Shining Armor refused to speak to me. In fact, he refused to speak at all. He disappeared, wordlessly, into the city.
Celestia allowed me to leave her side at dawn. I did not try to find my brother. I did follow his example. I roamed the deserted streets alone with my thoughts. Never before had Canterlot looked so empty. We had rounded up everypony we could wherever we could fit them; the biggest gatherings were in the hall and the park. Although the pegasi guards—of both Royal and Night distinctions—still whisked swiftly overhead, the ground level had been left devoid of ponies.
It was at once soothing and alarming, what the Elements of Harmony had done. The monstrous garden of Decadence had disappeared as though it had never been there. The buildings it had touched were half-rebuilt, façades repaired but windows and doors cracked or missing. The rubble on the roads had been swept orderly to the side, free for the ponies to sort through later.
The city seemed a skeleton of its former self, stripped clean and displayed naked for all to behold. I almost wished the roads hadn't been left bare. There was nothing to kick before me as I walked my aimless way.
What am I going to tell them?
Without noticing, it appeared, I had gone a circle. I found myself near the Canterlot Great Hall. Through the windows, I saw all the confused victims of last night walking around, their grotesque deformations undone. The nobles talked, cried, hugged, and most of all, waited for the princesses to explain what had occurred.
My friends were inside, too. It had taken them a few hours to awaken after the Elements of Harmony banished the poison of Decadence from their minds. Celestia allowed me to work elsewhere.
Was it wrong to abandon them when they were at their weakest? Yes. But I simply could not bear being near them. I didn't want to be there when they woke up; I'd have had too much to explain. Truly, a monster I was.
I have to go inside. I have to talk to them.
I couldn't do it. I stepped away from the window, unwilling to risk them seeing me staring at them.
A ray of reflected light shone in my eyes. Not far from the hall was an open field, and in that field I saw all the nobles' gilded carriages glimmering in the light of the rising Sun. They'd been parked there by the hall's servants, before the gala, as the nobles arrived for the party.
Normally, one would have expected to find in the field nothing more outrageous than trampled grass and the muddy trails of wheels. Now broken axles and torn silk-curtains littered it. The carriages the pieces once belonged to lay turned over in pits that gaped in the ground: all that remained in the place of Decadence's trees.
Stepping to the rim of one of these collapsed holes, I inspected what remained of a carriage, and saw worms and small rodents chewing heartily on its tastier parts. The trees of Decadence had indeed disappeared, it seemed, but not without a parting gift.
Among the demolished remains of the carriages of gold, silver, and velvet, only a yellow wagon with a kitschy red roof stood—audaciously, gloatingly—still in one piece. In a perfect circle around it, in a radius of a few steps, the earth and grass were healthy and untouched by the night's foul sorceries.
Looks like somepony learned from the Ursa Minor incident. Whether that somepony was Luna or Trixie, I decided not to guess.
Curiosity overcame me. Or perhaps I was merely excited by the idea of finding something to actually do. Well, it's either Trixie, or... better talk with her first.
I knocked on the wagon's door. No answer came. I knocked again. Still nothing.
She had to be in there, though. On a whim, I tried the handle. The wagon's door creaked open.
The lights weren't on. A peaceful flame cracked in the smokeless fireplace.
The moment I put a hoof past the doorstep, the buzzing of the great magi-tech machine in the corner hit me. The wagon's soundproofed, no doubt. I noticed, then, just how warm it was inside. The sharp smell of soap stung my nose.
A vat of water, as big as myself, hung from the ceiling, whirling, churning, radiating the heat that filled the wagon. My eyes followed the tube that spurted from it.
Trixie shuffled her front hooves around in a small tub. Her coat was soaked with splashed hot water, and dripping sponges and wet rags floated around her. They submerged in the tub momentarily before emerging again, delivering another splash of water either to Trixie or the surrounding area.
"Trixie," I called, once again to no response. "Trixie!"
Next to the machine, I could barely hear myself think. Under the vat on the ceiling, just at eye level, I saw a big, conspicuous red button. I figured it was either there to shut the machine down, or to activate the wagon's self-destruct mechanism. Taking the risk, I slammed a hoof onto the button. The machine stopped buzzing.
Trixie looked up, confused. "Oh. Hello, Sparky." The sponges and rags floated to a nearby shelf. "What's up?"
