his usual monosyllables, or Apple Bloom slipping among the pigs and pretending nothing happened, or the time Applejack chopped a log so hard that half of it flew back into her face, causing a nosebleed. To this day, the blonde still didn’t understand the physics behind that incident.

The old woman was sitting in the chair usually occupied by her youngest granddaughter, facing Fluttershy directly, who had taken Applejack’s seat. She was chuckling softly, covering her mouth politely and squinting her eyes.

“I see you two got to know each other better,” said the blonde, approaching the pair and taking a seat between them, doing her best to look lucid—though the thick dark circles under her eyes betrayed her.

“Where in the holy name of the apple tree were you, girl? The sun’s already set!”

“It just set,” she replied playfully, tossing her loose hair. Only a few times had her friends seen her without her braid, but they never missed a chance to say how good she looked without it.

“‘It just set.’ Keep talking back to your grandma, girl, and you’ll see what happens.”

Applejack simply smiled and turned her gaze to her friend, who was still wearing an adorable little grin. Fluttershy wore a long blue skirt that reached down to her boots—country-style boots she’d bought to Rarity’s dismay. On top, she had a sleeveless white blouse with a beautiful floral print, which the blonde had complimented more than once, and over it, her usual brown cardigan.

“Your grandma was telling me about the time you were chopping wood, and…” Fluttershy took a breath, stifling another laugh in her throat, unable to meet the blonde’s eyes.

“Don’t you have any other stories, Granny?”

“Don’t you know how to respect your elders?” the old woman shot up with surprising agility, still wearing a feisty grin unusual for someone her age, and strutted off toward “the forge.”

“Whatever you say, Granny.” A warm tingle crept up her weary skin, gently revitalizing her body as another genuine, grateful smile spread across her lips. Since the incident with Echo a month ago, she had come to realize that her friends now meant something no one else had ever given her before: the feeling of family. And being there, seated, watching her blood family laugh alongside her chosen family, made her feel peaceful and content in a way nothing else ever had. Nothing, maybe, except for cooking.

She didn’t say it, but Applejack wanted to hug Fluttershy in that moment. She no longer cared why she was there; she only knew that it made her happy.

“Fluttershy, dear, are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to stay for dinner? This spoiled girl and I are going to make our famous apple and cinnamon pie.”

Applejack leaned toward her friend’s ear, squinting playfully. “I’m actually the one who makes it. She just likes to take the credit.”

“I heard that, girl!” Granny shot back, indignant but clearly amused.

“Thank you very much, Mrs. Smith, but I really should be going. With the traffic on Crystal Highway, I’ll be home by almost eleven,” Fluttershy replied, shrugging slightly as she grabbed her backpack from the chair. “But thank you so much for the offer.”

“Well, any friend of my granddaughter’s is welcome in this house, even if a certain rotten little apple does her best to be disagreeable.”

Fluttershy gave a slight nod and stood, swinging her bag onto her shoulders. It was curious, to say the least, how easily she could talk with Granny Smith—hold a long conversation, even politely decline offers—when just the thought of speaking to someone in class could leave her frozen in place. Applejack wondered if it had something to do with the age gap.

“Applejack, be a dear and walk Fluttershy to her car, please.” As the words left the old woman’s lips, a chaotic clatter began ringing in the background, sounding rhythmically like an old phone. “Who the hay calls at this hour?” she muttered, disappearing behind the kitchen doorway, grumbling to herself.

The blonde closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her body begging her not to open them again. It was going to be a good night’s rest—after all, tomorrow was Sunday, and she’d be able to wake up whenever she wanted, before heading to town for barn supplies. But on Monday, everything would return to normal: she’d sleep only a few hours, do terribly in her classes, and spend the afternoon with the ominous thought that she still needed a second job to fill Mondays and Thursdays. The tuition deadline was fast approaching, and the last thing she wanted was to do the math on how little she’d have left in savings if she didn’t find work soon.

“Are you okay?”

Applejack’s eyes snapped open, just as her head began to nod back and forth from exhaustion, her thoughts sinking deeper into the void of sleep. She suddenly remembered the same thing had happened earlier when she was chopping wood.

“Yeah, just a little tired, sugar cube,” she replied, forcing a smile as best she could, her lips stammering slightly. “Why?”

Fluttershy was quiet for a moment, a look of concern on her face, her eyes narrowing and brow furrowing. Applejack hated seeing that kind of expression aimed at her. With her friends, she always insisted that she was fine, that no matter how tired she was, they should just laugh it off or ignore it. But Fluttershy was never so easygoing about it; the pink-haired girl never stopped worrying.

“I mean it,” she insisted, standing and putting her hat back on, signaling that they should head out.

The two friends left the house, saying goodbye to Apple Bloom and then to Big Mac. Applejack decided she would be the one to say goodbye to Fluttershy on Granny Smith’s behalf, so as not to interrupt her long phone call. They walked down the cobbled farm path, sometimes stepping on grass, sometimes on patches of dirt that muddied their boots, without exchanging many words.

That night, there was no moon—or at least not one they could see. Heavy rain clouds blanketed the sky above, carrying the damp scent of a coming storm, inspiring the girls to walk a little faster.

Eventually, after rounding the enormous red tractor of Big Mac, they reached Fluttershy’s car. The darkness was so deep they could barely see a few feet in front of them.

“Well, thanks for coming, sugar cube. It’s always good to see you,” said Applejack, staring into nothing, silently hoping she was actually looking at Fluttershy. She realized she could have her eyes closed right now and wouldn’t even know. That thought unsettled her.

“The pleasure’s mine,” came Fluttershy’s sweet voice from somewhere in the dark, smiling the way only she could. In the background, the trunk of the car opened, and something heavy was set inside. “It always makes me happy to come back to Ponyville, even if just for a day.”

“Shame you couldn’t see the night sky.” The blonde’s eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, beginning to make out plants, grass, the car’s hood, and her friend. She looked up, hoping to see even a sliver of the moon amid it all, but was disappointed to find only a dull, gray, uninspired sky.

A pang in her chest made her feel as if the sky, the clouds, and the chaos above were some kind of answer from the universe—mocking her exhaustion and threatening to deny her a peaceful night. The sky would collapse before it let her collapse into sleep. She felt angry, though she couldn’t say why.

“Promise me you’ll drive carefully. Feels like it’s about to rain cats and apple trees.”

“I promise. And thanks for worrying about me. It feels good to have someone looking out for you.”

“Yeah…” she lied, lowering her gaze and letting those words turn to ashes in her mouth.

Fluttershy opened her car door, letting the automatic lights timidly illuminate the dirt around them, casting strange shadows across their faces—like there was something more they wanted to do or say, something their souls were holding back. Applejack lowered her gaze again.

Finally, the pink-haired girl let out a loud snort, closing the door again, the dim lights inside the vehicle barely managing to cast any semblance of light between the two of them—Fluttershy with her eyes seriously narrowed, somehow managing to make Applejack feel uneasy.

“What am I doing here?” she asked bluntly.

A wave of doubt and confusion passed through Applejack’s lungs, choking out any word that tried to escape, making her stammer awkwardly. “What do you mean, ‘what are you doing here’?” she asked, finally managing to speak.

“What am I doing here? Why did I come?” she asked again, inquisitively, taking a step forward.

“You already know…” the blonde replied as an excuse, stepping back, somehow feeling cornered by her shy friend. She had never seen Fluttershy so serious, and that was both a nearly miraculous sight and something to be worried about.

“I do know,” she said, lowering her voice but not the impatience in her tone. “But now I want to know if you know.”

“If I know? What in tarnation are you talkin’ about?”

“You called me this morning. Do you remember why?”

Applejack’s mind went blank in an instant. She bit her lips nervously, lowering her gaze, avoiding her friend’s eyes. She didn’t know, didn’t remember, and she felt her throat closing more and more with Fluttershy’s insistence. Fluttershy had never stopped caring about her sleep, and Applejack could already see where this conversation was headed.

“No…” she answered honestly, meeting her friend’s greenish eyes again. A slight note of disappointment flickered in them, a note she hated almost as much as the condescension that followed.

Fluttershy sighed, licking her lips. “You told me you had my money. The fifteen bits for Rainbow’s gift.”

That morning, Applejack had reluctantly picked up the phone, just like that time she found Rainbow lying on the floor of the first-floor girls’ bathroom, assuring Fluttershy that she had the money she had borrowed for the sneakers. The memory was so vivid in her mind that she felt stupid for having completely forgotten it, with her friend showing up silently at the farm in the morning, simply assuming she was there to help Granny with the day’s chores.

She pressed the bridge of her nose in disappointment, shaking her head, sighing. She felt stupid, and she hated feeling stupid—first the near mutilation with the axe, and now this. “How much more, Applejack?” she asked herself, giving herself one of those looks of disappointment she so hated from others, whipping her mind with those three words now flooding her head: “you deserve it.”

“Sure. Wait here while I go get it, won’t be long.” She adjusted her hat on her head and turned around.

However, before she could take a step, her hand was gripped tightly by Fluttershy’s fingers—perhaps too tightly for what was usual from the timid girl. Applejack turned around in surprise, a couple of her hairs flying in front of her face and landing on her lips.

“I don’t care about the money, AJ. I didn’t come here for that.” She let go, with a slight tug from the blonde. “I came for you.”

Applejack squinted, meeting her friend’s gaze, only to avert it immediately. She huffed loudly, wanting to say something but finding no words.

“This is getting out of control.” Fluttershy took a step forward. “You need help.”

A deathly silence followed the girl’s words, with Applejack still refusing to meet her friend’s eyes, barely visible between the curious shadows and lights cast by the car’s windows. A thin cloud passed above them, casting a silvery halo beneath the girl’s golden hair as she mumbled something with closed lips.

Granny Smith had always scolded her grandkids for being too talkative, to the point where Big Mac had turned into a quiet man. In that moment, Applejack wished she had all those words in her to justify herself, defend herself, but not even her brother’s monosyllables would come out.

She decided maybe it was better this way.

“I don’t mean to be rude, and the last thing I want is to hurt you, but I can’t stand seeing you like this anymore.” She took another step forward, searching with her eyes for the green gaze of the cowgirl. “There has to be something we can do.”

Another silence. Applejack’s stomach turned as she heard the pain in every word Fluttershy said, as if talking to her now cost her more than any other interaction she’d ever had with anyone—strangers, teachers, whoever. Soon, she herself wouldn’t be able to stand hearing her like that either.

Still, she said nothing, keeping the flood of thoughts to herself. What was she thinking? Maybe it was the guilt of not having paid Fluttershy and making her work for free based on a false promise; maybe it was the pain of remembering the emotions that overwhelmed her when she saw Rainbow harmed by Echo, and the torrent of regret in Cadence’s office; maybe it was the bitter shame of almost cutting her foot this morning—or afternoon—or evening.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Or maybe it was the sudden anger she was feeling. Anger toward herself. Whatever it was, she lowered her gaze again, biting her lip.

“Please…”

This time, Applejack’s mind didn’t take long to decide she’d stay silent again. Fluttershy stepped back, not knowing what to do with her hands, nervously rubbing the backs of them.

“Are you done?” the blonde asked, finally meeting her friend’s gaze, a serious expression on her lips. Fluttershy didn’t respond, simply watching her intently, still fidgeting with her hands. “Wait here. I’ll get your money.”

Applejack turned around, disappearing into the shadows of the night as a strong and humid wind whistled between them, making her eyelids tremble slightly. Somehow, she imagined that wind had been conjured by her friend.

The first raindrop fell on her hat with a muffled sound.

“Granny Smith doesn’t know, does she? That you work outside the orchard.”

Applejack stopped in her tracks, feeling drops trickle down from her shoulders along her arms, barely disturbing the still air around her. The flame inside her flared for a second, making her frown as she inhaled.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“She’s never asked,” she replied, half lying, half telling the truth. She knew that the moment her grandma asked, she wouldn’t be able to hold back and would spill everything—about the jobs, the sleep in class, the failed year, the lost scholarship. She knew her inability to lie would betray her, so instead, she had decided not to open her mouth at all.

She was fixing it on her own, solving it on her own, and she would make it. She’d pull through.

“Why doesn’t she know?” Applejack parted her lips as the hiss of the rain became more and more present.

“She doesn’t need to know.”

“She doesn’t need to know her granddaughter works? Stays up late every night? Misses homework, assignments, projects, essays?”

“No, she doesn’t need to know.”

“You’re killing yourself, Applejack! The others might find it amusing, but I don’t!”

“And why not, huh?” she exclaimed, turning around as the rain created a thick curtain between them, almost like a pane of plastic. Somehow, it made her feel like she was in the middle of an interrogation. “Why can’t you just do this one thing I ask of you?”

“I’m sorry, okay?!” Fluttershy’s cheeks flushed a deep red as the hiss of the rain flattened her pink curls, trembling. “But I can’t just stand by while I watch my friend work herself into an early grave.”

Sparks flashed in the blonde’s eyes, and unlike other times, this time the gentle and sweet tone of the other girl didn’t dilute her anger—on the contrary, it felt more like an attack.

“The grave? You think a couple sleepless nights are going to kill me? Have you lost all your marbles? Or are you just talking nonsense?”

“Please don’t yell at me…” Fluttershy said, shrinking her shoulders as the rain grew heavier and heavier. “I just want to help you, AJ, please.”

“Then for the love of the apple tree, stop! I don’t need help! Got it?” she replied forcefully, not lowering her voice. Torrents of tiny drops streamed down the brim of her hat, hiding her eyes behind a heavy gray veil that, on another occasion, might’ve seemed comical—at the very least. But not now, not with Fluttershy behind that gray screen, shivering and curling up like a frightened animal, cheeks burning red, unable to tell whether the wetness on her face was rain or tears.

But the blonde didn’t expect that, after a few seconds of silence, the other girl would narrow her eyes in anger, puff out her chest, and stand tall like a tower in front of her. For a moment, Applejack thought Fluttershy looked taller than her.

“Applejack Grace Apple! I’m not going to stop! You need help whether you like it or not!”

Applejack let out a loud laugh, drowned under the soft, persistent rattle of rain, feeling fire in her hands born from rage.

“‘Whether I like it or not!’ You’ve definitely lost your marbles.”

“This can’t go on, AJ. There has to be something we can do!”

“Then I’m all ears, Fluttershy! Tell me, what’s your magical solution to a problem that doesn’t exist? Huh? Go on, I’m listening!”

Fluttershy pressed her lips tightly together, making a small grimace of frustration, squinting to keep the rain out of her eyes—not very successfully. But she said nothing, the words stuck in her throat, while Applejack’s chest rose and fell aggressively with impatience.

Fluttershy’s eyes danced from Applejack to the ground and back again, struggling to maintain eye contact for as long as she could, until some invisible force pulled her gaze away.

Seconds dragged around them, flowing with the rain that soaked their bodies. Applejack felt her boots flooded with cold water, and she’d bet anything her friend was going through the same; her clothes clung to her body like a second skin, and for the first time since the downpour had begun, she felt the freezing touch creeping down her spine, chilling her soul and heart.

Her breathing slowly steadied, watching the white mist escape from her nose, only to be immediately swallowed by the rain. For a moment, she was impressed by how much effort Fluttershy had put into arguing with her, considering how even the smallest confrontation usually petrified the girl—especially when it came to Applejack, her over-two-meter-tall friend who chopped wood like it was butter.

For a split second, she felt guilty for everything she had said, and she wished for nothing more than to please her fragile friend, who was giving it her all in the rain for her.

“Wait here,” she said at last, after an agonizing second of silence. “I’ll go get your money.”

Applejack turned around and made her way through the tall, soaked grass and ivy.

“Tell your grandma,” the other girl called from behind, a hint of that earlier determination still not drowned out. Applejack turned back to her slowly, her expression serious and stern.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“She’ll know what we can do, if you tell her—”

“That’s not going to happen, Fluttershy!”

“Why not? What are you so afraid of?” she asked, taking a step forward, regaining that fire and strength that made Applejack flinch backward.

“I’m not afraid!” she shouted, before realizing it was a lie, feeling the flush burn on her cheeks.

“Yes, you are, Applejack! I know you!”

“No, I’m not! It’s just…” The words got stuck in her throat, her neck tightening around them. In moments like this, she hated how bad she was at lying. “It’s just that I don’t want her to feel disappointed in me.”

“Disappointed? For working outside the orchard?”

“For working, yeah…”

“That makes no sense.” Fluttershy stepped closer, her expression softening as she gently took Applejack’s strong arms in her fingers. “She wouldn’t feel that way.”

“Yes, she would. I know she would,” the blonde stammered, now unable to meet Fluttershy’s kind but piercing eyes, caught between lying and telling the truth. Another blush rose to her cheeks.

“No, Applejack, she wouldn’t.” Fluttershy’s gentle fingers felt warm against the rough, thick skin of her friend, spreading a sensation of warmth and comfort that battled against the cold conviction in her heart, chilled by the rain, still clinging to its illusion. “It’s something I have to do alone,” she told herself, convinced she was going to listen to her own words—surprised when she realized she wasn’t.

“Yes, she would…” she whispered, tears pricking at her eyes as a sharp barbed wire wrapped around her throat, choking her.

Fluttershy narrowed her eyes, licking her lips in confusion as she stepped even closer to her friend, who turned her face away, splashing water onto hers. “Why?”

“Because…” she hesitated, her teeth chattering and her skin trembling. Would she become a disappointment to her too? That secret she had carried alone for two years? A bitter taste filled her mouth, forcing her to hide her lips from the air, finally letting a tear fall that mixed with the rain on her face. She tried to imagine Rainbow teasing her, shouting something like, “Well, well, little apples has feelings,” but deep down, she knew her friend wouldn’t react that way—not Rainbow, and not any of them.

She turned to Fluttershy again, meeting her eyes through the veil of rain falling from her hat, remembering the time Big Mac had backed her only lie to Granny Smith, that one time she’d made a deal she shouldn’t have with Apple family cider. “It feels good to have someone looking out for you,” Fluttershy had said just seconds ago.

She hoped, for all the apples in the world, that it really did feel good.

“Because if I told her… if I told her I work outside the orchard, I’d have to tell her that her great pride, the one she sent to Canterlot High, flunked a year.”

The words slipped from her lips, flowing like the rain around them—warm against her skin, but tasting bitter. Her eyes narrowed, heavy with the exhaustion in her body, the pain reaching the back of her skull. Had she just made a mistake? She didn’t know. Fluttershy just stood there, staring at her, frozen, like the first time they met—that morning in the school cafeteria with Rainbow, the moment that had changed her life so radically.

For over two years, Applejack had carried that truth alone, and now, for the first time, she wasn’t. The weight felt lighter—that was real. But at the same time, the absence of that burden left her feeling empty.

“When I started school, what we earned from the farm wasn’t enough for tuition, so Granny got me one of those fancy financial aid scholarships. It was the perfect opportunity. I didn’t have to do anything special—just keep an overall average of eight. But the winds changed, and even though I tried—damn, I tried—it wasn’t enough. Before I knew it, I’d racked up too many absences and tardies, and no matter how hard I worked, I couldn’t keep that eight with so many failing grades.” She licked her lips, cracked under the relentless cry of the rain. “That’s why I work—so Granny won’t notice that what she gives me isn’t enough for tuition.”

She swallowed hard, nervously, her eyes drifting away, looking for something she knew she wouldn’t find—not because it was out of reach or impossible to get, but because she didn’t even know what she was looking for anymore. Before, it might have been keeping the secret. But now? There was nothing else for her. Nothing else at all.

Fluttershy hunched her shoulders, swaying slightly back and forth, hesitating, until finally, she wrapped her arms around the cowgirl in a gesture that spread that warm sensation from her hands across Applejack’s whole body. A light, pleasant tingling crawled up Applejack’s back, clashing and wrestling with the cold, lonely touch of the rain against her skin, gluing her clothes to her body like dead skin.

She remembered that time with Big Mac again, and how, when Granny finally caught her in the lie, she still held her in a tearful hug to let her know everything was alright, that her family was there for her.

She didn’t notice when the tears had started to blend with the rain running down her face.

Applejack clumsily returned the gesture, resting her cheek against Fluttershy’s head, feeling her wet but soft hair. Warmth spread through her body, calming her racing heart and stopping the trembling in her limbs. A month ago, when she faced Echo alone after seeing what she had done to Rainbow, she’d realized how much this group of girls—whom she hadn’t known for that long—already meant to her, just like family. But now, she understood that wasn’t the whole story. Somehow, she meant the same to them. Maybe even more.

Her body relaxed—not from sleep, but because of Fluttershy, who gently tightened her arms.

"If it means anything," Fluttershy whispered under Applejack’s weight, "I would never see you as a disappointment."

She shut her eyes tight, clenching her eyelids against her face, praying deep down not to fall asleep on her friend. Her heart was calm, her soul at peace. There was nothing else in the world, nothing else that mattered, nothing else that could make her want to wake up.

After a few minutes that felt like hours, the girls finally separated, still holding onto each other by the arms, quietly looking into each other’s eyes. Seconds slid by around them, with millions of thoughts spilling over, though none stayed long enough to be reasoned through or spoken aloud. Something had happened to Applejack, something she couldn’t quite name, but felt deep in her heart—something that resembled familiarity.

She let go of Fluttershy, looking down at the ground and sniffing back the allergy through her nose.

"I’ll go get your money before it gets too late."

"Leave it. You can give it to me when we see each other in class."

"And what if I forget?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders.

Fluttershy smiled, giving her a soft pat on the arm, feeling the wet fabric under her fingertips. "Then you can give it to me the next day."

Applejack took a step back, letting her friend climb into her car, the interior light briefly illuminating the area again, before she started the engine, bathing the farm girl in a heavy beam of light. Applejack closed her eyes, dazzled, trying to adjust to the scene before her. She failed at first, but slowly managed to open her eyelids, letting more and more of the world soak into her senses.

She saw Fluttershy leaning out the car window, squeezing water from her hair and looking at her closely.

"By the way!" Fluttershy shouted as best as she could between the roar of the engine and the never-ending downpour. "Don’t tell her I told you, but Rainbow got you a bed at her place. She was planning to tell you after winning the friendly race."

Applejack blinked twice—once from the water threatening to invade her eyes, and once from the confusion at her friend’s words. "A bed?" she thought, watching Fluttershy slip back into the driver’s seat and back the car out, waving goodbye as she left the blonde alone, bewildered.

Darkness crept back in around her, settling like a thick blanket over everything until her eyes could adjust again. The cold returned; somehow, whether in a hug or just by being nearby, Fluttershy’s presence had made her feel warm, safe. And for a moment, she wondered if the rest of her friends would make her feel the same way—before quickly answering herself: they would.

She turned around, feeling the mud shift beneath her boots, and walked back toward the Apple family house.

The walk wasn’t particularly hard, except for the occasional near fall thanks to the weak muck that gave way under her weight. Her mind, tired and defeated, thought it saw things that weren’t there more than once, still reeling from Fluttershy’s last words. But before she could make sense of them, she found herself at her doorstep again.

She entered as quietly as she could, noticing only one lonely light on in the kitchen. She didn’t know what time it was, or how long she’d been in the rain with Fluttershy. Dinner time could’ve passed already, or maybe her whole family was asleep.

She walked in, avoiding the old wooden rocking chair, and reached the kitchen, where she found Granny Smith hunched over, her head resting in her hand atop a pile of papers on the table. Her snow-white hair was tied in its usual elegant bun, now hanging loose behind her neck. Even through the haze in her eyes, Applejack noticed she was sitting in her older brother’s chair.

"Granny?" she asked, surprised to hear her own voice so weak and muffled from the cold. She looked at her grandmother’s worried face, then at the papers. They were covered in scribbled numbers that Applejack didn’t recognize right away.

She took a step forward, squinting at a word that looked familiar. The air left her lungs when she read the rushed and clumsy handwriting: “Mirage.”

"Granny…"

"Applejack," her grandmother whispered in that raspy, frail voice that usually made her and her siblings giggle. But not now. Now, there was something else in it—something she hadn’t heard before. Disappointment.

The blonde lowered her gaze to the floor.

"Your school called. They say you got in a fight with a girl."

She wondered what kind of convincing lie she could come up with to get out of this, before discarding the idea. She walked to the table and sat down heavily.

She took a breath and met the old woman’s orange eyes. It was definitely disappointment. Guess I’ll have to be honest this time, she told herself, before she began to speak.

Chapter 24: High voice

It was her fault, and she knew it.

Today marked the second day Applejack had missed classes. She hadn't provided any detailed explanation; however, Fluttershy had shown them a text message she received that very first morning, which simply read: "Family matter, they found out about Echo." At that moment, Twilight quickly deduced that it was likely Mirage herself who maliciously decided to inform Granny Smith about the altercation between her and Applejack. She deduced it was her because everyone involved had agreed not to tell the cowgirl's family, and the only ones who hadn't made such a promise were Echo and her friends.

Regardless of how it happened, the relationship between Applejack and her family was probably strained now. Everyone had always known that the blonde had a strong bond with her family, and now, because of Echo Mirage, that bond was faltering.

Or so the others said, but Rarity knew the truth. She knew that, although the albino girl had made the call and fought Applejack, the blame was hers and hers alone.

She joined one seam with another, licking the end of the thread before gracefully tying it to the fabric, leaving an invisible stitch to the human eye. This was one of the commissions she had received for the gala, as certain select students had already begun securing their precious tickets for the year's grand event. She smiled, lifting her creation, thinking about the faces the guests would make upon seeing such a beautiful dress at the biggest party of the year, and the calm of knowing that, even if she wasn't guaranteed to attend the event, at least something bearing her name would.

She adjusted her glasses, smiling faintly, setting aside her thoughts of Applejack for a moment, delicately using her hands to fold the garment and placing it on the side of the table. Today, like many other days, she had stayed in the sewing workshop during the afternoon, when the school was only used for specialized clubs or desperate students working on projects that required the school's resources. Normally, two or more of her friends would stay with her; however, this time, it wasn't the case. Twilight and Pinkie had a humanities project they were working on at the brunette's house; Rainbow was still practicing for the sports club friendly race, barely improving her breathing technique little by little this past week; Fluttershy had another shift at the animal shelter today, and it was clear to Rarity that she wouldn't be seeing Applejack anytime soon.

Not that it bothered her, of course. Over the past two years, she had gotten used to working alone, with the occasional company of Pinkie, yes, but mostly alone. Those silent days allowed her mind to rest, expand, and create things she couldn't with the presence of external voices, which was precisely what she had been doing all that time.

The commission came from a prominent girl in the school band: Octavia Melody, from her same grade. She had requested an elegant dress, with sober colors and minimalist details, but one that would stand out among others without needing to dazzle the crowds. Of course, Rarity's own style was always about trying to dazzle, but, as her father used to say when she still lived with him, "the customer is always right."

Of course, that didn't stop her from sneaking a couple of opals into the fabric, just in case.

She folded the garment and gracefully placed it in a small cardboard box. She had several identical ones scattered throughout the studio, that room she had practically claimed as her own after two years of being its sole occupant. Those boxes were solely dedicated to awaiting a potential product to be delivered, earning Rarity a few bits, who, as always, had to sell her precious works of art at a laughable price.

She had already gained some fame throughout the school, and even in places beyond it, although not the kind of fame she would have liked. Among the student body, they didn't go around calling her "Rarity the fashion designer" or "Rarity the artist," but rather "Rarity, the one with the cheap dresses."

She sealed the cardboard flaps with tape and left the dedication on a small paper note atop the box: "Dear Octavia, your order is ready! I hope you like it as much as I do; personally, I think it will look simply magnificent on you. Love, Rarity." She added a bow and left it on the table.

That day had ended early. She was behind on a couple of commissions, of course, but that day everything had aligned so she could leave the room early, or rather, she had arranged everything to be able to leave earlier. Her outings with her new friends and the constant interaction with them during what used to be working hours, like recess or after school, had created a small bottleneck that stressed the seamstress more than once a day; however, not today. Today wasn't going to be a day where her stress came from the dresses.

She left her glasses on what would normally be the teacher's desk and took her coat, putting it on in a swift motion. November hadn't started yet, but the numbing cold of Canterlot already forced her to take measures to avoid freezing to death.

She walked quickly to the classroom door, taking the handle between her fingers and pulling it swiftly. She looked one last time at her studio, feeling a sort of nostalgia seep through her skin, numbing her from head to toe. She didn't know why, but somehow, she felt that this might be the last time she would see that place, at least as she saw it now.

"You do know why, Rarity," she thought, squinting at the gift box for Octavia. "You know perfectly well it's because it's your fault."

She left the school, stepping with her thick boots onto a waterlogged lawn that, under normal circumstances, would serve to pompously announce the entrance to Canterlot High. It had been a month since the incident between Echo and Rainbow, and two days since Applejack had cut off contact because of that incident. Both events, rooted in the same person, both events, caused by angering Echo Mirage.

Echo had been her friend, at least for a while, and the very idea of it made her feel sick; however, the albino girl had been right about one thing the last time Rarity and she had seen each other: Rarity hadn't fulfilled her part of the deal.

That day in her studio, when Applejack, Fluttershy, and Twilight had brought the problematic Rainbow to understand the gravity of messing with someone she shouldn't have, things hadn't gone as she would have liked; instead of lowering their profile and avoiding danger, the six of them had started a stupid crusade to impart a childish concept of justice in their school, under the idea that, if they were together, nothing bad could happen to them.

After all, what was one against six?

However, everything was falling apart. Sweetie Belle's record was secure, yes, but Rainbow, the most stoic, stubborn, and rebellious person she knew, had been broken to the point of shattering, still struggling to rekindle her flame under the yoke of a broken nose, and Applejack...

She didn't even want to think about how things were at Sweet Apple Acres.

She stopped at the corner of the block, under the small metal structure that read "bus," settling onto one of the deserted smooth seats that at other times saw waves and waves of students. Rarity enjoyed company and loved the attention of a bustling crowd; however, in those moments between the streets and herself, she managed to appreciate a subtle beauty in the emptiness of the evening silence. The school was a completely different place at those hours, and she liked it.

That day, the sky was changing, sometimes letting light filter to the earth, sometimes overshadowing the city with clouds. Right now, a thin cloud served as an umbrella for Rarity, waiting to see the bus thirty-two appear on the horizon. Normally, to get to her house above her boutique, she had to take lines fourteen and ninety-eight, which left her just a couple of blocks from her home; however, today she had another destination, another idea in mind.

Minutes passed, with several mint-green buses swimming through the asphalt to the stop, until she finally boarded the one she was looking for. Within her idea of a glamorous life, she didn't like to admit that her only way to move around the city was by public transport; she saw herself taking luxurious limousines serving the finest champagne while enjoying a select musical collection. However, things weren't like that; Rarity lived day by day, barely making enough for herself and her sister, without receiving a single bit from her parents, with whom she no longer spoke. The glamorous life was what she desired most, after being recognized worldwide for her art, but, like many things in her life, what she wanted wasn't what she had.

She reviewed the stations in her mind, clinging to one of the poles in the crowded vehicle, holding her self-made bag fiercely. She had to get off at Griffon Avenue, then decide whether to walk for about fifteen minutes or wait even longer to take another bus that would take her to Starswirl Boulevard, where, if her memory didn't fail her, the Manehattan Academy of Fine Arts was located.

In the few months she called Echo Mirage a friend, she knew the girl enjoyed painting and the arts in general (another similarity that, at the time, she thought would make their friendship special). For several years, the albino girl had been inspired by the talented artist Sunrise to immerse herself in the artistic world. She knew that, like that day, every Friday and Saturday, she spent her afternoons after school at the academy, improving and refining her skills, and she knew that, if there was a way to find her without her entourage of admirers, it would be there.

Rarity was going to make things right; she was going to resolve it.

The bus stopped, and, seeing the traffic on the avenue, she decided it would be better to walk. Echo had already done too much damage to her new friends, too many wounds that were proving difficult to heal, and all because of her. All because she hadn’t insisted that morning in the sewing studio. She would’ve liked to take some time to enjoy those last few weeks with her friends, before going back to her solitary ways. But time was a luxury she no longer had, and if she wanted to make things right, she had to talk to Echo as soon as possible.

She had made the decision that very morning, while trimming a thin piece of black ribbon for Octavia’s dress: the best thing for everyone would be for her to isolate herself from the world again, and for things to go back to how they were. Rainbow could run her race and win, Applejack could fix her family issues, and they’d never have to go through something horrible again.

It was all going to end here, the way it began—between Echo and Rarity.

The sun kept fading, as the clouds grew thicker and thicker. It didn’t seem like it was going to rain that afternoon—after the downpour three days ago, all signs pointed to the rainy season finally being over, and that soon, the first snows would fall over Canterlot. Still, that didn’t stop the cold air from chilling her to the bone, though she wasn’t sure if it was the weather, or her own nerves and melancholy. Of course she didn’t want to be there, but it had to be done.

After a few minutes of walking, she finally saw the flowery logo of the arts academy. It wasn’t her first time there—there had been a time when she believed her future as a designer was inside that building (thanks in part to Echo). But her wallet and bank account had quickly felt the weight of the academy’s high tuition, leaving that aspiration as little more than a bittersweet memory hanging in the air.

She had to go in there and look for her ex-best friend—the person who had inspired more disgust and hatred in her than anyone else. Until that moment, she hadn’t fully processed that the person she was about to talk to was Echo Mirage. The same Echo who had broken Rainbow’s nose. The same Echo who isolated her in a classroom for two years. The same Echo who had threatened Sweetie Belle.

Her heart started to race, a subtle thought creeping into her mind: maybe she should just turn around. “What do you want to talk to her for?” she asked herself, swallowing hard. “Nothing is going to change.”

Her eyes wandered, trying to find something to look at that wasn’t the entrance to the academy. Then, she took a deep breath and stepped inside. Something was going to change—she was sure of that. She just didn’t know what.

The place was colorful, to put it mildly. Thousands of works—drawings, paintings, graffiti, sculptures, records, and letters—decorated the lounge walls. Several glass doors led to different hallways and classrooms that Rarity couldn’t quite make out. At the far end, a massive window separated the hall from a beautiful indoor garden, currently dimmed beneath the shadow of the afternoon clouds. There, under a tree that failed to cast any light, several students sat on wooden stools, methodically painting over a sea of easels holding colorful canvases.

And there, among them all, was Echo. As well-dressed as always. And just as revolting.

A wave of heat swept over Rarity, making her clench her fists unconsciously, her breathing growing more and more aggressive. That voice returned again, louder this time, screaming in her head, begging her to leave. “No,” she told herself, forcing her mind to relax her muscles. “I’m doing this for Applejack.”

She inhaled deeply, pushed open a glass door, and stepped into the garden, getting brushed aside by a couple of students less immersed in their work than Echo was. The pale girl sat in the middle of the crowd, gracefully laying brushstroke after brushstroke, her face wearing an expression Rarity had never seen before. She looked serious, focused—none of her usual smug smile. Somehow, that made Rarity feel worse. She didn’t know if it was because of how genuine Echo looked, or how uncomfortable such a genuine expression looked on her filthy face.

Rarity scolded herself mentally for still thinking that way about her. “Later. Not now.”

She stepped up beside her, doing her best to wear a calm, serene expression, unsure if she was pulling it off.

“Echo,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly.

The pale girl didn’t respond, only gave a silent nod, still focused on the strokes of paint she laid on the canvas.

Seconds froze around Rarity. The interaction had been minimal—insignificant—but it sent massive tremors through her psyche. Her heart was racing a mile a minute, her lungs expanding and contracting at a dizzying pace, and sweat began chilling her forehead with every second. Meanwhile, Echo just sat there, painting, as if Rarity were little more than an annoying breeze ruffling her perfect hair.

She hated her. She hated her deeply. And she wanted nothing more than to start yelling at her right then and there. Her jaw clenched, and she began biting her lip hard.

“What do you think?” Echo asked, leaning back slightly, inviting her to look at her piece. A quiet, decisive jolt snapped Rarity’s fingers open as she let go of her lip and forced herself to observe her nauseating movement.

“I don’t want to see your stupid painting,” she thought, before feeling her stomach twist from having insulted her art. Echo’s name bounced around violently inside her head, bleeding every corner with anger and frustration. Yet, despite all the chaos in her mind, a small voice whispered to her to respect the art. Respect the passion. The same voice that spoke to her every time she pushed a needle through fabric, every time she created something original from her head.

She bit her lip again and leaned in to look at the painting.

It was a still life: several fruits resting before a dark background, crowned by a garland of azaleas dripping honey. The painting was exquisite, with vibrant colors and shapes so natural that, somehow, Rarity could almost smell the different flavors of each fruit. She quickly noticed that, in the far-right corner, the only apple in the painting had a bite taken out of it. She wondered if that was intentional or just a coincidence.

She swallowed nervously, studying every detail of the work, noticing influences from the Romantic period in the Crystal Empire—particularly from Mistmane, an artist she’d studied a year ago for her art history exam. Mistmane was Rarity’s favorite artist, and somehow, seeing her style reflected in Echo’s work made her feel dizzy.

“Do you like it?” Echo asked, setting aside her paint and brush, resting her head in her hand.

Rarity snapped out of her trance, letting the rest of the room flood back into her awareness. The other students were still absorbed in their work, so much so that none had noticed the exchange between the girls. She wondered if she ever got that absorbed in her own work. “Of course you do,” she told herself, almost mockingly. “Just like you isolated yourself when Echo broke Rainbow’s nose.”

“It’s good.”

“I don’t know…” Echo replied, switching the hand she was leaning on. “Maybe it’s too perfect, don’t you think?”

Rarity turned her eyes to her, puzzled. Part of her wanted to know what she meant, but another part felt disgusted by even wanting to talk to her.

“That’s probably why Sunrise doesn’t paint on canvas,” Echo continued. “Only a wall gives you those kinds of… imperfections. The kind that elevate a piece.”

“Depends on what you consider elevating,” Rarity replied, still scanning every corner of the piece with her dark eyes, admiring the details. She liked it—she liked the strokes, the lighting, and especially the deep, dark shadows. Rarity admired that kind of art. The kind that painted the world as an ideal place. A perfect place. One she’d like to live in.

She tasted bitterness, remembering who she was about to debate artistic ideas with.

“‘I stretch my fingers, and with the tips I savor the reflection of reality, only to not look behind me.’”

“Mistmane.”

“I still think Sunrise has better pieces. Or at least ones that resonate more with me.”

“Can we talk?” Rarity asked suddenly, turning sharply toward her, the flaps of her coat barely brushing Echo’s legs. The pale girl flinched, sweeping Rarity with a glance as her lips twisted into something that wasn’t quite a smile. For a moment, it seemed she might actually look… sad.

“So serious.”

“It is serious,” Rarity confirmed, as another flood of emotions surged through her chest and throat. Her breath escaped her lungs, and her hands clenched again, nails digging into her palms. “Calm down, Rarity, you’re better than this”, she told herself, forcing herself to breathe

“All right.” Echo stood up from her seat, taking the paints and brush in hand again. “Just let me go get my things, and we’ll talk outside, okay?”

With few options left, Rarity nodded calmly, never taking her eyes off the albino girl. Somehow, a part of her felt that Echo was going to slip away to cause some mischief, like the sneaky rat she was—before realizing that what she truly wanted was to be the one to escape. To go home, hug Sweetie Belle against her will, and go out with her friends tomorrow to the mall and the fabric store, ready to buy the materials for her next dress.

She wanted to run from what was chasing her—something that wore Echo’s face, but spoke with her own voice. It was Rarity’s guilt, and it was that guilt she truly wanted to escape.

She thought about Pinkie, and how she never avoided her despite the danger of being around her—because of her naivety, and her unshakable will not to abandon her. This was something that had to be done. Something that must be done.

Echo gave a fake smile—not her classic, intoxicatingly manipulative grin Rarity so despised, but one so obviously false that it only showed she was trying to look good in front of her. “Why would she want to look good in front of me?” Rarity wondered, watching her white hair disappear into the academy.

The albino girl came out a few minutes later, holding a beautiful mint-green track jacket in her arms and wearing a slight smile that Rarity couldn’t quite interpret.

“Shall we go?” she asked, stopping on the sidewalk outside the academy, where Rarity was waiting for her. Rarity only frowned in confusion as Echo pulled out her phone and typed something on it. “I forgot to mention—it’s Aria’s birthday, so we’re going to the bowling alley to hang out this afternoon.”

Something like words tried to leave Rarity’s throat as her thoughts clashed in puzzled speculation. They were supposed to talk, and yet now Echo was raving about some girl’s birthday—someone she didn’t even know.

But she didn’t have much time to dwell on it, because a luxurious blue SUV pulled up in front of them, hazard lights blinking, blocking the way. From it, Garble—Echo’s boyfriend—jumped out and wrapped his arm around her waist, planting a kiss on her lips.

Rarity looked at them, puzzled, not quite understanding what was happening, when suddenly a third voice joined their sea of whispers—a high-pitched squeal from the SUV window, oddly reminiscent of Pinkie.

“You two are so cute, seriously!” exclaimed a girl with long blue hair tied up in a high ponytail, with eyes as pink as Rainbow’s. Rarity remembered having met her before—the day Echo had dunked her friend’s head in a toilet.

Echo responded with an innocent giggle, so perfect and graceful it made Rarity’s stomach churn. “There’s the fake Echo I know”, she told herself, frowning.

