Chapter Text
Hours crawled by, heavy and restless. Smolder had resigned herself to pacing the rooftop of the lighthouse, her claws clicking against the tiles in an endless rhythm. She couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t stop. If she stopped moving, she’d start remembering. And remembering was worse.
Below, the air was tense with activity. Pipp and Zipp argued into their phones, trying to coax their mother into sending medical assistance for the griffin sprawled on the floor. Gallus lay on his side, his feathers ruffled and his wing bent at angles that made Sunny flinch every time she looked. He was breathing, shallow and ragged, but he was alive. That had to be enough—for now.
Sunny paced a nervous circle in front of the couch where Flurry Heart lay unconscious. The young alicorn’s chest rose and fell, slow but steady, her once radiant magic dimmed to a faint flicker. Even Izzy—usually a storm of uncontainable energy—was unnervingly still. She sat with her chin propped on the back of a chair, eyes fixed on Flurry as if watching her might will her awake.
Smolder’s claws scraped a little too hard against the roof tiles, and she hissed under her breath. “This isn’t right.”
Sunny’s ears perked. She glanced up at the dragon through the open balcony doors. “What do you mean?”
Smolder stopped pacing long enough to glare down at the room. Her eyes, sharp and tired, swept over Gallus and Flurry, then lingered on the bright-eyed ponies clustered around them. “You don’t get it. Back then—when it hit—nopony was quiet. It was screaming. Burning. Ponies tearing each other apart because they couldn’t even see what was happening to them.” Her voice caught for a second, but she forced it steady. “This calm? It’s just the storm catching its breath.”
The room went still. Even Izzy’s wide smile faltered at the weight in Smolder’s tone.
Sunny swallowed hard, trying to hold her ground against the raw edge in Smolder’s words. “Maybe… maybe it’s different now. Equestria’s not the same as it was then. We’ve been building something new—friendship between tribes again. Maybe we can—”
“Hope doesn’t stop a blade,” Smolder snapped. Her wings twitched, restless, like she was holding herself back from bolting into the night. “You think you’re ready for this, but you’ve never watched your world end. You’ve never stood in the ashes of everything you thought was unbreakable.”
Sunny stepped closer, her voice softer but firm. “And you think we can’t learn? That just because we weren’t there, we can’t fight for it now?”
Smolder froze, caught off guard by Sunny’s defiance. The earth pony’s eyes burned with that stubborn, almost naïve fire that reminded her too much of Gallus—always rallying them, always saying they could win, even when it felt impossible.
The silence stretched—until the lighthouse itself groaned.
A low hum thrummed through the floorboards, rattling the lanterns on the walls. The air thickened with magic, a pulse radiating from the Crystal Heart where it sat in its place of honor. Its glow flickered, then flared bright, casting long shadows across the room.
Izzy’s ears shot up. “Oooh, it’s doing the glowy thing again!”
“Everypony back!” Sunny barked, wings flaring instinctively.
The Heart cracked the silence with a thunderous boom, a shockwave rattling the glass panes of the lighthouse. Magic surged outward, then condensed in a single point on the floor. With a sound like shattering glass, a fissure opened and spilled violet light into the room.
From the light, a figure tumbled forward.
She hit the ground hard, her body curled tight, her horn sparking erratically. Her coat was dust-streaked, her mane tangled, her jaw clenched around a familiar old hat—blue with faded stars, frayed at the brim.
Smolder’s breath caught. “No way…”
The unicorn twitched, gasping as the last of the stasis magic cracked off her body like shards of glass. Her eyes snapped open—wild, unfocused, desperate.
She staggered to her hooves, blinking at the strangers around her, then vanished in a burst of teleportation magic.
Pop. She reappeared near the balcony, eyes scanning frantically. “Trixie?!” Pop. She flickered across the room, landing beside Flurry’s couch. “Sunburst?! Mom?! Dad?!” Her voice cracked, breaking into a raw sob.
Another teleport snapped her into the bookshelf, splintering wood and scattering trinkets across the floor. Starlight didn’t notice. Her breaths came in shallow, jagged gasps, each spell sharper, less controlled, raw panic leaking through her horn like a wound that wouldn’t close.
The hat slipped from her teeth, tumbling with a muffled thud onto the wood. Her gaze locked onto it. Her whole body went rigid, trembling. “No… no, please—don’t take them too.” The words broke out of her like a plea to nopony in particular, or to everypony she’d ever lost.
The room froze with her.
Izzy’s eyes glistened, her usual grin replaced with something fragile, afraid. Pipp clutched her phone close as though recording this would somehow make it survivable. Zipp’s wings half-flared, caught between fight and flight, not understanding but bracing anyway.
And Sunny—her heart thundering in her chest—took a cautious step forward. “Starlight Glimmer,” she whispered. The name felt strange in her mouth, heavy, like a spell her father had passed down in bedtime stories.
Smolder exhaled like she’d been struck. “No… oh, no.”