"You forgot to lock your door."
"Did I? Huh. Seems I did. Thanks for telling me. Now, would you mind?" She nodded towards the red button.
"That was just something I noticed. It isn't why I've come."
Trixie stepped out of the tub. On her fetlock, I could see patches of bare skin where hair had been scrubbed and scratched away. Her skin had turned red from the irritation; the minute cracks on the surface bled slightly.
"Why did you come, then?" she asked. "Aren't you busy collecting all the ponies? Assessing damage, and all that?"
"We do have a few estimates now," I said. "Celestia just let me go."
"So, how bad is it?"
"Seems that death count's lower than when the changelings attacked." Talk about good news, I thought. "So that's something."
"And Cadence?"
"Gone."
"Still no sign of her?" Trixie asked.
"Still no sign of her," I answered.
"That's a pity."
"That's one way of putting it," I said. "But you know, I was going to ask what you've been doing all this time. I haven't seen you since Solstice."
"I did my part. While you were off parading at the park, I was helping out around the hall. I requested a private audience with Luna once you were done. She gave me an early leave."
"Why would she give you an early leave?" I asked.
Trixie shrugged. "I don't know, she just did."
"Luna wouldn't just give you a free break. Not last night."
"Listen, Starbutt. How about you drop the act and just tell me what you really want?"
I stepped closer. "I just want to talk."
Stepping back into the tub, Trixie let loose a short giggle. "Yeah, I'm sure you have a lot to talk about. But knowing you, not with me. Go talk to your friends. Rainbowing Lightning and Applescotch, and whatever."
Trixie did know me all too well. There was a reason I hadn't talked to them all night; I was postponing it. After Shining Armor refused to look me in the eye, I could not look in theirs. If I had left now, and did not return to my friends right away, I could never have justified that to myself.
But I didn't want to see them yet. I couldn't.
Besides, I remarked to myself, even Trixie needs friends. Especially after the gala.
A puff of Trixie's magic turned the machine back on. My spell turned it off again.
Trixie looked up, sighing—groaning—theatrically. "What do you want?"
"I figured you might want to talk about Skyglow."
"Oh, don't mind Skyglow. She's always grumpy like that."
Quit playing, would you? I'm trying to be tactful here. "No, I mean, what she said. To you. About... you know."
"If I remembered everything Skyglow says to me, trust me, I'd be trying to forget. She's hated me since day one. Got used to it. I don't need you kissing my wounds, thank you very much."
"Trixie..." I stepped closer again. "You can talk to me. Believe me, if you need to get something off your chest—"
She sprung from the tub. "Damn it, shut up, Sparky! I don't know what you're talking about. And I don't care. Leave me alone."
She looked down, shaking her head. After a deep breath, she put her hooves into the tub again, looking rather at her reflection than me. A spark pressed the red button.
"Just go," she said as the machine's noise grew. "I'm busy. I... I need to wash my hooves."
The wagon rumbled as the hot vat shook. It was best, I realised, to leave Trixie alone. As I put my hoof onto the doorknob, I sighed.
Great. Now I need another excuse for not talking to my friends yet.
I stepped out of the wagon.
Rarity stood right outside. The rest of my friends were sitting behind her.
Oh.
It's not something that you could explain in a single conversation. They wanted to hear the whole story, though, and I obliged. From the changeling siege of Canterlot, through the murder of my parents, to the birth and death of Decadence, I told my tale.
We've been through a lot, the six of us. We've defeated Nightmare Moon, and we have cleansed Luna of the darkness in her heart. We've broken Discord's spells and sealed the draconequus in stone. We have stared down Queen Chrysalis and fought her children for the Elements of Harmony. This was no different, was it?
I promised them I would keep no secrets any more. They promised to forgive me for the lies. I did it to protect them, after all. Together, we all promised to carry on, like we always did. For we were friends, and no mischievous god or parasitic demon could change that.
We would put it behind ourselves. Everything would go back to normal. It always has.
And here I am now, months later, definitely not thinking about it, I thought as I glanced outside into the snow.
It was early in the evening. I've always liked the winter.
When one thinks of the season, the first thing that usually comes to mind is the snow. But that wasn't the reason I liked it. The snow was, really, just a minor thing for which I never cared much. No, the reason for my love of winter was the dark. There was something soothing about an early sunset. It gave Spike an excuse to go to bed earlier, too. Even now he was fast asleep upstairs, and I was sitting alone in the library's main room, staring out the window.