Several more people climbed out of the SUV, greeting the albino girl and receiving greetings in return—completely ignoring Rarity, as if she were little more than street furniture. Some faces she recognized, like Grubber, from humanities class, or Lightning Dust, who was a year below. But there were many others she didn’t recognize, especially the supposed birthday girl, whom she couldn’t even identify in the crowd. However, she did notice the same poofy orange-haired girl she’d seen in the hallway before—the one Echo had referred to as her new “best friend,” Adagio.

She was tall, with reddish eyes and long hair curled into perfect ringlets around her face. Her eyelashes were long, like velvet curtains, and hanging around her neck was a beautiful red gem that immediately made Rarity’s heart beat faster. She wore a purple jacket—so dark it was almost black—with elegant golden spikes along the sleeves, giving her a rebellious, rockstar look. Underneath it, she wore a pink romper with purple accents that flattered her figure, and finished the look with striking black-and-gold boots that matched the spikes, making her appear utterly unique.

Rarity looked her up and down, something inside her assuring her that this girl was more important than she appeared, and that she’d need to remember her—one way or another.

But she didn’t have time to think more about it, because someone gently tapped her shoulder, pulling her back into the crowd’s orbit.

She turned around, unsure of what was going on around her, or what to expect from Echo anymore. She had wanted to talk—but now it felt like Echo was slipping through her fingers, like trying to catch rain in her hands. Echo was slippery—too slippery.

“I know you want to talk, darling, but do you think we could leave it for later? Today’s Aria’s day, and I don’t want to ruin it with something too serious.”

The albino girl spoke almost in a whisper, dragging each word through Rarity’s ears with that intoxicating tone she hated so much. Her face held an oddly sincere expression, her eyes hidden under half-lowered lids in a playful, possessive smirk—one Rarity had never seen from her before. In some strange way, she did seem genuine, as if she really just wanted to enjoy the afternoon with her friends instead of listening to whatever Rarity had to say. And yet, with Echo, she could never be sure. She didn’t trust her—not her intentions, not her words. There was something else.

Something that would surely make Rarity regret being there.

“It’s important…”

“I know. And I don’t want you to think I don’t care about what you have to say, Rarity,” Echo replied, patting her with ironic empathy. “But let’s imagine it were the other way around—and it was one of your friends’ special day. Wouldn’t you want us to wait just a little longer?”

“If the situation were reversed, I’d prefer you didn’t come near me at all, darling”, she thought, her mind seething as the words caught in her throat.

“It’s just that…”

“Look, how about this—we make a deal, okay? Come with us, have some fun, and once we leave the bowling alley, we’ll talk, no waiting, no tricks.”

A nauseating laugh caught in Rarity’s throat, disbelieving what she’d just heard. Spending time with Echo and her friends was practically at the bottom of her list of ways to spend the afternoon. The sheer audacity of Echo suggesting something like that was laughable. How dare she propose that—after everything she had done? After two years, after Sweetie Belle’s grades, after breaking Rainbow’s nose, and after that call to Granny Smith? Where did Echo get that stupid boldness that made Rarity feel so insulted?

To Echo, this all must be hilarious—that dehumanizing suggestion, turning Rarity’s thoughts into a circus act, trampling over her feelings like they didn’t matter. Like she didn’t matter. What kind of monster was she?

She pressed her lips together, frowning in obvious disapproval—which, if Echo noticed, she didn’t show. That feeling of revulsion, of sickened disapproval, was becoming something habitual. Something she would apparently always feel when it came to Echo.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She blinked rapidly, struggling to form a thought. The image of Applejack slamming her fist into Echo’s face came vividly to mind, and the terrible feeling that it was only the beginning of a series of unfortunate events, unless she ended them here and now, settled on her tongue, souring every thought in her mind. One way or another, she had to talk to Echo.

One way or another.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” she asked, not really believing her own words.

“Totally. The girls will love getting to know you better, I just know it.”

Each motion feeling like a monumental effort, Rarity nodded—instantly regretting the decision, yet refusing to take it back.

She climbed into the car behind the so-called Aria, followed by someone named Sonata, who claimed to have met Rainbow before.

The ride was strangely tense: up front, Echo and her boyfriend chatted and flirted as if no one else were there; in the middle, the birthday girl and Adagio talked in hushed tones, frequently casting glances at Rarity; while Sonata “chatted” with her—really just talking to herself aloud. In the back, Grubber and Lightning simply stared at Rarity in silence, their eyes piercing into her neck like sharp daggers.

As for the seamstress, she didn’t say a word during the ride, clutching her purse in her lap, squished between two women she didn’t know, her mind screaming a constant refrain that she shouldn’t be there—that she had no reason to be there. “You’re an idiot, Rarity”, she kept telling herself, clutching her purse tighter and tighter. “You’re an idiot, and you’ll regret very soon having climbed up this car.”

After about twenty minutes of stops and steady traffic, they finally arrived at the bowling alley “The Dragon’s Den,” a place Rarity had never visited. Pinkie had invited her there a couple of times, and once Rainbow said she liked the atmosphere and that it would be fun to go, but to Rarity, a bowling alley underground, buried, that gave the impression of a neglected cave, never seemed particularly appealing.

Swallowing hard and grimacing in distaste, she entered alongside the rest of Echo’s friends. Like a procession led by the albino girl, who was cheerfully chatting with Adagio, they walked through the entire establishment up to the front desk.

Rarity felt uncomfortable, to put it mildly. She felt isolated and in danger, surrounded by people she didn’t like—and who didn’t like her. Grubber and Lightning wouldn’t take their eyes off her, Aria kept glaring at her, and worst of all, Echo was pretending everything was fine, as if her presence there was just as welcome as everyone else’s. The albino was with Adagio and her boyfriend, buying the line, counting the money and handing it to the cashier as if they’d been friends for years—as if she hadn’t broken the nose of Rarity’s real friend.

The air was thick, and being underground didn’t help. The ugly decorations, the fake laughter, and the cigarette smoke from several patrons only served to set all of Rarity’s senses on high alert—her skin crawling, her eyes darting from corner to corner, her lungs filling as much as they could, yet always feeling empty.

What was going through Echo’s mind? Rarity couldn’t figure it out. The girl was unpredictable at best, always deceiving and manipulating her way around the school, using her influence to sweep her despicable acts under the rug one after another, nonstop. She was a bad person—Rarity knew it, Pinkie knew it, Twilight knew it, Rainbow knew it, Applejack knew it, even Fluttershy knew it. So why would she want Rarity there?

Echo walked over to her, smiling goofily as she laughed at some joke from Adagio that Rarity hadn’t caught, showing off those pearly teeth that had hidden so many intentions before, always so successfully. A terrible wave of bitterness settled in Rarity’s stomach when she realized that, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t read her expression.

"I know you’re struggling a bit with money, so I paid for you, sweetie," she whispered in her ear, giving her a light pat on the back.

The group walked to the lane assigned to them, some sitting on the bench to order food or drinks, while others weighed the bowling balls in front of them. Up on the screen, a terrible animation played of a pin being placed on the lane, followed by the names of all the participants:

“Echo MiGoddess,” “BIRTHDAY GIRL,” “Silly Dusk,” “Garbbbbbbbble,” “GRU-bber and the minions,” “Adajio,” “Lainin Do,” and “Rarity.”

Another twist in her stomach. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding at dizzying speeds, mentally berating herself for not having expected this from the start. Echo had said to “have fun” with them—it was obvious that meant bowling with Echo’s nauseating friends. And yet, something inside her had hoped that, somehow, she could slip away to a dark corner, wait for everything to pass, and just talk with the albino girl once it was all over.

But that wasn’t the case now. Now her name was up there on that screen, just like everyone else’s, as if they were friends. The memories of when she first met the albino flooded her mind, that sunny August morning when she walked into her History of Equestria class, not really knowing what to expect, ready to make the best of her situation.

"Hi! I’m Echo."

"Rarity. Darling, I must say, that bag is absolutely magnificent. Where did you get it?"

"Marepool, though I painted it myself. And wait until you see what I have planned for the Spring Fling."

"Oh wow, they have a Spring Fling here?"

"Of course. Didn’t you read the schedule?"

"Well, let’s just say my enrollment here was... a bit bumpy, I’d say, and not exactly my fault."

"Oh, I’m sorry to hear that."

"Don’t worry, one does what one can with the hand they’re dealt, you know?"

"Still, this could be a good chance for me to show you around Canterlot High and help you feel more at home. My mom’s the vice principal, so I have a bit of an edge in that sense. Sound good?"

"Darling, that would be absolutely magnificent."

That morning, during recess, they had walked all around the school, babbling and laughing nonstop like the pair of silly girls they were. Echo had shown her every corner of the school, and Rarity had made the mistake of telling her about her financial situation, and her little, defenseless sister Sweetie Belle. They had wandered through the hallways, the courts, and the classrooms, arm in arm—just like she and Fluttershy did now at the mall, or on the streets, or around the school itself. What had happened? How had everything fallen apart so badly?

She and Echo had been friends, and she didn’t know how to feel about that.

The game began without much fanfare. The albino was terrible, and the only one in the group who seemed to have a clue what they were doing was Sonata, who, without much confidence in her throw, scored a strike on her first try. Round after round, Rarity stayed quiet in her corner of the bench, watching everyone fail their throws spectacularly, then following them and failing just as badly. From time to time, a question thrown into the air, or a burst of laughter and comments would rise behind her as she aligned her arm with the pins, but none of it ever drew a response from her.

The minutes went by the same way. They ordered wings, a cake, and a variety of alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks, to the point where Rarity became just another part of the furniture—a disposable distraction whose only purpose was to fill the gaps between rounds to let others eat.

She hated feeling like just part of the background, but wasn’t willing to do anything to change it.

Sonata landed another strike, again to everyone’s surprise, when Echo sat beside her, laughing at yet another joke she hadn’t heard.

“Rarity, darling, you’re falling behind,” she blurted, pointing to the score that read a shiny “14” against Echo’s equally dismal “33.” “I’m not the worst one anymore.”

Echo let out an ironic chuckle, as if expecting Rarity to respond with another laugh that never came. She simply glanced at the albino from the corner of her eye, an uncomfortable seriousness on her face. The albino quickly noticed the cold response, quieting down again before taking another sip of her beer.

“Well... someone’s in a bad mood.”

A sudden fire climbed up Rarity’s throat, stunned at what she’d just heard. Was Echo stupid? Or was she actually enjoying all of this? She glared at the albino from head to toe, trying to make the gesture as obvious as possible, but got no real response in return. The other girl just kept bouncing her gaze from the scoreboard to Rarity, over and over, wearing that idiotic smile Rarity had come to utterly despise.

“Anyway,” she continued, setting her mug on the table once more and turning fully toward Rarity, “the girls and I wanted to ask you a favor.”

Once again, silence. Rarity stared at her round, pale face twisting again and again into that intoxicating grin—false as a whisper and yet real, tangible, right in front of her.

“Well, since you’ve been so quiet today, I’ll just say it. We picked this place for the vibe, yeah, but also because, well—it’s Aria’s 18th birthday,” she pointed to the twin-tailed girl, “and now that she’s a legal adult, we were wondering if you could teach us how to smoke.”

Rarity flinched slightly, caught off guard by the request. What was that about? How did she even know she smoked?

“Don’t play dumb, Rarity. I’ve seen you outside school when you leave late. I’ve even seen you a couple times in the sewing room, though let’s pretend I didn’t.”

“Why do you want that?”

Echo smiled again, almost as if mocking the other girl’s question.

“It’s obvious, dummy. Just because.”

Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her purse, where she always kept her trusty lighter for these kinds of stressful situations. Rarity didn’t consider herself a smoker—far from it. However, she did admit there was a time, about a year and a half ago, when a pack would last her less than three days. It was during the worst of the stress: taking care of Sweetie Belle on her own, running her dress business, and having no one to talk to at school. She’d picked up the habit from her father, who, among all the terrible things he’d done as a guardian, never hesitated to hand his little daughter a cigarette.

She’d known the taste of nicotine since she was a child, and it wasn’t hard to recall it in her mind—at least not until she met Rainbow and the others.

“Come on, Rari!” Sonata shouted, jumping onto the table, nearly knocking over a beer glass, before plopping down next to Rarity on the couch. Echo threw her a couple of suggestive glances, still wearing that awful expression of fake happiness—that mask she always wore.

“I’m trying to quit,” Rarity defended, looking away toward the floor.

“Duh! We’re not asking you to steal our smokes, addict. We just want you to show us how,” barked Garble, just after rolling the ball down the lane and knocking down a pathetic two pins.

“Pleeeaaaase,” Sonata whined again, now resting her head on Rarity’s shoulder, making her flinch and quickly shrug the girl off.

Echo’s friends stared intently at the seamstress—some glaring, others pleading with innocent curiosity. The only one Rarity couldn’t read was Echo herself. Her eyes pierced through Rarity’s stoicism, but her smile suppressed whatever she was thinking.

“Fine…” Rarity murmured, rummaging in her purse for the lighter. “Just know this isn’t good for you.”

Aria pulled the pack from one of her pockets and offered Rarity a cigarette, which she took with trembling hands. She brought it to her mouth, lit the tip, and tasted that bitter, sobering flavor she knew so well. The earthy heat flooded her lungs, tickling the walls of her throat with those tiny embers that danced across every inch of her body. She closed her eyes and exhaled with a muted whistle, feeling the toxic chemicals spread through her chest and limbs.

“The first thing you need to know is... this is kind of uncomfortable. You’re forcing smoke into your lungs, so don’t expect it to feel nice.”

Slowly, Rarity handed the lighter to Echo, who already held another cigarette between her lips. She lit it and took her first puff.

“Breathe like you would through your mouth. The air needs to flow through the fire and into you, got it?”

Echo let out a couple of harsh coughs, clouds of smoke escaping her lips with clumsy inexperience, before handing the lighter to Garble, who did the same as his girlfriend. Then came Aria, Sonata, Lightning, and finally Grubber. Adagio declined the cigarette for now, earning an inquisitive look from Echo.

“How do people even like this stuff?” Lightning asked, coughing violently and grimacing in disgust.

“It’s the nicotine,” Rarity replied naturally, taking another puff. “Stress is bad for you, darling. And when something so simple makes it go away... well, before you know it, you’ve become part of the problem.”

Echo burst into laughter, followed by Aria and Garble, until all her friends joined in. After a few seconds, Rarity let out a few chuckles too, taking another drag and feeling the calm seep into her fingers.

Her heart rate had slowed, her lungs—ironically—seemed to breathe normally again, and the place didn’t seem so repulsive anymore. She smiled, gazing into the distance, before feeling a gentle pat on the back from Echo.

She slowly turned her blue eyes toward the albino girl, observing every detail of her. She was laughing, as usual, one hand covering her mouth, eyes slightly squinted, still smiling beneath it all. Her voice was melodic, her eyes beautiful—but her lips kept oozing the same lie they always did, that vile lie everyone believed.

And now, Rarity had believed it too.

She crushed her cigarette into the ashtray, nervously swallowing, still tasting tobacco on her tongue. She had laughed with Echo Mirage, shared joy with the bastard who had broken Rainbow’s nose, and let her guard down around her friends—those blind followers who had caused so much trouble for more than one of her closest companions. Garble and Grubber were laughing at Rarity’s comment, even though they had tried to attack Applejack that day. Aria now gleefully enjoyed her coming-of-age gift, despite being the one who had held Rainbow down while Echo dunked her head in a toilet.

She definitely needed to quit nicotine.

“Don’t you just love this, guys? Aria, happy birthday!” the albino called out again, flicking ash onto the floor before blowing more smoke over her friends. Rarity felt disgust—deep and gut-wrenching.

“Where would we be without Echo Mirage?” Adagio asked, raising a beer mug into the air like a toast. “A boring, dull, and frankly tasteless high school.”

“A worse place, for sure,” the mentioned girl replied before turning to Rarity again, dropping an arm around her shoulders. “Much, much worse.”

The game went on as usual, with Sonata taking the lead, followed by Adagio, Garble, and Grubber, who were all within a few points of each other. Then came Lightning, Echo, and Aria, with Rarity finishing last—scoring no points after that moment.

They had a few more beers before heading down into the depths of the underground parking lot. Garble’s truck was at the far end of the lot, along with the rest of the parked electric cars. Rarity had no intention of following them further, but she couldn’t just leave quietly. She still had a job to do.

To her own surprise, though, she didn’t have to remind Echo—because true to her word, the albino was the one who found her as soon as they left the bowling alley.

“That was fun, huh?” she asked, stuffing her hands into her pockets, taking another drag from her third cigarette. Grubber, Garble, Aria, and Lightning were still smoking, while Sonata had stopped after the first one—despite adapting to the hot smoke faster than anyone.

Rarity didn’t answer, simply staring straight toward the back of the parking lot. The place was dimly lit, full of suspicious stains, and ominously empty. The ceiling, though high, somehow felt too close, and the nicotine withdrawal in her system made her feel small. Way too small.

“I gave you my word, Rarity. So go ahead,” Echo said. Strangely, she had left her smile behind at the bowling alley and now wore a calmer, lighter expression, like some deep satisfaction had settled into her. Rarity couldn’t decide whether that made her feel safer or more uneasy.

“It’s about my friends.”

“Oh right. The hyper one, the nerd, the farmer, the crazy girl, and the zoophile, right?”

She stopped in her tracks instantly, her heart pounding like a war drum as deep, burning rage surged from her gut to her clenched fists. Her lips tightened. “Don’t you ever call them that again”, she told herself, grinding her teeth to keep the fumes in her head from exploding into words she’d surely regret.

She might’ve laughed with Echo a few minutes ago, lulled into comfort by the nicotine—but under no circumstances was she going to allow that kind of insult toward her friends.

Echo stopped shortly after, turning around to meet Rarity’s furious face—red to the core and trembling slightly. She smiled, regaining her disgusting expression. “There you are, bitch” she thought.

Rarity closed her eyes, breathing deeply, forcing herself to calm down. This conversation had to go well, it had to. She’d never forgive herself if it didn’t; her friends didn’t deserve to keep suffering under the cruel whims of that psychopath.

“She’s a psychopath, Rarity,” she told herself, opening her hands, the nail marks on her palms throbbing. “That’s all she is.”

“Yes,” she whispered, reopening her eyes, maintaining a serene expression.

“So, what’s going on with them?” asked the albino girl, as the rest of her friends gathered around—not paying much attention, true, but stopping in place.

“We had a deal. I didn’t hold up my end, and that was a mistake. I admit it,” she began, letting the words flow as blandly as possible, careful not to taint them with the embers of anger still burning inside her. “But they didn’t do anything wrong.”

Echo lowered her gaze, thoughtful, still holding that little smile, but clearly analyzing Rarity’s words beneath the surface.

“Let’s just go back to how things were before, alright? I’ll stay in my workshop, not talking to anyone. They’ll stay out of your way. And you go back to whatever it is you do. Simple, elegant, and quick—don’t you think?”

“I see…” the albino replied, still letting her eyes wander downward, resting her chin on her fingers. That was good, right? Echo was considering her proposal.

But it didn’t take long for her to look up again, that smile still painted on her face, though her eyes now narrowed with a terrible, condescending expression—an expression that, the moment Rarity saw it, made her feel like she had just made a grave mistake.

“You say your friends didn’t do anything wrong?” she asked, practically laughing each syllable. “Garble, honey, do me a favor and grab her.”

Before she could react, Garble and Grubber had seized Rarity by the arms and shoulders, shoving her violently against one of the parking lot walls, banging her head in the process. She bit her tongue, tasting the first metallic notes of blood seeping through her teeth, as her mind started racing a million miles a minute—her heart keeping pace.

“You’re adorable, Rarity. Truly.” The albino took a few steps forward, taking another drag from her cigarette, then picked up the purse that had fallen in the scuffle, pulling out a lighter. “But I don’t think even you are naïve enough to believe this whole thing revolves around you, are you?”

Rarity struggled, kicking and growling, trying to break free from the grip that crushed her arms like iron claws, without much success. Her mind was screaming at her to get out, that this had been a mistake, and that she was about to end up like Rainbow—or worse.

“You’re an idiot, Rarity, a complete idiot!” she told herself, locking her gaze on Echo, who was again approaching.

“We had a deal…” she whispered, stopping just inches from Rarity’s face, smiling maliciously. “And you broke it.”

“Please,” she stammered, not even sure what she was begging for, unable to breathe through her nose, her lungs pounding rapidly.

Echo didn’t reply. She just stared with that terrifying look of malice and madness stretching across her face. For two years, Rarity had suffered that intoxicating, fake smile Echo always wore around others. But now… now it was different. Her face was honest. Real. And, in a way, terrifying. Rarity had never seen Echo like this—truly herself. She wondered if Rainbow had seen this side of her.

The albino exhaled through her cigarette, releasing a thick cloud of smoke into Rarity’s face, burning her eyes and stinging with that dull taste of nicotine. She writhed again, trying to break free, only to be slammed back into the wall, her head spinning.

“You’re funny, has anyone ever told you that?” Echo chuckled, letting out a few laughs into the air.

“Please…” Rarity begged again, barely able to look at Echo from the corner of her eye as her fists clenched in a powerless fight to escape. She felt incredibly stupid—like a naïve little girl who’d accepted candy from a stranger. She had agreed to go with Echo. She had stayed. She had convinced herself that talking would change something. She had been the idiot.

“I like it when you beg. So different from your rainbow-haired friend.” She looked over her shoulder, laughing, taking another puff. “A month ago, you told me if I ever said your sister’s name again, you’d knock my teeth out. Don’t see you in much of a fighting mood now.”

The mention of Sweetie Belle quickly transformed all that hopelessness and powerlessness into a deep, guttural rage that took over her entire body. Narrowing her eyes toward Echo Mirage, who was turning back to face her, Rarity thought, “Say her name. Just say it.” She steadied her breathing, ready for whatever came next.

“She’s a sweet girl, your sister. Looks a lot like you,” the albino started, raising her free hand and gently placing it on Rarity’s cheek. “I bet she’s waiting for you right now, huh?”

With a surge of adrenaline she didn’t even know she had, a deep, animal instinct overtook the seamstress. She turned her head sharply toward Echo’s hand, biting down and sinking her teeth into her soft, disgusting flesh.

Echo let out a startled scream, jerking away in a panic, not knowing what to do. Rarity bit down harder, tasting the blood flow into her mouth, staining her teeth—and not caring in the slightest. For a fraction of a second, she imagined Rainbow would be proud of her.

Echo flailed and screamed until she finally landed a solid slap across Rarity’s face with her free hand, scattering ashes everywhere. The blow landed hard and sharp on her cheek, forcing her to let go, her vision spinning.

“You’re fucking insane! Shit!” she screamed, clutching her bleeding hand.

“I tried to be nice, you pathetic excuse for a friend. Pardon my language, but this is what you fucking deserve.”

“You bitch…” Echo barked, then slapped her hard again, reddening her cheek. “You’re a fucking crazy bitch—just like your friend.”

“Birds of a feather,” Garble growled, tightening his grip painfully.

“Shut up!” the albino snapped, making her boyfriend jump back in surprise. “And as for you, I’m gonna teach you a fucking lesson.”

Rarity, barely recovering from the slap, felt Echo grab her blouse and yank it violently, pulling it up in one swift motion, exposing the skin of her abdomen for everyone to see. She gasped, ready to protest—when she began to feel the burn.

Echo pressed the tip of the cigarette against Rarity’s pale skin, leaving a terrible black mark as the warm ashes scorched the surface rapidly. She had never felt so certain in her life of being able to describe hell itself—unfolding across her abdomen like a soft, sheer layer of silk molding to her figure, seeping into every inch of her skin as if a thousand blades were raining down on her. The heat was unbearable—so much so that the flesh around the wound no longer knew whether to feel cold or hot, simply twitching like sparks on burning coal.

It burned. It burned to the bone. And though Rarity might have imagined herself, in such a situation, worrying about the horrible scar it would leave behind, now she could only focus on one thing: screaming.

Never in her life had she let out such a violent scream from her lungs. Never in her life had her throat expressed such genuine and brutal pain. Never in her life had she felt anything like this.

The cigarette burned and burned, until there was nothing left of it.

“Aria! Yours, now!” the albino barked, dropping the charred stub to the floor, admiring the fresh, crimson scar her handiwork had left.

Rarity let out another moan, resting her head against the wall as her eyes darted around, trying to focus on something. Air rushed in and out of her lungs at record speed, yet she felt like she was suffocating—her mind consumed by nothing but the thought of the awful burn on her skin. She felt her blood boil, and instantly decided this was something she would never wish upon anyone.

She lowered her gaze—and focused on the albino.

Maybe… there was someone she would wish it upon.

“Echo…” Aria muttered, taking a timid step forward, her face twisted in horror. “This… This is a bit…”

“Your fucking cigarette! Now!”

Aria looked confusedly at Adagio, then at Sonata, both of whom wore the same stunned, horrified expression as she did. She swallowed dryly, took another hesitant step, and breathed through her mouth, uncertain.

“Give me your fucking cigarette right now or I’ll rip every pretty strand of hair from your head!”

Her violet eyes dropped to the scar on Rarity’s stomach, then slowly met Rarity’s own gaze—filled with regret and anxiety—before handing the cigarette to Echo.

The albino didn’t waste time resuming her task, once again unleashing the miseries of Equestria upon Rarity’s skin—more violently than before. When Aria’s cigarette burned out, it was Garble’s turn, and then Grubber’s, each more hesitant than the last. They didn’t manage to use Lightning’s—she stepped on it the moment she saw what Echo was planning.

By the time it was over, there was no life left in Rarity. No will. No struggle. Only pain. A deep, fundamental pain that left her mind blank—shattered. Garble and Grubber let her go, and she collapsed to the floor, her body limp, her eyes as lifeless as a corpse’s.

Rarity felt dead. Her body burned, and her soul wept. Nothing made sense—not what she saw, not what she heard, not what she smelled. Only what she felt: the fire, the flames, the embers against her skin. Merciless.

“Here’s a new deal, bitch. You’re not saving your stupid friends anymore, but stay quiet like the good little girl you are, and I won’t lay a finger on Pinkie, got it?” Echo snarled, spitting in her face before stepping out of sight, slowly followed by the rest of the group.

A tiny spark flared up inside Rarity’s mind—so weak and insignificant, but bright enough to give her broken thoughts something to cling to. It was red, like the tongues of flame from the cigarette, and it burned with the same passion.

She turned her eyes, dragging her gaze across the pavement until they locked onto the blurry shape of Echo, walking away into the distance.

Yes… that girl was a psychopath. There was no doubt now.

“I hate you”, she thought, just before the spark faded into the air, and the pain forced her to close her eyes, slipping away from the world in an empty echo of memories, of feelings, of sensations.

Chapter 25: Percussion

“And…” she murmured, attentively watching her friend’s movement as Rainbow blurred past the pavement of the park. One second, another, and all of a sudden, she dashed right in front of her, kicking up fallen autumn leaves in her wake.

“Twenty-eight point fifteen!” Pinkie shouted, pressing the stopwatch to stop it.

Rainbow slowed down quickly, stumbling with every step as her feet throbbed inside her brand-new sneakers. They were faster than the old ones, that was for sure, but definitely not more comfortable—at least not yet.

“That was almost worse than last time!” Pinkie cried out, hopping lightly over to Rainbow.

The sun still shone above the sky, albeit faintly. A couple of gentle breezes combed the landscape as the sun prepared to sink behind the Canterlot skyline. The park was a sight Pinkie truly enjoyed—open space, trees like pillars stretching toward the heavens, and that precious orange hue now reigning over nature. Yes, she loved autumn, almost as much as she loved spending time with her friends. And spending time with her friends in autumn was a joy she couldn’t enjoy all year long.

The rainbow-haired girl panted weakly on the pavement, barely able to keep herself upright with her hands on her knees, sweat dripping endlessly down her face.

“That was amazing, Rainbow!” Pinkie muttered, with a painted-on smile across her face.

“I’m sure the next lap will be better.”

The other girl didn’t respond, just kept panting like an old dog, her gaze fixed on the ground as her expression twisted into one of fierce determination. She inhaled deeply—well, as best as she could—and stood up, adjusting the nose strip she wore. According to the school doctor, she didn’t need it anymore. But as Rainbow had told Pinkie: “It’s a promise. A promise that Rainbow Dash will win no matter what.”

“That’s dumb,” she muttered aloud, not realizing she was speaking.

“You.” She pointed at the other girl, pressing her finger hard into her chest. “Race me.”

“Me?” Pinkie asked, confused, her blue eyes darting around the park and then back to her hands, which were still gently holding the stopwatch.

“I need motivation. I can’t see the time—but I can see you.”

Without waiting for a reply, Rainbow ran her hand through her colorful hair and walked over to the bench where she’d left her water bottle, squirting a stream into her mouth. Pinkie noticed, for just a split second, that brown roots were starting to grow at the top of her head.

After a few minutes of preparation, both girls took their positions, ready to launch into a race across the park. They were close to Rainbow’s house, only a few blocks away, in a place commonly known as “Emerald Gardens.” Though there wasn’t much green left these days.

“Three…” Rainbow whispered, muscles tensing in her legs. “Two… One…”

Suddenly, a huge unleashed dog dashed in front of them, wildly flailing a long leash that dangled from its tight collar—like a golden shadow. Startled, Rainbow stumbled and fell face-first to the ground, while Pinkie sprang into the air.

“Harper!” a girl’s angry and exhausted voice shouted from behind them.

Pinkie turned around and caught sight of the hopeless dog owner chasing her pet in vain, before turning her attention back to the dog.

“He’s gonna get away,” she muttered aloud, before sprinting off after the animal without a moment’s hesitation. She didn’t bother to check whether Rainbow was following her, or whether the other girl was even still behind. She just knew she had to catch Harper. If he stayed loose in the park, something could happen—he might run into traffic, or get attacked by another dog, or a thousand other things, each worse than the last.

The dog leapt over an empty bench, startling a flock of birds that had been resting peacefully near a fountain. Pinkie mimicked his movements, chasing him closely and leaping over the same bench, disturbing the poor birds again as they flapped away angrily from the park.

“Sorry!” she shouted, apologizing to a pigeon that flew especially close to her.

A rock hidden among the fallen leaves nearly twisted her ankle, but she managed to pivot swiftly just in time.

“That would’ve been bad,” she chirped to herself in a high-pitched, carefree tone, before locking her gaze back on the dog and continuing the chase.

He was a golden labrador with thick legs and a small snout, looking older than his energetic sprint suggested. Several families in the park had already noticed the energetic pink-haired girl sprinting after the runaway dog, especially since his owner had been loudly yelling “Harper” over and over without the slightest subtlety.

They ran around a huge tree twice, with Pinkie having to jump over a couple’s picnic to avoid ruining their outing, before heading toward the back of the park, where the same fountain from earlier awaited.

Harper leapt again, landing on the grayish edge of the fountain before finally stopping and turning to face Pinkie, tail up, tongue out. With a sharp skid that kicked up some dirt and grass, the girl stopped in front of him, standing tall and steady, ready for a showdown.

“Alright, Harper, this is it, buddy,” she barked, narrowing her eyes and raising her arms playfully.

The dog, for his part, just stretched his front legs, locking eyes with her with surprising expressiveness for an animal.

A few seconds passed that felt, to Pinkie, like hours of an epic standoff. Then, Harper gave a little hop and ran straight at her, tongue hanging from the side, drooling. Pinkie clapped tauntingly, then crouched, ready to receive the dog’s impact. The world around her seemed to vanish.

Every hop, every tiny movement, was a pattern—a rhythm that Pinkie could see and read. Harper’s paws landed, flexed, and pushed off again, over and over. She watched him, clear as day. She started clapping in time with his steps, ready to catch him in her arms, watching everything unfold in slow motion.

In her world, there was only her—and the dog.

By the time Rainbow caught up to her energetic friend, Harper had already leapt into Pinkie’s arms, his big, fluffy body rippling like a wave. But with a fluid motion that even Rainbow found jaw-dropping, Pinkie managed to catch the dog midair just in time, using his weight to pivot in place and hold him close, avoiding a fall. She spun a couple times on the spot, holding him tightly—but gently.

The owner didn’t take long to catch up either, panting even harder than Rainbow, but grinning from ear to ear at the sight of the bubbly pink-haired girl holding her pet like a heavy plushie.

“Harper! You crazy dog!” she cried, grabbing the leash from his collar as Pinkie gently placed him on the ground, her classic smile still shining. Her sporty shirt was now covered in fur and sweat, but she didn’t seem to care at all.

“Who’s a good boy?” Pinkie cooed, softly petting his fur, watching him close his eyes in happiness and finally collapse to the ground after the wild chase. “Oh, the good boy wants a nap.”

“I can’t thank you enough, girl. This crazy dog is gonna get me killed someday.”

“Don’t mention it,” Pinkie huffed, rolling her eyes playfully, unaware of Rainbow approaching behind her. “I’ve got a ton of energy anyway, so running’s always welcome.”

“You didn’t run—you flew! Rainbow exclaimed with starry-eyed wonder. “That was amazing, Pinkie!”

The named girl turned to look at her friend, blushing slightly before glancing back at the dog and his owner, who was now struggling to get him back on his feet.

“Seriously, thank you so much,” the woman added, tugging Harper to stand. Though still cheerful, the dog now looked thoroughly worn out. “Come on, pup. Time to go home.”

Without saying much more, the girl continued on her way, her pet following close behind, heading into the crowd at the park, which, without much delay, went back to whatever it had been doing. Pinkie turned to Rainbow again, this time locking eyes with her—until, suddenly, a memory struck her mind like a bolt of lightning.

“Oh, shoot. We were going to run, weren’t we?” she asked, embarrassed, looking down at the ground and fidgeting with her hands. “Sorry, I got distracted again…”

“What are you talking about?! That was amazing,” the other girl replied, giving Pinkie a friendly smack on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. “Besides, that right there was the best race we could’ve had.”

“The best?”

“How often do I get to time myself against a dog, huh?” Rainbow gave her another playful shove before throwing an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close despite being shorter.

“I guess so… Still, sorry for getting distracted. I try not to.”

The rainbow-haired girl smiled warmly, letting out a hearty laugh as she led her friend back toward their little base spot. “Pinkie, I’m awesome—you know that—but even I need a change of pace sometimes. And you—specifically you—are the only one who can give me that.”

“Me?” she asked, blushing, just as Rainbow let go of her and took another sip from her water bottle.

“Of course! I’d never expect Rarity, Twilight, or Fluttershy to help me train regularly. Applejack? Maybe, if she doesn’t fall asleep. But you—you’re the only one who not only can keep up with me, but actually challenge my amazing talents. I’ve gotta admit it—you’re kinda incredible too.”

A comforting feeling of warmth and calm washed over the girl, softening her usually excited, hyper smile into a gentler, more honest one. One of the things Pinkie loved most about Rainbow was how straightforward she was with her words. Sure, she let her expressions do a lot of the talking—like most people—but she never hesitated to say exactly what was on her mind.

Applejack was more honest than Rainbow, no doubt about it—she could never lie without it being completely obvious—but it was the rainbow-haired girl who never shied away from speaking her feelings; well… almost never.

Rainbow capped her water bottle and stuffed it back into the backpack she’d brought, wiping the sweat off her forehead with a towel. Pinkie glanced up at the sky, noticing the first stars starting to peek out—shy and twinkling—across the darkening canvas as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. Applejack had told her many times that those weren’t actually stars, at least not like the ones back in Ponyville. They were nearby planets—Lumina or Stellara, she’d said. Of course, Pinkie already knew that—she’d seen plenty of stars on the rock farm.

She looked back at her friend, who seemed ready to head home. Rainbow had packed a full-on training kit: water, towels, a spare pair of socks, protein, and a couple of energy bars. Pinkie, on the other hand, had shown up with nothing but a stopwatch… and a balloon that had floated away a couple hours ago. They’d been out since just after noon, training, getting Rainbow ready for the big race looming just a week away—even if, truth be told, they hadn’t made much progress.

The small rainbow-haired girl was making progress, no doubt—she didn’t tire as easily anymore, and her heart was holding up better during high-speed sprints. But only for a few seconds. Her nose still betrayed her, time after time, forcing her to pant like an old dog before she could even get to full speed.

Twilight believed in her—swore up and down she’d cross that finish line without a hitch—but the others were beginning to have their doubts. Not Pinkie, though. Pinkie would never doubt her friends.

“You’re really good at this, you know?” she asked as she stood up, swinging her bag over her shoulder, ready to leave. “I’ve always known you had tons of energy, but not enough to chase down a dog.”

“It was a big one,” the other girl muttered, blushing. “You could’ve caught him if it weren’t for your nose.”

“Caught? Probably. Even now, if it hadn’t caught me off guard, I’d have outrun it. But actually catch it? Nah. I’m awesome, but I’m not exactly good with my hands. Broke my wrist once doing boxing drills, and ever since then, I’m not very precise.”

The two girls walked toward the sidewalk, turning down the street and beginning to circle around the cracked pavement of Rainbow’s neighborhood. Ever since Celestia took over the Canterlot Palace, there had been more focus on improving the lower districts of the city. Still, with Sombra’s followers pushing back to protect their own interests, progress had been slow.

“Well, decorating cakes and dancing at the same time isn’t easy, I suppose,” said the pink-haired girl, scratching her scalp beneath her wild poof of hair.

“You’d make a great pianist.”

“Ooh! Ooh! I’ve always wanted to play an instrument! It’s just that back home there wasn’t much to pick from. It was either Mom’s rock tambourine or my sister’s rock xylophone.”

“No rock piano?” Rainbow asked with a teasing smirk, rounding a corner and spotting the end of her block in the distance.

“Of course not, silly. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, pianos are string instruments. How would you make strings out of rocks?”

Her friend let out a loud snort, walking ahead a few steps, only to be followed by a bouncing Pinkie. Shaking her head with an innocent giggle, she turned back to her. “Either way, if you ever wanna learn piano, just tell me and I’ll teach you. I studied it for a few months, but let’s just say my personality needed something a little more… grand. That’s why I play guitar. The piano’s more of a background thing, while the guitar’s the star—what everyone notices.”

“Piano sounds like fun. If I’ve got the time, I’ll let you know.”

“Oh yeah!” the rainbow-haired girl exclaimed, kicking the air as she turned again, this time stepping into her street. “Just imagine it—Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie! Legendary duo! There wouldn’t be a soul in or out of Equestria who didn’t know us.”

“More like just you. The piano’s more of a ‘background instrument,’ remember?” Pinkie replied, making air quotes and giving her friend a teasing smile.

“Yeah, fair point,” she replied, laughing before turning her eyes to her home at the end of the street, falling silent with a relaxed look on her face.

“Still, why would you even want a pianist? With solos like yours, it’s not like you need anyone else.”

“Not really,” she began, pulling her water bottle from her bag and taking another swig. “But—believe it or not—sometimes I have trouble keeping tempo with my own rhythms. I need someone to guide me. I’d love to have a bassist, but I guess a pianist works too, or a drumm…”

Rainbow froze mid-sentence, her eyes going wide, pupils twitching ever so slightly. Pinkie didn’t take long to notice, confused by her expression. Was she scared? Surprised? Worried? She swallowed nervously, glancing around, watching the streetlights flicker dimly, not quite sure what to do.

“Rain—?” Before she could finish, the rainbow-haired girl grabbed her by the wrist—maybe a little too tightly—and took off running toward the end of the street, straight for her house.

Pinkie stumbled a few steps, but quickly did her best to keep up. Rainbow was pulling her at an insane speed—faster than anything they’d managed during the whole training session—and oddly enough, she didn’t seem to be slowing down.

She held her fluffy hair with her free hand, barely dodging a loose paving stone, turning toward her friend.

“Why are we running?!” she asked, panting between shouts. She pumped her legs faster, trying not to trip over Rainbow’s backpack, which was bouncing and banging wildly off her shoulder. The other girl didn’t answer—just gave Pinkie’s wrist a small squeeze.

“Right. You need to breathe,” she whispered, just barely catching the glimpse of a massive grin spreading across her friend’s face.

Without much time to ask any more questions, they reached the foot of the house, flying toward the garage. Rainbow, barely stopping for a second, yanked the sliding door up to the ceiling with surprising force. She grabbed Pinkie’s wrist again, pulling her into the darkness of the room, completely swallowed in shadows only slightly disturbed by the light from outside.

Pinkie looked around in confusion, watching as Rainbow disappeared into the gloom, muttering things to herself.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, just as she heard her friend’s bag drop heavily to the floor, and the garage was suddenly lit up by the main light overhead.

Rainbow gave a little hop from her spot beside the light switch near the stairs and turned toward the chaos of boxes stacked against the walls. Pinkie followed her every move, watching as the smaller girl dove into the sea of cardboard, only to emerge, awkwardly holding something in her hands.

“Hold this,” she muttered, walking toward the pink-haired girl and handing her a pair of drumsticks.

They were simple—varnished wood with plastic tips, nothing particularly special about them, except for a small Wondercolts sticker near the bottom of one. Pinkie stared at them carefully, wondering what exactly Rainbow wanted with them, until her question was quickly answered.