With a sweep of her wings, she dropped down from the balcony, landing hard on her claws. For once, her face—usually stone-hard—cracked with something vulnerable. She knew this unicorn. Knew what she was supposed to be: clever, unstoppable, a leader who’d survived her own darkness and come out the other side. But the mare trembling before her wasn’t that. This was just wreckage in a pony’s shape.
Gallus, from where he lay half-conscious, lifted his head by sheer stubbornness. His eyes widened, recognition surfacing through the haze. “...Starlight?” His voice was little more than a rasp.
Starlight collapsed onto her knees, then slumped sideways into a pitiful curl. Her chest hitched, every breath like glass in her lungs. Smolder reached out—hesitant, claws shaking despite her tough facade—and laid a hand on Starlight’s shoulder.
The unicorn flinched at the touch. With a strangled sound she jerked away, collapsing onto her stomach, burying her face in the floorboards as sobs tore out of her throat. Not the pretty kind of crying—the kind that breaks a body, where it sounds like the world is clawing its way out of you.
Smolder’s hand hung in the air, useless, before curling into a fist. Her eyes burned, but she held it in. She’d seen comrades cry like this before. She’d seen them die this way, too. And yet, seeing Starlight Glimmer—the mare who had once pulled herself from villainy to greatness—shattered like this… it hollowed her out.
Sunny’s ears pinned back. Her whole life she’d heard stories of ponies like Starlight, mares who had wrestled with fate and won. To see her unravel now, reduced to grief and panic, felt wrong—like finding a statue of a hero smashed to pieces. But where Smolder saw the ruin, Sunny saw something else: a chance to prove Equestria hadn’t forgotten how to catch those who’d fallen.
Sunny edged closer, her voice gentle but firm. “Starlight… you’re safe now. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you’re not alone anymore.”
The unicorn didn’t lift her head. Her sobs quieted, but only because she was too exhausted to keep screaming. Her horn sparked once, weak and sputtering, like a dying star.
Smolder glanced at Sunny, her jaw tight. “Don’t expect her to bounce back. This isn’t a nightmare you wake up from. It stays with you. Trust me.”
Sunny met her gaze, steady despite the chill in her stomach. “Then we’ll sit with her until it passes.”
Smolder wanted to scoff. Wanted to tell her that wasn’t how war worked—that grief wasn’t something you “waited out.” But the fire died before it left her throat. She looked at Sunny’s determined face, at Izzy’s wet-eyed silence, at Pipp and Zipp hovering uncertainly nearby. Kids, all of them. Hopeful, reckless kids. The kind of kids the Young Six had once been, before the sky turned black.
Starlight stirred, lifting her face just enough for them to see her eyes. Bloodshot, unfocused, drowning in loss. Her voice cracked as she forced out a single word, broken and jagged as glass.
“Trixie.”
The name hung in the air like a blade.
Sunny’s crew didn’t know it, not really. But Smolder did. And the way she winced told them everything—that whoever Trixie was, she wasn’t here, and probably never would be again.
The silence stretched, heavy and aching, until Gallus coughed, dragging their attention back. He tried to lift himself, feathers bristling with the effort. “She… needs us,” he rasped, before his head sagged again.
Sunny swallowed hard, stepping fully into the circle of broken legends. She extended a hoof toward Starlight, steady despite her nerves. “Then we’ll be what she needs. That’s what friendship’s for, right?”
Smolder’s gaze lingered on Sunny for a long moment, torn between admiration and disbelief. In the end, she didn’t argue. She just lowered herself down beside Starlight—close enough to guard her, far enough to respect her pain.
Time stretched in uneasy silence. The only sound was the faint, uneven rasp of Starlight’s breathing as she forced herself upright. Her hooves wobbled, her chest heaved, but she managed it. She wiped at her face, smearing tears she couldn’t hide, and drew in a breath that trembled like it might break her in two.
“Smolder…” she croaked, voice shredded raw.
Smolder didn’t speak, didn’t flinch. She just gave a single nod, steady and unshaken, waiting.
“What happened…?” Starlight’s eyes darted, hollow and wild. “To Twilight? The Crystal Empire? Cloudsdale? My—my home?”
Smolder swallowed hard. For a heartbeat, the dragon’s mask cracked, guilt flickering across her features. She touched the amulet around her neck, the gem still faintly glowing.
“I…don’t really know,” she admitted, her voice lower, heavier than a dragon her age should sound. “All I know is that my Element saved me. Pulled me into some kind of void—bright, empty. Next thing I knew, I was here, spat out in the middle of this town. Everything else…” She clenched her jaw, wings twitching tight against her back. “…everything else was screams.”
Starlight’s face twisted as if she’d been struck. She nodded, but it was the brittle nod of somepony swallowing glass. She sucked in a ragged breath, trying to process words she wasn’t ready to hear.
“Okay… okay…” Her gaze snapped upward, unfocused, then landed sharply on Sunny. “You—earth pony. Tell me. What happened to Equestria?”