The reddish lights of the street lamps blended with the white and black, and I shared my enjoyment of looking at the occasional passing pony with a hot cup of tea and an old story from H. P. Lovecolt. There was something fascinating about his tales of unknowable evils from beyond this world, and reading them gave me a sense of adventure. I hadn't felt anything like it in a long while.
Just as I turned a page, there was a quiet knock on the door. I wondered who would want to borrow a book at this hour. Then I realised, of course, that I might not be the only one who likes to read after dark. Oh, they'd better not want to take out this book, or I'll be angry.
I got up and walked to the door. Opening it, I was greeted by a familiar dark stallion. In his jaws, he clutched a string on which a gift box hung with a postcard.
"Good evening," he said. "My name is Sunbeam Gigglesnark. I'm looking for an old friend of mine, I was told she lives here."
I raised an eyebrow. "Omen?"
"Ah, perfect," he said. "You remember me."
"Taking the front door this time?" I asked.
Omen nodded. "I'm always eager to try new things."
I stepped aside, holding the door open. "Come in."
"Thank you."
He quickly wiped the snow from his hooves before coming in. I didn't think the cold affected him in any way, and as such I felt glad to see him so considerate.
"Oh, where may I put this?" he asked.
I motioned towards the desk under the window. "Make space there. Mind the tea."
He pushed the book and tea aside carefully, and placed the box onto the desk.
"To what do I owe the honour?" I asked.
"I just thought I'd visit," he answered. "Our last meeting wasn't exactly what I was hoping it would be."
"One rough night for all of us." An understatement if I'd ever heard one. I preferred not to bog down thinking about the night, though. "I see you didn't rasp your fangs off this time."
"Well, I thought, cat's out of the bag now."
"You didn't even know if I'd remember you."
"My life is an adventure, what can I say?"
Crazy as ever, I remarked in my head. Nothing new. "What's with the box?" I asked.
"When Miss Melody learned I would be seeing you, she insisted I bring you this."
"Octavia sent me something?" I asked, walking to the desk.
"An early Hearth's Warming Present, she called it."
I took the box into my hooves, feeling its weight. It was lighter than I imagined. "What's in it?"
"I'm not ruining the surprise, Miss Sparkle."
I put the box down. "It's not Vinyl's head, is it?"
Omen smirked. I turned my attention to the postcard attached to the box. The writing proved difficult to read, but after a few words, I got a hang of it.
"Dear Miss Twilight Sparkle,
It has been a long time since we last properly talked. I am not one to converse through mail (writing is difficult when one cannot properly feel one's own muscles) but I would like to keep in touch. I have recently acquired an apartment of my own in the lower district of Canterlot. Perhaps, when you have the time, you could visit.
Your friend, O. M.
And at the bottom of the paper, squeezed into a corner, was another signature in a slightly more legible writing. Vinyl Scratch didn't bother hiding her full name, although I assumed she hadn't been too keen on signing.
"It's Vinyl's head," I said. "Stop denying it."
Omen shook his head ever so slightly, rolling his eyes as he suppressed a smile.
I turned the card to see a beautifully painted—and expertly mass-produced—picture of the Canterlot Park in the winter. The right side of the image was filled out by the old cherry tree, blooming vividly despite the thick blanket of snow that surrounded it. To the left, above the snowy plains, was pre-printed writing in ornate lettering:
"The ladybugs may have gone to sleep, but the city never will.
Come visit beautiful Canterlot!"
I sighed as the postcard floated to the desk. It brought back the memories of that night. The Elements of Harmony had mended the city, but Cadence was never seen again.
I could have sworn that the cherry tree grew taller by morning. And ever since then—indeed, to this very day—the tree blossomed. Its petals would keep on falling, without end. Once a flower was spent, a new one would grow in its place, forcing its dead sister from the stalk. Whatever the season, day or night, the tree was always in bloom, always at the peak of its beauty.
But a tree that is always in bloom can never bear fruit.
And here they are, making a tourist attraction out of it all. Stay classy, Canterlot.
"Any news of Luna?" Omen asked.
"I don't know any more than the next pony. I don't think we're going to see her any time soon."