Rainbow stumbled forward, lugging a massive bass drum on her small frame as she clumsily kicked a pedal along the floor, making a metallic screech with every step. She set the drum down, aligned the pedal, and disappeared again, only to return with more and more pieces of a drum set: a snare, a couple of old, paint-chipped toms, and a floppy hi-hat that at first dropped its top cymbal. Methodically, she arranged each part of the set around a tiny stool, assembling the full kit piece by piece.

“Is she going to play something?” Pinkie wondered aloud, barely moving her lips as she looked from the kit to the drumsticks, and then back at her friend.

After a few more minutes, Rainbow stood in front of the kit, looking at Pinkie with a wide grin, panting like an old dog, finally allowing herself a break after the frantic race to the house and then the mad dash to set up the drums.

Pinkie stared at her friend in confusion, unsure of how to respond to any of this, when the rainbow-haired girl strode over with long, determined steps.

“Sit.”

Without thinking much, still puzzled, Pinkie obeyed her friend, walking shyly over to the stool, still holding the drumsticks in her hands. The drum set gleamed with a ghostly, almost seductive glow, calling her to hit each drum with force and energy. It was old, that much was clear, yet it still looked solid on every one of its many surfaces: the cymbals were dull and grayish, but firm as ever; the bass drum was dusty and rusted in spots, but at least the head was intact; and the snare—well, the snare was the only exception, shining with a pristine rainbow design on both its sides and top.

Pinkie had never played drums in her life, had never even considered trying them. She had wanted to learn instruments, that was true, but she had never truly thought about what she’d like to play—or even what kind of music she wanted to make.

She sat on the stool, perhaps too small for her behind, but still soft and comfortable. She felt the sticks in her hands, cold and slightly splintered, and somewhere far away, like a muffled whisper, she heard Rainbow say something. But her friend’s voice was quickly drowned by the noise in her brain—a noise that now screamed in a single voice.

Her blue eyes scanned every inch of the drum kit, feeling energy creep into her limbs and electrify her fingers as she slowly began to breathe deeper, like she was preparing for something.

It felt good. It felt right.

She grabbed one of the sticks by the bottom end and struck the snare. Unconsciously, her foot slid to the bass pedal and stomped it hard, producing a deep, booming sound. She hit the snare again, then the toms, and then dragged her other foot to the hi-hat, pressing down hard.

Another strike, and another. A kick, then another strike. The sound flowed from her hands like water, gaining more and more strength and speed with every motion. Arm, wrist, ankle, hand—arm, wrist, ankle, hand—again and again, creating something from nothing. Once, Rarity had spoken to her about the beauty of making art, of that magical sensation of “entering the zone” and letting your mind lead you to something that didn’t exist before, something invisible until it was made real. Turning the intangible into the tangible. Giving life to silence.

Until now, she had never understood her friend.

She didn’t notice when she started to sweat.

More strength, more life, more emotion. The energy vibrated from her chest to her fingertips, making her teeth tremble and her tongue taste salt. Her eyes squinted, blocking the sweat, while her mouth twisted into expressions she wasn’t controlling—just reacting to the sound. Pinkie’s mind had gone quiet, silenced completely and swept away by the music, like a sailboat drifting through an empty sea. It was the first time she had felt something like this—the first time anything, aside from her sister or sleep, could truly quiet her mind.

It made her happy. And she hoped it made Rainbow happy too.

She crashed the cymbals twice, delivered a flurry of hits to the drums, and finished again on the roaring clash of cymbals. Her heart pounded wildly, her arms ached, and her clothes clung to her body from the sweat, panting like it was her first time breathing. But there was something else that hurt too—another muscle she knew all too well: her smile. She couldn’t stop smiling.

“That was amazing!” Rainbow shouted, leaping into the air with excitement, her multicolored hair flying. “Pinkie, let me tell you—you’re a natural at this!”

Pinkie didn’t answer, too out of breath for words. She shook her head, slowly nodding with joy, while Rainbow strode over to her friend, leaning against the toms, bringing her face close to Pinkie’s, flashing a wide, toothy grin.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie,” she began, extending a hand to rest on her shoulder, “welcome to the duo.”

Pinkie smiled, and gave the bass drum another kick—this time, a little calmer.

Chapter 26: Hidden Talents

The thunderous sound echoed heavily through every corner of the music room—the drums pounding fiercely against the walls, while Rainbow’s raspy yet surprisingly melodic voice blared from each of the amplifiers on the floor.

“Yeah, I’m awesome! Take caution!” shouted the rainbow-haired girl into the microphone, her words blending with the deafening, but frankly impressive electric guitar chord she played. “Watch out for me, I’m awesome as I wanna be!”

Pinkie struck the drums in front of her with aggressive enthusiasm, keeping a beat so clear and addictive that even Fluttershy couldn’t help but tap her foot along with it.

Standing around the drum kit, Twilight watched her friends with glowing excitement, occasionally furrowing her brows at the sheer volume, but saying nothing. Beside her, Applejack sat on a keyboard case, eyes half-lidded, a shy smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she gently nodded her head to the rhythm. On the other side, Rarity and Fluttershy were both seated on a pair of metal chairs facing the musical duo in silence—silent as corpses.

"It’s normal for me to be quiet," thought Fluttershy, as her friends howled the final notes of their song. "But not Rarity."

Pinkie gave three final hits on the drums, followed by a quick roll on the cymbals, and Rainbow yelled something loudly—though it was lost in the mic’s distortion. Then, silence. The two performers panted heavily as the stillness settled into the room like an unwelcome stranger. It was strange, truly, to have your ears overflowing with sound and music only for it all to vanish in an instant. Fluttershy had never been to a concert, though she admitted she’d love to see her favorite band live. This experience, with her two friends, was the closest she had ever been.

“That was amazing!” Twilight exclaimed, leaping from her seat to wrap Pinkie in a warm and energetic hug, as scattered applause rose from the crowd.

“That was really, really nice,” said Fluttershy softly, her voice nearly drowned by the clapping and ambient noise—she would’ve thought it had been, if not for Rainbow’s playful smile in response as she took a few steps toward her.

“Well, Flutters? What did you think of our awesome duet, huh?” she beamed. “The coolest guitar in Equestria and the coolest drums in Equestria.” She unplugged her guitar from the amp but kept playing a few chords with her other hand. “I’m trying to come up with a catchy name—maybe Rainbow and the Stars? Or Rainbow and Her Army?”

“Those sound wonderful,” Fluttershy replied, nodding slightly as she watched Rarity stand and retreat to a corner of the room, beside Applejack, who now looked about ready to pass out with the quiet taking over. Fluttershy narrowed her gaze, concerned. Why is Rarity acting like this? She’d been distant for a while now, and something inside her said she needed to know why—no matter what.

She turned back to her small friend, who was still grinning from ear to ear, strumming invisible chords in the air. Maybe for now, she decided, it was best to let Rainbow have her moment in the spotlight—and deal with her worries afterward.

“Yeah, I know. I tried suggesting names to Pinkie, but she’s so in love with her drums she doesn’t hear a word I say. Have you noticed she always says yes to whatever you propose? Weird.”

Fluttershy considered this for a moment, pressing her lips together before calmly licking them.

“I think she’s always been like that. She likes making people happy... maybe a little too much.”

“Yeah… but hey, she likes her drums. So, if she’s happy, I’m happy. Right?”

Fluttershy nodded, glancing instinctively toward Rarity again, who was still seated beside Applejack, wearing a relatively neutral expression.

Three days ago, the seamstress had vanished from every social media platform for a full day, only to return the next looking distant and serious, as if something had heavily burdened her spirit. At the time, Twilight, as the group’s unofficial spokesperson, had asked if everything was okay. The question had been met with a vague list of excuses and justifications—none of which, Fluttershy’s instincts told her, had convinced any of the five. Still, they were publicly accepted as a reasonable explanation, and the subject was dropped—for now. All of them knew something was wrong, and just like with Applejack, she couldn’t help but see Echo’s image creeping into her mind.

She squinted again, feeling her backpack shift slightly at her feet. “Just a second, please,” she thought, grabbing it by the strap and slinging it over her shoulder.

“You want to ask her too, don’t you?” Fluttershy spun around suddenly, reacting to the sound as though it had pricked her skin. She found Rainbow looking at her with a concerned smile. “I think all of us do, to some extent. But lately, between that and the race... it’s all I can think about.”

“She…” Fluttershy stammered, unsure what she even wanted to say. She felt terrible for stealing Rainbow’s moment, yet a part of her was thankful she’d brought up the subject. “What do you think it is?”

“Judging by how close she’s been to Applejack lately, I’d guess it’s something with her family too. Maybe something with Sweetie Belle.”

“Did Applejack tell you what happened with her family?”

“Not more than she told you guys,” Rainbow shrugged, taking the seat where the seamstress had been earlier. Fluttershy followed and sat beside her, placing her backpack on her lap. “But she did say she was scared her grandma would find out ‘her secret’—whatever that means.”

“That she failed a school year,” Fluttershy thought anxiously, recalling the helplessness she felt seeing her tall friend cry in the rain, speaking of school and life balance.

“I don’t know what she meant either,” she lied, looking away to her hands, gently clasping them.

“Starswirl help those two lovebirds,” Rainbow chuckled weakly, resting her guitar between her legs and bouncing them anxiously. “Although right now they could really use a distraction. Especially Rars. Apples is too sleepy to do anything else.”

Fluttershy let out a small laugh, glancing toward Applejack, who truly looked like she was struggling to stay awake. But the smile vanished quickly, replaced by a grimace as the memory of the rain-soaked scene crept back in.

Applejack was at odds with her family. Rarity had been acting strange for a while. And no matter how much she tried to hide it, Fluttershy could see how stressed Rainbow was about the upcoming race—and the fear of not being able to run again. Her group of friends was cracked, emotionally and mentally worn down. And she was floating in the middle of it all—empty, powerless.

She hated that feeling. That feeling of facing a problem she simply couldn’t fix, no matter how hard she tried. No matter how much she wished or prayed for change, life seemed set on making her feel small and useless. It reminded her of those days at the shelter, when the sad hour came for one of the animals—whether from old age, accident, or an illness that hadn’t been caught in time, it came for them all eventually. Fluttershy loathed those moments—having to prepare everything for an animal’s final breath.

Years ago, a girl once came to the shelter with a dying cat—its legs broken from being hit by a car just minutes before. The girl had secretly been feeding the cat behind her parents’ backs, who had forbidden her from keeping any pets. And now, because of that, she couldn’t take the cat to a proper clinic. Not that it would’ve made a difference—the poor thing was already at death’s door. Fluttershy couldn’t do a thing. That day, the girl left with a small urn that Fluttershy paid for out of her own pocket—and a look of sorrow that haunted her for the rest of the year.

She saw that same sorrow in Rarity’s eyes, hidden behind her thick curtain of glamour and fabulosity. She knew it. She felt it.

“I want to do something…” she muttered to herself, gritting her teeth, torturing herself inwardly—so caught up she didn’t even notice Rainbow had walked off to talk with Twilight and Pinkie.

Fluttershy turned her gaze to her backpack, watching its gentle movements under her hands, like a soft massage. All her life, that backpack—that warmth—had felt like the only familiar thing beyond her home. And yet, now she was surrounded by the most important people in her life, aside from her parents.

How had things changed so much? She didn’t know. But she liked it. She liked that things had changed.

Twilight and Pinkie had already helped her at the shelter several times, and although Rarity was clearly the superior artist, Rainbow never stopped praising her skills—both with words on paper and with a pencil. Fluttershy loved making things for her friends, her family, or her animals, and nothing made her happier than seeing the joy on someone’s face when receiving a gift she’d made.

She turned to Rainbow, remembering the violent yet oddly pleasant way the girl had thanked her the day after receiving her new sneakers. She had hugged her and spun her in the air, knocking the breath out of her, but flooding her face with blush and gratitude. Nothing compared to the expression her friend had worn in that moment: the widest, most genuine smile she had ever seen.

Yes, Fluttershy loved her friends, and she loved seeing them happy. She wasn’t alone anymore, and now she knew—no matter how hard Echo Mirage tried to convince her otherwise—that she didn’t hate people.

She glanced over at Rarity and Applejack—the former typing something nonsensical on her phone, and the latter asleep in the stylist’s lap. She knew she had to do something. She had to find a way to bring back the smile she loved so much. She had to give them a gift.

She stood up, resolved, slung her backpack over her shoulder once more, and walked purposefully toward Rainbow, who was laughing at a joke she hadn’t heard.

“Rain…” she whispered, gently tapping her friend’s shoulder.

The rainbow-haired girl turned around with her usual mischievous grin, stepping aside to let Fluttershy into the conversation.

“Flutters! You have to hear the joke Pinkie just told!”

“It was disgusting,” Twilight said, eyes wide, wearing an irritated grimace.

“You're just like my mom, Twi. Have I told you that?”

“Rain…” Fluttershy whispered again, gripping her friend’s shoulder with a strength she didn’t know she had. Rainbow stopped laughing instantly, though still smiling.

“Can I ask you something?”

Rainbow blinked, a little confused. “Of course. What’s up?”

“You mentioned…” she began, inhaling deeply as she realized her voice was too soft. “You mentioned Rarity could use a distraction. Do you have any idea what that could be?”

“Of course, duh,” she snorted loudly. “Take her to an art exhibit and she’ll have a blast. But you want to know what would really distract her world?” Fluttershy took a step forward, caught in her friend’s words, her heart pounding faster and faster. “This.”

Rainbow stepped back, smiling, spreading her arms wide as her guitar swung like an invisible pendulum. A strange warmth flooded Fluttershy’s arms—it felt like something bigger than herself was happening right in front of her, and she didn’t even realize it. But she wasn’t alone—Twilight was looking at Rainbow with the same bewildered expression, and Pinkie looked as distracted as always.

“I call us The Rainbooms. Cool, right?”

Fluttershy’s heart skipped a beat, still confused, but beginning to piece together what her friend was hinting at—and more importantly, starting to form a plan in the back of her mind.

“I’ve told Rarity to play with us—she knows a bit of piano—but she won’t. Says our music is nothing more than ‘word mash,’ snob.”

“Rarity knows how to play piano?” Fluttershy asked, incredulous, subconsciously grabbing Rainbow’s wrist.

“Yeah, she doesn’t talk about it much 'cause she’s all about dresses and fabrics and bedsheets—you know, curtains. But yeah.”

Suddenly, a memory slammed into Fluttershy’s mind—so vivid it felt like she was seeing it again, and so real she could almost touch it with her fingers: Applejack’s room. When she’d gone to Sweet Apple Acres to pick up her money, she’d entered the Apple sisters’ bedroom, ordered there by Granny Smith to gather the cowgirl’s dirty laundry.

The room had been relatively normal: two perfectly made beds, one with a red comforter and the other with a blue one, both facing a huge wooden wardrobe. But what had caught her eye back then—and now shone in her head like a star—was what hung beside the window: a stunning, fiery orange bass guitar.

“Pinkie on drums, Rainbow on guitar, and now, Rarity on piano and Applejack on bass,” she thought, spinning and weaving a plan that, finally, could bring back the smile she missed so much—something that would finally make her feel useful.

She looked at Rainbow again, not realizing she was smiling from ear to ear, something unusual for her, and grabbed her hand suddenly, shaking it.

“Thank you, Rainbow.”

“Thanks? For what…?”

But Fluttershy didn’t answer. She simply smiled.

“The Rainbooms. Yeah, that sounds cool.”

Chapter 27: The Rainbooms

The band over her eyes bothered her a bit, especially considering that, for the first time in a long while, she wasn't wearing her glasses. Still, just by touch, she was able to tell that the person who had climbed in next to her was Applejack.

“Who's there?” Rainbow asked in a high-pitched voice—perhaps too high-pitched for her own liking.

“It’s me, sugarcube,” replied the cowgirl, clumsily dropping into the seat beside her, making it obvious that either she was sleepier than usual, or she too was blindfolded.

Twilight pressed her arms tightly against one another, shrinking further into the already cramped walls of Fluttershy’s car. To her right, Pinkie let out a sound that resembled a slowly deflating balloon as she pushed up against Rainbow at the far end of the seat.

“Good evening, AJ,” Rarity murmured politely from the passenger seat, also blindfolded—though using a sleep mask at her own insistence, since in her words, “a bandage would ruin my eyelashes.” “Fluttershy, darling, are you around?”

Her question was answered by a dry, muffled thud as the car door slammed shut, hitting both Applejack’s bundled-up body and the cold aluminum frame. Almost immediately, the driver’s door opened, letting in a figure Twilight assumed was their shy friend.

“I’m here. Sorry for the tight space, girls. I promise the ride will be short.”

“Surprise trip!” Pinkie shouted excitedly, tossing her pink curls over the brunette and struggling to lift her arms, without much success. “Where do you think we’re going? I bet we’re heading for a picnic in the Everfree Forest, or maybe a private dance with President Celestia! Ooh, I know! We’re going to a magical world of colorful ponies who use magic and fight to save the world!”

“I envy your creativity, dear, but I find that highly unlikely.”

“The odds may be low—but never zero!”

Twilight stifled a giggle, unconsciously glancing around, as if trying to see her friends’ smiles—only to be met with more darkness. That always comforted her, always made her feel better: seeing the people with whom she had so quickly formed such a deep connection smile and have fun with her. It was always a lovely sight.

Of course, lately, there hadn’t been much of that.

It wasn’t a secret among their group of friends that something was wrong—not in the sense that one of them secretly resented another and refused to talk about it, but more in the sense that each was far too caught up in fighting her own battles to worry about anyone else’s. Applejack’s sleepiness had reached new extremes; just two days ago, she had fallen asleep on the bus and missed the entire school day. Combined with the quiet family struggle they all knew she was going through, their stoic friend had become little more than a statue. Rarity, usually chatty and playful, now walked in ominous silence, punctuated by fake smiles and flimsy excuses. She spent more and more time alone in her sewing studio, catching up on delayed orders—or so she claimed. Fluttershy had offered to help several times, but was always gently turned down. And though Rainbow wouldn’t admit it, she was feeling more anxious and stressed about the race every day, letting her nerves get the better of her with thoughts like “What will people think of me if I can’t even win a friendly race?” Twilight couldn’t help but feel guilty sometimes, wondering if she had planted that seed unintentionally.

And on top of all that, there was the stress of her birthday—a birthday that, for the first time, she was organizing without her mother’s support.

The car started up, pulling away from what Twilight’s mental map told her was the Canterlot Mall and diving deeper into the city. It was night, nearly ten o’clock—just a few minutes short. An hour ago, the brunette had been about to change into her pajamas and get ready for bed, all set to support Rainbow early in the morning at the race, when she got an urgent call from Fluttershy. She asked her dad for permission to go out, and after a bit of back and forth, he finally agreed—on the condition that she keep her location shared at all times. Fluttershy picked her up a few minutes later.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. I can’t tell you.”

“Alright… I guess.”

“By the way, I need you to wear this too.”

“And what’s this for?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Rarity was already in the car when Twilight climbed in. Afterward, they picked up Pinkie and Rainbow, who had been training at the park, and finally Applejack, just getting off her evening job.

They turned right—what Twilight assumed was Mare Boulevard—heading west through the city.

Canterlot was a modern city of tall buildings and narrow streets. It was nestled on the slopes of Sun Mountain, the tallest of the peaks that sliced Equestria in half—The Celestial Mountains—in one of its valleys hidden from the biting cold of high altitudes. The Clover River, named after Clover the Clever (one of Equestria’s three founders), ran through the city center. It flowed down the mountain and southward, reaching Baltimare and emptying into Horseshoe Bay.

It had always been Twilight’s home—from childhood up to now—with the rare exception of work-related trips her father had taken to nearby cities.

She recalled one such time, when she was fourteen, when her entire family moved to Vanhoover for two months so Mr. Night Light Sparkle could serve as a panelist at Equestria’s annual economics convention. She remembered feeling especially excited and terrified about the trip. For the first time since they had parted ways, she might get to see Moon Dancer again in person. She knew her friend attended the gifted school in Vanhoover and knew exactly when to find her, but the bitter taste of their last encounter made it hard to go through with it. Of course she wanted to see her. Of course she wanted to know how she was doing. Of course she wanted to see if she still looked as cute as she had the last time they met. But she hadn’t had the courage.

She returned from Vanhoover without Moon Dancer ever knowing she’d been there, and promised herself she’d never let anyone in that way again—never subject herself to that kind of pain again. Of course, her fourteen-year-old self hadn’t seen it coming: a broken pair of glasses would eventually mean letting not one, but five new people into her life.

And wow, how life had twisted since then.

A sudden jolt from a speed bump pulled her out of her trance. She realized she’d stopped paying attention to where Fluttershy was driving and had lost track of their route in her mind. At another time, that feeling of uncertainty would have made her feel overwhelmed, vulnerable, and anxious. But now, all she could think about was the discomfort of her seat, resting her head on Pinkie’s shoulder—softly cushioned by the girl’s thick, fluffy hair.

They drove on in relative silence until finally, Twilight heard her shy friend put the car in park and turn off the engine, the interior lights glowing faintly through the edges of their blindfolds.

“We're here,” Fluttershy whispered, opening her door, and Twilight interpreted the sound as her getting out.

“It’s about time. Can we take these off now?” Rarity asked, letting a hint of exhaustion slip into her voice.

“Not yet.”

Fluttershy helped all five of them out of the car, stumbling a little, holding hands, with Pinkie leading the way in bouncing steps and Applejack dragging her feet at the rear.

Feeling their way forward, they crossed a patch of soft grass before climbing a few small steps that led them onto a smooth marble-floored hallway. It didn’t take Twilight long to guess they were back at Canterlot High, but for her friend’s sake, she decided to keep quiet until they reached the end.

They turned left, passing the library and the computer labs as they headed into the east wing of the school, walking all the way to the edge of the horseshoe-shaped building. They kept moving through the hallways, a gloomy dimness filtering through the band over their eyes, only broken here and there by faint scratches of artificial light bleeding in from outside the building.

“We’re going to the gym”, she thought, as a new wave of questions surged through her mind: How had she gotten in if the school was already closed? How did she get the key? Did Cadence know about this?

That morning, after classes, her sister-in-law had left early, forcing her brother to pick Twilight up—supposedly because she had to handle some things for Saturday’s race. At the time, Twilight hadn’t thought much of it. But now, she couldn’t help but feel that something was definitely up—something smelled fishy. “She knew all along”, she thought, remembering the dopey smile on Cadence’s face as she drove off in her car that morning.

Twilight smiled unconsciously just as, ahead of her, a harsh, rusty sound groaned somewhere deep inside the building. They took a few more steps forward—and stopped.

“We here yet?” Rainbow asked, letting out a loud sigh.

“Just a second.” Fluttershy darted off into the depths of the room they had just entered, her footsteps echoing softly in every corner, fading as she moved farther away. What were really only a few seconds passed like entire decades for Twilight, as she felt her heart beat faster and faster in anticipation.

Fluttershy had always been reserved about everything—her tastes, her dreams, her routines, her motivations. She didn’t like to boast about anything to anyone and would always keep a low profile if she could. But that was never true when it came to giving gifts, to planning surprises. She had happily paid Applejack’s share of Rainbow’s present, and more than once had surprised Pinkie with a homemade cake. Of course, no surprise or gift had ever been like this. None had involved a blindfolded night trip across the city. And none had been for all of them.

Twilight swallowed nervously and jumped a little when the gymnasium lights clicked on above them.

“Not yet!” Fluttershy shouted, followed by a frustrated groan from Rainbow, who had probably been about to tear off her blindfold a little too early.

Fluttershy trotted back to her friends, stopping in front of them, then reached out to take someone’s hand—who took Twilight’s—who then took someone else’s. They walked a few more steps, stopping where Twilight guessed was the center of the gym, facing what was normally one of the basketball hoops.

“Okay, before you take off your blindfolds, I just want to say I’m sorry for all of this. I really wanted this surprise to be special, and I didn’t want to risk anyone finding out what this was about.”

“Darling, please—there’s absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

“I’m gonna rip my eyes out. I need to see.”

“Just a second.” The clumsy sound of paper unfolding echoed in front of them, and then Fluttershy cleared her throat. “It’s already November. Time flies. It feels like just yesterday we met… and decided to be friends. Honestly, I don’t have the words to express how much you mean to me, and how much you’ve changed my life forever.”

“I love you, Fluttershy!” Pinkie shouted, who apparently was the one holding Twilight’s left hand, giving a tiny hop in place.

Fluttershy giggled, a little embarrassed, and continued. “I know these past few weeks have been hard, and that each of you is fighting her own battle in silence. And that’s okay. What’s not okay is for you to think, even for a second, that you’re alone—because you’re not, and you never will be.”

Twilight felt her heart do a tiny leap in her chest, her brows knitting together as a beautiful warmth settled in her stomach. She wasn’t one of the ones Fluttershy was talking about—not really—and yet she couldn’t help but feel a soft comfort in knowing that, no matter what happened, she would be there for her.

She thought of Moon Dancer and how she had been too afraid to go see her, wondering if someday she might reach that same point with one of them.

Or with her mother.

She heard the sound of paper being clumsily crumpled, followed by a quiet breath from Fluttershy.

“We all have our own things, and that’s okay. Like Twilight said during her sleepover, we’re all really different from each other—and that difference is what makes our friendship so… interesting, and something new. But I don’t think that has to be a reason not to do something that we can all enjoy—something that, no matter what happens, reminds us that we can count on one another.”

Something dropped softly to the floor, followed by the clumsy sound of a zipper opening.

“Rainbow, could you hold out your hand, if you don’t mind?” Another sound—the slide of something being pulled from a fabric bag, like a backpack.

Fluttershy walked up to them, stopping just a few steps in front of Twilight, waving something in the air that, from the sound alone, Twilight couldn’t make out.

“This is something I wrote. It’s not very good, and I probably made a couple of mistakes… but it would mean a lot to me if you read it.”

A few unintelligible noises answered that exchange, followed by a silence that only made Twilight’s heart race even more. What was it? What was happening? She had never missed her glasses more than she did right now.

But her anxiety didn’t last long before it was broken by a stunned gasp from Rainbow.

“Girls…” her rainbow-haired friend whispered. “Take off your blindfolds.”

Confused, Twilight obeyed, reaching up toward her collar to grab her glasses, slipping them over her ears as the world around her finally came into focus.

They were in the school gym—that part she had guessed correctly—but never in a million years would she have imagined what she now saw: the classic announcement stage placed at the far end of the room, dramatically lit by several auditorium spotlights, shining in an impossible array of colors that, though Twilight had seen them many times before, had never looked so beautiful. At its center stood an impressive drum set—definitely not Rainbow’s old hunk of junk—surrounded by several microphones and amplifiers arranged in a perfect crescent around the platform, with space left in the middle for an eye-catching orange-and-yellow bass with an apple emblem on the head, and the classic guitar she had seen and heard so many times before. In the back stood the school’s keyboard—arguably the most ordinary instrument of them all—yet it blended perfectly into the ensemble, which now seemed like a gift from the heavens.

“By Starswirl…” Twilight whispered in disbelief, taking a step forward.

The rest of her friends followed instinctively, drifting toward the stage as if they were admiring a painting.

“Everyone… meet the Rainbooms.”

Twilight turned her gaze to Fluttershy, who—she now noticed—was smiling from ear to ear for the first time, her lips pressed together like she was trying not to cry. Her eyes were shining—shining in a way Twilight had rarely seen in anyone—and somehow, that made her heart pound even faster than everything else already had.

“You were wrong, Spike”, she thought, letting that same smile bloom across her own face as she turned back to the stage and the instruments. “It’s not just about making them laugh. It’s about this.”

“We’re a band? Oh by Starswirl, tell me we’re a band! Rarity! We’re in a band!” Pinkie exclaimed, hopping up onto the platform and skipping around to get a closer look at each instrument.

“I… I don’t understand, dear,” Rarity stammered, looking at Fluttershy with stunned emotion.

“Well… I have my animals, you have your gorgeous dresses, Twilight has her books, Rainbow her races, Pinkie her parties, and Applejack her farm. Each of us has something that’s deeply ours—something beautiful—that, in some way, defines who we are. But when I saw Pinkie and Rainbow playing together, I realized… maybe who we are isn’t just what we do alone. Maybe who we are can also be found in who we’re with. This… this is something I think could exist with all six of us.”

Rarity nodded thoughtfully, then turned to the platform and climbed up with Pinkie’s help.

“You did this?” Rainbow asked in disbelief, staring at what she was holding. Twilight turned fully now, lightly trotting toward her friend and finally seeing what Fluttershy had given her: a yellow folder, inside of which was a pristine printout that looked like a full song—lyrics, tempo markings, and notes etched across a staff, layered over dozens of others outlining different instruments.

Twilight stretched her neck, reading more closely, and spotted the ornate titles at the top of each sheet:

"Rainbow Dash: Lead Guitar and Backup Vocals"

"Applejack Apple: Bass"

"Pinkie Pie: Drums"

"Rarity Flanks: Keyboard"

"Twilight Sparkle: Lead Vocals"

A strangely comforting chill dried her hands, making her rub them nervously against her denim jeans. She had never sung before in her life, never sung in front of anyone, and had certainly never seen herself as the lead voice of any ensemble. She knew how to read sheet music and lyrics—but only as a nerdy educational pastime, not because she actually thought she’d ever sing for someone, let alone play an instrument.

Almost as if reading her mind, Fluttershy walked over to her side, taking the sheet with Twilight’s name on it and holding it up so she could see it more clearly.

“I wasn’t sure if you played any instruments, Twilight, so I played it safe and made you lead vocals.”

“M–Me?” Twilight croaked, stunned, as more and more of her body began reacting to the idea of singing. “I… I don’t know…”

“It’s okay. I know you’ll do great.” Fluttershy smiled gently, placing the sheet in her hands as she stepped away to talk with the others—about something Twilight couldn’t quite make out.

Twilight’s dark eyes scanned every detail of the song. She read and reread the lyrics, unsure of what exactly they were about—or worse, how they were supposed to sound. She nervously licked her lips, imagining all the possible outcomes in her mind: it was obvious how important this was to Fluttershy, and under no circumstance could she live up to the expectations Fluttershy had for her—expectations Rainbow, Pinkie, Applejack, or Rarity could meet, no doubt.

She looked up, seeing her shy friend chatting happily with the cowgirl as the latter picked up the bass and began playing something Twilight couldn’t hear, her eyes on her own sheet.

“They’re all going to do great”, she thought, lowering her gaze to the lyrics again. They were beautiful lines, flowing rhythmically and harmoniously—something Twilight understood perfectly well in theory.

But not in practice, she reminded herself, flipping through the notebook of lyrics.

She hadn’t prepared for this. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t even notice when she began clenching her fists, crumpling the sheet’s edges.

“I know that look, foureyes,” Rainbow said with a flirtatious rasp, stepping in front of her and snatching the sheets from her hands. “Come on, tell me—what’s up?”

“Me? Oh, nothing,” Twilight said, a heavy blush spreading across her cheeks. “Just… thinking about how it should sound.”

“Uh-huh. Well, gotta admit, it’s impressive Fluttershy pulled this off in so little time. Not as impressive as my songs…”

“Don’t tell me—because you’re amazing?”

“Because I’m amazing, yes. But still, this sounds like a really solid track. And, much as it hurts to say it, I’ve never arranged anything more than a guitar part in my songs. I don’t know how she managed this.”

Twilight looked at her friend, noticing her rainbow-colored bobbed hair already giving way to brown roots, and watching her reread both her own score and Twilight’s. She seemed impressed—yeah, maybe even blown away—but not nervous. On the contrary, she looked excited.

“Because she knows she can pull it off”, Twilight thought, lowering her eyes to the floor again.

She didn’t want to let Fluttershy down. Not after seeing that radiant smile on her face.

“But hey. Standing around won’t help us any, so I’m gonna head up there. Just this once, I’ll let you outshine me on vocals, Sparkle—for Fluttershy.” Rainbow finished with a smirk, handing back the sheet and striding toward the stage.

Each of them had a role to play—a part in this that she couldn’t imagine being done any other way but perfectly. And that perfection, Twilight knew, was something she could never reach. But what was even the point of it all? Why was she supposed to chase that ideal—so distant, and yet so necessary?

She looked at her friends, now all four of them onstage, tuning, adjusting, chatting, or playfully hitting things while Fluttershy gave them notes and reminders about how to perform the song. Yes—something in her eyes sparkled like never before, like this was what her soul was meant for, the way Twilight’s soul was meant for books… and nothing else.

Nothing else. Her soul wasn’t good for anything else.

Once again, she reread the sheet, unconsciously humming the notes and tempos as her mind circled back to herself—what it meant to be her.

Velvet Sparkle had tried to tell her—tried to help her understand, so many times. And now, in front of her, she was watching the birth of an artist: a woman who, timid and reserved as she was, would crawl through filth to achieve what she wanted, what she longed for. And yet, Twilight couldn’t understand that. She didn’t know why.

Twilight had nothing. Before the Gala, before her friends, she had been about to abandon everything—walk away from two years of her life, leaving behind nothing but the echo of some stupid book she’d already read. Sure, she could almost recite Pillars of Equestria by heart, but had that really been worth two years? Was that really what life was supposed to be?

She remembered the words President Celestia had recited when she was sworn in for a second term at the Canterlot Palace—words that, even then, Twilight hadn’t fully understood… and still wasn’t sure she did now:

“Equestria is a country with great wings, but wings are useless if all you want is to fly into the sun. Sometimes, you have to migrate.”

Fluttershy had understood that—and she was making sure they did too. Maybe, just maybe, Velvet Sparkle had been right about her.

She didn’t know when she started crying. Crying over what, exactly? For realizing she had been wasting her life? For envying that her friend wasn’t wasting hers? For not knowing what to do? For—what?

Fluttershy had said that who they were went beyond what they did alone—that maybe, their names could mean something more, something they could invent together, create together. Spike had gotten them to smile—but this… this was something else.

A storm broke in her heart—a battle between the cold, lonely anguish of the life she’d lived… and the warm, comforting peace that came with knowing she didn’t have to face it alone—not anymore.

All because Rainbow decided Echo had no right to step on her glasses.

It was funny, in a way. She couldn’t help but feel grateful to Echo for planting the seeds of chaos that brought the six of them together. For all her cruelty and malice… that much, at least, Twilight had to give her. Because of her, she now knew—whatever happens, she didn’t want to go through it alone.

She wiped her tears with an awkward swipe and jogged toward the stage, leaping onto it.

“Darling! Ready to shake the earth?” Rarity beamed.

“Not quite,” Twilight replied, bypassing the mic and heading for Rainbow’s backpack. The girl always carried everything except school supplies, so if she hoped to find an instrument for her friend, this was her best shot.

This was going to be a six-girl ensemble, no matter what.

Her friends made remarks she didn’t catch, too busy digging through the chaos of Rainbow’s backpack—pulling out sweaters, handheld game consoles, dozens of tangled (mostly broken) cords, and, strangely, a framed picture of Daring Do, which Rainbow snatched up with a blush and stuffed into her jacket.

Finally, she found what she was looking for: a small tambourine, missing two of its jingles, but it would do. She stood up and walked over to Fluttershy, thrusting the instrument into her hands—maybe a little too aggressively.

“Here.”

The timid girl blinked in confusion, trying to process what had just happened. Before she could react, Twilight gently took her hand and placed the tambourine into it, making sure she held it.

“What is this?” Fluttershy finally managed to whisper.

“Meet the Rainbooms,” Twilight said, mimicking her earlier tone, forcing a smile that—somehow—didn’t feel forced at all. It was already there, hidden on her lips, just waiting.

With a squeal and a happy hop, Pinkie jumped off the stage to push her shy friend up and into the newly formed band.

“B-but I didn’t write a tambourine part! It won’t work!”

“It will work. I know you’ll do great,” Twilight said again, now smiling effortlessly. She couldn’t name exactly what she was feeling in that moment, but one thing was certain: whatever happened next, she had to keep going.

She had to migrate.

“Something new, something beyond”, she thought—giving her soul, for the first time, a different kind of value.

Now, it existed for one thing: to sing with her friends.

Whether it went well… or not.

She adjusted the mic and brought it to her lips.

Before Fluttershy could complain again, Pinkie took her seat on the stool and clicked her drumsticks together rhythmically, shouting:

“One, two, three!”

“We've just got the day to get ready” she began, before realizing her microphone wasn’t on. She flipped the switch, causing a muffled thump in the amps that quickly turned into her voice. “And there's only so much time to lose.”

She turned her head and found Fluttershy’s eyes locked in terror, fixed on the crude tambourine in her hands, hitting it rhythmically along with the drums. Twilight looked back at the mic, then at the sheet music, picking the song back up.

The lyrics came, flowed, and faded away, one after the other like an endless soup of sound. Her heart began to beat faster and faster as she heard Rainbow’s voice join in the background vocals. The bass kept an invisible tempo that made Twilight’s emotions dance, sweeping the ground and lifting the girls into an unreal space only they could see. They were flying—she was sure they were flying.

Pinkie kicked off the chorus, her voice coming out hoarse, like a cry of joy with every word. Twilight didn’t know if she was doing it well or badly, or if she was doing it the way Fluttershy had imagined—but whatever the case, this was something new. Something more than just a book.

Twilight felt alive, and for the first time in a long time, she also felt her friends alive—happy, whole.

Time slipped away, vanishing into every crack and crevice of the auditorium. If it had been up to her, she would have sworn they’d been playing there for a lifetime, stretching into the infinite edges of the universe. Yes—that’s where she wanted to be.

Her mother had definitely been right.

The song ended with a thunderous crash that made the school shake down to its foundations, followed by an excited squeal from Rarity and a few improvised drum rolls from Pinkie.

That had been something more, something else worth investing even a moment of her life into—and oh, had she enjoyed it. She had spent two whole years thinking about nothing but isolating herself to study in peace, and now that seemed absurd, ridiculous—just as her mother had predicted. She didn’t know what was coming next, or what would happen to them from here on out, but one thing was certain—whatever it was, she wanted to do it with them.

She turned to her friends, who were panting happily, exchanging congratulations and words of surprise—especially with Fluttershy, who, despite everything, somehow looked happier than ever.

Twilight took the microphone and cleared her throat.

“Rainbooms, Rainbooms, your attention please” she said through the speaker, only then noticing the ridiculous smile spreading across her face. “This… This is what friendship means. I never really understood it until now and, well—what can I say? I don’t ever want to be without you. Not ever.”

“Group kiss!” Rainbow shouted mockingly, triggering a round of giggles, Twilight’s included.

“I wanted to give you all a little announcement, one I was planning to make tomorrow after our overly horny friend won her race” the rainbow-haired girl replied with something Twilight didn’t catch, turning back to the others. “But I think this is the right moment. This is new for me, so forgive me if I make it too dramatic. I swear it’s not on purpose.”

“Party? Please tell me it’s a party, Twilight, I beg you!” Pinkie blurted out.

“Yes!” she replied, leaving her friends frozen in disbelief and Pinkie bouncing with joy. “It is, actually. Mark the twentieth on your calendars—it’s my seventeenth birthday, and for the first time, I want to celebrate it with my friends. My best friends.”

“Yes. One step at a time, Twilight. Then you can talk to your mom,” she thought as all five rushed in, wrapping her in a warm, cheering, emotional hug.

Twilight felt warm. And for now, at least, she decided that this sense of safety was winning the war inside her.

Chapter 28: Finish line

The girls’ locker room was nearly empty—she was one of only four girls who had signed up for the race. Just next door, across the thin wall, twelve boys were shouting, laughing, or fighting as they got ready to run. The whole atmosphere was laid-back; after all, no one was really taking it too seriously.

That was not the case for Rainbow.

The girl sat on one of the benches, already changed, her face freshly washed and her wet hair hanging in clumps around her head. She had asked her mom that morning if she could help touch up her roots sometime soon, but now, about to prove herself in front of everyone, she wished more than ever that she’d done it earlier. She looked awful—ugly and grotesque instead of awesome and incredible like she was supposed to. “I’m going to run like an idiot,” she thought, staring at a drop of water sliding down a green strand of hair.

The other two girls nearby were chatting happily, while the third was warming up in place, just like Rainbow had done a few minutes earlier. She’d never talked to any of them, and she definitely didn’t want to. She only knew one thing—they were here for a reason: to try and beat her.

She clenched her fists, trembling, angry at her own insecurity and nerves. Since when was she like this? She couldn’t remember a day when the amazing, incredible Rainbow Dash had been nervous to run. No—she’d always been the fastest, the most agile, the one who won all the games during P.E. back in Cloudsdale. She was the best.

But not anymore. Echo Mirage had come into her life and turned her into an old dog, too worn-out to even make it to the corner and back without collapsing. And now, she was supposed to beat a bunch of people who had been training and running throughout their entire high school years. She was surrounded by other Rainbows—other boys and girls just as ambitious as her, all fighting for a spot with the Wondercolts.

And if that wasn’t enough, there was also Lightning Dust—one of Echo’s closest friends—standing there as a reminder of everything she hated.

She inhaled deeply, her foot bouncing frenetically as she repeated the same mantra over and over again: “You’re awesome,” “you’re awesome,” “you’re awesome.” But when she finally exhaled, her nose whistled in a weird, silly way—and she might have burst out laughing if she hadn’t bitten her tongue.