Sunny froze. Her ears flicked back under the weight of the unicorn’s demand. “Oh… well…” She glanced at her friends, then straightened her posture, trying to sound braver than she felt. “After Twilight… sealed magic—”
Starlight’s eyes blew wide. “She what?!”
The word cracked like thunder through the room. Magic flared uncontrolled around her horn, sparks sizzling against the walls. Izzy jumped back with a squeak, while Pipp grabbed Zipp’s wing instinctively.
“Starlight.” Smolder’s voice cut through the panic like steel. She set a claw gently but firmly on Starlight’s shoulder. “Let her finish.”
The unicorn’s horn flickered, her chest heaving with sharp, uneven breaths. Slowly, reluctantly, the glow dimmed.
Sunny swallowed hard and pressed on, her voice gentler now. “Twilight didn’t do it out of cruelty. From what we’ve pieced together, it was… desperation. Magic was tearing everything apart, so she sealed it away to protect what was left. Generations passed without it. Ponies grew scared of each other, divided by tribe. For a long time, we barely even remembered what friendship meant.”
Starlight stared at her as though she’d spoken another language. Her lips trembled, but no words came.
Izzy broke the silence, bouncing nervously on her hooves. “But Sunny brought it back! Friendship, magic—boom! All three tribes together again!” She beamed, trying to inject light into the room. “We’re kinda, sorta starting fresh!”
Pipp chimed in with a hesitant smile, though her eyes never left the shattered unicorn in front of her. “Yeah… things aren’t perfect, but we’re rebuilding. Ponies are learning to trust again. It’s… hopeful.”
Starlight let out a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh, wasn’t quite a sob. She shook her head slowly, staring at the floor. “Hopeful,” she echoed, voice bitter and broken. “I watched everything burn. I heard them screaming, and I couldn’t stop it. And now you’re telling me Twilight… Twilight sealed away everything we fought for?”
Her voice cracked at the last word, and she collapsed back onto her haunches, shaking.
Smolder tightened her grip on Starlight’s shoulder, her own voice rough with the weight of memory. “You’re not the only one who lost it all. You wake up in this world, and it looks brighter, softer—but the shadows? They’re still out there. Trust me.”
Sunny stepped forward, her wings flaring just slightly, her eyes lit with quiet resolve.
“Then maybe that’s why you’re here. Not to mourn what’s gone—but to help us make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Starlight’s head snapped up. Her horn blazed to life, casting jagged shadows across the room. The hat she had dropped—the old, star-embroidered thing—whipped back into her aura with a sharp crack of magic. Her voice rose, trembling with rage and grief.
“You don’t know what it was like back then!” she spat, eyes wild. “You weren’t there when the Pony of Shadows laughed in your face—when it used the bodies of ponies you knew to hurt you!”
“Starlight—” Smolder began, her voice low, steady, a soldier’s tone.
“No, Smolder!” Starlight snarled, her magic flaring hotter, scattering papers and books across the room. Her legs trembled, but she forced herself upright on all fours, her chest heaving. “I am not calming down! This… this earth pony thinks everything can be fixed with smiles and speeches and hope. She’s wrong!” Her eyes burned as she whipped toward Sunny, her words cutting like blades. “Hope doesn’t bring Cloudsdale back. It doesn’t bring my parents back. It doesn’t bring Trixie back!”
The last name cracked like a sob torn straight from her ribs. Starlight’s voice wavered, but she pressed on, louder, harsher. “The Pony of Shadows killed them all while Twilight—Twilight Sparkle, the so-called Princess of Friendship—cowered in Canterlot! She sealed magic away because she was too afraid to fight!”
Her words slammed into the room like thunder. The younger ponies froze, their eyes wide. Izzy’s ears drooped. Pipp lowered her phone, silent for once. Zipp shifted uneasily, her wings twitching. Even Sunny faltered, her bright fire dimming under the weight of Starlight’s grief.
And then—
A rustle.
A low groan from the couch.
Everypony turned as Flurry Heart stirred. Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself upright, her mane falling into her face in a tangle of pink and lavender. Her wings twitched weakly as she rubbed at her eyes, her voice hoarse from sleep—or maybe from something far worse.
“Why…” She blinked blearily at them, confusion creasing her brow. “…why is everyone yelling?”
Smolder’s eyes softened for the first time that night. She stepped toward the couch, claws curling and uncurling as if to ground herself. “Flurry…” she whispered, her voice cracking despite her effort to hold it firm.
Starlight whipped her head toward the young alicorn, the fire in her horn sputtering out in an instant. For a heartbeat, she looked like she might collapse again, her grief meeting disbelief.
Sunny moved too, ears high, her own breath caught in her chest. “She’s awake,” she murmured, hope breaking through her shock. “Flurry Heart’s awake.”
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of every unsaid word. Starlight’s sobs still lingered in the air, Smolder’s exhaustion hung like smoke, and Sunny’s crew stood caught between awe and fear. But Flurry—eyes still half-shut, wings drooping—was the fragile spark in the center of it all.