"Celestia punished her?"
"Maybe." I shrugged. "Or she's just ashamed. I've heard some have seen her on her spire's balcony at night, but that's just rumours. I really wouldn't know exactly. I don't keep up with it. I don't really... work any more."
"You don't?" Omen raised a brow. "Then how can you remember me?"
"Well, I never officially quit. I just told Luna, right that night, you know, that I'd take a break. Now, I've been fully expecting to be blanked." I took a second to appreciate all the horrible memories I've accumulated throughout the years. "But I haven't been, so far."
A fanged smile crept up Omen's cheeks. "Well then, Miss Sparkle, how has normalcy been treating you?
"It's harder than I thought it would be."
Omen glanced at the book and tea. "You seem to be settling in nicely."
"I'm making progress."
But it would never be the same. Learning to sleep until noon was simple in itself, but there were things I couldn't so easily fix.
I hated to admit that.
Applejack, Pinkie Pie, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Rarity: a group of ponies I keep referring to as my friends. I had been liberal in my use of that word throughout my first four years of Night Shift. Now I couldn't say those words without guilt.
As much as I loved and respected these mares, they weren't my friends. Not any more. They knew everything, now. We all agreed not to talk about it, to pretend that Night Shift didn't change a thing.
But it did.
I found myself taking long walks in the Everfree Forest, both to escape the crowd of the town and to re-live old thrills.
Pinkie did her best to rekindle the old friendship, but no matter the kind of party she threw, I couldn't enjoy it. I had to stop going after a while.
Rarity insisted that she and I make regular trips to the spa. I humoured her request; there was no harm in being pampered a little every once in a while.
I caught her once, just as we were leaving, checking the white of her eyes in a mirror. We didn't go so often afterwards.
To say nothing about Spike; of what I'd done to him. To find out that I had been risking my life every other night... to say he was devastated would be an understatement. He spent a day clinging to my leg, refusing to let go. I had to spend many nights talking to him before he felt safe letting me out of sight.
I wanted nothing more than to return to my former life. But there was no way.
Such it was that I was having a casual conversation with an immortal vampire old enough to share Celestia's birth date.
I looked at the postcard for a moment. "I see Octavia has been a good student of yours. Already making connections, and making sure she doesn't lose them."
"I wouldn't think of it like that," Omen said. "I think she's being genuinely friendly. You should humour her. Oh, just don't tell anypony who the gift is from. Just a precaution."
"Of course."
I eyed Omen up and down. I may have shuffled uncomfortably in place a little. I absolutely hated to admit it, but I had much to thank Omen for. Yet the fog of secrecy he hid in had always bothered me. Should I ask, now, or would that be impolite?
"Something amiss?" he asked.
Oh, like he ever cared. I might as well. "Say, Omen, is your real name Devorador? The first?"
"Pardon?" he asked. By his look of surprise, I may have just hit the nail on the head.
"Skyglow called you the oldest fiend in existence," I said. "I couldn't help but read up a bit. Old myths, urban legends, the like. From time to time, going back hundreds of years, there is mention of a mysterious black stallion that appears when death looms. Disease striking, bridges falling, ponies disappearing... it's not a comprehensive picture, but signs are pointing your way."
Omen smirked. "You shouldn't believe everything you read." He turned his head for a moment, sighing, before looking back at me. "The answer to your question is no."
"No?"
"Devorador himself was the sire of my sire. And he is quite dead, I assure you, as is his spawn."
"But you knew Nightmare Moon," I said. "Wasn't it she who created the original vampires?"
"I did, and yes. It was a rather... long, productive night for us. But they were hunted down, the most of them. All those fools, staying loyal to Nightmare Moon even after she was defeated. It was the inception of many doomsday cults, in fact, with vampires taking the lead. Because of that, Celestia was very thorough in rounding us up."
"You're still here, though."
"Because I ran. I hid." He smiled. "As the crusades and witch-hunts entered their golden age, I did what I could to survive. It's not a story you want to hear."
"I'll be the judge of that."
Omen stepped close to me. "Do you remember what you told me, on the night of the gala, in the ruined mansion? You told me that you wanted to die, and that I couldn't possibly understand that desire."
"It rings a bell."