Out in the hallway that connected the auditorium to the track field, Principal Cadence was shouting something into the mic—something Rainbow couldn’t hear. The thick, chipped brick walls of the locker room and the growing echo inside her mind drowned it all out. She had never felt like this, and she hated it. She wanted it to stop. That morning, before leaving home, Scootaloo had challenged her to a quick race to the bus stop—a race Rainbow had embarrassingly lost to her little sister on a scooter, in what Scootaloo had cheerfully declared “an unfair race.” Rainbow knew it wasn’t true. She used to beat her sister on that scooter easily, no matter what. And yet, now she could only call it an “unfair race” in her mind. She wondered if she’d use the same excuse when someone else crossed the finish line instead of her.

The two chatting girls left a number next to her—just a plain piece of paper with the number “2” printed in unimpressive black ink. All the runners were supposed to start from the same line, but for some reason, she felt like having a higher number would somehow give her an edge, like she wouldn’t be running at the same time as everyone else.

She picked up the number, feeling the sticky glue from the tape on the top and bottom, and pressed it to her chest with shaky hands. It hung loosely on one of her many training shirts. Today, she wore a bright but grimy royal blue pair of shorts, trimmed at the waist and thighs with multicolored bands that matched her athletic tank top—white, with a diagonal rainbow stripe stretching down her back. Underneath that, she wore her usual sports bra—the same one she’d worn when she’d confronted Echo in the girls’ bathroom that Tuesday. In a way, it had never felt fully clean since then.

She exhaled again, rising to her feet and trying to shake off her doubts with a few sharp arm movements—failing miserably.

“Got a minute?” rasped the voice of Lightning Dust, making her jump slightly. She turned, sweeping the room with her eyes before locking onto the girl. “I want to talk to you.”

Rainbow’s face twisted into a look of disgust and resentment. She snorted and rolled her eyes.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” she spat, turning away and going back to her stretches.

“Please. I think I made a mistake.”

“Good.”

Lightning let out a frustrated sigh, staring at the floor, torn on whether or not to approach her. “I think Echo’s lost her mind.”

Rainbow stopped mid-stretch, jaw clenched, trying not to laugh bitterly in disbelief. “Seriously?” she thought, slowly turning toward her, eyes wide with rage. She didn’t even notice her nose had stopped whistling.

“Congratulations, Sherlock Hooves. Must’ve taken real effort to get that little brain of yours going.”

“Can you skip the sarcasm for once, Dash? I’m being serious.”

“I don’t care how you’re talking. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Grow the fuck up already, Rainbow—!” Lightning shouted, placing both hands on Rainbow’s shoulders, only to be shoved away hard with a slap that echoed through the locker room, catching the attention of the other two girls.

Rainbow jumped back slightly, eyebrows knitted in a deep scowl, fists clenched tight as she held herself back from doing more. Lightning just stood there, stunned, as if she couldn’t understand what she’d done wrong. “You really do have some fucking nerve, bitch,” Rainbow thought, snorting intimidatingly.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” she growled, spitting each word with pure venom before turning sharply and walking out into the hallway. She didn’t care what Lightning had to say, whether it was talking, fighting, apologizing, or mocking her. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to know, and now—thanks to her—she was angry.

The runners weren’t supposed to leave the locker room until Principal Cadence called them, but Rainbow couldn’t have cared less. She didn’t want to be in there. She didn’t want to be near Lightning. She didn’t want to see her or even know she was close. She wasn’t sure when exactly she had come to hate Echo’s group so much, but now, it felt as natural as running, falling, and getting back up. Grubber, Garble, Lightning, Adagio, Sonata, and Aria—all of them. She didn’t care what they’d done or how they justified it. She hated them. A lot.

A muffled announcement over the mic signaled the runners to come out, and inhaling deeply, she made her way toward the track.

Outside, the world didn’t look much different from any other Saturday at Canterlot High. The track had been clumsily decorated with a ribbon at one end, and faint chalk lines at the other marked where the runners would line up. Still, the clay had been freshly raked, giving the track a new, professional look. Behind it, facing the school building, stood a few collapsible bleachers where cheering figures waved and clapped—none of whom Rainbow could immediately recognize—except for the principal, sitting next to a middle-aged woman she didn’t know.

It was still morning, the sun just starting to peek over the building, casting long, sharp shadows over the field, especially across the farthest lane, where sunlight cut across the track in jagged streaks. Two days ago, snow had tried to fall on Canterlot, leaving behind only the lightest frost on the sharp blades of grass—a brilliant shimmer even summer dew couldn’t match. That didn’t stop most people from bundling up in coats and scarves, nor did it stop Rainbow’s bare legs from feeling like they were being pierced by a thousand tiny cold knives.

She blew warm air onto her hands, still curled into fists from the anger, and walked toward her place on the track, burning with fury inside. Whether she won or not, she wasn’t going to let Lightning Dust beat her. Anything but that.

From the stands, Scootaloo and her mom cheered as if she were a celebrity, waving rainbow-patterned banners at an imaginary camera, hoping Rainbow would somehow see them and know they were there—for her. The girl blushed, avoiding their gaze as her heart pounded faster. Beside them, Pinkie, Rarity, Twilight, Fluttershy, and even Applejack cheered just as loudly, yelling out some kind of chant Rainbow didn’t quite catch—though she did make out the words “cheese” and “rainbow,” probably thanks to Pinkie. She smiled, confused but grateful, and kept walking.

The rest of the competitors followed closely behind, also receiving their share of cheers and encouragement—some celebrated them, others ignored them. Lightning had probably received some too, but she didn’t bother to check.

She stopped in the second lane of the track, just behind the starting line, trotting in place a little and stretching. The anger was finally draining from her limbs, loosening up her tense muscles as that all-too-familiar insecurity began to creep in—one she hated feeling. “I’m in Fluttershy’s body,” she thought, as the cold dug deeper and deeper through her skin.

Cadence began announcing the runners one by one, from the highest number to the lowest, going past the two girls and then Lightning, before stopping at Rainbow. Another wave of cheers and applause roared from her small group of supporters, causing another nervous blush to rise on Rainbow’s cheeks. But instead of averting her gaze, she decided to respond with a smile, raising her fist with determination—a determination she didn’t really feel.

“Come on, Dash, calm down,” she told herself, forcing the trembling in her legs to stop as Cadence began the countdown. “You’re awesome. More awesome than any of the chumps next to you. And you’re going to win,” she lied to herself, just as the principal raised her starter pistol to mark the beginning of the race.

“You’re going to win…” Her heart was already pounding wildly before she even heard the shot. A muffled bang rang out from the stands, making Fluttershy jump in fear, and Rainbow began to run.

At first, her legs wobbled like jelly, making her stumble during the first few steps as her competitors surged ahead of her. But after a few seconds, she regained her footing and got back into the race. In front of her, five runners sped toward the finish line, soaring over the track as their feet tapped out a rhythm her eyes struggled to follow. She looked around frantically, hoping to see something that would make her believe that lie—that she could win—but nothing seemed to say it.

She started breathing the way she’d practiced with Pinkie, both when they ran at the park and when they played and sang at full volume in the music room, exhausting each other to the point of collapse. Air passed through her nose, snagging on the bridge, then painfully sliding down her throat and into her chest, returning now warm and spent to her mouth, whistling like a bad tune. Over and over again, as she felt her muscles gradually stiffen and her mind drift into darker, hazier corners she hated to visit. She wasn’t doing well, and she could hear Twilight’s voice reminding her that the secret wasn’t in taking huge gulps of air to fill her lungs as much as possible, but rather in steadily drawing in small breaths, over and over, until her lungs were full. “Let the oxygen do its job,” Twilight used to say during lunch breaks, “Your body will handle the rest.”

One of the two strangers from the locker room passed her little by little. Rainbow watched her silhouette retreat into the distance out of the corner of her eye. She had run on that track hundreds of times over the past two weeks, counting the steps and strides she’d need from one end to the other—and yet now, everything around her felt endless, stretching farther and farther away. She clenched her teeth, trying to run faster, only to realize she was actually slowing down.

Her mind flooded with insults and self-loathing as she watched the other runners pull farther and farther ahead, nearing the distant ribbon marking the finish line. That was it. That’s where Rainbow Dash’s race ended—professional runner, Wondercolts future member. She’d never represent Equestria. She’d never meet Spitfire. She’d never have the life she’d dreamed of.

Everything she had ever wanted as a kid.

She thought about stopping, pulling out of the race before something even more humiliating could happen. She considered her alternatives—what she could do now that sports were no longer an option. Maybe she’d do okay as a teacher, or in marketing. She thought about what her mom, her sister, or her friends would say about her.

Or what her dad would say.

She stumbled for a moment, as the image of Bow Dash surged through her mind like a crashing wave. “Why now?” she thought, swallowing a gasp and squeezing her eyes shut.

Bow had been the one to introduce her to the Wondercolts. When she was little, freshly adopted along with Scootaloo, they’d sit in front of the TV watching their heroes run, both of them lighting up whenever the victory horn blared. It was one of the few memories she still had of Bow—and one of the rare happy ones.

He had wanted her to run, and in some way, she still ran for him. Sure, he was gone now, but after all these years, she still ran for him.

She opened her eyes again and saw herself dead last on the track, with a dozen people ahead of her.

Her lungs shrank, demanding more oxygen that somehow had to come. It wasn’t easy, of course—but how was she supposed to explain that to her body? She slowed down gradually, throwing in the towel, just like her father had done in the hospital all those years ago, choosing assisted death over clinging to life. She always said she understood, that she’d rather see him go than suffer. But deep down, she knew that had been nothing more than a comforting lie for her family—and that in some way, she never truly forgave him.

“You died,” she thought, watching the others fade into the distance. “You were supposed to see me run.”

She wanted to stop. She wanted to give up. And yet, her legs didn’t listen.

With a renewed will, her legs began to burn with pain, and her chest warmed like an old engine about to explode. She didn’t know what was happening or why, but suddenly, she started overtaking runner after runner. One by one, Dash blazed past them like an enraged lightning bolt—burning, yes, but more than anything, shining—shining with a passion she had never felt before.

She thought of Bow, and why she wanted to win, and when she tried to picture him, all she heard was Twilight’s voice: “You don’t need a speech. You need to run.”

One step. Applejack.

Another step. Fluttershy.

A giant stride. Rarity.

She passed another competitor. Pinkie.

One after another, she left them all behind until, in front of her, only Lightning Dust and the finish line remained. She had never run for anyone but her dad. She had never pushed through for anyone but him. When he died, she hated that he’d chosen euthanasia—and that hate, mixed with respect, was what had kept her going all these years.

Lightning glanced back and barely caught Rainbow approaching before pushing herself harder. “You did this to me,” she thought, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to go even faster. “They fixed me.”

She kept striding forward, and before she knew it, she was flying. The wind struck her face with dull force, but she ignored it. She had wings—she felt like she could run through the air. Lightning let out a startled scream when she saw Rainbow pass her.

 

I see… flying. I’ll remember that.

 

The ribbon tore at the slightest touch of her body, floating gently to the dirty clay before being trampled by the rest of the runners.

The energy began to drain from her body as her legs shook from the effort—wobbly and weak like a newborn’s. She fell, barely catching herself with her hands, feeling the cold of the track under her fingers, and bits of dirt between her nails.

“I did it…” she gasped, barely able to speak between heavy breaths—unable to stop a wide smile from spreading across her face. “By Starswirl… I did it.”

The world spun around her, blending into smeared strokes of broken paint that blurred the further out they went—echoes of shouting and celebration bouncing around that somehow felt distant. Her heart pounded faster and harder than ever, her arms and legs trembled, and she couldn’t stop smiling. She remembered her first race in Cloudsdale, how she finished eleventh out of thirteen, and Derpy Hooves’ goofy face up on the podium. She had sworn then that one day, that place would be hers. Back then, her hair had still been brown.

She had won more than a few races since then, but something about this one was different—and she knew exactly what it was. This wasn’t a race to measure her speed—it was something more. Something less tangible than just moving fast. She placed a hand over her heart, feeling her chest fuller than ever. She was exhausted, sure, but her pride had never felt bigger.

She was Rainbow Dash, future Wondercolt, and a damn awesome runner.

“I’m awesome,” she said quietly—finally believing it.

“By Starswirl, Dash, that was simply magnificent!” The roar of her fans poured down from the stands, surrounding her like moths around a lamp—clapping, screaming, and cheering to a beat Rainbow couldn’t even hear. She was still inside herself—laughing, jumping without moving—everything happening in her head, unable to truly believe what had just happened.

With a gentle tug, Applejack helped her to her feet—Rainbow nearly collapsed again, if not for Rarity, who caught her by the arm with a delicate touch. Her expression was dazed, not entirely sure what was happening around her, but unable to stop smiling. The rest of her friends were already mirroring that smile.

“I knew you could do it!” Twilight exclaimed, launching herself into a warm hug. “I told you! I told you you could do it!”

“You sure gave us a scare there for a moment, sugarcube,” Applejack added. “But by my boots, I’ve never seen you run like that before.”

“Right?! At first we were like, ‘Oh no! Rainbow’s gonna fall!’” Pinkie squealed, throwing her arms up. “But then we were like, ‘Oh, she’s getting back up,’ and then Fluttershy totally jinxed it by saying you were running slow, and I was like, ‘Wait, really?!’ And yep—really! And Twilight went, ‘Oh no, she’s gonna lose!’ and I admit, even I panicked a little, but then BAM—outta nowhere, you went FWOOOM, and you flew past that finish line like never before! And then we all rushed down here and you collapsed, and I thought, ‘Oh no, maybe her blood sugar’s crashing,’ so I pulled this cupcake out of my hair. Don’t ask. But then I saw you were just kinda stunned, so I figured it wasn’t necessary.”

“That was really impressive, Rainbow. Congratulations,” Fluttershy whispered, gently joining Twilight’s embrace.

Her eyes were finally starting to register the world around her, slowly focusing on the different faces orbiting at every angle. In front of her, Twilight was grinning, eyes squeezed shut as her glasses gently bumped against her nose. The others crowded around, joining the group hug one by one. Applejack was last, wrapping her strong arms around all of them and lifting them off the ground with ease.

“She’s the best! She’s my sister! By Starswirl, that’s my sister!”

With some effort, Rainbow managed to slip an arm free from the cowgirl’s iron grip, reaching over to ruffle Scootaloo’s hair as she chuckled softly. One by one, the crowd around them started to cheer along, lifting their voices in celebration—and Rainbow felt her chest swell with pride. She loved being here. She loved this feeling. And boy, could she get used to it.

After a few more seconds of laughter, Applejack gently set the five girls down again, giving the runner—and now winner—a moment to steady herself on her still-jelly legs.

It was Windy, Rainbow’s mother, who stepped forward now, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Congratulations, sweetheart. We’re so proud of you.”

Rainbow squeezed her eyes shut. She knew she wasn’t talking about Scootaloo.

“Rainbow Dash?” came a new voice, joining the chorus of presence around her. “Do you have a minute?”

Her mom let her go, keeping a supportive hand on her arm to keep her from falling as she stepped aside, revealing Principal Cadence—and a woman Rainbow didn’t recognize—both smiling at her with warm, approving pride. A wave of heat rippled through Rainbow’s limbs, raising goosebumps across her skin. Her arms and legs were already regaining strength. She nodded slightly, unable to wipe the smile off her face as she gently slipped free of her mother’s hand, giving her a quick gesture—I’ll be back soon.

They walked a few steps away from the crowd, letting her finally take in the broader view of everything around her. Other runners were surrounded by people too—some crowds were just as big, others just a mom or dad, offering comfort or celebrating whatever place they had earned. Her gaze swept from right to left… until her eyes landed on a tuft of orange hair.

Lightning Dust. She was alone.

“You deserve it”, Rainbow thought, immediately feeling guilty.

“First of all, congratulations, Rainbow,” Cadence said gently once they were a few steps away from the rest, speaking in a hushed voice. “Twilight’s told me how hard you’ve worked for this. And I think I can say with confidence… you’ve earned it.”

“With total confidence, sweetheart,” added the unknown woman in a gravelly voice, flipping her lilac-and-white hair over her shoulder. “And, of course, that means a well-earned reward.”

Rainbow smiled between shallow breaths, swallowing dryly, trying to say something—anything—but no words came out of her throat.

“Rainbow, this is Upper Crust,” Cadence said, gesturing to the woman. “She’s a delegate from Canterlot’s Sports and Culture Association, and she insisted on attending today’s trials to ‘test the new talent.’”

“And I have to say—I’m very impressed, girl. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you. I’ve seen fast runners before, but someone who can recover the way you did? That’s true talent.”

“Thank you,” Rainbow croaked—more a strained squawk than an actual word, her lungs still exhausted.

“No—thank you, darling,” Upper Crust replied with another nod. “Spitfire’s going to be very happy to meet you.”

Rainbow’s throat clenched tight. Her eyes shot wide open as a stunned gasp slipped out of her mouth. Her heart was pounding again, unable to fully grasp the meaning of those words, while a chill ran over her arms and spine. She tried to speak, but her body wasn’t cooperating—wasn’t responding.

“Spitfire?” she thought, frantically flexing and curling her fingers, trying to breathe.

“The original first-place prize was going to be a 400-bit LiverHay gift card,” Cadence explained with a chuckle. “But thankfully, Upper and I reached an agreement. You’ll be meeting the Wondercolts, Rainbow.”

The words floated around her, soaking into her skin, but not quite reaching her mind. Her brain had gone blank—stunned, breathless, unsure of what to do with her eyes or her hands as her breathing grew increasingly rapid.

Air rushed in and out, scratching at her throat as each word settled deeper and deeper into her bones. This was it. She was finally going to meet them. She was going to live her dream—and it was happening now.

Echo had tried so hard to take that away from her… but Rainbow had been too awesome to let it happen.

She started nodding—slowly at first, then faster. She laughed, bounced on her toes, and if she hadn’t caught herself in time, she probably would’ve clapped.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” she shouted, skipping in place like an excited filly.

Cadence giggled softly, and Upper Crust nodded with a proud smile. Suddenly, it felt like everything clicked into place, every puzzle piece sliding neatly into its slot with a satisfying click that lit her up from the inside out.

Rainbow Dash, future Wondercolt.

“And the best part,” Cadence added, “is that you won’t have to wait long. The meeting’s next Friday—the 20th. Noon to night. Make sure your calendar’s clear.”

Just eight more days. Only eight more days to go. Rainbow bounced in place again, swallowing hard, practically bursting to tell her friends and family. Scootaloo would probably faint from joy. Her mom would cook her favorite dinner to celebrate. Applejack would holler one of her trademark yeehaws and slap her on the back. Rarity would already be sketching an outfit for the occasion. Fluttershy would quietly tell her how proud she was. And Pinkie would absolutely fake-faint like Scootaloo.

Twilight would—

Twilight.

She stopped.

Just like that.

Her entire body froze as a cold, bitter sting forced her to clench her fists. She turned back toward her friends, watching them chat and laugh a few feet away, stealing glances at her, full of joy.

They were her friends. Every last one of them.

Meeting the Wondercolts had been her dream since childhood—since she could remember. Bow Dash had passed on his passion for sports to his adopted daughter, and she’d built her entire identity around it. Rainbow wasn’t Rainbow without the Wondercolts. Without her dad.

She turned back to Cadence, studying her eyes with quiet curiosity, trying to see past the elegant makeup to what she might really be thinking underneath.

Out there on the track, Rainbow had run for her dad. For the Wondercolts. And she almost lost. It wasn’t until she ran for them—for her friends—that she found the strength to win. The determination to push through, even after what Echo had done to her.

And it had been Twilight who pulled her out of that pit—Twilight who had given her the sneakers she was wearing now.

This would hurt like hell… but her mind was made up.

“I…” she stammered, her voice still hoarse from exhaustion, “I appreciate the offer—but I’ll have to turn it down.”

Cadence and Upper Crust made no effort to hide their surprise. Their eyes went wide as they took a startled step back.

“There’s nothing I want more in this world than to meet the Wondercolts,” Rainbow continued, “and I’m honored to have been chosen. But that day is my best friend’s birthday—and I can’t miss it.”

The two adults looked at the girl with inquisitive doubt, though Cadence's gaze slowly softened, understanding what she meant. Rainbow looked down as a torturous murmur tightened around her heart—the kind sparked and fueled by her twelve-year-old self, the one who ran out of the park every day, nearly getting hit by cars more than once; the kind ignited by her six-months-ago self, who watched Soarin break the flat sprint record, the self who wanted more than anything to be him.

Right now, she couldn't believe her own decision, couldn't give credit to the events unfolding before her—and yet, few times in her life had she felt so sure of something.

“Well… this is definitely an interesting development,” Upper began, stumbling over her words. “Are you sure, kid?”

“Yes.” Rainbow nodded, raising her eyes to meet hers again.

“Well. I have to give the prize to someone either way. Cadence, the girl who came in second—what’s her name?”

“Lightning Dust,” the principal replied, her eyes still locked on Rainbow's, with a sincere smile forming on her lips.

“Lightning Dust, very well. Congratulations, Rainbow. I’m sure your family is very proud of you,” Upper Crest concluded, brushing back her hair awkwardly before stepping out of the conversation, leaving Rainbow alone with Cadence.

The adrenaline crash hit the girl like a speeding train, making her stumble and nearly collapse to the ground, had it not been for the principal gently grabbing her arm. Her heart was raging, and her stomach churned with every second, but somehow, the war inside her was gradually calming. It felt good—to have chosen Twilight over herself.

She had never had to choose someone else over herself before—not when Bow died, not at any other time in her life. For the first time, Rainbow wasn’t the center of her own universe, and somehow, that made her feel okay.

“I know how hard this must be for you,” Cadence began, helping her stay upright. “Twi has told me how important this was to you, and in a way, I couldn’t wait to see your reaction when you heard it. I didn’t know she was going to throw a party for her birthday—she usually doesn’t—but I’m glad she invited you.”

Rainbow didn’t respond, only gave a slight nod, a faint smile spreading on her lips—one that surprised even her.

“But I can’t let you walk out of here without a prize,” the principal continued, slipping her hand into her purse, searching by touch for something. “As you know, here at Canterlot, we endorse six main values: kindness, forgiveness, generosity, honesty, humor, and loyalty. And today, Rainbow Dash…”

The principal pulled out a sleek checkbook, decorated with tiny blue hearts that shimmered faintly. She opened it, took a small pen from its folds, and began writing something on it.

“Today, you’ve shown me that even in the face of your most passionate desires, you chose your friends over yourself. If that isn’t loyalty, I don’t know what is.”

She tore off the slip of paper and handed it to Rainbow.

“So it’s an honor for me to give you this.”

Rainbow looked down at the piece of paper, and her heart skipped a beat, the air vanishing from her lungs.

“Rainbow Dash. Invitation to the Grand Galloping Gala. December 13th, 2024. Canterlot High. One-person entry.”

Chapter 29: Paradigm shift

“Rainbow Dash!” shouted the cowgirl before scooping up her little friend in her arms and tossing her into the air as if it were nothing. “A ticket to the Grand Galloping Gala!”

Rainbow soared for a few seconds, squealing with excitement as she flaunted her shiny, exclusive ticket for all of Canterlot to see, shouting at the top of her lungs: “I’m the best!”

Applejack caught her and tossed her again before hoisting her up onto her shoulder so she could keep celebrating around the others. Behind her, Pinkie bounced with energy, shouting things none of them fully understood, while nearby, Twilight and Rarity chatted happily with the runner about her great achievement.

At the very back, walking timidly, was Fluttershy, her hands clasped into a shy little fist she swung side to side. She hadn’t been left behind—not on purpose, at least—and it definitely didn’t feel like this walk had been forced on her. Sometimes she enjoyed talking with her friends, but other times, like now, she equally loved simply watching them from a distance, appreciating each of their smiles one by one, seeing how their eyes lit up.

That had been her plan yesterday: to watch them play on the stage Cadence had lent them, while, inside their souls, some invisible wound began to close—little by little, or all at once, but close it did, and that was what mattered. Of course, she hadn’t counted on Twilight deciding it was something Fluttershy simply couldn’t miss, and even though she hadn’t put up much resistance, she had been dragged onstage to play with them that night. Yes, last evening had definitely been something curious, to say the least, an event worth remembering, both for the beauty within it and for how everything and nothing had gone as she expected—and still she had loved it.

Now, however, she preferred to keep her distance and observe from behind. She liked what she saw, and she liked how she saw it.

Still, she knew that wasn’t the whole reason she lingered behind her group of friends—or the reason her mind was restless.

Mrs. Dash opened the door leading into the school, inviting them all inside. Fluttershy glanced back as her friends disappeared into the halls of Canterlot High, searching with her eyes for something she knew wasn’t there.

In the distance, seated on the bleachers, a crowd of families, friends, and fans cheered for all the runners—whether they had finished third or dead last—filling the track with an air of warm generosity. Yet standing out like a splinter in the skin was the golden mane of Lightning Dust, waving alone as she stared down at her crude second-place medal.

That morning, when they had learned Lightning would be competing, Pinkie and Applejack had agreed to stay alert in case Echo or her friends showed up to stir up trouble in the crowd. Better safe than sorry—after all, the last time Rainbow had run into the albino girl it had ended with a broken nose, and ever since Applejack had knocked out one of her teeth, nearly getting herself expelled, none of them had really crossed paths again. The thought of running into Echo, Grubber, or Garble kept Fluttershy tense, but more than anything else, what she dreaded was running into Adagio.

But that hadn’t happened—quite the opposite, in fact. Lightning had run as if the devil himself were chasing her, holding on to first place almost the entire race, only to yield at the end when Rainbow passed her. Yet no one noticed her, no one cheered for her, no one celebrated her. She had no one there for her, and now no one to share her triumph with.

Fluttershy swallowed hard, not really knowing what to do or how she should act. She didn’t want to approach Lightning, and she certainly didn’t want to stray from her friends, but something in her heart—something she couldn’t quite explain in simple words—urged her to do something, to be with her in that moment. Lightning looked sad, or rather, she felt sad. Fluttershy could feel it.

She took a step toward her and thought of Adagio. She had met her on the first day of the semester, and for a fleeting second had thought that maybe—just maybe—she could make a good impression on that girl and become her friend. Echo had changed that, and from then on nothing had gone as she had first imagined. Something similar had happened with Lightning: a troublesome, combative girl who, from her very first day at CHS, had caused a massive fight with several classmates. Echo had reeled Lightning in to join her squad, and from then on she had earned herself a bad reputation across the school.

Now, however, that mask seemed fragile and transparent. That girl, slumped in her arms, staring wistfully at her second-place medal, didn’t look like the kind of person Echo Mirage would have recruited for her four horsemen of the apocalypse—her gang of bullies who would harass a girl with glasses, or beat up the new kid.

Fluttershy almost felt pity for her, and she didn’t know why.

“Flutters?” Twilight called from behind her, forcing her to turn abruptly toward her friends, who were already inside the school. “You coming?”

The brunette beamed from ear to ear, undisturbed by the storm of thoughts pouring over Fluttershy’s mind, weighing down her smile. She looked back at Lightning, who at that moment was standing up, leaving by another way, still alone. She wondered if maybe she should say something.

“Of course.” She turned back to Twilight and joined her friends.

They walked cheerfully through the halls, Applejack still carrying Rainbow on her shoulders while Pinkie improvised some sort of anthem for their athletic friend. That joy and energy was contagious, and Fluttershy was happy—she truly was—but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the image of Lightning Dust’s loneliness, and how somehow, it made her feel something bad was about to happen.

They made their way to the main entrance, near where the Dash family could catch a bus to continue celebrating at home. They passed the computer labs, one of the ground-floor workshops, and then the office of Rouge Mirage. That Saturday the vice principal hadn’t come in, and Fluttershy supposed it had something to do with Cadence finally managing to give one of the six a Gala ticket.

“…Right, Fluttershy?” Pinkie asked, leaping to grab her by the wrist and tugging her further ahead with the rest of the procession.

“Huh?” she asked in such a soft voice most of them didn’t hear her. For some reason, Rainbow was laughing hysterically on Applejack’s shoulder, while the cowgirl smiled awkwardly, pressing her hat against her chest.

“That it’s true,” her friend insisted, giving her another tug to the front of the group.

Fluttershy let out an embarrassed whine, turning toward the school cafeteria to keep her friends from seeing the blush climbing her cheeks.

“Quit laughing already, Rain,” said Mrs. Dash as she came up front, giving her daughter a playful swat as she hopped. Seeing her beside the towering Applejack, she had to admit, was a little funny. “Don’t go mocking your friend like that.”

“Oh, come on, Mom, isn’t it true?”

“I’ll drop you right on the floor, rainbow girl.”

“What, embarrassed to carry the love of your life on your shoulder?”

Applejack rolled her eyes, letting out an ironic laugh as she faked dropping her friend behind her. Flailing her arms nervously, Rainbow ended up dangling by her knees, clinging to the cowgirl’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. In front of her, behind Applejack’s back, Rarity burst into laughter most unladylike of her, even snorting like a pig once or twice.

“Oops.”

“Well, girls, I’ve got a surprise for you, so wait in the cafeteria for a while, all right?” Mrs. Dash now intervened, clasping her hands in excitement as her rosy eyes danced between them. Twilight replied with something Fluttershy didn’t quite catch before Rainbow’s mom, along with Scootaloo, headed down another hallway.

The athlete kept struggling to climb back into position, waving her arms while the cowgirl just laughed and kept faking her out again and again. For her part, the brunette quietly walked up beside Fluttershy, adjusting her glasses once more and offering a calm smile.

“She baked a cake,” she whispered, blowing into her hands to warm them. “She left it in Cadence’s office—I suppose she wants to eat it here before heading home.”

Fluttershy nodded softly, turning her gaze back to her friends, who were still laughing, caught up in that contagious energy. Yes, now they were going to eat cake, to celebrate together their friend’s victory, and the unexpected but marvelous news of their invitation to the Gala.

Yes, everything was going well, even though nothing that semester had turned out the way she had expected.

“What kind of cake is it?” she asked, turning toward the cafeteria, stretching her hand to open the door.

“I don’t know, but it had Rainbow’s face in frosting. According to what she told Cadence, looks like Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle decorated it.”

They walked into the cafeteria with great pomp, almost like a religious procession, until they all froze at once. Applejack bumped into Fluttershy just as Rainbow finally scrambled up her shoulder, choking down a curse under her breath, before turning to look at the scene around them—and freezing just the same, followed by Pinkie and Rarity.

The cafeteria was deserted. Benches flipped and stacked on tables, everything neat and clean, with one grim exception standing out like a splinter beneath the nail: at the back, near the food counter, three girls faced each other with raised arms and heated expressions, as if they had been in the middle of an argument. Three girls they already knew all too well.

It didn’t take long for the trio to notice the six friends, stopping whatever they had been doing, though without saying a word. The memory of Lightning Dust sitting alone suddenly came rushing back like a whirlwind, and she wondered why Echo Mirage wasn’t there.

Adagio lowered her gaze, shame flickering across her face as she turned back toward Sonata, who was standing right in front of her. Applejack slowly set Rainbow down from her shoulder, a serious expression etched on her face, never taking her eyes off Echo’s friends.

The air had grown heavy in an instant, thick and dry around Fluttershy, as though it were trying to choke her. Her heart began pounding faster and faster as the walls seemed to close in, and she instinctively reached for Twilight’s hand, clinging to her for shelter.

“Everything was going too well,” she thought, wondering what Adagio, Aria, and Sonata might say.

But they said nothing. Seconds, even minutes, crawled by without a word being spoken. Only sharp, restless glances darted from one face to another, then drifted away again—to the floor, the ceiling, the walls, anywhere but at each other.

She wondered if this was how it would be from now on—nothing but suffocating silence, choking her until she drowned, until she died. She didn’t want to be there. She wanted to go back outside, to watch Lightning from afar, or to eat cake with Mrs. Dash. Anything but this. Something bad was going to happen. Something bad always happened.

And she knew something bad was happening when Rainbow took the first step forward.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, spitting out every syllable with contempt, sweeping her gaze over them.

Adagio opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it quickly and looked away again. The rainbow-haired girl smirked, puffing out her chest.

“Here to see your dear Lightning, aren’t you?” she asked again, now with a tone of arrogance and mockery that, if she hadn’t known it was Rainbow, Fluttershy could have sworn belonged to Echo herself. “Well, hate to break it to you, but she lost.”

Sonata finally looked up, a clear frown of sadness on her face, while Aria merely huffed through her nose, still silent. Rainbow took another step forward, and for a moment, Fluttershy thought she seemed taller.

“Must be tough that she doesn’t want to be your friend anymore. Though I can’t say I blame her.”

Rarity, Applejack, Twilight, and Pinkie all spun around toward Rainbow in shock, their eyes wide, while Fluttershy caught Adagio pushing herself up from her seat, angry. She squeezed Twilight’s hand tighter, unconsciously stepping back.

“Well, who the hell asked you?” Adagio snapped, storming forward. “Shouldn’t you be busy learning how to breathe again?”

“Wow, I hit a nerve,” Rainbow mocked, striding closer without hesitation. “Let me guess—she realized Echo was insane and now wants nothing to do with any of you?”

“I’ll rip that pretty smile off your face if you don’t shut your damn mouth!” Aria roared, joining her friend.

Rainbow laughed with scorn, clutching her stomach as she stomped mockingly toward them. Aria only growled, while Adagio kept her eyes lowered, embarrassed, yet still advancing with anger toward the rainbow-haired girl. But it was the third one who really caught Fluttershy’s attention.

Sonata was still seated on the bench, wringing her hands nervously as if something kept her restless, her legs pressed tightly together in a childish, awkward gesture, her eyes trembling as though she were on the verge of tears. It reminded Fluttershy of her own expressions back at Cloudsdale High, when other kids mocked her clumsiness and shyness. In that moment, Rainbow was those kids.

She let go of Twilight’s arm, not even sure why she was moving, and quietly trotted over to Rainbow, grabbing her by the wrist—just as she had that morning when her friend first picked a fight with Echo. She didn’t know Sonata, and to be honest, she didn’t know Adagio or Aria either. She knew they had been involved in the bathroom assault, and she knew that simply being friends with Echo probably made them worse than most others around them. Yet something inside her urged her to stop whatever was happening, though she couldn’t tell if it was fear for herself, or for them.

Rainbow spun around, eyes wide and mouth half open, while Fluttershy only shook her head frantically, just like that day. On any other occasion, that parallel would have seemed ironic. Rainbow yanked her arm free with a sharp tug.

“Trouble in paradise?” Adagio asked in a triumphant tone, though her expression still carried humiliation and sorrow.

“You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” Rainbow shot back, stepping away from Fluttershy as she cracked her knuckles loudly.

“You talk too much, Dash. Didn’t last time teach you enough?”

“Come and find out.”

“Stop!” Fluttershy screamed at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the cafeteria like an alarm. Adagio halted mid-step, her eyes shifting toward the timid girl, with Aria and Sonata following suit moments later.

A deathly silence fell over them, weighing on Fluttershy’s breathing, burying her under a heavy blanket of stares and anxiety. “Now what?” she thought, fists clenched as her green eyes darted frantically from one corner of the room to the other. “Starswirl, why did I do that?”

A cold bead of sweat slid down her back, seeping under her sky-blue sweater and sending a dark shiver through her body. Her heart pounded, her lungs trembled, and she couldn’t stop blinking erratically. She had done something, yes—but what? Why couldn’t she move?

“Listen to your girlfriend, shorty. Nobody here wants to get hurt.”

“Say one more thing about Fluttershy and it’ll be the last thing you ever say,” Rainbow snapped, turning back toward Adagio, stopping just inches away from her.

“You sure love to run your mouth.”

“I’ve got plenty to say.”

“Guess you like us that much?” Sonata curled her legs tighter against herself, while Aria stepped in behind Adagio. Applejack and Pinkie both moved forward, but it was Rarity who came closest to Rainbow, positioning herself at her back with arms crossed.

“You’re gonna like me.”

Rainbow stretched her arms and shoved Adagio aggressively, pushing her back a few steps in surprise. Fluttershy gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. “This is bad,” she thought, trembling. “This is very, very bad.”

Before she could even process it, the first scratch flew through the air—though she couldn’t tell who had thrown it or at whom. Then came the blows, the slaps, the shoving, flying from Rainbow to Aria, from Aria to Rarity, from Rarity to Adagio. Screams and cries of pain burst from the violent tangle erupting in the middle of the cafeteria, arms, hair, and even a bit of blood flying here and there.

Fluttershy’s vision blurred as the scene unfolded before her, second by second. Time slowed, the chaos of shouting and crying fading into something distant and hollow. Twilight clutched her arm, yelling and shaking her as if trying to force her to act, while Applejack stood frozen, arms trembling, biting her lip furiously. For the first time in forever, Pinkie wore no smile, too afraid to get near Rainbow and Rarity, yet desperate to do something—anything.

Something had to be done about it, of course. If the fight kept going like this, not only could Rainbow be punished and lose her ticket, but in the worst case, her two friends could end up seriously hurt. One of them had already gotten her nose broken once; she couldn’t allow that to happen again.

But how was she supposed to stop it? After all, she was just the timid, nervous, clumsy friend nobody expected much from. Her whole life, she had stood by watching things happen from the outside, her interventions always kept to the barest minimum. What could she possibly do?

She wasn’t strong, like Applejack. She wasn’t smart, like Twilight. And she wasn’t brave, like Pinkie. No, she wasn’t anything. She couldn’t do anything.

She remembered back at Cloudsdale Elementary, one time when a boy named Sky had bullied her about her looks. He had pushed her down the stairs, calling her “weak” and “ugly” over and over; she cried uncontrollably, letting herself be shoved around again and again, until Rainbow noticed from afar what was happening. They had never even spoken to each other before that point, but the girl with the chestnut hair had decided to leap onto Sky’s back and bite his ear. As a result, she earned herself a one-week suspension, along with a report about the founding of Equestria and how violence solved nothing. After that, Fluttershy and Rainbow never really talked again—not deliberately, at least—but Sky never messed with her again, not once.

Things were different now, of course. She and Rainbow were best friends, though with very big quotation marks around that. The rainbow-haired girl got along better with Applejack than with her, or with Twilight or Pinkie. Honestly, all of them got along with each other better than they did with her, and sometimes—just sometimes—she felt like that was her role forever: the one in the background, the spectator.

Back then, all she did was watch and cry under the staircase. And all she was missing now was the crying to repeat the scene.

Twilight let go of her arm and began shouting things Fluttershy didn’t understand, while everything around her lost meaning. There was nothing she could do.

 

I don’t think so.

 

Something called to her, on her right, almost inexplicably, nudging her cheek as if it had been a slap. At the back, on the bench, dead center in her tunnel vision, Sonata was hugging her knees tightly, biting into them as she sobbed her heart out.

Rainbow had warned them at the time about each of the three new girls. Adagio was the undisputed leader, Echo’s best friend, who only ever listened to the albino and backed her up. Aria was the muscle, hot-tempered and strong despite not looking it. And Sonata…

“A damn fake,” Rainbow had once said. Sonata was the one who had waited for her outside the bathroom, looking friendly and calm despite her true malicious intentions. She had cursed her, insulted her, and described her in a thousand nasty ways. And yet, Fluttershy saw none of that now. The girl was defenseless and scared, curled up in a corner like a little child, like Fluttershy herself had been back in elementary school.

She didn’t know who she was, didn’t know what she wanted, or whether she really was a bad or a good person—but those swollen, tear-stained eyes, she had seen them before. She couldn’t, she simply couldn’t allow herself to watch someone suffer like that again, least of all because of one of her friends.

“What can I do?”

“Stop!” Fluttershy ran toward Rarity, who had just been thrown to the ground, with Aria on top of her, pinching her arm and yanking her hair. With a strength she didn’t know she had, she grabbed the girl with the pigtails and pulled her back, falling face-first to the floor but freeing her friend. “Stop!”

Rarity scrambled to her feet, about to lunge at Aria again, when the timid girl clung to her leg, careful not to topple her but still keeping her in place. The seamstress growled something Fluttershy couldn’t make out, shaking her ankle in an attempt to shake her off, before being grabbed around the waist by Applejack, who had finally snapped out of her daze. The two struggled for a moment, but the farm girl pulled her back toward the group, keeping Rarity out of the fight’s reach.

Fluttershy turned toward Aria, who, still on the ground, was rubbing her bloodied elbow, rage written across her face. She expected her to stand up and charge at her again, but that never happened; instead, she just glared at her from where she was.

“Thank you,” she thought, unable to gesture it, before getting back on her feet, now searching for Adagio and Rainbow with her eyes.

The pair were only a few meters away, standing, struggling in a ridiculous grapple. Adagio was holding Rainbow from behind, the latter biting into her arm savagely, one eye swollen purple and her face scratched. Around them, Twilight was still looking for a way to separate them, but too hesitant to throw herself in.

Without a second thought, Fluttershy ran, stumbling and falling once, but getting up as quickly as she could. Rainbow elbowed Adagio in the ribs, forcing her to let go, before grabbing her by the hair and yanking hard. Another whirlwind of punches and scratches erupted between the girls as Fluttershy closed the distance, nearly colliding with them.

She shoved her arm into the fray, feeling scratches and stings across her hand and forearm, pushing Rainbow back while using the rest of her body to hold Adagio in check. The little rainbow-haired girl lunged again, only to be shoved back once more.

“Rainbow, stop already!” she screamed again, as her friend tried to launch herself forward.

Adagio was quick to counterattack, slapping Fluttershy hard on the head and nose, making it bleed almost instantly. She tried dodging the blows, taking a few more anyway, while still struggling to keep Rainbow at bay with her hand.

A shout, then another. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Applejack finally manage to hand Rarity over to Pinkie before running toward her. But a sharp pain in her face broke her focus; she whimpered in pain, lost her balance, and fell to the floor.

Her arm gave way as Rainbow’s hand recoiled in guilty shock, the smaller girl stumbling back. A cold sting spread across her forehead and eyebrow, dripping down over her eyes and lips. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth from her nosebleed, but this time it felt different, as if it carried a heat that only reflected a rage and desperation that weren’t hers.

Applejack grabbed Rainbow by the shirt, yanking her back, while Aria did the same with Adagio, keeping them both from lunging forward again.

Fluttershy touched her eyebrow, feeling the cold trickle of blood, and something loose hanging there, before looking at her fingers. A tiny shred of skin and hair rested on her fingertip, as more and more blood poured down from what used to be her eyebrow. She looked ahead, locking eyes with Rainbow—whose wide, terrified stare met hers—her fingers stained with blood beneath her nail.

A hand slid behind her, pressing a soft piece of cloth against her face and eye, chilling her skin. The crimson liquid still flowed, but now it was crushed damply against her, like wearing wet socks on her head.

She didn’t fully understand what was happening, not yet, but she was certain of one thing: there were no fists flying anymore, no screams of pain echoing around her. Without thinking, she shot up, accidentally pushing away the hand holding the cloth, letting another trickle of blood spill onto her blouse.

Rainbow stared at the scene, horrified, biting her lip frantically, mumbling something inaudible. Fluttershy turned to Adagio, who was being carried back to the bench by Aria. Her nose was bleeding too, her cheeks swollen and bruised black from the beating. Her clothes were in tatters, and her breathing was as shaky as Rainbow’s, who looked about ready to suffocate.

Fluttershy pressed her lips together, tasting blood between them, then turned to her own friends. Pinkie was holding up a battered, weak Rarity, while Applejack kept a firm grip on Rainbow’s shirt and arm. Twilight was scanning Fluttershy’s face, which had just begun to burn like hellfire, forcing her to swallow a scream of pain through clenched teeth.

She fixed her green eyes on Rainbow, wide and wild.

“Let’s go,” she spat, little drops of blood flying into the air.

She walked forward, taking Twilight by the hand, passing the farm girl and the athlete, heading for the exit. They’d figure out later how to explain all this to Mrs. Dash.

She didn’t bother looking back—somehow, she knew that neither Adagio, nor Aria, nor Sonata would follow them, or say anything about it. She couldn’t explain why. She just knew.

Deep down, she hoped Sonata had stopped crying.

Chapter 30: What Mrs. Dash said

A small gust of snow slipped through the bus windows, whistling like a howling wolf in the shadows. It was noon, yet it felt as though night would soon settle over Canterlot City, with clouded skies and gales sweeping through. No sunlight shone anywhere, and a faint scent of dampness lingered in every corner.

“The first big snowfall,” Windy thought to herself, pushing up from her single seat and struggling to close the bus window, which was horribly stuck on something she couldn’t see. She wrestled with the handle for a few seconds before letting go, glancing in frustration at her reddened, scraped hands, and trying again. Twice more she fought with the window, until her daughter, from behind, released the bus’s support bar and easily pushed the sliding glass shut.

She turned to look at her, serious, careful not to hold eye contact for too long, then returned her gaze forward, not really focusing on anything. There were too many things on her mind, too many thoughts swirling and crashing to deal with her daughter now. “We’re going home,” she had told them, the moment she saw Rainbow’s black eye and Fluttershy’s bloodied face. “Now.”

Of course, it hadn’t been that simple. She was the responsible adult, after all, and something had to be done—that began with calling Fluttershy’s parents. She had braced herself for furious, shouting voices over the phone, hurling insults at her, blaming her that their daughter had been hurt in the altercation. She didn’t know the details, but it hadn’t taken much to piece things together when she saw Rainbow’s bloodied fingers. But no, that wasn’t what happened—the Breezes, their voices as calm as their daughter’s, had answered quietly, saying they would be there soon and that everything would be fine.

The six girls had sat in silence during that time, waiting patiently for the shy one’s parents while they tried in one way or another to stop the bleeding. And, of course, in the middle of it all was Rainbow, cornered and silent as she had never been before. Windy had deliberately avoided speaking to her then, not wanting to make a scene in front of her friends. No, that would have to wait until they were home.

Once Fluttershy had been taken to the emergency room, Principal Cadence offered to drive the rest of the girls home, including the Dash family, giving them a lift to their neighborhood. Windy declined, though, dreading Cadence’s judgment over what had just happened.

But what had just happened? She had little idea. None of the girls were particularly eager to talk, and she had no real desire to pry. All she had gathered was that they had gotten into a fight with some girls they’d had problems with before, and in the middle of it, Fluttershy was hurt. Of course, no one outright accused Rainbow of being the perpetrator—but it didn’t take much intelligence to deduce it.

They stopped at another station—the fifth since she had boarded—and by Windy’s calculations, only two more remained until home.

Scootaloo swung her dangling legs restlessly, not knowing where to look. She stretched out her hands, gripping the back of the seat with determination, as if trying not to fall, staying stiff to avoid tumbling into her mom on the right or her sister on the left. The youngest Dash hadn’t been present during the incident, and had gathered little about what had happened. Not that it mattered much to Windy; she knew what she needed to know, and was already rehearsing her speech for when they arrived.

The bus soon started up again, leaving behind a couple of would-be passengers—it was too full. Saturdays weren’t usually so busy in this city, unlike Cloudsdale, where sports events, plays, or whatever excuse adults found to go out always kept the urban scene buzzing. Not here. Here, things could fall silent now and then.

Now and then.

A few minutes later, they arrived, stopping just a few houses from home. The three Dash family members disembarked without delay, avoiding words, leaving the bus without fuss or ceremony. Windy took Scootaloo’s hand, and they walked to the porch, pausing before the black roses she had once planted for Bow. “Wherever you are, dear, give me strength,” she told herself, as she always did before entering into some argument with either of her daughters.

“Scootaloo, can you cover the flowers? Looks like it’s going to snow,” she whispered, leaning slightly, forcing a false smile to her lips. The little purple-haired girl nodded seriously, let go of her mother’s hand, and trotted calmly toward the garage, pushing it open and vanishing into the shadows.

“And now, it’s just you and me,” Windy thought, turning toward Rainbow, unable to read her expression. The girl stared at the floor, eyes empty, lips twisted in a grimace—almost like a pout.

Windy sighed and tilted her head, signaling for them to go inside.

Soon they reached the kitchen, where she set down her keys and turned on the heater as quickly as possible. The walls were colder than outside, though she wasn’t sure if it was the weather or her nerves. “Probably my nerves,” she thought, catching a glimpse of her daughter putting on a jacket from a chair and sitting down.

She wondered, as she had before, how Bow would have handled situations like this. Rainbow hadn’t started getting into trouble until after his death, and when he was alive, Mr. Dash had never had to scold or correct his daughters for anything serious. Sure, sometimes he punished them for breaking something or lying, but never for ripping part of a friend’s eyebrow off.

She rested her arms on the counter, closing her eyes, replaying the facts. Fluttershy, the fight, the blood, the fingers. The pieces were there, and she would get her confession, guilty or not. “I really need to stop watching Luna’s trials live,” she thought.

She poured herself some water and turned to Rainbow, her gaze stern.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked. Her daughter only lowered her eyes.

Windy took a sip and stepped closer.

“It’s better if you tell me yourself.”

Rainbow let out a faint laugh.

“Tell you what? You know perfectly well what happened,” she answered, her voice breaking under the humiliating urge to cry. Every other time Rainbow had come home from school with a black eye, she had always answered with fire in her voice—never with tears. Windy arched a brow, taking another sip.

“Fine. You got into a fight with some girls and somehow ripped off Fluttershy’s eyebrow. Anything missing?”

“Nope. You got it all right,” Rainbow said, looking down, squeezing her eyes shut.

It wasn’t normal to see her daughter like this—not under any circumstances. Rainbow fought, competed, got hurt, and insulted anyone without remorse. That was her nature, in a way. She was a girl of noble spirit, strong character, and a sharp tongue. Yes, she made mistakes, and Windy never let her get away without apologizing, but always with her head held high and her pride intact. What had changed now?

Since the semester began, her daughter had definitely changed. Her only priority was no longer running, or her music, or Scootaloo. No, now she went to school, studied, and played with her friends like any other girl her age. She had sleepovers, projects, even bands with them—things Windy never thought her daughter would share with anyone.

Those five girls were special, and there was nothing in the world she wanted more than to know why—how they had changed her stoic, foul-mouthed daughter so radically. She wanted to be there, to know everything. And yet, she had only been present for the tragedies: when they broke her nose, and now this.

She remembered Bow’s hand, the tears in his eyes, the way his lips broke when he asked her to let the doctors disconnect him. She wondered if she would have been a more present mother had she said no then.

“Words in the wind,” Rainbow had written that day, before tearing out the page and throwing it away. “My father died because of words carried off by the wind.”

Windy frowned, squeezing the glass in her hand, feeling once again that poisonous resentment toward Bow.

“I want to hear your version.”

“Of what?” her daughter asked, emotionless.

“Don’t play dumb, Rainbow Dash,” she began, holding nothing back. She was getting angry, and she didn’t know if that was good or bad. “Tell me what happened, and tell me now.”

The girl reacted, eyes widening before darting away in shame. She turned toward her mother, clenching her hands into fists.

“In the race, there was this girl, second place,” she began, licking her lips. “Her name’s Lightning. She’s friends with Echo—the bathroom lunatic.”

Windy certainly recognized that name. She had once been close to filing an official complaint to the board against her, if not for Rainbow stopping her with the excuse that it would probably harm her friend Applejack. Windy didn’t know that Applejack girl, but she knew her daughter; she knew this went beyond pride.

“I got mad at her in the locker room, just seeing her, though she told me she wanted to cut ties with Echo, apparently. Said she’d realized Echo was crazy.”

“And what does that have to do with this?”

“I’m getting there,” Rainbow replied, the faintest note of desperation in her voice—enough to stoke Windy’s anger further. “When you dropped us off at the cafeteria, I ran into three other friends of Echo’s. I’m not sure, but I think they came to see Lightning, and she didn’t let them. Then… I don’t know, I lost control, and I said some hurtful things.”

“What did you say?” Windy asked, setting her glass down on the table and leaning on one arm. Rainbow lowered her gaze again, avoiding her mother’s eyes, as if trying to hide.

“I told them…” she began, the words catching in her throat. “I told them I didn’t blame Lightning. That if I were her, I wouldn’t want to be their friend either.”

A cold silence followed her words, darkening the room as Mrs. Dash began to picture how it might have unfolded.

“Did they say something to you? For you to tell them that, I mean?” she asked, leaning even closer toward her daughter, who only shrank further into her shoulders.

“No…”

“Then why did you start it?”

“I don’t know…”

“You don’t know? Of course you know.”

“I don’t know! Something happened, and at that moment I just wanted to hurt them!”

“So that’s what this is about? Revenge?” Windy asked, straightening and raising her voice.

“I mean—yeah? I guess so, I don’t know, I don’t know what I was thinking,” Rainbow muttered, shrugging, though her voice rose too.

“So that’s how it’s going to be? You’ll throw punches at anyone who looks funny at you?”

“They didn’t just look at me funny, Mom.”

“I don’t care! You had no reason to fight those girls!”

“I know, I know! I’m sorry, okay?!” Rainbow shouted, jumping up from her chair, pinching the bridge of her nose, grumbling under her breath.

“Really? You’re sorry?”

“Yes…! No…! I don’t know.”

“Stop saying you don’t know!”

“But I don’t know!” she screamed, turning toward Windy, her face twisted in exasperation and shame, eyes trembling under the weight of tears. “I didn’t want to hurt Fluttershy! I just… lost control!”

“Damn it, Rainbow!” her mother snapped, slamming the table so hard that the girl flinched. A startled squeak came from the basement, pulling Windy’s pink eyes away for a split second, before she recognized Scootaloo’s voice—her youngest had just come out of the shed and was now sneaking upstairs. “You’re not making this any easier.”

The rainbow-haired girl looked down, irritated and ashamed, fists clenching as she fought back tears. She grabbed the chair she had been sitting in, shoved it with a swipe of her hand, then collapsed back into it, burying her head in her hands.

“What do you mean by ‘this’?” she asked, voice breaking.

The adult drew in a breath, sighing grimly, and sat down beside her daughter.

“What would your father think of this?” she asked, more to herself than expecting an answer.

“I don’t know. He’s dead.”

“I have to take care of two girls on my own, Rainbow. Two. Girls. I’ve done my best, okay? And the last thing I need is you getting into fights and ripping eyebrows off people.”

Rainbow didn’t respond, only pressed her lips tight, muffling a pained sob as tears finally spilled from her swollen eyes. Windy felt a pinch in her chest, leaving her dizzy against the tabletop. She hated seeing her little girl like this—hated it.

“I…” Rainbow stammered through sobs and ragged breaths. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

Windy opened her mouth to say something, then realized she had nothing to say—she didn’t know what she could say. She hadn’t been trained for this. She buried her head in her hands, scratching at her orange hair in despair, growing more aware by the second of how uncomfortable she was.

She didn’t want to be here. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Her plan had been to watch her daughter race, maybe even win if Starswirl willed it, then head home with her friends to celebrate with the cake Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle had made. But even that beautiful dessert was probably turning ugly now in the Breezes’ car. Not even that joy remained.

“Bow…” she thought, clutching her scalp, feeling her frustration and anger well up into tears. “Why didn’t you want to be here with me?”

She sighed, defeated, lifting her head again to see her daughter still struggling with tears. Rainbow was unraveling before her, clutching her own hands tightly, as if holding onto something—something that, in this case, was only herself. Windy hated herself for not being able to help her in that moment.

Rainbow had made a mistake, yes—but she was still her daughter. Still her little girl.

Windy rose, stepping slowly behind her, and gently rested her hand on her shoulder. If Rainbow noticed, she didn’t show it.

“There, there…” she whispered, searching for words in a bank that simply wasn’t there, words that might somehow pull them out of this. “It’s okay.”

Rainbow lifted her head, revealing her swollen face, burning with pain from the bruises on her eyes and cheeks, smeared with blood now freshened by tears. She stared into nothing, not knowing what to say or do.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Windy began again, setting her other hand on Rainbow’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “You’re going to go upstairs, call Fluttershy, and apologize. We’ll order something nice for dinner, okay? My daughter won her race today, I can’t let that go uncelebrated.”

With surprising slowness for her usually energetic nature, Rainbow nodded, still lost in her gaze, before standing and trudging toward the stairs like a ghost.

Windy wondered if she had done the right thing—if she had done what other mothers, the ones who had the chance to raise their daughters with two parents, would have done. She wondered if Bow would have done the same. “Am I really the mother you wanted me to be?” she asked herself, clenching her fist, remembering the flat line as her husband exhaled his last breath.

“Rainbow,” she called, stopping her daughter before she climbed the stairs, not really knowing why. She bit her lip, fumbling for something to say. “Did you ever tell your friend Applejack about the room?”

The girl didn’t answer immediately, just stared blankly at the stairs ahead, showing no emotion. Windy couldn’t decide if she hated more seeing her cry, or seeing her like this.

“I forgot,” Rainbow replied, before disappearing upstairs.

Windy clicked her tongue, confused.

Chapter 31: Interlude 3: The library rat

“Federal Codes of Equestria; A History of Trials, Laws, and Progressivism written by Luna,” whispered the young librarian, leaning slightly over Sunset, letting a few strands of violet hair fall onto her. “It’s the third day in a row I’ve seen you reading that book. Is it really that good?”

The girl flinched, unconsciously snapping the book shut between her hands, her ring finger still stuck between the pages to mark her spot. She had spent so much of her life fleeing from Bellemere’s thugs that it had practically become second nature to scoop up her things in a hurry and run, darting between cars, alleys, and garbage just to hang on to the few belongings she had.

Of course, this was different; this girl wasn’t one of her ex-boss’s gorillas. She wasn’t on the streets, hiding from the cold or the rain, and she wasn’t clutching a nearly empty can of spray paint. Instead, she was holding on tightly to a thick vinyl-bound tome—the biggest book Vice Principal Luna had ever written.

She forced her heart to steady and opened the book again.

“It’s not… particularly fun,” she began, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb anyone in the library, “but it’s something I have to know.”

“I don’t know what school you come from, but at least in mine they’d never make us learn that sleeping pill,” the other girl replied, gathering a few more volumes from the tables near Sunset and stacking them onto the cart.

She was young, probably Sunset’s age, maybe a year or two older, with purple hair brushed into bangs across her forehead and fair skin. She wore a simple municipal uniform—black shirt, maroon vest, and a matching skirt. But what truly mesmerized Sunset were her gorgeous lilac eyes, a shade she had never seen on anyone before.

Sunset focused, intrigued by the strange visitor, and noticed something hanging from her vest like an insect—a yellow metal name tag with silver letters that read “Starlight Glimmer.”

“I don’t…” she stammered, unable to pull her gaze from those violet eyes, “I don’t go to school.”

Starlight paused for a moment, glancing at her with a look of feigned indifference that was, in reality, laced with curiosity. That unsettled Sunset, though she didn’t quite know why.

“You don’t go to school?”

“That’s not… that’s not really what I meant,” she replied, stumbling over her words as Vice Principal Luna’s warning echoed threateningly in every corner of her mind. “This little agreement between my sister and you—do your best to keep it secret,” she had said just a week ago when she dropped off more food for Sunset’s pitiful fridge, leaving behind, “accidentally,” a few volumes on Equestrian tax law that Sunset had been grateful for. “I mean, I don’t go to school… here.”

“Oh, I see,” Starlight said, balancing another pile of books in her arms. “Do you take online classes or something?”

“Only during the semester. I’ll probably head back to Manehattan once the holidays are over,” she lied, doing her best to look away.

The other girl didn’t answer, simply smiling softly as she went about her mechanical task over and over again. Sunset couldn’t explain why, but she was entranced by the repetitive motions: the way Starlight grabbed the books, how her fingers curled over the covers, how her hair—especially the mint-colored streak—fell over her face, only to be brushed aside with a graceful flick.

Somehow, just watching her, just hearing her stack book after book, made Sunset feel calm. She smiled.

“Well, good luck, friend. You’re gonna need it,” Starlight said at last, once she had finished loading the books and took hold of the cart handle.

Sunset jumped, startled out of her trance, not knowing where to look, pulling her finger from the book by accident and letting it fall with a loud thud against the table.

“Damn it…” she muttered, a heavy blush spreading across her cheeks as she wondered what Principal Celestia would say if she saw her like this. “She’d probably laugh,” she thought, flipping rapidly through the pages.

“It was six-oh-two.” Starlight chuckled into the air, perhaps a bit louder than one should in a library. “So? Why are you reading that book?”

Sunset followed her cue, opening the book to the page she’d been told, finding at the top a paragraph she still remembered: “…in the year 1992, when the last protests of the Crystal Empire against President Grogar were violently suppressed. The Heart Treaty initiative remains controversial to this day, especially among those with interests in the vast mines beneath the empire’s capital city.”

She’d already spent two days reading that book from nine in the morning to ten at night, skipping meals, and still her mind couldn’t keep track of the page she left it on. She had to write it down somewhere—usually on her hand.

“Yes…” she whispered, not really sure what she wanted to say or how to justify herself. “Can’t a girl read a… ” she glanced at the book again, “comprehensive chronicle of the fiscal and legal history of this wonderful country?”

Starlight laughed again, drawing the attention of everyone else in the library.

“Well, if you say so, I suppose she can.”

“Of course she can.” Sunset left the book open on the page and let her eyes return to the words. The story of the Crystal protests and the brutal crackdown on Equestrian colonialism wasn’t particularly interesting to her—especially with how tensions were rising throughout the country thanks to King Sombra’s idiotic campaigns. “But it’s something you’ll have to know,” Luna had said firmly, the time she had spent an entire day in Sunset’s apartment playing video games before launching into another deep study session.

“It’s something I’ll have to know…” she thought, before lifting her gaze again, searching for Starlight, wondering what exactly she should say to her.

“Hey,” she blurted, more of a croak than actual words, catching the girl by the wrist before she could push the cart away.

Starlight didn’t react immediately, only turned her head with curiosity tugging at her lips. Sunset couldn’t stop staring—at her lips, her eyes, her hair, her whole face.

“Uh…” she stammered, her face blazing red again like a tomato. What did she want to say? She knew she wanted to ask something, but what exactly? “When do you get off work?” she wanted to say. The words caught in her throat, slithering like a monstrous snake that churned her stomach and made her dizzy. What would Celestia say? What would she think?

For a fleeting moment, her eyes dropped back to the book, her finger still wedged between its pages, reminding her of the impossible goal she had set for herself. “My sister isn’t very demanding,” Luna had once said, before laughing at Sunset’s massive corkboard covered with strings, photos, and excerpts that helped her better understand Equestria’s judicial system. Sunset wanted to be president—more than anything, she wanted to be president.

She longed to make Celestia proud, more than she longed for Starlight.

“Nothing,” she whispered, more to herself than to the other girl, before letting go of her wrist, shrugging, and looking away. “It’s the right thing, Sunset. It’s the right thing.”

But that didn’t seem enough for Starlight, who released the cart, turning fully toward her with amused intrigue written all over her face. Sunset tried to ignore her, stealing glances from the corner of her eye.

“Nothing?” Starlight asked, leaning on one leg playfully, looking her up and down. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well…” Sunset began, still unable to keep from glancing back at her over and over again. “Maybe. But I just remembered I’ve got something to do for the rest of the day.” She lifted the book in her hands.

“You sound very convinced,” Starlight said wryly, her adorable smile still plastered across her face.

It was that—it was adorable, a smile Sunset wished she could just keep seeing forever.

“But I still don’t believe you. Want me to take a guess?”

“Go ahead,” she replied, focusing her eyes on the words on the page, almost as if daring her, but secretly hoping she’d just leave as soon as possible. “I need to concentrate,” she thought, before realizing she hadn’t absorbed a single thing she’d been reading.

“I think you were about to ask me out, weren’t you?”

“Nope,” she answered almost the moment Starlight finished speaking, which earned a light giggle from her. “Told you it wasn’t that.”

A thousand different thoughts came crashing through Sunset’s mind, chaotic and tangled as always, colliding and shattering until they dissolved completely. What? How? When? Why? Starlight, Starlight, Starlight. She dropped her eyes back to the book, her face burning red, retreating deeper and deeper into the shell she was building between the leather walls of that tome.

Celestia would definitely be laughing.

In the short time Sunset had known the president, she had learned—sometimes the hard way—that Celestia’s impassive, unshakable image was just that: an image. Beneath it, she was cheerful, playful, even a bit of a tease—much to Luna’s annoyance. Luna, who came across as stoic and calm, but who lit up with delight whenever she spoke about something she loved, like criminal law. Luna sure loved criminal law.

Sunset loved Celestia’s laugh. She loved provoking it, loved receiving it. Seeing someone happier because of something she had done fascinated her, especially when she knew how much she herself meant to the president. After all, it wasn’t as though Celestia went around naming just any orphan her successor.

Sunset was special.

“I was right, I can see it in your cheeks.” The girl jumped again, startled, not daring to emerge fully from her hiding place.

Starlight smiled, a pearly row of teeth flashing as she brushed her bangs back into place. With a little hop, she sat on the table, swinging her legs playfully as she tilted her head from side to side, as though the whole thing amused her. “Just go, please,” Sunset thought, not really sure if she meant it or not.

“I would’ve said yes, you’re cute.”

Almost like a shot of adrenaline, Sunset’s heart rocketed into a race she wasn’t prepared for, her chest aching from the pounding gallop that hit again and again. She hadn’t expected that—not at all. And in some strange way, she still couldn’t quite believe it.

The other girl just laughed again, amused and carefree, still kicking her legs where she sat.

Sunset lifted her gaze, searching for something else in the room that might calm her mind. Starlight was beautiful, very beautiful, and the idea of going out with her was more than tempting. They could get to know each other, grab a meal and talk. Maybe Starlight liked art as much as Sunset did, and Sunset could share her latest sketches. She could tell her about her attempts at animation—or about law, about how tax codes fascinated her just as much as rendering styles or cinematic lighting. They could plan a second date, maybe a movie, or just a walk in the park.

On the streets, she had never had the chance to notice a boy or girl that way, never felt what she felt now, this strange new thing. Her heart pounded, and the only thing she knew for certain was that it felt wrong and right at the same time. She wanted to know her—oh, how she wanted to know her.

“I’m sorry…” she stammered, barely gathering the courage to meet the other girl’s face. “But I’m not interested right now. You’re pretty, and you seem like an interesting girl, but I’ve got more important things to deal with.”

She had been beaten by Bellemere’s thugs more times than she could count, had run until her legs burned like fire, had even sprayed paint into her eyes by accident before—and none of those moments hurt as much as seeing Starlight’s smile fade, disappointed.

“Oh…” Starlight replied, finally stilling her legs. “I see…”

She hopped down from the table, landing by the book cart again, and took hold of the handle, ready to leave. Sunset dropped her gaze, letting strands of red and yellow hair fall in front of her eyes, clouding her sight. She didn’t want to see anything more—didn’t need to.

“Are you…” Starlight began, turning back uncertainly, “seeing someone?”

“No,” Sunset replied flatly, still without lifting her head.

“It’s just, well, you seem so determined to read that book. I figured maybe it was for someone else.”

Sunset’s stomach twisted sharply, bile and the remains of her breakfast rising in her throat, barely held back by her tongue.

“You could say that.”

Starlight pursed her lips, confused, releasing the cart and leaning on it instead. She crossed her arms and furrowed her brow, fixing Sunset with a look sharp enough to pin her in place. Suddenly, Sunset felt like she was in an interrogation, unsure if she even wanted to be questioned.

The librarian sighed heavily, drumming her fingers rhythmically against her arm, a sound that made Sunset increasingly nervous. What was going to happen? What would she say? What was she thinking?

“I get it,” Starlight said at last, passively, lowering her gaze but still keeping that inquisitive edge in her voice. “I guess you’re trying to impress someone special, huh?”

“She knows,” Sunset told herself, only to scold the thought immediately, dismissing it as foolish. She took a breath and forced herself to meet Starlight’s eyes.

“Yes. Someone very special to me.”

“Mother or father?”

“Mentor,” she replied, the word scraping her throat. Celestia was her mentor. Just her mentor. Nothing else.

Nothing else.

“I see. Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Starlight concluded, disappointment in her voice, the faintest trace of disdain lacing each word, like a whisper Sunset could barely catch, barely taste. It was bitter, and she didn’t like it—not one bit.

She looked at her, her heart cooling, her mind clearing. The blush had faded from her cheeks, though she still couldn’t help but recognize her beauty. “What are you trying to tell me?”

And almost as if she’d read her mind, Starlight sighed.

“It’s a shame. I guess we’re not going anywhere, then.”

“Excuse me?” Sunset snapped, irritation slipping into her tone as she shut the book in her hands, turning fully toward her. For a split second, she wondered if this was just what flirting was supposed to be like.

“It’s nothing. I just see that you’ve got this idea that you have to make someone feel special, and personally, I’m not a big fan of that.”

“‘Make someone feel special’?”

“Yes. Don’t take it the wrong way, but I’ve never thought trying to impress anyone is especially healthy. Whether it’s a mother, father, mentor—even friends or partners.”

Sunset narrowed her eyes, staring at her as if trying to frame her for a painting. Her heart no longer beat the same way it had before, and she wasn’t nearly as conflicted about not going out with Starlight anymore. She didn’t fully understand what she meant, didn’t understand why she was saying it—but she knew she didn’t like it. Not at all. And Sunset wasn’t particularly patient.

“Well, that’s none of your business,” she said, raising her voice slightly, drawing the attention of several other library visitors.

“Hey, hey, relax. I don’t want to upset you.” Starlight raised her hands defensively, while another silly but probing smile crept across her face. “I’m just saying what I think. You don’t have to think like me.”

“And what is it you think?”

“That making each other feel special doesn’t do anything but hurt us in the end. A sad, but always present reality.”

Sunset tilted her head, puzzled by what she had just heard, thousands of questions—each more bewildered than the last—flying through her mind. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but all that came from her throat was a dry, rasping grunt that scraped against her tongue.

“Before you say anything, think about it. Haven’t you ever been disappointed? Haven’t they ever made you feel special when you really weren’t?”

“No,” she lied, as the vivid image of Bellemere teaching her how to paint flickered in her mind, ruffling her hair and calling her “little flame.” To Bellemere, it was because of her fiery-colored hair. To the rest of the gang, it was because she was as ugly as a flame.

She remembered her smile, and then she remembered the first beating, which day after day, week after week, month after month, became more present, more frequent. She remembered that feeling, and she remembered the pain. She wondered if maybe Starlight had ever felt something similar.

“Lucky you,” Starlight muttered, grabbing the cart of books again and angling herself toward the exit. “If I can give you any advice, it’s this: drop it as soon as you can. Pain always comes, and the best thing is not even trying to deal with it, okay?” the violet-haired girl concluded before turning and walking away from Sunset.

The vivid memory of Bellemere remained etched in her mind: her lovely smile, her blonde hair, and her plump figure—perfect for wrapping a poor six-year-old girl in her arms.

Her first painting had been of a horse galloping through a golden field of autumn leaves. It had no depth, the light was scattered everywhere, and the proportions could have created a monstrosity if not for the older woman guiding her hand to make a first line she could follow. The piece had been worthless, even by a child’s standards, but it was hers, and Bellemere had assured her she should be proud of it—that she should feel special. That Sunset was special.

Celestia had an entire academy for privileged children, for people who, above all others, were considered special. Of course, she alone received private tutoring, but how special did that really make her? What stopped Celestia from finding another prodigy child to be the next president of Equestria?

She felt a wave of nausea, and when her eyes returned to the book in her hands, she thought maybe it really was too long to try finishing in a single week.

Sunset didn’t know what to think, but that very night, she decided she’d better leave at six, just to try and catch some dinner.

Chapter 32: Twilight's birthday

“I truly insist on making your dress, darling. Ever since I first saw you, I’ve been longing for the moment when I could put my hands on your hair, and this is the perfect occasion. In fact, all of you should let me make your dresses—assuming we’re going to the Gala, of course.”

Rainbow let out a loud snort, grabbing another fistful of chips and stuffing them into her mouth, chewing hard as she rolled her eyes.

“Well, fine, if you insist.”

A sharp squeal of microphone feedback filled the living room, forcing everyone to cover their ears and grit their teeth. Twilight rushed to the audio console and twisted the gain knob, cutting off the sound at once. Pinkie mouthed a quiet “sorry” before resuming the song she was singing on the screen.

Rarity gave a little hop of excitement before immediately scolding herself as the pain in her abdomen flared again, twisting her expression with agony. The burns were still there, the pain was still there, and that bitter reminder forced her to put on a more serious face when she should have been squealing with joy.

Truthfully, all of them should have been squealing with joy, and yet they weren’t. Rainbow was silent again, too embarrassed to speak and not even daring to go near Fluttershy. The latter looked cheerful and happy, yet she understood the reason behind Rainbow’s reaction to her, and the grotesque (though admittedly aesthetic) scar across her eyebrow was a constant reminder of it.

And Rarity…

“You’re not saving your stupid friends anymore, but stay quiet like the good little girl you are, and I won’t lay a finger on Pinkie, got it?” Echo had said weeks ago, and those words had stayed carved even deeper in her mind than the first ultimatum he had given her two years earlier.

And as if things couldn’t get worse, Applejack wasn’t there. She had confirmed she would come, she was supposed to be there, and she wasn’t. Something had happened to her—somehow, Echo’s call to her family had changed something fundamental in the cowgirl, something neither she nor her family could stop.

Twilight and Pinkie were doing their best, both singing, shouting, and hyping up the gathering as much as they could to revive Twilight’s birthday. It wasn’t the night the brunette had envisioned for her first birthday party in Starswirl-knows-how-many years, and in a way, Rarity couldn’t help but feel guilty. After all, she was the one who stayed serious, calm, and unmoved by her friends’ efforts.

And yet, no matter how much she tried to smile, every time her abdomen tightened to let out a laugh, the pain reminded her who she was, what she had done, what had happened to her.

She had been Echo Mirage’s best friend. How many things would have been different if she hadn’t?

She forced a smile, a false expression painted on her lips, glancing again at Rainbow, who sat on the floor in front of the luxurious purple leather couch that decorated the Sparkle family’s game room. It was supposed to be a lively karaoke night, singing their favorite songs—both the ones they had written themselves (mainly by Fluttershy, who had discovered a true passion for it since the Rainbooms formed) and the ones the six of them simply loved.

Well, the five of them—until Applejack arrived, at least.

“My turn!” Twilight shouted, standing up and snatching the microphone from Pinkie before kneeling in front of her expensive laptop to search for a song. A few keystrokes, a couple of clicks, and suddenly “Take Me to Church” by Horsier, one of Fluttershy’s favorite artists, was playing on the TV—clearly meant to lift her spirits.

In fact, up to that point, both Pinkie and Twilight had only played songs that were favorites of Rarity, Rainbow, and Fluttershy, clearly trying to trigger some sort of reaction from them—something that might, just might, lighten the mood a little: Imagine Stallions for the rainbow-haired girl, and Lana del Neigh for Rarity.

“My lover’s got humor…” Twilight began, harmonious and strangely melodic as always.

Fluttershy smiled faintly, swaying her head as the rhythm of the song grew stronger around her, clapping and mouthing the lyrics her friend sang. Meanwhile, the rainbow-haired girl was fixed on her phone, a small gift from her sister Scootaloo after losing her original one to Echo Mirage. Rarity could see the screen; she could see that Rainbow wasn’t doing anything interesting on it at all—just scrolling through the home screen, opening and closing apps, pretending to type in the calculator, anything that would keep her from acknowledging the world around her.

Rarity bit her tongue, realizing she wasn’t much better than Rainbow, having wasted several minutes of her life just staring at someone else’s phone.

“I was born sick, but I love it…” Twilight continued, though no one was really paying attention.

The melodic chime of the Sparkles’ doorbell rang throughout the house, announcing the presence of some stranger at the door. Twilight dragged her violet eyes toward the source of the sound, still half-singing but missing a couple of lines now that she couldn’t see the TV. The noise repeated again and again until the hostess of the house walked lightly back to the laptop, abruptly pausing the song before setting the mic down on the table.

“Hold on a second, I’ll see who it is.”

The brunette frowned, striding toward the front hall with heavy steps that made her look irritated, almost angry.

“Typical,” Rarity thought, watching her friend from head to toe, licking her lips. “I’d be angry too if Echo Mirage had ruined my first birthday party.”

Those invisible fingers that choked and killed weighed over her whole body, suffocating her and her friends’ joy. The common denominator was obvious, and it carried the last name of Canterlot High’s vice principal. At the beginning of the semester, back in that far-off day in the sewing workshop, the six of them had promised to have each other’s backs, and up to that point, they had done nothing but fall like dominoes one after another—no matter that Applejack had gotten her revenge on Echo, no matter the secret deals Rarity had struck, no matter anything.

Sweetie Belle was safe—but at what cost?

“Twilight,” Rarity called, not really knowing what she expected to happen or what reaction she wanted from the others, “I’ll go. You keep singing.”

Without waiting for a response from the brunette, the seamstress stood, stepping in for her friend, who only stared back at her with confusion and that lingering fire of anger in her eyes. That was why Rarity had done it—because she didn’t like seeing Twilight angry on her birthday. She didn’t know if she was leaving to make her happy or just to avoid looking at her.

The music resumed behind her as she walked through the winding halls of the Sparkle mansion, as spotless and luxurious as always. She loved that house—loved the glamour, the taste, and the ever-present feeling that whatever she did there mattered, that it was relevant. But now it felt different—now she felt pressured, overwhelmed, as if the purple-and-white walls were closing in on her, leaving her no room to breathe.

She realized she was thinking about Echo, not the house.

She reached the door, resting her hand on the shining, luxurious knob, feeling the cold seep through her fingertips before turning it and pulling the door open.

“Twili, I swear on my boots I was already on my way here—it’s just that we’ve been all over the place with the Apple family reunion, and I lost track of time,” the towering cowgirl excused herself, holding her hat against her chest as it rose and fell rapidly, shaking snow from her legs, panting.

Rarity flashed a playful little grin, raising an eyebrow as she leaned against the doorframe, watching Applejack barely stand on her knees. The cowgirl looked bad—really, really bad. Her hair was down (a strange occurrence, Rarity had to admit), the hair tie still dangling, tangled in a loose lock. Her eyes were puffier than ever, narrowed and watery from her apparent sprint, and her muscles, as big as they were, were tense and flushed, as though she’d been struck recently. And her clothes, though arranged for the winter cold, were torn to shreds, poorly fitted to her skin, clinging like a strange armor that barely covered her body.

“How are you not freezing, Applejack?” she wondered, before wiping the grin from her face.

The cowgirl took large gulps of air before lifting her gaze and locking eyes with Rarity, letting out a loud huff mixed with a kind of relieved sigh.

“I thought you were Twilight.”

“You’re late, darling.”

“I know, I know…” she excused herself, putting her hat back on her head, failing the first time and only managing with difficulty the second. “But I’m telling the truth—really, the orchard is a complete mess.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Rarity replied, stepping aside to let her friend in. Applejack nodded slowly and stepped inside the house.

Rarity shut the door, feeling the icy night wind whistle through the small opening, howling like a wolf. Going back home will be dreadful, she thought, scolding herself for already thinking about leaving when she should be enjoying Twilight’s day.

“Where is everyone?” Applejack asked, shrugging off her jacket and trying to hang it on the coat rack by the door, failing the first attempt.

“In the game room, dear. Can’t you hear?” Rarity answered, focusing her ear on the distant but unmistakable sound of Twilight’s singing just a few rooms away.

“Oh…” Applejack began, narrowing her eyes, confused. “Right.”

The cowgirl turned halfway, ready to go find Twilight and the others, when suddenly her boot slipped on the cold, polished marble floor. She flailed her arms ridiculously in the air before falling flat on her face, hitting her cheek hard.

Rarity jumped back before crouching beside her friend, gritting her teeth, feeling her pain. “This is going too far, AJ.”

“Everything okay?” Twilight called from the game room, pausing the music in an instant, her voice edged with concern. Rarity swallowed hard, licking her lips, ready to lie.

“Everything’s fine, darling! We just knocked over the coat rack by accident!” Rarity grabbed the cowgirl by her muscular arms, trying to help her up, only to be pushed away as Applejack growled under her breath, rubbing her cheek.

“I’m fine, sugarcube.”

“Yes, yes, I can see that.” Ignoring Applejack’s protests, she grabbed her arm again, this time pulling her to her feet, not letting go once she had her standing.

Applejack was always tired, always distant, always had swollen eyes—but never before had Rarity seen her stumble over herself in such a humiliating, clumsy way. No, AJ had always been a monolith, both physically and figuratively. She never fell, never stumbled, never let herself collapse—at least, until now.

Again, she felt her friend falter, letting out a grunt as she realized how heavy she really was. Rarity braced herself, tightening her muscles and abdomen before her scars screamed back at her, sending waves and waves of pain through her body.

With difficulty, the two of them made their way to a chair near Twilight’s foyer. Applejack waved her hand in the air, trying to grab the armrest clumsily. Rarity let her fall into the cushion, her shoulders—and especially her abdomen—screaming in relief at no longer having to carry the cowgirl’s titanic weight. She sighed heavily, pressing her hands against her stomach.

“For Starswirl’s sake, darling, how much do you weigh?”

“Are you really gonna ask me that?” she shot back, almost like a snort.

“Well, someone has to explain to my abdomen why I’ll be exhausted for the next six business days,” Rarity quipped playfully. But Applejack didn’t seem amused; she only sighed heavily, removing her hat again and rubbing her cheek carefully.

The seamstress’s little smirk faded bit by bit as her mind flooded with questions about her friend’s well-being, questions that made her thoughts race.

“Are you alright?” she asked after a few seconds, leaning closer and letting her hand rest softly over Applejack’s, only to instantly regret it, her fingers tensing.

Applejack groaned, leaning on her knees, holding her head between her hands while she slowly massaged her swollen eyes. For the first time, Rarity noticed a small scrape on the back of her hand, glowing red against her pale skin.

“I’m tired,” she replied, dryly, almost a whisper, her twisted lips carrying an invisible rage that her weak voice didn’t reflect. “Weekends were supposed to be my sleeping days, but now with the Apple family reunion, we’re all like goats on a mountain, jumping around without really knowing what to do.”

“I didn’t know your family was having a gathering,” Rarity lied, remembering how Fluttershy had told her weeks ago about the famous, massive Apple reunion she’d heard of during her visit to Sweet Apple Acres, helping Granny Smith.

“Well, they are,” Applejack sighed, leaning her head back against the chair, nibbling her cracked lips. Rarity thought she might draw blood at any moment. “And it looks like it’s gonna be the biggest one yet.”

“Celebrating something special?”

“Yeah. Granny’s turning seventy-seven, among other things.”

“Among other things?” Rarity wondered, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“What happened to your hand?” she asked, sliding her fingers gently toward the scrape on Applejack’s skin.

“Oh, this? It’s nothing—just some fool who forgot to shovel the snow out of the barn.”

“Let me see,” Rarity insisted, moving quickly to take her hand in hers, stroking the wound gently. Applejack shifted slightly, rolling her eyes, while Rarity leaned closer to examine the marks. Normally, for something this close, she would have pulled out her sewing glasses, but those were locked safely in her workshop drawer at school, far from the Sparkle mansion.

The scrape wasn’t serious—not at first glance. A few torn bits of skin, a fading streak of blood that had already begun to scab beneath the redness, and a painful greenish bruise surrounding it, throbbing faintly.

Rarity narrowed her eyes before meeting Applejack’s gaze again, only to find her staring intently, frowning. She looked angry, upset—but why?

“I’d be grumpy too if I could only sleep two hours a day,” Rarity told herself, softening her expression into the faintest of gestures, still rubbing Applejack’s hand gently.

“It’s nothing,” the cowgirl concluded, sighing each word as if surrendering after some monumental effort.

“This might be nothing, but what will happen when it isn’t?” the seamstress pressed, straightening up again, the sound of Rainbow’s singing now carrying faintly from the other room.

“When it isn’t?”

“Applejack, darling, forgive me for saying it this way…”

“Let me stop you right there, sugarcube,” the cowgirl spat, pulling her hand away from Rarity’s and sitting straighter with a grunt. “I think I already know where you’re going with this, and before you say it—no. I don’t need help. I’m fine.”

Before Rarity could reply, Applejack tried to rise from her seat, swaying clumsily for a few seconds before finally finding her balance and walking toward the source of the music.

Rarity watched her for a few seconds, feeling slightly intimidated by her, but in a way that was oddly intimate, unfamiliar to her. The cowgirl swayed with every step, as if dancing her traditional Ponyville dance, bracing herself against the wall, every step as though it could be a misstep. Normally, she could walk without much issue—sometimes lagging behind, sometimes stumbling a little—but never like this. Rarity had never seen Applejack struggle just to stay standing.

“AJ…” she called, not really expecting an answer.

But what she received wasn’t an answer at all—it was more like a protest. Applejack leaned heavily against the Sparkles’ polished wall, her back pressed to it, and slid down to the floor with a guttural groan that made her sound like some wounded animal.

Without much delay, Rarity moved closer to her friend again, who was now sitting on Twilight’s floor, covering her face with her hands, muttering under her breath.

“I’m a mess…” the cowgirl whispered as her friend leaned down beside her, resting her hands again on her knee. “I’m a complete mess, Rares, I’m a wreck, I came here to make a mess, and to top it all off, I can’t even admit I’m a mess. What’s wrong with me? What in tarnation is wrong with me?”

“Hey, hey!” Rarity exclaimed, cupping her face and forcing her to look at her, her own mind hardly aware of what she was doing. “Don’t say that, Applejack.”

“It’s no use,” the other replied, pushing away Rarity’s soft touch and turning aside with a grimace. “Things will stay the same, and… and then the worst will happen.”

“Applejack…”

“No!” she cried out, louder than she’d meant to, curling her knees to her chest, resting her hands on them as her head sank heavily onto her palms.

Rarity had never seen her like this, and never before had she felt so worried for anyone outside of Sweetie Belle. For two years, the seamstress had thought of nothing but earning enough money for her little sister, making sure she didn’t stumble again on her way to greatness in psychology. That had been her life through most of high school, and that was what she had been prepared for. But this was different now: Applejack was in front of her, devastated, almost as if she were about to cry (a monumental thing, given who she was), asking herself what she had done with her life. And what answer did Rarity have? None. She didn’t know what to say.

Applejack would have to live with that question of what was wrong with her.

“What’s wrong with me?” Rarity asked herself too, feeling tears pressing at her eyes, not sure if their salt came from her own sorrows or her worries. The cowgirl had fallen into a dark spiral that seemed to swallow her whole, no matter how she fought it—and in a way, that spiral resembled the one Rarity had endured for years. The sleep, the isolation, the lies, the silence. The secrets.

Fluttershy had said Applejack had a secret, one so heavy that no one but her could ever know it—not even Rainbow. A truth so sharp and painful that even imagining sharing it among friends made Applejack dizzy. Rarity knew that feeling all too well—she carried it everywhere.

Her hand slid to her abdomen, brushing the fabric gently over the cigarette burns, her stomach twisting with acidic nausea as she did. A terrible scar, poorly healed, that reminded her she wore a collar around her neck—a jagged rope that strangled and choked her every time she tried to step away. Echo Mirage was up there, watching from the tallest tower, laughing at her futile attempts to be more than what she was: a lonely girl squandering her dresses. And now, it seemed, she had done the same to Applejack.

“The tragedy of my life,” she thought, remembering her father, Holdo, stumbling home drunk more than once, frightening little Sweetie Belle with words and threatening her mother. She hated the name Flanks—loathed it—and yet she carried it everywhere like some cursed medal, a medal that had fused with her, dooming her never to find peace. It didn’t matter if she left home and chose to live on her own—a new Holdo Flanks would come to destroy whatever she managed to build, a new Holdo with white hair and gray eyes.

At least, in a grim way, it comforted her not to be the only one.

“We’re both a mess.” A muffled sound escaped the floor as Rarity let herself drop onto it, heavily, her pretty wool-and-cotton skirt crumpling beneath her as she sat sideways, tapping her heels lightly. “You, me… and all of us, in some way.”

“It’s not the same,” the cowgirl answered, taking off her hat again and rubbing her eyes to keep from letting a tear escape. “You girls are just going through a rough patch. I’ve been like this… heck, longer than you can imagine.”

Rarity let out a weak laugh, more like a sigh, letting her head droop limply against her neck.

“As I said. You and me.”

She turned her gaze back to the floor, thoughtful. Yes, she was a mess too—an even bigger one than Applejack. She had dragged a monster toward the kindest people she knew, people who—save for Rainbow—had managed to avoid that beast and live relatively peaceful lives until meeting her. She had brought a storm cloud over her friends, and to make matters worse, a tempest was approaching. She didn’t know when, or how, or where, but she knew it would come. She knew Echo Mirage was planning something—or at the very least, waiting, waiting for the chance to spring from her dark burrow straight at the girls’ throats. The only one spared from her sights was Pinkie, thanks to those poorly healed scars.

Her hand drifted back to her abdomen, remembering that day, the albino’s expression, everyone’s faces, the pain of fire. How had she ended up there? How had she gone from making dresses to being burned by a monster? When had she decided to hunt monsters like her?

Rarity was just a girl, a normal girl and nothing more. She craved a cigarette all over again.

“What’s your story?” Applejack’s voice jolted the seamstress violently out of her aggressive trance, as if iron pincers had clamped around her neck and shaken her.

She arched a brow, confused, not sure what she meant, while the cowgirl only looked back with bored indifference.

“Yeah, what’s your story?” she pressed, repeating the question at Rarity’s puzzled look. “Why are you a mess?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, you know—just a sister to support and a mountain of orders to fill, not to mention I just offered to make Rainbow’s dress for free.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Applejack replied, hiding her mouth in her hands. “You’ve been acting strange for a while now. What’s wrong with you?”

Rarity furrowed her brow, turning her gaze away in mild irritation, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable warmth creep up her fingers, like little ants.

“It’s the same thing. Would you tell me why you’re acting strange? Why you’re a mess?”

Applejack laughed dryly, shaking her head with bitter irony.

“No… no, I wouldn’t,” she admitted, not even bothering to lie.

Strangely, that denial made Rarity feel comforted, as if there were two huge brick walls between them, with only a tiny hole in the middle to peek through, just enough to let in light. Rarity knew that wall existed for a reason—in her case, to shield Pinkie from the storm that was coming, and in Applejack’s, for something unknown. But it existed, and it was there for a reason.

Two massive walls, between two friends.

“But I can imagine a certain little white-haired chick, am I wrong?”

“A certain chick, definitely.”

A cold, bitter silence settled between them, covering them like an immovable concrete blanket, freezing them in time, their focus locked entirely on one another with sharp precision, so much so that not even the subtlest movement escaped the other’s notice, as if they were the only two people alive.

She felt a lump form in her throat, choking her breath and quickening her heart, suffocating and dark. Suddenly, the wall before her felt too close, too tight, leaving no room to breathe, loaded with the truth of the scars on her abdomen and whatever Echo might do in the future.

Applejack had struck the albino, she had given her a lesson—before the girl struck back with everything she had, in the most subtle and elegant ways. Rarity had walked right into her trap like a fool, and with Applejack, it had taken nothing but a phone call to ruin it all. She really was a monster, yes, but a monster careful to keep things clean—except with Rainbow, of course.

What made them different? What had changed? She didn’t know, and truthfully, she didn’t want to find out.

Now they were all in that sack, all bearing that same weight, all living those same moments over and over again. Echo had been so elegant with her group of friends that, even without lifting a finger, she had ruined Twilight’s birthday.

Was it Echo’s fault? Really?

She swallowed again, the lump now heavy with the truth that, while Twilight and Pinkie sang cheerfully in the other room, trying to salvage the fragile alliance their friends had built against the albino, she had already surrendered. She had accepted that Echo had won—and somehow, that made it all so much worse.

Yes, the scars had been made by the albino—but it had been Rarity herself who walked into the bowling alley that day, Rarity who climbed into the car, Rarity who decided not to go home after school. Octavia had gotten her dress, but that was the only thing that had gone the way she wanted.

And now she carried on her skin a yoke, a yoke much like Applejack’s, one that desired nothing but blood, vengeance, and hate. A yoke that, she soon realized, came from her mind alone, and nowhere else.

“Echo talked to my Granny, and told her about the fight in the cafeteria. That stirred my waters, because one way or another, it would lead her to finding out about my other jobs.”

Rarity lifted her gaze, attentive to the cowgirl’s words, while her throat slowly began to loosen.

“She told her about her mom’s attempt to get me expelled, and she mentioned the absences, but not…” —Applejack drew in a deep breath, shaking her head, doubtful of herself— “she didn’t tell her about the year I lost.”

“Oh…” thought Rarity, as the pieces began to fall into place at full speed, assembling one after another, threading fact upon fact with a crash. Somehow, inside her brain, that revelation made sense, and the immediacy of that realization made her stop breathing for a few seconds.

Applejack had repeated a year. She had always thought she looked older than the others, and now she had confirmation; she shouldn’t be in eleventh grade, but in twelfth, above them all and already thinking about college, and yet, there she was, always brushing the limit of absences and always brushing the patience of the teachers.

She lowered her eyes again, thoughtful, while the other simply rubbed her swollen eyes with the large fingers of her hand. Somehow, she knew those words were hard, something enormous for her friend, and enormous for them both. The brick wall was starting to crack, and it surprised her that the first to make contact was the cowgirl, who was usually so stoic and reserved.

She remembered the first time she had met her, that iconic day, barging in like a giant into what, until then, had been her domain, dragging Rainbow by the collar like a predator with her prey. She hadn’t felt intimidated by her at the time, because very few things intimidated Rarity anyway, and yet, she had felt overwhelmed by how particular Applejack was; after all, a two-meter-tall, incredibly muscular woman who could barely stay awake was not exactly an everyday sight.

Over the course of the semester, she had gotten to know her more closely, and while the cowgirl always hung out mainly with Rainbow, and from time to time with Fluttershy, it hadn’t been hard to notice the strength in her back, carrying her jobs, school, her orchard, and, to some extent, her group of friends—being the only one who had decided to stand in front of them all to confront Echo, to denounce her injustices.

And now, there she was, sitting, melted against the wall, opening up like a reliquary, revealing as if it were a tune her great secret, her lost year. “Why?” wondered Rarity, meeting again the cowgirl’s greenish eyes before her. “Why now?”

 

But you know the answer, don’t you, Rarity?

 

Yes, she did. Applejack had nothing left to lose. She was standing at the edge of the abyss; good grades, yes, Twilight’s influence, but absences piling upon absences, even with some forgiven by Miss Harshwinny and Professor Eclipse, still she was balancing on a thin rope that at any moment was going to snap under her own weight.

The Apple family reunion seemed to be that missing push, that final gasp of sleeplessness and despair she needed to finally collapse, and repeat a cycle. Applejack would drop out, stop attending classes with them, and little by little fade away like an old memory to the back of their minds.

Perhaps what she thought was something intense, or perhaps not, perhaps none of it would happen, or perhaps all of it. Whatever the case, the Applejack before her wasn’t the same one who had struck Echo Mirage with all the strength of hell, wasn’t the same one who could split a stump with bare hands, and wasn’t the same one who could endure any blow. This was an Applejack who had slipped on the ground and hurt herself; a defeated Applejack, awaiting her fate.

Rarity realized that, in truth, only she still had a wall.

She felt nauseous. What was she supposed to do now? What should she do? She hated seeing her friend like this, hated watching a mighty monolith crumble, like an outdoor painting exposed to rain and wind. She wanted to help her, but how could she help her pull herself together if she herself was broken?

Which pieces belonged to Applejack, and which to her?

“But… it’s only a matter of time,” the cowgirl spoke again, letting another smile slip from her lips, “Granny isn’t dumb. She’ll see through my excuses.”

The cowgirl lowered her gaze, lost, scratching the skin around her fingers with her nails, even drawing blood in the process. Such a simple act, such a small self-inflicted punishment, and yet, it looked as if it might cost her her life—or at least, that’s how it felt to Rarity.

“But that’s my story, sugarcube.”

“As if it were an ending,” she thought, biting her lips.

Another sepulchral silence settled between them, falling like dirt over a grave, smothering whatever was left there, any will to fight, any will to make things better. She was confused, definitely, but somehow she also felt melancholic, almost as if that moment was slipping away through her fingers.

Or maybe it was she who was slipping away?

She felt a strange estrangement in her body, as if she were a spectator in a dance foreign to herself, with the moments sliding through every corner of the room. She wanted to do something—why couldn’t she? She wanted to fight—what held her back? She wanted to scream, but something was suffocating her.

Those damn scars.

She looked at Applejack; her eyes shone with a spectral, foreign light, wise and old, as if she already knew her secret. And no wonder, after all, the day of the fight between Adagio, Aria, Rainbow, and herself, when the cowgirl had held her in her strong arms, she must have noticed the spasms of pain Rarity gave off every time her abdomen was pressed. Yes, AJ wasn’t dumb, and just like her friends, she knew the seamstress carried a terrible secret, one that, somehow, was tied to those spasms of pain.

She felt the urge to breathe, to escape upwards and return to the surface, to regain control of her body, her life, her surroundings.

“Forgive me, Pinkie.”

“I’ve got a story too,” she began, swallowing hard, as if somehow that helped her breathe. “And it also has the same main character on the cover.”

“I figured as much. What’s rustling your leaves?”

“There’s no turning back,” Rarity thought, as she slid her hands down to the bottom of her lovely black-and-purple blouse (matching the birthday girl, of course). “Applejack is going to fight, and so am I, even if it means dying.”

She took hold of the edge of her blouse, and with an excruciating slowness, lifted it before her friend, stopping just below her chest, leaving in perfect display the four scorched circular marks on her skin, scarred into a clumsy and ugly pattern.

Applejack’s eyes widened, startled in her place, before quickly moving closer to her friend, her mouth ajar, her gaze troubled.

“I wanted to fix things, see if we could shake her off, since all of this started with me.” The cowgirl slid her rough hands softly over Rarity’s abdomen, never quite daring to touch the scars. “You can tell that, despite my brilliant idea, I had a little slip.”

“Slip?” she asked incredulously, shifting her gaze between the scars and her friend. “How long have you had them?”

“A while now; it’s not like it matters.”

“Rarity! Why didn’t you tell us anything?”

“I couldn’t,” the seamstress concluded, letting her blouse fall again, while the other’s fingers still traced along her soft skin. “This was a problem I had to solve, and when I couldn’t, that… idiot Echo locked me up again. Something’s going to happen, I don’t know what or when, and I doubt even she knows; but it will happen. My silence bought Pinkie a safe-conduct.”

“Pinkie?”

“Echo isn’t blind,” she continued, standing, offering her hand to her friend. “She may be a heartless harpy with less dignity than one of Sombra’s followers, but she isn’t blind. She knows Pinkie is special to me, and how close I am to her. The wretch said just what she needed so I wouldn’t say anything…”

“I understand…” the other whispered, standing from her seat, having shed much of her tired appearance in an instant, but taking on another kind of weight in her expression, similar to what she had the day of the bathroom incident, though not so agitated and violent now, but colder, more calculated. Rarity couldn’t decide if that was better or worse. “Why are you telling me now?”

“Would you believe me if I said I don’t know?” she replied, shrugging, but letting a clumsy smile paint her face. “Something about you, I guess.”

She stroked her chin for a few seconds, looking around without really paying attention to anything, thinking about how she might answer Applejack—"or myself.”

“You’re tired. I can see it.” Rarity turned to look at her with curiosity “I’ve got some experience with being tired, and I can swear on my boots that’s what’s going on with you. You’re tired of Echo, of the two years she stole from you, and of the weeks she’s been stealing ever since.” She finished, pointing at the seamstress’s abdomen.

The seamstress looked at herself with intrigue, as if she didn’t quite understand what Applejack was talking about, but somehow, she was taking in her words. Yes, she had lost two years, until she met what would become her first real group of friends, and oh, how she longed with all her strength not to lose it.

She hated seeing Applejack at odds with her family, hated seeing Fluttershy and Rainbow cold, hated watching Pinkie and Twilight struggle to keep their group happy—throwing parties, forming bands, and more. She hated seeing what Echo Mirage had done to them, and yes, she was tired of it.

“Yes… I’m tired,” she began, as the dirty face of the albino burned into her mind like a brand pressed against her skin. “But I’m also angry. Very, very angry.”

“So am I.”

“And here we are. Hiding behind walls, letting ourselves be consumed.”

“You want to strike back?”

Rarity met Applejack’s eyes, and she noticed fire within them—fire she had never seen before, fire that was now burning inside her too. “Scorched earth,” she told herself, thinking of her abdomen, and of the cowgirl’s family, thinking of Rainbow’s nose and Fluttershy’s brow. She clenched her fist.

“I want war.”

Applejack smiled wickedly, furrowing her brow, crossing her arms, drawing air through her mouth, her chest swelling.

“We’re not enough, are we?” she asked, her tone betraying a trace of excitement.

“No,” Rarity answered, somehow feeling in her stomach that she was making a mistake, that she was slipping too far into a dark abyss. “This is something for all of us.”

“Well then,” Applejack replied, stepping aside to let Rarity pass into the game room, where music still poured out, now with Fluttershy’s faint voice seeping through the walls. “Are you sure you feel comfortable telling them about… that?” she asked, pointing again toward her abdomen.

“No,” she said bluntly, taking the initiative from her friend and stepping into the room, “but they’re my friends, and if we’re going to do this, I’ve got no choice but to be honest.”

“Then so will I,” the cowgirl concluded, before following her inside the house.

Chapter 33: Scorched earth

She stifled a scream the moment she saw the scars.

They were all frozen, the TV in the background looping a music video by an artist she didn’t know — one Pinkie had been singing just minutes before — now showing the ominous, distant symbol of silence bouncing in every corner of the screen.

Time had stopped from one moment to the next; she knew it, she felt it — nothing moved, and everything lost color, taste, smell. Nothing existed, and yet the images were going to be burned into her mind like a tattoo; or rather, the images and the words.

“I’m a year older than all of you; in Twilight’s case, two.”

“ tried by myself to talk this through with Echo, tried to fix everything.”

“Nothing at home has been the same since then. My Granny barely speaks to me, and Big Mac just keeps judging me over and over, as if what I did wasn’t necessary.”

“It still hurts, but mostly it makes me angry. Really angry.”

Twilight sat in a single armchair in the Sparkles’ playroom, legs pulled up to her, hands covering her mouth, her glasses fogged by her own breath. In front of her, almost as if posed and ready for display, Applejack and Rarity stood, serious and stoic, impassive — the latter lifting her blouse slightly to show a filthy set of burn marks on her abdomen that, in a strange and macabre way, resembled a constellation in the night sky. “Opeth”, she thought, recalling an astrological chart she had stuck on one of the walls of her room, and immediately felt bad for remembering it in that situation.

Fluttershy looked away, hugging her knees tightly to herself and burying her face deeper into her natural shell, shortly followed by Pinkie, who was sitting on the floor beside her.

“That’s the situation,” Rarity confessed, letting the fold of fabric fall over her soft skin, almost as if hiding a strange anomaly that needed to be extinguished as soon as possible. “Hiding pain,” Twilight thought, her stomach churning with a sickening acid sensation.

“Well, Rarity and I were talking on the porch, and… how do I say it?” the cowgirl stammered, lightly touching her chin with her fingers.

“We don’t want it to end like this.” The seamstress took a step forward, flipping the purple hair out of her face and wearing a terrible expression of seriousness — an expression Twilight had never seen on her, at least not like that.

The amount of things that had happened since that distant morning when Rainbow defended Twilight from Echo was almost too much for anyone, even with the brunette’s brain, to follow closely; and yet now she was learning about a whole other world of events that had occurred right under her nose without her noticing. Rarity going off alone and getting hurt; Applejack holding a voracious fear of letting her family down — all of it spilled now like she had just read a bad fantasy book, where everything feels so false and abrupt that it almost made her want to laugh at the improbability.

But this was real. The scars were real. The age was real. She felt sick.

“We want a war,” the seamstress concluded, clenching her fist.

A stormy silence fell over the six friends, replacing the air with a thick, suffocating layer of uncertainty and horror that, Twilight assumed, made them all feel as ill as she did. Her stomach flipped again and again, her head spun, and inside her a sharp question tearing at every corner of her lungs kept bouncing around: “How did I let this happen?”

November was turning out to be a turbulent month, definitely. One day she was in the school auditorium forming a band with her best friends, and the next one of them had ripped another’s eyebrow off. One moment she was celebrating her birthday, singing her favorite songs at the top of her lungs, and the next they were assembling a war council to take down a crazy girl.

Hell, she had even forgotten, for a fraction of a second, that it was her birthday — she had forgotten that this was supposed to be her special day, her day to celebrate with her friends. Less than a week ago she had dared to look her mother in the face, convinced of everything she would say, only to chicken out at the last moment and tell her father instead. She felt once more like she had with Moon Dancer, cursing herself for how weak she had been and how childish she was acting. For the first time in her life she wanted to throw herself a birthday party; for the first time in her life she wanted her friends there, and even after how sure she had been, even after the strength the others had given her, even after all of that, she felt guilty again, incapable of looking her mother in the eyes and opening her mouth.

That night, in the kitchen, she had declared a war, fought it, and somehow won. She had left the argument with the last word, retreated like a victor, and yet now she was afraid to approach the loser, to admit she was wrong, to give her the reason.

She had to talk to her mother, but she couldn’t find a way.

And now, in front of her, she felt another war beginning to slip through her fingers, escaping once more, as if she were a spectator of her life, of what happened in her own home.

On her birthday.

“A war?” Fluttershy asked timidly, not quite leaving her shell.

“Yes,” Applejack answered, stepping forward without wavering even once. She had to admit — for better or worse — the cowgirl did not look exhausted or worn; Twilight had never seen her so alive. “Just like the day she hit Echo,” she thought, remembering Pinkie’s harsh words when she told her what had happened in the cafeteria. “A war. I want us to bring the storm straight to that crazy mare’s door and let her know what it means to mess with us.”

“But how? Hit her?” Pinkie asked, letting her legs go and leaning against the arm of the chair, her face twisted in consternation.

“This wasn’t a punch.” Rarity pointed to her abdomen with her hand, also stepping forward. “And she doesn’t deserve any less.”

Another bunch of words got stuck in Pinkie’s throat, her lips opening and closing without actually saying anything, while the cowgirl and the seamstress exchanged determined looks. Twilight didn’t like those looks at all. What did they mean? What were they plotting? What were they planning? Echo was evil, yes, no one doubted that, but did she really have it in her to hurt her? To harm her just like that?

It wasn’t that she didn’t deserve it — no — but something, something behind Twilight’s violet eyes wouldn’t let her think that way, wouldn’t let her think of war.

“Sorry,” she thought, imagining herself saying it to her mother.

“I know this may sound a little… barbaric. But I’m convinced it’s the least we can do to get her off our backs.”

“We’ve been putting up with her for a long time, some of us longer than others,” the cowgirl continued, glancing at her companion — “but that ends now. The next time she even looks at one of us funny, she’ll wish she’d signed up for a different rodeo.”

She closed her eyes, her head burning like a thousand needles against her skin, and the room’s light too dazzling all of a sudden. “I have to get away,” she told herself, immediately feeling guilty for thinking that way. Rarity and Applejack were her friends — her closest friends — so why did she want to escape from them now? What was she so afraid of?

“It’s bad, really bad, I think.”

“What did she tell you?”

“That Rainbow’s in the girls’ bathroom, and that you, Rarity, and I should take her to Nurse Redhart as soon as possible.”

“And where’s AJ?”

“I don’t know; she just said she was going to get herself expelled.”

“Echo… she definitely has something to do with this.”

“How do you know?”

“She stole two years from my life, darling. I can recognize her pestilential scent wherever she goes.”

“Do you think she’s going to do anything to her?”

“Probably.”

“I have to see that. I’m sorry to leave you with Rainbow, girls, but I really have to see this. It’s something I need.”

“Are you sure? Are you okay, Rarity?”

“I’ll be fine.”

But it hadn’t been like that. The seamstress hadn’t been fine, and neither had the cowgirl. The two girls standing before her now might look like themselves, but a multitude of things had changed in two months, and now, in the middle of her birthday, she wondered if maybe trying to stop that blow would have changed anything.

She opened her eyes, thinking, What’s going to happen? Rarity and Applejack wanted to fight — she could see it in their eyes — and they seemed ready to go through with it at the cost of their tickets to the gala, at the cost of their place at school, at the cost of everything. “Scorched earth.”

And all of it, in the middle of her birthday.

“Don’t you think this is… a bit excessive?” Fluttershy asked timidly, still not daring to leave her shell.

“Excessive? Have you seen her scars, sugarcube?”

“Well, maybe Fluttershy wasn’t trying to downplay Rarity’s wounds,” Pinkie interjected, jumping quickly from her spot and landing between the cowgirl and her friend. “Maybe we just want to know more about what you’re talking about?”

“Blood. That’s what we’re talking about. We want blood.”

“I don’t want to make anyone bleed…”

“No one’s going to make anyone bleed.” Pinkie moved closer to her frightened friend, kneeling beside her and wrapping her in a tender, sisterly hug. “Right?”

Applejack answered the question with a loud snort, pinching the bridge of her nose as she slowly paced the room, shaking her head. Rarity rolled her eyes in exasperation, crouching in front of Fluttershy and letting one hand rest gently on her shoulder.

“Look, darling…” she began, lowering her voice but still keeping that terrible seriousness and stoicism etched into every word. “Echo isn’t going to stop — not now, not tomorrow, not ever. She’s going to keep sticking her hands into our lives over and over again until we put an end to this.”

“That’s what we said!” the cowgirl cut in, her tone desperate. “Echo herself said the only one who’d get out of all this would be Pinkie, but only if you didn’t find out about what had happened to us.”

“But…” the other girl stammered, almost on the verge of tears. “I don’t… I don’t want to.”

Rarity frowned, letting out a frustrated hiss through her nose before leaning closer to Fluttershy, unconsciously tightening her grip on her shoulder.

“Darling… honestly…”

“You’re hurting me!” she exclaimed in a hushed tone, a sharp squeal breaking from her throat as she shook her shoulder violently, freeing herself from the seamstress’s grasp and dropping her head between her knees. Rarity jumped back, confused and a little shaken, before regaining her composed demeanor, straightening up, and looking at her with eyes that were compassionate but firm.

“This is going to happen, Fluttershy. I understand if the idea of defending yourself against Echo scares you or gives you anxiety, but we have to learn to stand up for ourselves if we want to live in peace.”

But the one named didn’t respond, whimpering softly into her knees, pressing her face tighter into her invisible shell and letting out a painful sob now and then. Pinkie wrapped her in another gentle hug without daring to fully look at Rarity, but frowning under her puffy pink hair.

Applejack let out another snort, planting her colossal hands on her hips, shaking her head, pacing from one end of the room to the other as if she were looking for something. Twilight prayed under her breath that whatever she was looking for wasn’t her.

“Rainbow’s strangely quiet,” she thought, glancing at her athletic friend, who was sitting on the couch, legs crossed and eyes fixed on the scene before her. She remembered the fight, the terrible anxiety she’d felt in her throat as she watched fists and nails flying toward Adagio’s and Aria’s faces, and she remembered the living flame of rage and passion burning too warm in the little one’s pink eyes, like a crystal of lava, glowing red with heat.

That same flame was still alive; she still saw that passion, that hatred for Echo and her friends, and yet she was sitting there, legs crossed, as if it were all unrelated to her. In any other situation, she would’ve bet Rainbow would be the first to jump into action, not Applejack or Rarity.

“What are you thinking, colors?” she asked herself, unconsciously placing special emphasis on the nickname the cowgirl always used for her friend.

“Twilight,” Applejack boomed, snapping her out of her trance and making her jerk her gaze away, “you’re the voice of reason. What do you think about all this?”

Her mind went blank in an instant, her heart racing wildly. Her head throbbed mercilessly, and everything around her began shrinking at a dangerous speed. She didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know what to think, didn’t know what to do. “Should I be angry? Or maybe frustrated? Or excited? How am I supposed to react?”

She didn’t want to make anyone angry. She didn’t want Rarity and Applejack mad at her, or Fluttershy crying. She didn’t want Pinkie to feel intimidated. And above all, she didn’t want any of this happening on her birthday. “Stay quiet,” she told herself harshly, her eyes darting from place to place without really thinking about anything. “Just like you did with Moon Dancer, just like you did with your mother.”

How she wished she could hug Spike at that very moment.

She looked at Rainbow, her violet eyes searching for some kind of support from her most explosive, most chaotic friend. How had it come to this?

However, to her surprise, as soon as the rainbow-haired girl clicked her teeth loudly and rose from her seat, she knew that somehow, she’d just found the ground she’d been searching for.

“I know what she thinks,” Rainbow snapped, lifting her chin defiantly and locking eyes with Applejack’s green ones in fierce challenge — a challenge Twilight wasn’t sure was aimed at the cowgirl or at the pale one. “She’s out. Just like Flutters, Pinkie, and me.”

“What?!” Rarity exclaimed, incredulous.

“I didn’t say anything,” Pinkie blurted quickly, anxious fear in every word.

“What do you mean you’re out?” Applejack demanded now, stepping forward to face Rainbow.

“Like I said,” the rainbow-haired girl replied. “I don’t want anything to do with this, and neither do any of us.”

“Darling, I don’t think you speak for everyone.”

“But I do.” Rainbow puffed out her chest, just as she had with Echo when she defended the brunette’s glasses, without having the slightest idea of all the miserable consequences that decision would provoke. “We. Are. Out.”

“You’re joking,” the cowgirl continued, a vexed smile curling on her lips as she raised her arms in a vaguely threatening gesture Twilight couldn’t be sure was deliberate or not. “You’re out? After everything you’ve done?”

“Everything I’ve done? Do you have something to accuse me of, Ponyville?”

“I just think it’s a bad joke that a crazy goat like you says she’s out of this when you’re the one who went charging at the bull in the first place. You’re the one who messed with Echo, you’re the one who went throwing punches at Adagio, you were her main target in the bathroom. Hell, you’re still her main target!”

Rainbow frowned, crossing her arms as the blonde’s words slithered from her lips, holding her ground, stoic. Her eyes still blazed with that same passion she always carried wherever she went, but beyond that there was something else, something the brunette could only describe as sadness — a shadow in the middle of a fire, a hole, a pit.

Something had changed inside her friend, definitely, but for now at least she was grateful she was diverting Applejack’s attention, giving her a moment to think. About what? She didn’t know. She just needed to think.

“I don’t care what Echo does to me; I’m not going out there to hurt her, just like that.”

“‘Just like that’? Are you really going to take that stance?”

“Got a problem?”

“Yeah, several, Miss Dash. You want to walk away now after what she did to me and Rarity? Knowing what she’s going to do to the others?”

“We shouldn’t keep playing her little game.”

“I did play it!” the cowgirl shouted, her heated tone shaking the whole house and making everyone flinch, even Rarity herself. “I did play it, and I did it for you! I put my bloody neck on the chopping block for you! I risked everything for you! This whole mess has been because of you, and only you!”

Twilight’s heart raced as thousands upon thousands of thoughts stormed through her mind like a wild herd rampaging across green fields, destroying everything in its path, with one vivid word blazing in front of them all — a clear and hateful “No.”

“This can’t be happening,” the brunette thought, imagining thousands of different scenarios, each one worse than the last. Applejack and Rainbow had been the architects of this group of friends, the beating heart pumping life and air into the six of them, the original founders, the ones who always stood for each other. The two girls were important, their friendship was important.

“You’re important to me,” she thought, finally unfolding her legs and rising from her seat as she watched her group of friends fall apart. She had to do something — she knew she had to do something.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Rainbow snapped, the words spilling from her lips with a searing burn, touched only by the faintest trace of regret and shame.

A tense silence took over the room, as tangible as each one of them standing there, thick and heavy, and yet none of them dared to break it. The rainbow-haired girl’s words smeared across every wall of the room, leaving a cold and poisonous trail behind, aching in the heart.

“Rainbow…” Twilight thought as the oxygen drained from her lungs. Those words weren’t meant for her, and yet she could feel the pain, the betrayal. “There has to be more,” she told herself, almost as an excuse, searching the other’s eyes for the thing she so desperately wanted to see — something that would tell her Rainbow hadn’t just said that, hadn’t just insulted Applejack.

Everything was crumbling, and in a way, she felt the scorched earth her friends spoke of was unraveling right before her eyes.

The cowgirl let out a small laugh, incredulous, shaking her head slowly while her eyes danced from point to point, scanning the small rainbow-haired girl over and over again. Rarity, meanwhile, furrowed her brow, visibly angry, stepping aside to give Applejack a clear path, planting herself near the television.

“You’re unbelievable. You. Are. Unbelievable,” she muttered derisively, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, still letting an incredulous smile slip from her lips.

The other girl didn’t respond, only staring attentively at the older one, her face still taut and stoic in its seriousness, softened only by a faint breeze of condescension that the brunette couldn’t quite interpret. She didn’t know what Rainbow was thinking, or what she meant by it. She knew it wasn’t that Rainbow didn’t value what Applejack had done months ago, knew there was no way it was that — or was there? “I know you, there’s no way…” But did she really know her? She knew what she liked to do, knew her daily routines, but beyond that… was there more? Was there something else she should have seen coming?

She didn’t know, and it made her feel awful — it made her feel terrible.

“Come on, AJ,” whispered the little rainbow-haired girl, her expression softening into something more charitable and empathetic as she took a step toward the cowgirl. “You’re better than this.”

“Better than what?” the farm girl shouted back, still smiling, but with a twisted look on her face that betrayed a frustration so unlike her. Twilight admitted it — it was truly terrifying to see Applejack angry. “Better than you?”

Rainbow swallowed hard, taking a small step back, but still holding her chin high and her chest puffed out, almost as if she wanted to intimidate the other.

“Yes… That’s easy.” Applejack stood right in front of her, puffing her chest as well, waving her hands with cruel irony. “You just have to not be a savage who rips her friends’ eyebrows off. Easy enough.”

Rainbow shifted in the slightest of movements, so subtle anyone else there might have missed it — her eyes narrowing just a fraction, her body trembling faintly. Twilight knew it, Twilight saw it in her: something had broken inside the rainbow-haired girl, something deeper and more fundamental to her being. This wasn’t just a broken nose, or a shattered dream — this was something else. And a terrible feeling of helplessness swept over the brunette. “This can’t be happening,” she repeated, feeling her eyes flood with tears in an instant.

But it was happening, and she didn’t know what to do.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” the cowgirl asked, scanning her opponent from head to toe with a look that was almost disgust.

Rainbow only nodded faintly, as if every movement cost her her whole life, drawing a slow, heavy breath, relaxing her muscles.

“Yeah…” she replied, her voice weaker and duller than usual, but clinging to a false seriousness she still tried to hold on to. “It’s easy to be better than me.”

“What happened to your ‘I’m the best’?”

Once again, the cowgirl’s question was answered only by silence, and a feigned calm that served only to keep the others in anxious suspense. Rarity looked scandalized, still wearing an angry and frustrated expression, but her eyes softened into condescension and pity. Fluttershy remained hidden in her shell, peeking timidly at the scene, her hands locked tightly around her knees, squeezing so hard it looked like she might hurt herself with her own nails. And Pinkie sat on the floor, legs sprawled in a childish pout, tears in her eyes, hands over her mouth, smothering a sob of helplessness and sadness.

And Twilight only watched — she could only watch — without doing anything. “Useless, useless, useless,” she repeated to herself again and again, nausea twisting in her body at the thought of how everything was falling apart around her. It was as if there were an invisible line in front of each of them that none dared to cross — except for Applejack and Rainbow, the very two who had founded this group of friends, the ones who had shown Twilight that there was more worth fighting for beyond the dull life she had always known.

“Scorched earth,” she repeated to herself at last, breaking into tears.

“Be better than me,” the rainbow-haired girl whispered, finally letting her chest deflate, her eyes dropping, her voice trembling with every syllable. “Don’t be a monster.”

The words floated, then disappeared into the air, dissolving into a bitter and solitary haze. Applejack’s eyes softened, her lips parting slightly, her muscles slowly unclenching, while the other girl simply turned toward Twilight.

“Happy birthday, Twi,” she muttered before returning to her seat, crossing her legs again, pulling out her phone and scrolling without really seeing anything.

She didn’t need to hear it — she knew that what had shattered was the athlete’s spirit, like glass crashing violently against the floor. Twilight broke into sobs, collapsing to the ground, wailing and bawling like a child, trembling with rage, helplessness, and frustration.

What had just happened? She didn’t know. She didn’t know what it meant for the six of them, or what would come next. Applejack lowered her gaze, ashamed, frowning, and for a long while, the only sound in the room was the brunette’s crying.

Chapter 34: Do it for her

This was a disaster—this was a huge, gigantic disaster.

Fluttershy sat with her head resting between her fingers, her pink hair falling like a curtain of cherry petals. She was tapping the eraser of her pencil over and over against the cold synthetic wood surface of her desk, sometimes pausing to bite it frantically. She was nervous—so, so nervous.

In front of her, Professor Eclipse was giving one of his last lectures before finals, talking about mitochondria and energy production inside cells. “Meaningless words,” she told herself, biting her lip without even realizing it. “Meaningless words, and scorched earth.”

The conversation from last Friday still lingered in her mind—the argument, the hurtful words, and above all, the faces of Rainbow and Applejack fluttering endlessly through every corner of her thoughts, infecting and contaminating what little was left of them. “Make Echo bleed,” was all she could think. “Blood, blood, blood…”

“Miss Breeze?”

As if a whip had struck inside her head, Fluttershy felt her thoughts crash violently back into reality. Professor Eclipse’s hand rested gently on her desk—the desk she usually shared with Pinkie. But today, she sat there alone, since the bubbly pink-haired girl had decided to skip biology class to work on the humanities project.

It wasn’t her first time attending the class alone, but it was the first time since the fight—since the argument. Just one desk away sat Rarity, taking notes and sketching diagrams in her notebook with impressive precision. Yet her face was twisted into something Fluttershy could only identify as anger—a calm, passive kind of anger, but somehow dangerous.

“Monsters,” the seamstress had called Echo Mirage’s friends, and yet Fluttershy couldn’t help but think that maybe she had meant them too. What had they become? All six of them? Or just the two of them? She looked at Rarity, at that foreign fury that didn’t belong to her, and she couldn’t tell if the person she saw was still the one she could call her best friend. Of course, she loved Rarity with all her heart, and she never wanted to lose her—but what if she already had?

She remembered the seamstress’s smile as she played piano on stage, the day they formed the Rainbooms, and for a moment, she longed to go back—to stay in that moment forever, and not move forward into the uncertain future. She hated the future, hated having to try to change it, and failing at it. “You can’t change anything, Fluttershy,” she thought, focusing her gaze on Professor Eclipse’s face.

He was an older man, dark-skinned, with short black hair streaked with faint purple highlights—clearly freshly dyed. His features were rough, like those of a cranky or irritable man—completely opposite to how he really was, calm and gentle in his gestures and tone. Of course, that didn’t stop Fluttershy from feeling intimidated by him sometimes.

He was looking at her with those spectral violet eyes that reminded her so much of Twilight’s—filled with genuine concern, masked by wisdom and kindness, a kindness Fluttershy truly appreciated. All of a sudden, she realized she wanted to cry, and her eyes had turned glassy.

“Me?” she muttered, barely managing to make a sound leave her throat.

“Are you all right?” the professor asked softly, his words clear as water despite the low tone.

Was she all right? Of course not. Her friends—her only friends—had fought. Her band, which she had loved being part of, had fallen apart overnight. And to top it all off, the ever-looming shadow of a psychopath hung far too close. Of course she wasn’t all right.

And yet she closed her lips, wondering how she could ever say such a thing. How could she explain her problems to someone like Eclipse? Her insecurities? Her fears? Would he even care? Or was he just doing his job? The biology teacher had always been someone she felt safe around—but he wasn’t her friend. She had no reason to tell him about her troubles.

And truth be told, she didn’t even tell her friends.

“You look pale, miss. Would you like to step outside for some air?”

Fluttershy turned her head, as if she suddenly didn’t know where she was. They were supposed to be taking notes—Eclipse had been dictating just moments ago. But now, everything was silent. The professor’s hand rested on her desk, and every gaze in the classroom was fixed on her—judging, expectant.

It didn’t take long for her skin to start burning, and her eyes to ache. She didn’t want to be the center of attention. She didn’t want to be. She didn’t want to be. Every gaze pierced her body like needles, sinking deep into her flesh and staying there, making her squirm. The walls closed in around her like a cage of brick and plaster, and before she even realized it, the lights in the classroom had disappeared—everything drowned in darkness, speckled now and then by the bright white of the eyes staring at her.

How she wished they weren’t looking at her right now.

But as her eyes darted around the room, frozen in time, she noticed something—a pair of eyes that weren’t on her, that didn’t weigh down on her with that unbearable pressure. And for some reason, that made her feel even worse. Rarity was looking away.

Time pressed down on her as a huge abyss opened across the classroom, a physical crack between her and her best friend. She couldn’t run to her. She couldn’t ask for help. She couldn’t seek refuge in her safe place. She was naked—defenseless in the middle of the wild, ready to be devoured by the creatures that lived there, with nothing to protect herself.

It felt like her first day of school all over again—alone, with nothing but the noisy company of her animals in her backpack. She hadn’t known she didn’t want to go back to those moments—but now she did.

“You’ll always be alone, Fluttershy,” she thought, clenching her fist tightly around her pencil, nodding faintly as her throat closed.

She ran out of the classroom, hearing whispers rise behind her as she shut the door, filled with that hateful tone of speculation she despised so much—especially when it was about her. She didn’t want her classmates thinking about her. She didn’t want anyone thinking about her. She wanted to disappear, to be invisible, to make the world forget she existed. A hug from Pinkie would’ve been a blessing right then.

She leaned against the door, barely breathing, one hand pressed against her chest as her heart pounded fast and hard. The walls hadn’t moved back, and the light hadn’t returned to normal—on the contrary, it felt like the whole school was pressing down on her, and every eye in the world was watching her with dreadful attention. Why? No one was looking at her anymore—that was true—but did her body know that?

She wanted her friends. She wanted to be with them, to play the song she had just written, to watch them subtly sway to the rhythm of each melody as the notes flowed like a sweet waterfall from their instruments. Why couldn’t things just be simple?

She closed her eyes, hoping it would calm her racing heart, only to find herself facing a perfect recreation of the scene in Twilight’s game room—Rainbow’s face, determined but defeated, and Applejack’s fists, tense and solid, ready for anything.

“Walk,” she ordered herself, pushing forward with her hips, bumping into the classroom door as she forced one leg after another to move. Her chest thundered, beating like an apocalyptic drum marking the end of her world, her thoughts, her ideas. Everything was ending. Everything was falling apart. She wanted to reach out, to stretch her arm through the rising flood of despair and escape—to sail. But she was only drowning. Only drowning.

One leg, then the other. Birds fluttered in the distance, almost screaming in her ear—judging her for what she had done, and more cruelly, for what she hadn’t. The scar on her eyebrow burned again, and she wondered how different things might’ve been if she’d stayed out of the fight with Adagio.

Laughter—the walls were laughing, shouting behind her. Rainbow, Twilight, Rarity, Applejack, and Pinkie—all turning their backs on her, rejecting her, casting her aside. Stares. Stares everywhere.

She felt the pressure, the eyes digging into her, nausea climbing up her throat, tingling her mouth with a dizzy, sick feeling. She stumbled, barely managing to steady herself by slamming her hands against the cold metal of the lockers on each side of the hallway. The crash made her jump, letting out a small, sharp yelp through her teeth that forced her to step back again.

The world was collapsing on her—the ceiling sinking like a deadly trap from a Daring Do movie, the floor shifting beneath her feet. She clutched her head, trying to protect herself from whatever was above her, crouching down, throwing herself to the ground to hide, to escape, to flee. “Please stop,” she told herself over and over, not even sure who she was talking to. “I don’t want to exist anymore.”

She stayed on the floor, crying, her ears ringing sharply for several minutes, until she finally felt the soft touch of a hand on her shoulder.

“Fluttershy?” a gentle adult voice asked, pressing softly against her clothes.

The named girl flinched, stifling a sharp whimper between her lips and accidentally biting her tongue. A misty blush spread across her cheeks as a crackling wave of embarrassment seized every corner of her thoughts. “What are you even doing, Fluttershy?” she asked herself, quickly wiping the tears from her face as she did her best to stand up.

The floor was still moving beneath her, the tiles rocking like an old ship in the middle of the sea, slipping away from her palms as if inviting her to collapse again. “That’d be nice,” she thought, imagining herself wrapped in her bed, buried under her blankets, eyes open but seeing nothing at all—the world spinning on without her, continuing without her. That’d be really nice.

She pushed herself upward, forcing her body to sit up with a rough pull, barely crossing her legs beneath her and trapping her jacket under her thighs.

“Are you alright?”

Fluttershy wiped her tears again, sniffling harshly as she tried to focus her vision on the person in front of her. But the wet blur distorted everything, turning the world into a clumsy display of lights and meaningless shapes.

Still, she noticed that the voice sounded awfully familiar.

“Come on, let’s go get a coffee.”

A choked “I don’t drink, thank you” tried to crawl out of her throat as the stranger’s hands wrapped around her arm, pulling her up with surprising strength. But all that escaped her mouth was a pitiful croak that hurt her tongue and made her blush even harder. She was being dragged like a rag doll by a stranger who had just found her crying on the floor. “You’re pathetic,” she told herself, barely managing to keep her legs steady as she followed behind.

A litany of insults swam through her mind, pecking and screeching in every corner as she struggled not to burst into tears again. “You’re pathetic, Fluttershy. You tried to help your first friends, and all you did was tear them apart.” She remembered Echo’s words on the first day of the semester, that first impression the albino girl gave Adagio about her—with that putrid, fake smile she always wore. “Fluttershy is not too fond of people.”

Maybe she was right. Maybe no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring anything good to anyone. Maybe she really did hate people.

They walked for a few more seconds, turning and descending stairs toward a place Fluttershy didn’t recognize—and didn’t want to. She was locked inside her mind; the walls still laughed at her, and even the air itself smelled poisonous. Her heart kept pounding, as if trying to give her a panic attack, but she’d already accepted it—she was convinced she would live with that weight forever, that guilt crushing her chest.

“I hate you,” she whispered to herself, guilty, as the person leading her stopped in front of a door. She focused her greenish eyes ahead, through the blur of colors, catching the dull fuchsia paint and the little metal plate that read “Principal’s Office.”

She stepped inside, admiring the details of the room as the grip on her arm loosened, letting her fall clumsily onto one of the chairs before the desk. The stranger, humming a tune Fluttershy didn’t recognize—but found beautiful—walked to the other side of the room and began preparing two cups of coffee.

Fluttershy squinted through her still-glassy eyes, letting a few tears fall onto her lap as she tried her hardest to identify the woman before her. It was slowly starting to make sense: first the elegant, graceful figure, then the formal clothing, and finally, the pastel-colored hair.

When the woman set the steaming, warm cup in front of her, Fluttershy could already recognize the beautiful face of Principal Cadence through the chaos around her.

“Go on, have a little. It’ll help you calm down,” the principal began, taking her own cup and sitting gracefully in her chair. “There’s no caffeine.”

With almost tangible uncertainty, Fluttershy stretched out her hand, brushing the ceramic with her fingertips before quickly pulling away, lowering her gaze in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking at every syllable while her mind screamed “ungrateful” like a choir. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“That’s alright,” the principal replied, taking the cup by the handle and bringing it toward herself, offering a warm smile. “And you don’t have to be so formal with me, Fluttershy. Any friend of Twilight’s is a friend of mine.”

Friend. Fluttershy stifled a bitter chuckle as memories of that infamous birthday party crashed through her mind like a wild avalanche—sour and acidic in her mouth. Could she really say she was Twilight’s friend? Maybe. Maybe not. Her mind was overthinking again, spinning and spinning, not only about Twilight but about the rest of her friends—about all of them, her whole found family.

She looked at the coffee with weary eyes, watching a faint reflection of herself shimmer on the surface, stained and distorted, not knowing what to think or say. Her mind was a tangled maze, and she didn’t know what she wanted, what she felt, or how to move forward. She just wanted to disappear—for a good while—and not hear from anyone or anything. Suddenly, her hands felt cold.

“Fluttershy?” Cadence asked, tilting her head inquisitively, still wearing that gentle, genuine smile. “Do you want to talk?”

Fluttershy didn’t react, only staring at her with a defeated spirit, feeling the urge to cry again and hating herself for it. She was weak—too weak—and she despised feeling that way.

“I’ll take that as a no…” Cadence continued, taking a sip of her coffee without really looking anywhere. She set the cup down and drummed her fingers lightly on the desk, pressing her lips together, clearly uncomfortable. Fluttershy didn’t want to make her feel that way—didn’t want her to think her efforts were useless—but no words would come out. No matter how hard she tried, she could feel nothing but that crushing guilt in her chest.

Cadence’s smile faltered for just a second as she smoothed the front of her blazer with both hands.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I just want you to know that whatever you’re feeling, Fluttershy, it’s valid—and there’s nothing wrong with that,” she said, reclining in her seat, lowering her voice. “You know, when I was little, I used to feel guilty for how I felt. I guess it had a lot to do with my mom rarely validating my emotions. I don’t mean to speak ill of her—Luna’s a very busy woman—but she was always a bit distant in that sense.”

The principal took another sip of her coffee, rolling her eyes at herself, while Fluttershy only clenched her fists tighter, still staring down.

“I feel like I’m rambling, aren’t I?” Cadence let out a nervous laugh, fixing her hair quickly. “Anyway, Fluttershy, the point is that it’s okay to feel the way you do. And I want you to know that, whatever you’re thinking, at least I’m glad you’re here, talking with me.”

Fluttershy lifted her gaze, her face set in a serious expression that curved slightly into a frown at the corner of her lips. Her heart skipped for a second, the principal’s words barely calming the storm raging inside her mind. “Would she really be happy to see me here? Or is she just saying what she thinks I want to hear?”

“Probably the second one,” she thought, secretly hoping it wasn’t true.

“Twilight told me about the party. I imagine that’s what’s got you so down. A real shame…”

Fluttershy exhaled, lowering her eyes again as thoughts of the party resurfaced, guilt crawling back into every inch of her body. “If only I hadn’t stepped into that fight…”

“I’m sorry…” she muttered, not even realizing she’d spoken, startling Cadence mid-sip and causing her to burn her tongue slightly.

“It really is a shame, yes,” Cadence replied, setting her cup aside again and softening her expression. “But it’s not your fault, Fluttershy. You don’t have to apologize for something you didn’t do. Honestly, I’m just as worried as you are.”

The named girl met Cadence’s violet eyes, a hint of surprise glimmering in them, while she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It wasn’t that she disliked being with the principal—after all, Fluttershy had always found it far easier to talk with adults than with people her own age (like Granny Smith and the rest of Applejack’s family)—but she couldn’t shake off the condescending feeling coming from the other woman, as if she were a baby being looked after. She couldn’t tell what bothered her more: being treated that way, or not knowing if, in truth, it was what she needed right now.

“I don’t want to bore you with my stuff,” Cadence went on, taking another sip of her drink, “but with the Gala only a few weeks away, and the wedding next year, I feel like coffee is the only thing keeping me alive. I really don’t need another school scandal right now.”

“I…” Fluttershy muttered, barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Really.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s none of your fault, actually. Echo was the one who started it—and believe me, I’d be lying if I said she didn’t deserve it,” Cadence said, her tone halfway between joking and frustrated, which, despite everything, managed to draw a small giggle out of her listener. “I would’ve expelled her years ago if it weren’t for Rouge.”

Cadence looked down, licking her lips as she warmed her hands around her half-empty coffee cup. Fluttershy noticed her leg bouncing under the desk and wondered, for just a moment, if perhaps it wasn’t her who needed company, but the woman in front of her.

“Are you… are you okay?” she asked, stumbling over her words.

The principal didn’t reply. She simply looked down, wincing as if swallowing something bitter. Fluttershy knew that kind of face all too well—it was the same expression her mother used to make every time Zephyr confessed his latest mistake. Her heart suddenly slowed down, her breathing calming as the world around her regained its shape. That natural, instinctive desire to help began creeping back into every one of her limbs.

Cadence sighed, taking another sip before setting her cup down a bit too quickly, making a drop of coffee fall onto the wooden desk.

“Can I vent for a second?” she asked, her face tightening while a faint, ironic disbelief settled in her expression. Fluttershy nodded softly, not really sure what she meant but giving her full attention. The walls seemed to fall quiet, the floor stopped shifting beneath her, and all the outside noises disappeared, leaving only the principal’s image before her—her shape, her voice, her presence.

She just wanted to help. In that moment, that was all she wanted. “Who’s going to help you?” a voice in the back of her head asked.

Cadence stood up, pacing around the office, wringing her hands nervously, clicking her tongue, and exhaling sharply through her nose.

“Look at me. I’m supposed to be the one helping you, and yet, just thinking about Twilight…” She ran a hand through her hair, smiling bitterly. “It’s just that everything got so heavy all of a sudden. I’m supposed to be the adult here! And yet here I am…”

Fluttershy turned toward her, softening her gaze, parting her lips as if to say something—but closing them again before any sound came out.

“My blood boils every time I see Echo,” Cadence continued, her voice trembling. “Ever since I heard about Twilight’s glasses… by Starswirl, I’ve never been so angry at a student. And it’s not the first time, that’s the worst part. So many kids have come to complain—how Echo makes them feel bad, how she’s hurt them, stolen from them, humiliated them, insulted them, you name it. But it wasn’t until she messed with my little one that I realized I couldn’t take it anymore. What’s wrong with me?”

“Three bands have already canceled for the Gala, the florist for my wedding keeps trying to sell us tulips even though Luna’s allergic to them, and now I’ve got two of my favorite students ready to kill another one—and somehow, I’m not even against it.”

Cadence dropped back into her chair, letting her arms and head fall limply onto the cold wooden desk, startling Fluttershy for a moment. The girl didn’t know what to do. The principal was clearly under immense pressure, and suddenly, a pang of guilt stabbed through Fluttershy’s chest. How selfish she felt—for breaking down crying in the hallway and dragging the principal into her mess when Cadence herself was falling apart. “You’re so selfish, Fluttershy,” she thought, reaching out—then hesitating right before her hand touched the woman’s back.

“What are you doing?” The words lashed through her mind like a whip, striking her arm with invisible pain. “Why did you stop? Why did you move? Why do you exist?” Over and over, the voice kept pounding as her fingers trembled in the air, her breathing growing ragged again.

“What do you even want in this life, Fluttershy?” She didn’t know the answer.

Cadence exhaled, straightening up just enough that Fluttershy’s fingertips brushed the fabric of her formal blazer. The touch sent a tingle through her hand—an awkward, but familiar one.

Then she remembered. The night before the fight. The surprise trip that had taken them all to Canterlot High. She had spent hours preparing the lights and decorations, climbing the metal rafters with trembling hands, terrified out of her mind—but she had done it. She’d illuminated the stage so her friends could shine, so the band would look as though it were floating in a magical glow. And she remembered how happy she had felt in that moment.

Yes, she had been scared—frozen at times—but beyond that fear was something else. Smiles. Joy. But deeper than that: a sense of purpose. A feeling of belonging.

Fluttershy had created that moment for them—to see those smiles, to lift their spirits—and that had given her something to move forward for, something to wake up for. She’d been excited to cheer for Rainbow’s race, excited to celebrate Twilight’s birthday, and, at the end of the tunnel, excited for the Grand Gala. A night where she and her friends would shine together.

That warmth—that purpose—guided her hand gently down until it rested on Cadence’s back, patting softly, soothingly. Just like she had done for Rarity, the day Rarity had told them about the injustice Echo Mirage had done to her. And she would do it again, as many times as needed.

Rarity was her friend. Is her friend. And she always would be. She was hurt, just like Applejack—and like the animals at the shelter, when they get hurt, they lash out, even if they’re the gentlest souls in the world.

Fluttershy felt stupid—but in a comforting way. Stupid for not having done more to help her friend, to support her, to heal together.

“Thank you, Fluttershy…” Cadence murmured, lifting her head, her voice laced with embarrassment, her eyes glistening with tears that hadn’t quite fallen. “You must think I’m pathetic.”

“Not at all, Cadence,” Fluttershy replied, remembering how the principal had insisted she call her by her first name—and feeling, somehow, unable to see her as an authority figure anymore after witnessing that vulnerability. “People are fragile,” her mother had once told her, after Zephyr broke his finger on a trampoline, “and that’s why it never hurts to be gentle with them.” She’d never fully understood that phrase before, but now, she truly did.

Cadence straightened her jacket, brushing away a lone tear before it could smudge her makeup. Fluttershy withdrew her hand, curling it into a fist—not out of tension, but for comfort. It felt right being there. It felt good to help someone. She didn’t even notice when she started smiling.

“Well… I’m sorry you had to see that,” Cadence said, exhaling with a shy laugh. “I always try to keep myself composed around students, but this time… I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay. My dad always said you shouldn’t expect anyone to have all the answers. In the end, we’re all human—and sometimes that’s hard to live with.”

“I suppose you’re right…” Cadence said, mostly to herself, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “But enough about me. I brought you here to help you, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.”

A jolt ran through Fluttershy’s body, making her skin prickle as her mind sped back up with restless thoughts. The same questions, the same self-blame echoed in her head—but softer this time. They couldn’t drown out the quiet peace that had settled in her chest.

“Why do you exist? What’s your purpose? Why did you get into that fight?” She didn’t know. But she knew one thing for certain—she loved her friends, and she always would.

It was only a matter of how.

“Your friends… they were Rarity and Applejack, right?” Cadence asked. “Twilight mentioned something about it, but with everything going on lately, I can’t even keep things straight.”

“You don’t have to worry about that, really,” Fluttershy mumbled, her voice small but sincere, tilting her head softly. “I don’t want you to carry this burden too.”

“Nonsense! Twilight’s practically a daughter to me. If there’s something I can do for her, I will.”

The close relationship between the brunette and her sister-in-law was well known throughout the school — even more so among the six friends. Yet hearing something so intimate, so honest and kind in person, managed to soften the girl’s heart in a way very few things ever had before. Those girls were more than friends; they were more than family. They were something beautiful — something Fluttershy deeply longed to share with all six of them, with Applejack, with Rarity, with Pinkie, with Rainbow, and, of course, with Twilight.

Who was she to stand in the way of something like that?

“Well… All right.”

“Your friends are fed up. They want to do something about Echo. Do you know what they’re planning?”

“No, and honestly, I doubt even they know. I just know they want blood.”

“They want to hurt her… They must really hate her.”

“I don’t blame them,” Fluttershy replied, the words burning her throat, “Echo really did a lot of damage — especially to Rarity.” She went on, picturing the scars across the seamstress’s abdomen, tracing an irregular, terribly painful pattern that made her stomach burn just to remember them.

“They’re good people, all of your friends. I won’t say Echo doesn’t deserve it, but… well, I don’t want to see people like them consumed by hatred.”

“Neither do I. There has to be something we can do.”

“Yes.” The principal rested her elbows on the desk, holding her chin thoughtfully as her eyes darted in every possible direction around the office. “Do you think there’s something that could pull them away from that idea?”

Fluttershy didn’t answer right away. She simply mirrored the older woman’s gesture, analyzing her own options.

Rarity and Applejack couldn’t have been more different; in fact, every time she mentioned them to her parents, they were shocked those two had become such close friends in so little time. One was delicate, ambitious, and sarcastic — never one to hold back her opinions — dreamy and romantic, while the other was a terrible liar, hardworking and simple, who valued honesty above all else, stubborn and proud, terrified to her core of disappointing her family.

Two different worlds, apart yet somehow aligned, meeting in the right place at the right time. What could possibly heal those scars?

"This. Is. AMAZING!"

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh! The six of us, at the gala, meeting not only the Wondercolts or Sephora Tree-something..."

"Sprout Treehugger."

"This is going to be the most awesome gala in the history of galas, ever! No matter what happens, girls, we’re going to that party, got it?"

"Party!"

"Screw it! Let's do it!"

"Let's grab the bull by the horns!"

"Whatever the cowgirl said!"

The Gala. The Grand Galloping Gala.

Rainbow already had her ticket — she was guaranteed to go — but what about the others? Of course, they all wanted to, they longed for that coveted spot, but how were they going to get it? How were they going to join their friend?

“Sometimes, the biggest surprise comes not from the journey itself, but from who you find waiting at the end,” Sprout Treehugger had once said in an interview.

The Gala wasn’t the destination — it was the means. The means to heal those wounds. Fluttershy was sure everything could be made right if they went to the Gala. Now it was just a matter of how.

She raised her gaze, meeting Cadence’s eyes behind the curtain of pastel hair that fell gently over her face.

“Principal…” she murmured, her voice trembling with something she couldn’t tell was excitement or fear, “I think I know what we can do.”

“Go on,” Cadence replied, releasing her chin and focusing her gaze on the younger girl.

“I know this might sound a bit… bold, and if it does, I’m really sorry, but… I think there’s a way to help my friends move on from this whole thing with Echo.”

“I’m listening.”

“Well… again, sorry if I sound bold,” she repeated, growing more nervous by the second, “but right now Rainbow is the only one of us who’s managed to get a ticket to the Grand Galloping Gala… I wanted to ask if there might be a way for the rest of us to get one too?”

A heavy silence followed Fluttershy’s words, spreading through the room and making her skin prickle. She was nervous — too nervous — and her own words had now formed a lump in her throat, choking her bit by bit.

“Calm down, Fluttershy,” she told herself, digging her nails into her pants. “This is the right thing to do.”

Cadence simply stared at her, motionless—like a statue, impassive and unchanging—her gaze drilling slowly into the younger girl’s eyes. Fluttershy wished she could sink into the ground, disappear, vanish—even just for a moment, but she quickly suppressed the urge.

She had to be there, in that moment, in that instant.

The seconds ticked by. The clock moved forward, beat by beat, second by second. She felt her heart race faster, the walls closing in on her.

“No,” she commanded herself—almost as if she were ordering the universe itself— “I won’t let it consume me this time. Not now.”

But before much more could happen, the principal exhaled through her nose, and then burst out laughing right in front of her. Loud, open laughter, ringing through the air like a shout.

Fluttershy froze. Her thoughts stopped midstream, caught between confusion and a strange, almost pleasant disbelief that left her unsure how to react.

She forced a nervous smile, joining in with an awkward, hesitant laugh.

Cadence patted her leg a few times, taking deep breaths between laughs.

“By Starswirl, I haven’t laughed like that in ages,” she exclaimed breathlessly, her eyes creasing at the corners. “I really didn’t see that coming — not at all.”

Fluttershy smiled, frowning slightly as her lips trembled with uncertainty, unsure what to do or say. Cadence kept letting out the occasional chuckle, trying to speak but interrupting herself over and over.

“Excuse me…” the timid girl began, her smile never fading but her words wrapped in palpable unease, “Why… exactly are we laughing?”

“Oh, right. That.”

Cadence straightened in her seat, stifling the last remnants of laughter as she opened a drawer and took something out.

“You see, as principal, it’s not really proper for me to have favorites. Not for me, or for any of the other teachers. But… that doesn’t mean we can always help it.”

Cadence pulled an elegant checkbook from the desk, opened it, and took out five slips of paper — laying them one by one on the table in front of the girl.

At first, Fluttershy didn’t know what she was looking at. But the moment she saw her name written on one of them, she gasped.

“Fluttershy Breeze. Invitation to the Grand Galloping Gala. December 13th, 2024. Canterlot High. One-person entry.”

“I’ve actually had them ready since Rainbow won the race,” Cadence continued, arranging the tickets neatly, though leaving one slightly apart. “However, I can’t just hand them out like that. There needs to be… something—a sign that they’ve earned them. Not for me—I already know all of you deserve to go, but for the Gala committee. They wouldn’t be too happy to see five extra tickets appear out of nowhere.”

Fluttershy’s heart began racing, faster and faster, as the image of her name printed on that piece of paper burned itself into her mind.

Fluttershy Breeze, attendee of the Grand Galloping Gala.

In a way, she had known this was one possible outcome of her request — but seeing it, feeling it there in front of her, changed something. Suddenly everything was different.  Real.

It was all real.

She looked up at Cadence and nodded.

“I understand…”

“Tell me,” the principal said, leaning forward slightly, “do you think there’s a way you could, let’s say, intervene—in a friendly way—so that your friends earn their tickets?”

A friendly intervention.

A mission. A goal. Something she had to do, had to achieve.

Her friends were lost, wounded, adrift — and now it was up to her to guide them back.

But how?

How could she possibly do that, with things the way they were?

Applejack was working harder than ever, barely finding time for her friends—either breaking her back for a few Bits at her job to pay tuition, or carrying the entire weight of organizing the Apple family reunion on her shoulders.

And Rarity, buried up to her neck in orders, could barely afford her own schooling and Sweetie Belle’s, all while taking on commissions for the Gala. Not to mention the free dresses she was making for everyone—without expecting a single thing in return.

Without expecting anything in return…

“That’s it,” she whispered, her eyes widening.

“Did you say something?” asked Cadence, looking up.

“That’s it!” she exclaimed, as excitement surged through her body, tightening her muscles and stretching her smile. She jumped from her seat, more thrilled than she meant to be, nearly tripping and falling over the desk. “I have an idea!”

The principal smiled, expectant, letting a bit of Fluttershy’s energy rub off on her. It wasn’t often she saw the timid girl like this, but she couldn’t help thinking that the excitement suited her—it looked good on her.

“Rarity! She’s been making a dress for each of us for the Gala, without even knowing if we’ll actually get to go! Because of that, she’s had way more work than usual, but not necessarily more pay. So—” she continued, gesturing with her hands as she explained, “I was thinking, maybe—with your permission, of course—we could organize some kind of charity runway show! Display her dresses, take donations, commissions, and so on! I’m sure that if more people saw what she’s capable of, they wouldn’t hesitate to give her what she needs to keep going!”

The idea was brilliant—brilliant as the sun itself—and Fluttershy knew it.

A whole night for her friend, a blank canvas for all of them to work on, a chance to distance themselves from Echo, united under a single purpose: to support Rarity.

Generosity, honesty, laughter, forgiveness, kindness—everything that would be needed to earn a ticket. To guarantee a ticket.

It was brilliant. Fluttershy knew it.

Cadence smiled from ear to ear, letting out a small breath through her nose as she closed her eyes, her expression soft and serene.

“And that,” the principal began, resting her fingers once again on the ticket that bore Fluttershy’s name and sliding it toward her, “is why I have my favorites.”

Fluttershy smiled, taking her Gala ticket and pressing it against her chest, trembling with excitement, while Cadence slowly gathered the others and handed them over as well—leaving only one behind: the ticket with Twilight’s name.

“Let’s do this, Fluttershy,” said the principal, leaning back in her chair, her eyes bright with amusement. “You’ll be my eyes and ears for this runway show—or for the rest of the semester, if needed. Once you know one of your friends has done something worthy of these tickets, give it to her, and send me a message, all right? I’ll need something to put in the report.”

Dizzy with excitement, Fluttershy clutched her own ticket tightly between her fingers, smiling foolishly as she nodded over and over. She reached forward, letting her fingertips rest gently on the slips of paper bearing the names of her friends—the people she loved most in the world—admiring the delicate ink that shaped each letter like a precious mural.

Rarity Flanks, Applejack Apple, and Pinkamena Diane Pie.

Her green eyes savored every corner, every detail, every faint, sweet scent. There was something in those tickets—something almost intangible, yet as real as she was herself—something she could feel, that made her heart leap higher and higher. She and her friends were going to the Gala, and now, it was up to her to find the right moment to make it happen.

And yet… she couldn’t help but wonder about Twilight’s ticket—the one still resting softly on the desk beside the principal. Fluttershy’s gaze focused, still full of energy but steadying slightly as she looked at her.

As if reading her mind, Cadence let out a quiet chuckle, taking the ticket between her fingers and twirling it lightly in the air.

“This one’s special,” she said, a playful tone curling around her words. “It’s something between Velvet and me.”

Chapter 35: The hand that strangles your daughter

She didn’t like her mother’s friends. Not in the slightest.

Echo sat on the edge of the staircase, legs swinging childishly as she rested her head against one of the wooden railing posts. She wore thick white stockings, hidden beneath the dainty frills of her sky-blue skirt, which was itself barely visible under her heavy white coat. In truth, all her clothes seemed to pulse with those two colors—her mother’s favorites. Of course, Rouge didn’t know what her daughter’s favorite colors were, and, to be fair, Echo herself couldn’t quite tell if she knew either.

“It’s orange,” she thought, peeling off a bit of skin from her thumb with her index finger, barely noticing the blood that began to bead from it.

It had been two hours since Rouge’s sinister friends had arrived, locking themselves away in the spacious study to “discuss strategies,” whatever that was supposed to mean. It wasn’t the first time they’d done something like that; after all, with elections just over a year away, Sombra’s followers had to get more and more serious about how they were going to fight Celestia’s absurd popularity—one she had been building for more than fifteen years, since the second wave of the Crystal protests had just started to cool down.

Of course, to Echo, all that seemed trivial at best. “Let them choose whoever they want,” she had told her mother, right before earning another reprimand. There were no slaps, no hits—but there had been a hard pinch on her leg, one that still itched beneath her skirt. “Let them choose whoever they want,” she thought again, barely glancing at the drop of blood sliding off her thumb and falling onto the wooden steps below.

Rouge Mirage came out an hour later than she had planned, with night already draped high and stately across the sky, the moon wrapped in clouds. Through the hallway that led to the back of the house, Echo watched the guests leave, not moving a single inch, as their noisy soles echoed across the spotless floors her mother had ordered cleaned earlier that day. She didn’t like them. She didn’t like their faces, their names, their expressions—or their ambitions. Why didn’t she like them? She didn’t really know.

“To contradict Mom,” she thought, still perfectly still.

After a few minutes, the house was silent—empty of every sound except for Rouge’s tall boots striking down the hallway as she approached her daughter. She was dressed in what she would call “casual wear”: khaki dress pants, a matching trench coat, and a tucked-in white blouse, her pale hair tied in a neat high ponytail, with only a few strands of fringe escaping over her forehead.

Her mother looked awful—but she would never say that to her face. Echo knew she looked awful too.

“You made a lot of noise,” Rouge snapped, standing stoically in front of Echo, hands tucked in her coat pockets, hiding from the cold. “I told you not to make a scene.”

Echo didn’t answer. She knew that was a lie. The only thing she had done in the last three hours was pick at her thumb, and she knew that during all that time, the only sound audible had been her own heartbeat hammering inside her chest. But she also knew her mother wouldn’t care. She was just looking for something to complain about, to scold her for—as always.

Her brow furrowed slightly, fingers tightening around the staircase railing.

Rouge rolled her eyes, exasperated, breathing sharply through her nose as she loosened her ponytail, letting her pale, shining hair fall freely down her back, making her look—if only for a heartbeat—younger.

“Go to your room. I need to rest.”

“Aren’t we going to have dinner first?” Echo asked, feeling that light, familiar ache of hunger trembling in her stomach, like a mewing cat.

“You didn’t eat earlier?” her mother asked, confused, not meeting her eyes as she crouched down to remove the stiff boots squeezing her feet.

Echo let out a laugh inside her head, as her thoughts crashed into each other—insults, curses, complaints she wanted to hurl at her mother. Her throat was dry, her head pulsed faintly from the back, yet her thoughts were still sharp and clear as needles—needles she wanted to drive into her mother’s skin. “I’m hungry,” she thought, leaving her thumb alone but still feeling tiny drops of blood ooze from it.

“You told me not to make noise,” she replied in a flat tone, doing her best to keep any trace of emotion from her voice. She wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

“You could’ve eaten quietly, idiot.”

“No, I couldn’t,” Echo thought, pressing her lips together slightly to keep from answering. “Apparently your ‘friends’ don’t like noise.”

She lowered her gaze, shrugging, holding back the urge to get up and leave—maybe to her room, maybe to the kitchen, or maybe out of the house entirely, to find Adagio or Sonata and spend the night with one of them. “Not Garble,” she thought, remembering her ex-boyfriend’s words from the day Lightning had decided to leave the group.

“That was too much, you went too far.”

“Are you seriously scared of a few cigarettes?”

“We burned someone, Echo. That’s not okay—and it scares me that you don’t see that.”

“Scared? Really? It was just a joke—a very good one.”

“Echo, this is serious! I feel horrible.”

“You’re such a disappointment, Garble. Go cry somewhere else and stop embarrassing yourself with me.”

Did she regret it? She didn’t know. Garble had been a good boyfriend—he took her wherever she needed to go, brought her flowers almost every week, and sometimes took her out to eat. Sure, he was annoying, and his constant talk about sports practice was dull, but still—he’d been good to her, in his way.

But she didn’t need him, and that was something Echo had always known well. She didn’t need anyone—not Garble, not Lightning, not her mother.

“Well, too bad for you,” Rouge said, “because I need to rest for tomorrow, and the last thing I want is you making noise around here like a rat.”

Echo met her mother’s gaze. Rouge now held her boots in her hands, walking softly and silently across the floor like a ghost. She was always busy—never had time for her daughter, or for anything other than work. It had been six Mother’s Days they hadn’t celebrated, two Hearth’s warming eve’s Echo had spent at a friend’s or boyfriend’s house, and, as far as she could remember, they had never celebrated a single Nightmare Night together. Echo had never gone trick-or-treating, and in a way, she still longed to—just a little.

“No, that’s not true,” the girl thought, forcing herself to lie, biting her tongue.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” she asked quietly, without looking back at Rouge, who was now climbing the stairs behind her.

“I’m going to Manehattan. Cadence’s useless self wants me to find some ‘Hoity Toity’ guy for a student’s event before the gala.”

“Sounds fun…” Echo replied, with a tone somewhere between irony and envy. She didn’t mind the idea of her mother leaving town for a while; still, she longed for few things as much as leaving herself—exploring Equestria, exploring the world. She wanted to take her paintings to Yakyakistan, the Crystal Empire, Griffonstone, or Klugetown. She wanted to soak in the culture of Shanghay, listen to the music played in Sydneigh, or stuff herself with the food in Fillyppines. She wanted out of Canterlot—she needed out of Canterlot.

Of course, she wouldn’t tell Rouge that. The last time she had even suggested tagging along on one of her trips, she had ended up with her legs numb and bruised after standing in one place for fifteen hours.

“I don’t need that tone, Echo,” her mother replied, turning toward her again—her face a cold, expressionless rock, though her eyes flickered with something that looked like anger mixed with exhaustion. “I already have enough on my plate catering to that little brat Rarity.”

“Rarity?” Echo asked, finally turning her head, feeling her heart give a jolt.

“Yes. Apparently Cadence wants to organize a small runway or something for her. And they say I’m the one who plays favorites…”

Her mother kept talking, but Echo wasn’t really listening. Her mind was running wild—thoughts crashing into one another, again and again, over and over, as she processed the new information. “What are you plotting, darling?” she whispered inwardly, licking her lips with patient curiosity.

A good while had passed since the burns, and although she would have liked to take her next step in that little waltz she kept with the seamstress sooner, she had to admit it was almost laughable to see how everything fell apart without her having to lift a finger. Stupid Rainbow had started it all; she had ruined everything; and now that rotten little clique of friends she so hated was on the brink of collapse for something she hadn’t even done. It was laughable, truly.

Still, they might only need a little shove—a final incentive to make everything crumble and to show the six of them that Echo Mirage was not a name to mess with, not an enemy anyone would want. She was order at Canterlot High, the balance, the pillar; things worked because of her, and now they wanted to destroy it all—why?

Because they were stupid, of course.

A gala, a runway—surely to showcase Rarity’s abominations in front of the whole school; a perfect stage, a perfect frame, a blank canvas. She only needed to paint it.

Her mother frowned the instant she saw the faintest shadow of a smile appear on Echo’s lips.

“You’d better stay put while I’m gone, or you’ll regret it,” Rouge snapped, turning her back on her daughter. “If I get in trouble because of you, I’ll make sure you remember it.”

Echo’s eyes flicked to the nape of Rouge’s neck, narrowing in the slightest gesture. She hated her mother and loved her all the same; she wanted her to leave, and she wanted to go with her; she wanted to strangle her, and she wanted to hug her. But above all, she wanted to make Rarity suffer, and no matter how much fear she felt, she would achieve it.

“Sure, Mom,” she whispered, letting her iconic smile return as her mother vanished through the bedroom door. She heard the latch click and began to map out a plan in her head.

That night, Echo broke her mother’s bedroom lock again, watching her dear, beautiful progenitor sleep peacefully in her bed. A primitive, guttural desire climbed her throat, urging her to glide onto the bed and feel Rouge’s warmth and affection—yet she wasn’t there for that.

She crawled across the cold floor, scraping her knees as she moved, silently approaching the coat her mother had worn hours earlier—the coat she always took to Canterlot High. She passed the dressing table, a full-length mirror, a shoe that almost made her get caught, before finally reaching the strange coat rack where the white trench hung.

She slipped her hand in so slowly that for a fraction of a second she wondered if she was even moving, burrowing into the right pocket until her fingers touched a bunch of keys, cold metal identifying them beneath her skin. She smiled, glancing back at Rouge to make sure she was still asleep, and began to work her magic.

A paintbrush was easy to use, a pencil even easier, and Rarity’s needles were no trouble at all. All of it came naturally to her, and in her mind, the task of removing a single key from the ugly keyring with one hand should be the same. She danced for a few seconds, carefully easing the scissoring of metal inside the fabric pockets, until she finally felt the click. Only a couple of minutes later she was back in her room, the vice-principal’s office key clutched in her hand.

She smiled like she rarely did—an honest, genuine smile, teeth bared. She was happy, content, and now she could finally finish off those annoying girls who had tormented her so many times. The nose had been one thing, the call another, and the burns yet another; but now, without her mother’s watchful eyes, she could finally paint her masterpiece, finally end it all.

She went to sleep happy, for the first time in a long time.

Chapter 36: Purpose

She knew a name, but the very thought of talking to her terrified her.

The heater roared loudly in the sober, dull room, barely managing to battle the relentless, merciless blizzard hammering the windows, striking the glass again and again as if it were a tambourine. Outside, the snow gleamed fiercely, building a white wall around the Sparkle’s house, trapping every member of the family inside a cloister that was never meant to be.

Classes had been canceled that day, much to Twilight’s dismay. She would have loved to have the chance to get away from everything among the books and lessons of Canterlot High—lessons that, while she already knew by heart, she still found entertaining and instructive, at least now that she had her friends with her. Of course, things between her and her group weren’t so simple anymore, not since her birthday.

Still, with all the storm she had to weather at school, she would have preferred to be there a thousand times over rather than at home.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes tightly, trying to gather the courage to come up with an answer. She was sitting on the floor of her room, her back to the window, head tilted back, trying to think of something to do. In her hands, she held her phone, the ominous and terrifying conversation open before her, only rereading a couple of words:

“Fluttershy Breeze CHS: @Twilight do you think you or your parents might know someone who could promote the runway show?”

And she did know someone—someone sitting just two rooms away, reading.

Since that beautiful day in the school gym, when she and her friends had formed the Rainbooms, something had changed inside her—something that, while she recognized as good for her, also scared her to the bone. Her mother had been right. She had always been right. All that time, she’d been right, and admitting it to her, asking for forgiveness, now seemed like an impossible task. So impossible that Twilight could swear she’d rather face practically anything else than confront her—than admit she had been wrong.

That fateful night, she had told her mother she wished she wasn’t her mother, that she wished someone less limiting had raised her, that she wished that someone had been Principal Celestia. She’d said many things—many things she now regretted—and now she faced the terrible task of confronting it all, of apologizing.

Except she didn’t want to. She didn’t dare. She’d been haunted by that feeling for more than ten days, and yet, those had been the longest days of the entire year (partly thanks to her friends, of course).

And now, there it was—the decision before her: to keep avoiding that dreadful conversation that tormented her, or finally face her mother; to fight, or to flee. What she wouldn’t give to run away again.

She sighed heavily, opening her eyes, feeling the weight of her eyelids press down on her face. Her gaze fell back to the phone, reading the time under Fluttershy’s kind words: “2:40 p.m.,” it said. “And now it’s 5:06.”

Under different circumstances, she might have taken the chance to go out, take a walk around the neighborhood, maybe ask Shining for a surprise driving lesson—anything to escape that situation. But that wasn’t possible. The thick wall of snow surrounding her home was witness enough.

For the last two days, Pinkie, Fluttershy, and she had been running all over, working, organizing, and inviting people to Rarity’s runway show—an event that, according to Fluttershy, would be the key to all their problems, the chance to finally end the cold tension that had settled among their group. She wasn’t sure about that, of course, but what other choice did she have? None. No other alternative to get back what they’d had for the better part of three months.

Everything had changed—so much, and so quickly—and Twilight wanted nothing more than to go back to those days, to that peace. “That peace,” she thought, picturing her mother’s face and the way things used to be before their fight.

Mrs. Velvet Sparkle and her daughter were the only women in the house, and though neither resented the presence of Shining or Spike, it was true that they shared something special, something they didn’t have with anyone else under that roof. Twilight remembered the Tuesday coffee breaks, the times her mother joined her to buy books, or simply when they walked around the city’s plazas, the younger one explaining all the important historical events that had taken place there. Yes, those were good memories—memories she longed to keep creating.

“And now it’s all silence,” she thought, standing up and brushing off the specks of dust that had landed on her thermal pants, adjusting the coat around her shoulders.

They needed a name—a well-known figure in the fashion world who could attract donations and attention to Rarity’s show, an anchor strong enough to lift it. Velvet Sparkle was that person. She had to be that person. Twilight hadn’t said anything yet—hadn’t replied to her friends—but she knew there was no other way, no other path, no escape. For weeks now, she’d been wanting to apologize to her mother, burdened by that bitter mix of inadequacy, disgust, and remorse for everything she’d said and done.

Since that fight, she hadn’t spoken to her mother. Since that fight, the house had gone cold in a way that no snow outside could ever match. She wanted to build a bridge again. She wanted it to end.

She looked back at her phone—Fluttershy’s ominous message—and, pressing her lips together, began to type:

“You: Yeah, I know someone. Let me ask her.”

She locked the screen and took a breath.

It was barely five o’clock, but the faint light filtering through the hallway windows could’ve made her believe it was already seven or later. The walls were painted a dull, flavorless gray, the halos of light cut by small flakes of snow drifting past outside, carried by the wind as if they were watching her, judging her.

She saw eyes everywhere—eyes watching her every move, every breath, every blink. The hallway looked like an audience, a public trial where she had to speak, and somehow, she was the villain they were trying to convict, all for the sake of the common good. “And she’s the victim,” she thought, before realizing she was trembling.

She closed her eyes, feeling nausea climb up her throat, swallowing down whatever tried to escape, scolding herself internally for showing weakness. “You have to do this, Twilight. You have to.” She walked toward her mother’s room.

The door was open, revealing the beautiful wooden flooring Mr. Sparkle had so carefully chosen to decorate the entrance to the room. It featured a pearl-colored armchair beside an electric fireplace (now roaring loudly). Beyond it, a window opened onto the main area of the bedroom, where a large bed with violet sheets faced a luxurious flat-screen TV hanging on the wall, and beneath it, a small table stacked with books to the brim.

She remembered the first time she’d read Pillars of Equestria, the first copy she ever held. It had been a recommendation from her mother—a recommendation that made her fall in love with the written word like nothing else ever had.

Her eyes slid past the bed, toward another window at the far end of the room, beside which stood a simple white velvet chair—and on it, reading, was Velvet Sparkle.

Her mother was a woman with fair, pearly skin and light-colored eyes. She wore the same hairstyle as her daughter, though her hair was noticeably softer in tone than Twilight’s deep violet. Twilight took more after her father. In general, Velvet and Twilight weren’t very similar physically—Shining had inherited more from their mother’s side, while Twilight bore her father Night Light Sparkle’s features. It had always struck her as a funny coincidence, though now, there was nothing funny about it.

Her heart stopped as a hollow pit opened in her stomach, swallowing her from the inside, leaving a gnawing emptiness in her chest. She was going to do it—she was finally going to talk to her mother, to apologize.

“You were a terrible daughter,” she thought, feeling her eyes grow glassy in an instant. “I hope she can forgive you… even if you don’t deserve it,” she told herself before raising her hand and quietly knocking on the wooden door.

Velvet looked up, her blue eyes drifting back from the storm of words she had been lost in seconds ago. She was reading “The King’s Routine”, a book Twilight had read at least twice already—a rhetorical take on the disastrous presidency of Grogar nearly twenty years ago. For a moment, Twilight felt the ghost of a smile tug at her lips, thinking she could use that as a way to start the conversation.

“No,” she told herself, taking a step forward, brushing the smile away. “You’re going to do this right. No more running.”

Velvet sighed, turning her gaze away from her daughter.

“Come in.”

“Come in, Twilight,” the girl thought, unable to fully recall how her name sounded in her mother’s voice.

The brunette stepped into the room, closing the door behind her as her heart picked up speed, racing like a car engine. She inhaled deeply, shutting her eyes, clutching one wrist with the other, trying to stop the trembling.

“You’re horrible,” she told herself over and over again before starting toward her mother. “You’re horrible and you don’t deserve forgiveness.”

“Mom…” she began, her voice escaping as a pitiful croak that barely resembled a word.

“Are you cold?” asked the older woman, twisting her lips into the faintest gesture, straightening in her seat. “You’re trembling.”

Twilight didn’t answer. She simply stopped in front of the bed, just a few meters from her mother—the person she so deeply longed to have back, the person she missed every day. She looked impassive, stoic, serious, as if she already knew this wasn’t merely a casual visit brought on by the cold or an accidental slip up whilst trying to look for another room. No, this was a trial—a terrible trial where Twilight Twinkle Sparkle would be judged for her crimes, accused of being a terrible person, daughter, and friend, all for the sake of helping Rarity.

“To help myself,” she thought, feeling selfish as she remembered the cold weight of her phone still lingering in her hand. She was selfish, yes—awful, even—but at least something good would come of it. Something for her friends.

“Can I sit down?” asked the brunette, stumbling over every word.

Velvet’s expression softened as she closed her book, keeping her index finger between the pages she’d been reading. She straightened her posture. A thousand thoughts crashed through Twilight’s mind—a thousand possible answers, a thousand ways her mother could respond: angry, indignant, horrified. They hadn’t spoken in so long, and now she had the nerve to just ask if she could sit down?

“No, Twilight, you can’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t even think about it,” she told herself, clenching her fist, the edges of her untrimmed nails cutting into her palm.

But none of that happened. Instead, her mother simply scanned her with her eyes, found her magnetic bookmark, slipped it between the pages, and stood up, sitting on the edge of the bed just a few steps from her daughter.

“Of course.”

Releasing her fists, the brunette obeyed, letting herself sink into the soft, cushioned surface of her parents’ bed, feeling the warm, familiar fabric beneath her fingertips. She’d slept there many times as a child—it felt as though it had been only yesterday.

“Mom…” she began, not daring to look at her, still tracing small circles on the sheets with her fingertips. “I wanted… I wanted to know if—” her tongue caught between her teeth, stinging slightly, though what hurt more was her pride. How could someone like her, who spent her life reading, studying, and writing, stumble over something so simple?

She thought of Applejack, of the farm girl’s funny way of speaking—those colorful idioms and country metaphors she used for the simplest ideas. She thought of her friends, of how each one moved her lips differently when speaking, of the rainbow of voices between them. She thought of Spike, and how easily words came to him in the worst possible moments.

“Another point for Mom,” she thought, realizing that, as with everything else in life, there was more to talking than just reading.

“I wanted to know if we could talk… About… You know.”

She narrowed her eyes as her heart flipped again, pounding wildly in her chest. Surely Velvet knew what she meant—or did she? Had her mother spent these days overthinking every interaction between them, longing for old memories and waging a silent war inside her head about what to do next? How to go on?

She liked to think so, but being pragmatic, there was no way to know.

Before her mind could spiral further, her body jolted at the soft touch on the back of her hand. She turned—perhaps a little too sharply—only to find Velvet reaching out to her, her face twisted in a heartbreaking expression of guilt, her eyes slightly squinted as if it pained her to look at her.

“Of course it hurts,” Twilight thought, doing her best to calm her heart.

“Twily, I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

The words hung in the air, circling her head as she struggled to process them.

Her mind went blank. Her breath escaped in a pale puff of air that, had she not known better, she might have mistaken for smoke. Her heart told her something—something her mind couldn’t catch, because everything around her had stopped. Time itself had stopped. Every moment slid into the next, senselessly.

What had she just heard?

What was she feeling?

What was she thinking?

For the first time ever, Twilight Sparkle didn’t have an answer. She had no reasonable explanation for what was happening around her. Her whole life, her entire reality, had always been built upon evidence, facts, things she could verify. She was skeptical, difficult to surprise—and yet now she was terrified, stripped bare before those simple, heavy words her mother had just spoken.

What did she mean, she was sorry? Wasn’t Twilight the awful daughter? The awful person? Or was this some kind of test, some cruel trick to confuse her mind and make her pay for her mistakes?

Or did she truly mean it?

She stood up abruptly—so fast her head spun several times—overwhelmed by the weight of her thoughts, suffocated by her own inner voice. “What is this?” she asked herself, probably for the first time in her life, eyes wide open, not even realizing that maybe—just maybe—she’d pulled her hand away too harshly, brushing her mother’s in the process.

Her breathing quickened. Her eyes locked on Velvet’s, darting back and forth without reason, each flicker of motion spelling out a single word.

“What?” she stammered, her voice breaking and uneven.

“Twily…” her mother began, turning fully toward her daughter, that same pained and sorrowful expression still on her face. “I… I’m sorry for how things turned out between us. I truly am.”

“No!” Twilight exclaimed, in a sharp, almost ridiculous tone that, in any other situation, would’ve drawn a smile from them both. “No… You don’t… It’s not—I’m the one… the one who—no, this—” she sputtered, her thoughts tripping over each other, spilling out as incoherent words.

She clasped her hands together, then apart, then together again, over and over. She tried to breathe, but the air didn’t change anything inside her as her heart pounded faster and faster. She paced, then stopped, then paced again, her mind racing at dizzying speed as she bit her lips, trying to speak, to think. Something was happening—something she didn’t understand—and that frustrated her. She was supposed to be the one apologizing, she was supposed to be the one asking for forgiveness, but her mother had beaten her to it. Why?

Why did her mother feel the need to apologize to her?

But if that had confused her, the soft, amused laugh Velvet let out next startled her even more. Her mother smiled—a playful little smile, though her eyes still shone with nostalgia and longing.

“You’re Twilight-ing,” her mother sighed, shifting in her seat, smiling gently at her daughter. Instinctively, the brunette took a step back. “By Starswirl, how I’ve missed seeing you Twilight-ing.”

Twilight swallowed nervously, her tongue finally still in her mouth. She tried to think, to focus on something, but she couldn’t—nothing around her made sense, and she had never felt so utterly lost.

“What?” she asked again.

“Yes… It’s something Shining made up—‘Twilight-ing’,” her mother said, making air quotes, “when you over-stress about something simple.”

“Shining made that up?” Twilight whispered, barely managing to put her thoughts in order.

“Yes, your father and I use it all the time.” Velvet chuckled softly again, before her expression fell once more into sadness as she shifted uneasily in her seat. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, Twily.”

“But… But I’m the one who should be apologizing to you, I was the—” her voice cracked into a sharp sob, the first tear finally slipping from her eyes. “I… I was so awful to you. How? Why are you the one apologizing?”

Her lungs began to shake violently as more and more tears escaped her face, falling down her cheeks and soaking into her coat, leaving her nose running in a messy, ridiculous stream. Yet everything grew worse when she saw her mother begin to imitate her.

“Because… because I was scared. I was scared that my little girl, my only girl, would drift away from me so soon. And I know— I know it isn’t my right to stop you, to keep you from chasing your dreams, from becoming the brilliant woman you’re meant to be… But by Starswirl, I was terrified! I didn’t want to lose you so soon, Twily!”

“But—” she whispered through tears, kneeling before her mother and resting her hands on her knee, squeezing gently. “But I said all those hurtful things. You were right all along. I was rushing things, and… and now I see that.”

Clumsily, Twilight wiped the tears from her face before looking up, meeting her mother’s bluish eyes with her own—red, swollen, and overflowing from every corner. For a moment, she thought she saw her own reflection staring back at her: a frightened girl, terrified of losing the things she loved, choosing to isolate herself rather than watch them fade away.

By Starswirl, she had to save what she still had with her friends. She had to—no matter what.

“Now I know what truly matters isn’t the books, Mom… it’s you.”

Velvet let out a small sob, leaning over her daughter and resting her head against hers, trembling with every tear that left her. Twilight stayed still, softly rubbing her mother’s knee as she tried to stay composed. They were mirrors of one another—two people so similar and yet so beautifully different.

Groaning under her breath, her mother whispered “I’m sorry” over and over, each repetition carving something inside Twilight’s heart—something she couldn’t tell was good or bad, but something delicate, something gentle.

“You’ve never been gentle,” her mother had once told her. And now, for the first time in four long months, Twilight realized she had believed those words.

“But not anymore,” she thought, feeling a deep warmth bloom inside her chest as she clung tighter to her mother’s body.

This—whatever was happening between the two of them—this was what life was about. Something honest. Something kind.

“I guess… we both said things we regret,” Twilight murmured, not moving an inch, but raising her violet eyes to meet the woman before her, finding her stunning even beneath that sticky layer of tears. “And for my part… I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so, so sorry. You were right. I wasn’t ready to be away from you, from Dad, from everyone. I don’t want a boarding school that isolates me from the world. I want my family. My friends…”

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes, feeling as though she were waking from a long dream.

“You.”

With a swift motion, Velvet Sparkle wrapped her daughter in a tight embrace that somehow sent them both tumbling to the floor, a tangled mess of arms, tears, and emotion—too knotted to ever untangle, and too beautiful for her to even want to. Twilight hugged her back, smiling through the tears.

Four months—four unbearable months of silence, pain, and ignorance. Four long months since she’d broken ties with the most important person in her life, the one who had shaped her into who she was. Four months, undone in a single moment.

The warmth of Velvet’s arms spread through her daughter’s body like a pleasant wave, wrapping every inch of her skin in soft rose petals—thorned, perhaps, but sweet by nature—and covering every corner of her being with a smooth, gentle sheet of silk.

That was home. Those arms. That love.

She loved her mother. She loved her family. She loved her friends.

And for the first time in her life, Twilight Sparkle would fight for what she loved. She would give everything for it.

She pulled her mother tighter, feeling her warmth once again as more and more tears dripped onto the floor. Minutes passed like that, until finally, they managed to pull apart—just enough to meet each other’s eyes before both burst into awkward, honest laughter.

Twilight sat up as best she could, placing her coat beneath her legs to shield herself from the cold floor, watching her mother copy her every move with slow, deliberate grace. They really were alike—something she was only just realizing.

“Thank you, Mom,” the brunette mumbled, smiling faintly through her tear-streaked cheeks. “For understanding.”

Velvet smiled again, wiping her chin with the back of her hand, shaking her head as if in disbelief before meeting her daughter’s gaze once more.

“I… I’m just happy you wanted to give me another chance.”

“You say that like you don’t deserve it,” she replied, making the older woman laugh in that ridiculous, endearing way again. “I love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Twily.”

A second passed. Then two. Then ten. Then several quiet minutes.

The two Sparkle women sat still on the floor, sniffing, wiping their faces, occasionally laughing at invisible jokes the other couldn’t see. It was silence—but a comfortable one, a satisfying one, even a victorious one in its own way. She hadn’t realized it until that moment, but this was a victory—one for her, for her family, for the world.

After so much thinking, after so much self-loathing, after so much resentment—it was finally over.

She had forgiven her mother.

And, above all, she had forgiven herself.

She wasn’t a terrible daughter. She wasn’t a terrible person.

“We hurt each other,” she had thought that day in Cadence’s office—right before she heard about the gala, right before she went to Rouge’s office to sign up for it, right before everything changed forever.

“We healed each other,” she thought now, redeemed, knowing that the Twilight from that day was not the same Twilight she was now.

No, that one had been selfish, scared, and friendless—ready to throw her whole life away just to meet someone she didn’t even know.

But now it was different.

Now, she was a new Twilight.

One proud to be part of the Sparkle family.

A Twilight proud of herself— and of her friends.

“Mom,” she began again, her voice carrying an unexpected confidence she didn’t know she had, “I need your help with something, if you’ll let me.”

Velvet looked up, meeting her daughter’s eyes with childlike curiosity but also with a deep sense of belonging and strength printed in every gesture, in every small movement.

“We’re organizing a charity runway show for my friend Rarity,” Twilight said. “And I want you to be there. As a judge.”

Her mother smiled, scooting a little closer to her daughter.

“I was wondering when you’d send Spike to invite me.”

“Cadence,” Twilight thought, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips, not at all surprised. Of course her sister-in-law would help—she was the best sister-in-law in the world, after all.

“Of course I’ll go. I’m not leaving my girl alone again. Not this time.”

“Thank you… thank you so much.”

The brunette leaned forward again, raising her arms to hug her mother once more, only for the older woman to gently stop her by the hands.

“One last thing, Twily,” Velvet said, an excited smile spreading across her lips as she gave a tiny bounce in place, reaching into one of her back pockets. “Cadence told me that if you and I managed to patch things up soon…” —she pulled something out, something Twilight couldn’t quite make out— “that I should give you this.”

A small piece of paper fluttered through the air, edges waving gently in the current before landing right before her violet eyes.

It took Twilight a second to process what it said—then she gasped, half laughing, half crying as she read it.

“Twilight Twinkle Sparkle. Invitation to the Grand Galloping Gala. December 13th, 2024. Canterlot High. One-person entry.”

Chapter 37: The Apple family reunion

The first thing she saw was a tree—or were there two? Intertwined like a curious spiral. Beneath them, a barren field of flowers, some crushed, others in perfect condition, and behind her, a sad and battered sneaker painted in endless colors.

She knelt down, stretching her fingers to try to touch the garment, but when her fingertips made contact with the laces, they dissolved like water. Now she was in a clearing, completely flooded, with the weak blades of grass struggling to rise for air; she saw her reflection, monstrous and aberrant, and although at first she flinched, it didn’t take long to accept that this was what she looked like—this was who she was.

She looked back at the trees, approaching in long and clumsy strides through the water, trying to observe every detail: one was made of grayish wood, almost dead, though covered in leaves as green as spring itself; while the other looked hydrated, brown like wet soil, yet stripped of leaves, sad and solitary.

“Mom…” she whispered, reaching out again, feeling her arm heavy and resistant, having to grit her teeth just to move it a little.

After nearly two minutes, she finally felt the cold bark against her, seeping into and through every inch of her skin in a strange way. She fixed her gaze on a crack—an odd crack on the tree’s surface—as the mud beneath her boots began to swallow her.

“You’re better than me,” Rainbow whispered behind her, forcing her to turn sharply, her head twisting halfway as her body continued sinking into the mire.

“Colors…”

“You’re better than me, right?” insisted the girl with multicolored hair, now both of them at the same height. “Sleepyhead.”

“Liar,” sighed another voice, one she couldn’t distinguish, the wind blowing around her like a torrent of sounds and thunder. The sky darkened, and in an instant, beneath the thin layer of water, there was no more grass, no more flowers—now only a cold, flavorless concrete floor awaited her, swallowing her.

“H-help…” she murmured, barely able to part her lips as she felt the water rising to her chin, staining her face.

“You’re better than me.”

And suddenly, darkness—and pain.

When Applejack woke up, the first thing she noticed was that her arm had fallen asleep under her own weight, hanging from her body like a dead sack of muscle and flesh. However, what truly caught her attention was the light—or rather, the absence of it.

Whenever she worked late in Canterlot, or when she rode the night bus across the city, she always liked reminding herself how much she hated that the night never truly felt like “night”; instead it was more like a cheap mockery of daytime, lighting everything like a bad detective movie and giving it a sense of false mysticism, a mysticism that could never be replicated for real. It wasn’t like the nights in Ponyville, the nights in the orchard and on the farm, where everything became an absolute black, and unless it was a lucky day when the moon lit part of the world, you couldn’t see more than a few inches ahead.

Applejack couldn’t see anything now—no moonlight before her, no electric light, nothing, only a ghostly sensation that something was wrong.

She tried to remember where she had been before falling asleep—maybe in a class, or on the bus heading home, or worse, in the middle of her shift—but nothing, no memory came to her.

As her arm slowly woke up, she tried to become more aware of her surroundings. She was definitely sitting on something cushioned—a couch or a bed—with rough, rustic winter sheets beneath her clothes, clothes she soon realized were her everyday outfit: a pair of old jeans and a green-and-white patterned button-up shirt her mother had handed down to her when she was little.

“That’s strange…” she thought, feeling the fabric that had once belonged to her mother beneath her fingers. “I could’ve sworn on my boots I was saving this for—”

And at that moment, her mind clicked.

She had eaten from the grand apple banquet, given a terrible speech alongside her sister Applebloom, and played a round of apple toss with her cousin Braeburn, before going back into the farmhouse to rest a bit on the family couch—and suddenly, nothing. Nothing else. She hadn’t done anything else.

She was in her bed now, and judging by the absolute silence outside, she could assume the Apple family reunion had already ended.

“Oh, horsefeathers!” she exclaimed, shaking her arm as best she could before leaping out of her bed, stumbling face-first onto the floor in the process, and shooting toward the stairs.

The faint light from the ground floor barely filtered up from the staircase, casting weak shadows across the floor—shadows Applejack used to avoid falling on her face again as she made her way through the house. Her heart pounded hard, while her mind hurled a litany of curses in every language she knew: How could you fall asleep? Why now? Of all days—why now?

A spectral silence crept through every corner of the farmhouse, crawling from the cracked floorboards to spread wherever she looked. She didn’t like that silence—not at all. “Maybe not everyone has left,” she thought as she descended the stairs in long strides. “Not yet.” Even she didn’t believe that obvious lie.

She was greeted by a sweet aroma of punch mixed with the soft steam rising from the classic apple mash her grandmother cooked every year—and which this year she had been in charge of making. Normally that smell excited her, filled her with energy, but now, twisted into a faint, barely perceptible murmur, all she felt was her heart sinking deeper inside her chest.

The living room was dark, with just a few candles lit outside the house and the kitchen light glowing from the other side.

“Granny?” the cowgirl called, adjusting her hat on her head, her voice escaping her throat like a painful groan that could be solved with a glass of water.

Her family was surely angry; “like wild goats,” she thought, imagining what each member of her house would have said. Applebloom would give her sad eyes and try to act normal; Granny Smith would surely yell at her more than once with disdain before sending her to her room with something like “I don’t wanna see ya till mornin’;” and Big Mac wouldn’t say a word, simply look at her with those eyes of disappointment he had mastered so well.

She swallowed hard, her skin trembling from both the cold and her nerves as she peeked into the kitchen, hoping to see someone from her family.

The room was empty, the table overflowing with dirty dishes, cups, cutlery and every kind of utensil that reeked of apple-based food. On the other side, the sink was equally overflowing with evidence of the gathering, along with ornaments that also revealed how many people had been there: a cowboy hat, a pair of cloths and napkins with the familiar Apple print, and the remains of a torn paper lantern.

“Oh…” she thought, admiring the pretty details on the paper wrapping. A bitter taste settled on her tongue, her teeth clenching as something deep inside her cracked—something fundamental, hers, for her. “What’s wrong with me?”

“You’re awake.”

Applejack jumped in place, feeling her heart lurch as she whipped around almost violently, nearly letting out a yelp. Applebloom watched her from the other side of the room, completely still, like a statue, her orange eyes glowing spectrally under the dim kitchen light, and her iconic bow missing from her head.

Her gaze was twisted—twisted in the exact way Applejack didn’t want to see. That expression of sadness and anger she knew she would see but somehow wished she could have avoided. She felt that weight in her stomach again, that terrible feeling of being insufficient, of disappointing herself—the same feeling she had the day she flunked the year at CHS, the day she was nearly expelled for punching Echo Mirage, or the day her grandmother learned about the fight.

“The day I collapsed in front of Rarity,” she thought, immediately feeling guilty for naming the day like that and not simply as Twilight’s birthday.

Her sister blinked slowly a couple of times before turning away and continuing on her path. She was carrying a hefty stack of dry logs, ready to be burned in the house’s bonfire—logs Applejack definitely didn’t remember chopping. “Not like you have a brilliant memory,” she thought, taking a step forward.

“Where’d you get those?” she asked, lifting a hand slightly.

Applebloom didn’t reply. She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to look her sister straight in the eyes, still wearing that same expression Applejack dreaded so much. She didn’t even notice when she began to avert her gaze.

“Granny asked me to go start the fire.”

“She gave them to you?”

“Yeah. She’s outside, choppin’ wood. Big Mac’s busy closing up the barn.”

Applejack clicked her tongue in frustration. In the whole family, only she and Big Mac had the job of chopping wood—only they could lift the heavy family axe. Neither Granny Smith nor Applebloom should even try. “What is that old mare thinking now?”

“Why’d you let her do that?” she asked, irritation leaking into her voice as she headed toward the door her sister had entered through.

“You were asleep, and Granny didn’t wanna wake you.”

“Well she should’ve!”

Applejack stormed out of the house a bundle of emotions. The wind howled fiercely, threatening to unleash a snowfall unlike anything seen before, freezing her to the bone with blades of icy air. She instantly regretted not grabbing her coat, gritting her teeth and clenching her jaw with determination.

“Why would she go cut wood by herself?” she wondered aloud, raising her arm to shield herself from the blizzard as she crossed the minefield that was the Apple property. All around her, left abandoned in the night’s shadows, lay hundreds of furniture pieces, scraps of trash, food remnants, balloons, decorations, and all sorts of things that revealed the party she had missed.

She clenched her teeth in fury, surprised at how second-nature the gesture had become.

Applejack had never missed an Apple family reunion. She could miss her own graduation, or even her own birthday party, but never her family gathering—the family she only had the pleasure of seeing once a year. Her cousin Braeburn, her cousin Babs, her great-aunt Goldie, the Orange uncles. An endless list of names and surnames, all sharing the same family heritage she cherished so much, and that right now she had forsaken—all for a bit of sleep. “You’re pathetic, apples,” she thought, unconsciously using the nickname Rainbow always used for her. “You’re pathetic, and you’re a mess.”

She stepped hard on something rough and solid, only to feel it shatter beneath her with the unmistakable crunch of glass. She sighed, trying not to dwell on the curses she wanted to hurl at herself for breaking some plate or cup along the way. First she needed to reach her grandmother—reach her.

“Stubborn mule…” she muttered, shaking her foot, quietly cursing her sister for leaving their grandmother alone.

She couldn’t entirely blame Applebloom for not waking her. After all, ever since that call, things hadn’t been easy around the apple orchard. Not a day went by without Granny Smith and Applejack arguing—whether over her sleep problems, her chores, or the fight with Echo, that damn fight that had caused her so much trouble. Her siblings always tried to keep out of it, and yet she couldn’t help noticing that, if they ever had to choose sides, they would definitely stand with Granny.

And the worst part was that she didn’t completely blame them.

“You’re a damn mess, Applejack,” she told herself again, turning at the side of one of the silos—where she finally began to hear the muffled sound of an axe chopping wood.

The wind blew harder than normal, forcing her to stumble a step back as the cold burrowed deeper into her skin, stinging her. Her hat flew off her head, hanging only by its cord around her thick neck, letting her poorly braided hair whip around in the air, slapping her back. She clung to the silo, still shielding her face with her hand, forcing herself step by step to move forward—to keep going.

She thought about her destructive routines, her sleep, and her terrible sleep schedule. Now she felt bright as a lightbulb, sharp as a needle, fully aware and ready for anything, and yet she had become so weak that a simple gust of wind was pushing her to her limits. “Echo made me this weak,” she thought, gritting her teeth.

None of this would have happened if it weren’t for Echo Mirage. None of this would be happening now if not for Echo Mirage. She couldn’t wait to get back at her.

Rarity and Applejack had spoken little since Twilight’s party. After all, things weren’t only tense in the orchard. Every time the two friends met—whether to talk, eat together, or scheme the downfall of the CHS tyrant—she could feel the flood of judgmental gazes coming from their friends: Rainbow’s sad and irritated looks, Pinkie’s worried sighs, Fluttershy’s uncomfortable silence. There was always something, and she hated it. She hated being the center of the discussion, hated feeling those sad, worried looks—and she hated not being able to do anything with Rarity or with the others.

She missed her old life—not that sad, tired solitude from before, but those beautiful three months that, with their ups and downs, had permanently altered the chemistry of her brain, placing something in the forefront that wasn’t just her family. Something she cared about. Something she worried about.

“You’re better than me,” Rainbow had said that day, and repeated in her dream—but was she really?

“I am,” she whispered, lying so plainly that she felt sick the moment the words left her mouth.

Granny Smith stood at the far end of the grain corridor, clumsily gripping her axe with one wrinkled hand while using the other to try her best to keep the logs steady against the wind.

Applejack swallowed nervously, imagining the flood of passive-aggressive comments her grandmother would throw her way as soon as she caught sight of her, trying to brace herself for them. She didn’t succeed.

“Granny! What in tarnation are you doing?!”

“What does it look like I’m doing, girl? Selling pears?”

The cowgirl rolled her eyes, stepping behind her grandmother and reaching out her arm.

“Come on, give me that.”

“Leave it! You that eager to slice your foot open again?”

“Give me that!”

Applejack snatched the axe from her in one pull—almost too easily, as if her grandmother had wanted it to happen. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, her green gaze locking with the older woman’s bright orange, almost invisible in the night’s darkness yet just as vibrant as ever. Granny wore a frustrated grimace, stained with something Applejack couldn’t quite place—but if she had to guess, she’d say it looked suspiciously like excitement.

“You ungrateful child! Here I am doing you a favor so you can keep lazin’ around in your room, and you come yankin’ things outta my hands!”

The cowgirl rolled her eyes again, exasperated, as she leaned over the stump and placed another log on it, splitting it cleanly with unmatched precision. She might’ve laughed at how easy it was—compared to the time Fluttershy visited the farm—if not for the fact that, for some reason, she felt angry. So, so angry.

Angry at Granny? At Applebloom, maybe? Big Mac? At her friends? Angry at Rainbow—for not helping her, or for saying that at the party? Angry at Echo? Or even at her mother?

Or angry at herself?

“Careful, AJ, you’re gonna fall asleep and crack your skull open,” her grandmother mocked again, crossing her arms behind her granddaughter as she split another log. “I ain’t carryin’ you to your room, so you’ll be sleepin’ outside.”

She split another log, perfectly down the middle.

Who was she angry at?

“Are you even puttin’ your back into it? You’re choppin’ like a baby.”

Another.

“Oh, but let it be about punchin’ girls at school—THEN you sure know how to put in effort.”

And another.

“You know, if you were half as loyal to your bed as you are to your family, maybe you could’ve tossed your parents’ lantern this year.”

“Well what’s your damn problem?!” the younger girl yelled, slamming the axe into the ground, sinking it perfectly into the frozen winter grass.

Her grandmother didn’t respond immediately—she only smiled sarcastically and let out a painfully fake laugh into the air.

“My problem?”

“Yes, your problem!”

“I’m not the one pickin’ fights, fallin’ asleep every day, bein’ angry all the time, and punchin’ girls like it’s nothin’!”

Applejack exhaled sharply, letting out a breath soaked in exasperation, clenching her fists and waving them pointlessly through the air. “Why now?” she wondered, grinding her teeth, unsure how to answer her grandmother—or herself.

The fire inside her roared even louder, tearing through everything without letting her think or feel straight. She felt like if things kept going like this, she was going to explode—and if she exploded, she didn’t know what she would do. Or what she would say.

“She deserved it!” she shouted, barely able to force the words out one after the other.

“So that’s your excuse? That she deserved to be punched?”

“If you knew half the things she’s done…!”

“I don’t know, Applejack! You don’t tell me anythin’ anymore!” her grandmother barked—dropping her mocking tone for something far more serious and stern, something that only made the cowgirl even more upset. “Every time you’re here, you’re asleep or too angry to talk! When did you become like this?”

She shook her head, resting her hands on her hips, pressing her lips tight in frustration. “This ain’t the time for truths, Granny,” she thought, recalling Echo Mirage’s smug, hateful expression—smiling, mocking her, practically dancing just from watching her suffer. How she wanted to punch her again. Oh, she truly did.

But that thought tasted sour and bitter on her tongue, almost like she had suddenly swallowed a handful of ashes. Why? She didn’t know—but damn, it felt wrong.

Everything felt wrong. She had never liked arguing with Granny—even if it had become routine. She had never liked getting defensive with the people she loved so much, the people she valued above all else. After all, her family meant everything to her—they were the most important thing.

“But not as important as punching Echo, right?”

She couldn’t answer.

“Maybe I’ve always been like this, and you never really knew me,” she lied.

“Don’t be ridiculous, girl. I’ve known you since you were a filly, and I’ll keep knowin’ you ’til you’re an old mare.”

Applejack turned her back on her grandmother as the roaring wind forced her to squint shut. She wanted to answer—wanted to keep arguing—but that bitter feeling locked her mouth shut and twisted her tongue. What was she even saying?

“What? Now you’re ignorin’ me?” Granny raised her voice as the wind howled even harder. “Fine, go on, do it. You’re good at that, after all.”

“Can we please just leave it like this? For now?” the cowgirl exclaimed, yanking the axe out of the ground again and setting another log on the stump—one that the wind immediately knocked off.

“For what? So you can go punch another girl in the snout?” the older woman snapped, stomping forward and planting herself in front of her granddaughter like a tree—“You’ve got a few screws loose if you think I’m lettin’ you do that!”

“She deserved it!”

“And I don’t doubt it, Applejack!” Granny shouted, raising her arms in frustration—“I didn’t raise a brawlin’ sheep! Not you! Not my Applejack!”

A tight knot formed in her throat as she let the axe fall again, landing with a hollow thud immediately drowned out by the wind.

But the cowgirl wasn’t listening anymore.

She was freezing.

And she didn’t care.

Yes, the fire inside her was still burning, destroying, but somehow, all of a sudden, it didn’t matter as much anymore.

“You’re a kind and honest soul, Grace”—the other woman tensed at the sound of her middle name—“but for mountain goats’ sake, how am I supposed to help you if you won’t tell me anything?”

“No…” She choked out a tiny squeak, feeling her eyes glaze over in an instant, yet forcing herself to hold back any display of emotion. “I don’t need help, Granny.”

“And I didn’t raise a liar either!”

She pressed her lips together, twisting her mouth into a frustrated grimace as another rush of emotions slid down her throat.

“I’ve never lied to you…” the cowgirl began, dragging her greenish eyes across the grass-like hair under her boots, mentally counting each strand just to try and align her thoughts. “I’m not a liar.”

“I don’t care if you tell me the truth or not. You’re a child—of course you’re going to have secrets. Your father had secrets, your mother had secrets, Big Mac, Applebloom, we all have secrets, Applejack,” her grandmother began, taking a few steps forward until she stood face to face with her towering granddaughter, her wrinkled features framing a sad expression that barely peeked through her eyes; “but I won’t just stand there while I watch you lie to yourself.”

She exhaled sharply, trying to pull something out. What exactly? She didn’t know—she just wanted to get something out of her, purge something specific, but she couldn’t tell what. Her eyes met her grandmother’s and, for a fraction of a second, she saw through them the eyes of her father—or at least how she remembered them—and a cold tingling crawled up her back; not from the wind, but from something else, something that was there.

Was she lying to herself? About what? She wanted to believe she wasn’t, that her grandmother didn’t know her anymore, that nothing the cowgirl was going through could ever cross the older woman’s mind, and yet… something inside her wouldn’t let her deny it. Not completely.

It was a feeling of belonging, a deep need barking inside her, one she thought she had long silenced. She loved her family, the people she cherished—her sister, her brother, her Granny. And, somehow, her friends too.

“You just have to not be a savage who rips her friends’ eyebrows off,” she had said, in the middle of one of her best friend’s birthday party, all with the sole intention of making Rainbow feel bad, of hurting her. “You don’t really want to hurt her just like that, do you, colors?” she thought now, feeling her expression soften.

She hadn’t thought about it much, but she missed her best friend. She really, really missed her.

“Of course I’d love to help you, Applejack. But first, you need to admit when you need someone.”

Granny took another step, grasping her granddaughter by the arms, pressing her wrinkled fingertips into her smooth, muscular skin. The touch felt warm, homely, and in a way… strange. She had grown unaccustomed to that feeling—knowing that she, of all people, had forgotten even for a moment that her family was her priority made her feel sick.

The flame dimmed, replaced by a deep and fundamental shame settling in her chest. She wanted to see her grandmother smile again, wanted to see Rainbow smile again, wanted her friends—more than she wanted to see Echo suffer.

“But…” she choked out again, battling once more to keep the tears from spilling out. “But what if it’s already too late? What if there’s no going back for some things?” She swallowed hard, looking away. “I don’t think I’m the same person anymore… It’s all so… complicated.”

A faint howl carried her words away as the wind slowly began to die down.

“Applejack…” The older woman wrapped the younger tightly in her arms, pulling her against her small, aged body, gripping her as if her hands were made of steel. “You’ll always be my filly. My little bad liar.”

Three years. Three years she had been running, refusing to look back, wearing herself down more and more. Night after night, day after day. She always said her sleep was normal, that it wouldn’t kill her, that “ol’ Applejack” was better than that, that she didn’t need help.

She was broken. Very, very broken. And she was only now realizing it.

She wasn’t happy—she hadn’t been happy in a long time—and her soul knew it. It knew exactly what she needed in order to be again. Carefully, she let her hands climb up her grandmother’s back, feeling once more that familiarity she had somehow lost years ago.

“Gran…” she mumbled, burying her face into her grandmother’s neck, still holding the tears back purely out of instinct, her nails digging into the fabric of her clothes. “I want to rest… I need to rest.”

“There, there.” Grandma gently patted her back as the girl’s enormous weight slowly curled more and more over her, without the older woman faltering for even a moment. “It’s alright, Applejack. You’ve done well.”

She remembered that first day of the semester at CHS, remembered the conversation between Rainbow, Fluttershy, and herself, and remembered her timid friend’s touch—her concern, her interest. “All this time,” she thought, hearing her voice telling her to try to sleep well that night. “And I’ve always ignored it.”

She closed her eyes, sighing again—this time knowing exactly what she wanted to get rid of: the walls, the locks, the lies. “You’re pathetic, Applejack, and that’s okay,” she thought, feeling a slight pushback from her own mind, but letting it flow. “You’re human, and you’re tired. Really tired.”

It felt good. It felt real. She’d always prided herself on being realistic, someone honest in every sense, someone who would put truth above everything else. And now, for the first time in two years, she felt worthy of that pride. Yes, she had been lying to herself—and now she knew it.

“Gran,” she began, lifting her head off her grandmother’s shoulder, dragging her eyes up to meet hers. “I can’t keep going like this. I can’t keep living here. At least… not during the week.”

And saying it out loud made it so much more terrible than she’d imagined. The idea had crossed her mind a few times, but she had never spoken it, never heard herself say it—and somehow that had kept it unreal, a blurry fantasy that vanished as soon as it appeared.

But she wanted to be honest. She wanted the truth. And the truth was that she couldn’t do everything—she couldn’t take the bus every morning from Ponyville to Canterlot and hope for the best, couldn’t work two part-time jobs and still do decent homework to keep her scholarship, and she certainly couldn’t try to destroy Echo Mirage while keeping her friends in the process.

She needed help. And the thought terrified her… while also soothing her.

“I know, child,” Grandma Smith whispered, slipping back into her funny, aged tone of voice as the faint traces of wind opened the sky above them, revealing a flood of stars—each one brighter than the last. “And I know what you have to do.”

A spark of curiosity cracked through her distant melancholy as the older woman allowed a small smile to spread on her lips, much to Applejack’s confusion.

“Earlier today I spoke with your friend Fluttershy, who… let’s say she has quite a lot on her hands. She asked me to try talking to you about this, and to remind you that, in her words, ‘there’s a certain rainbow who’s got a room waiting for you.’”

She almost laughed—an incredulous, surprised laugh that emptied her lungs. It was a perfect piece, a divine solution to a problem she hadn’t even realized she had. How had she pulled it off?

She remembered last week, and how she had barely paid any attention to her timid friend since that infamous birthday party—enough to not even notice she’d been planning something like this. She had spoken to Grandma Smith; she had told her about Rainbow’s room. She—the one who had worried about her sleep since the very first day. She could’ve expected something like this from Twilight, from Rarity, even from Pinkie—but from Fluttershy?

She smiled, happy to know that, from day one, someone had cared that much about her.

“Yeah…” she stammered, letting her eyes drift toward the sky, admiring Ponyville’s stars, trying to engrave every tiny pattern in her mind as if she would never see them again. “It hurts, but it’s necessary,” she thought, breathing in and feeling her lungs alive. She wanted to live. “Though I guess I’ll have to apologize a couple of times. I said things that, being honest, I shouldn’t have said.”

“She said you’d say that,” Grandma Smith added, sliding her hand into one of the pockets of her enormous traditional skirt, pulling something out. “And she told me that if you did, I should give you this.”

Applejack lowered her gaze, squinting through the shadows—only to let out a tiny squeak when she saw the clean print.

“Applejack Grace Apple. Invitation to the Grand Galloping Gala. December 13th, 2024. Canterlot High. One-person entry.”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Tales of Canterlot