"You were right," he said. "I have never, for one instant of my existence, wanted to die. I've been running from death, for a thousand years. To that end, I've murdered and I've tortured. In my two hundreds, I particularly enjoyed going after the families of my hunters."
I couldn't help taking a step back.
"But if you think," he continued, "that it was Nightmare Moon's magic that turned me into a monster, you are wrong. See, Miss Sparkle, I was a monster long before I died. My family lived in terror of me. The things I've done to them... bear no words."
"I'd like to think you've changed since then," I said.
"I would as well," he replied. "Now that I'm enjoying Princess Luna's protection, life has become much simpler. Much more peaceful."
"But you're still afraid of death, after all this time."
"I am," he said. "Very much so."
"I understand why I'm afraid of the great unknown," I said. "But you? It sounds to me you've done everything one can in life. The good, and the bad. Who knows, Omen? There might be an afterlife with brand new opportunities."
"And that," he responded, "is exactly what I'm afraid of. I'd be content with nothingness. But if that's not the case... I'm not quite ready to look my daughter in the eye yet." He looked away for a moment, again, putting a hoof before his mouth and clearing his throat. "That's why I want you to keep in touch with Miss Melody. I'm a bad influence. A compliment, Miss Sparkle, if I may."
"Fire away."
"It is a shame you've left Luna's service. The night is less for it. Miss Melody needs friends like you."
Would you look at that. The great Omen thinks I'm special. "Noted. Thank you, Omen."
"Now, unless you truly want to hear every gruesome detail of my life, I'll be on my way. I only came to deliver Miss Melody's gift."
"I think... I think that'll be fine, yes. Thank you again."
"Please," Omen said, turning for the door, "don't mention it."
I went to open the door for him. He stopped at the doorstep, however.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I just can't stop thinking. It's interesting, how times change, and how they don't. Wouldn't you agree?"
I tilted my head. "I'm not sure I follow."
"Just thinking out loud. First there was Luna. And now, Cadence. Woe betide the world when Celestia walks down the same path."
"You mean if, Omen."
He smiled, stepping outside. "Whatever lets you sleep at night."
It would've been difficult to comment on his ominous remark. I settled with merely saying goodbye. "Good night, Omen."
"I'll be seeing you," he replied.
"Oh? Will I be seeing you?"
Omen chuckled, waving. "Good bye, Miss Sparkle."
I shut the door, shaking my head.
Well, that was something.
I walked to the desk and carefully unpacked the gift box. Inside, beneath several layers of pretty ribbons and protective stuffing, was a single vinyl record. It made me remember that I had an old player stashed away somewhere in the basement. After much rummaging about, and perhaps breaking an old antique or two, I finally found it, and brought it up to the ground floor. I set it up and placed the record to play.
The dark disc sang a song of bitter beauty; it was just one, long cello solo. Spike awoke to the music and came downstairs, being, in turn, enraptured by the piece as well. He asked where I got it. I had vowed not to keep secrets from my friends any longer. I also did not want to betray Octavia's trust by revealing the truth. I solved this conundrum by telling Spike that it was from a friend I met on my travels. He understood the implication, and would not ask anything else. He simply listened on, rather than disturb the melody.
We spent the night replaying the recording over and over. There was something uncanny about it, something that made you crave for more.
Just one more time.
Manehatten: one of Equestria's biggest and most densely populated cities. Its annual Hearth's Warming celebration drew ponies from across the realm, and the city had prepared to greet them in kind. The snowy streets were decorated with many red and green lights that somehow looked beautiful even during the day, and the closer you got to the city centre, the more you could feel the pleasant smell of sugary confections and mulled wine.
Indeed, Manehatten was a splendid place to visit, especially this time of year. I still had my doubts about actually living there, of course. Well, I thought, to each their own.
Third floor. Third door to the left. Sunbolt's apartment. I'd arrived.
The door was quick to open after I knocked. A tall, white pegasus came to greet me, clomping along with surprising finesse despite missing a leg. The wooden prosthetic in place of his fourth leg was simple, but I reckoned it could only be better than walking around on three legs.
Octavia's victim. Small world. And now I have to pretend I don't recognise him. Well, I'm nothing if not a moderately good liar.
"Good evening," I said. "Sunbolt?"
"That would be me," he replied, offering a hoof. "We thought you'd come sooner. Did anything happen?"
"It's nothing, really. Train was late to arrive in Ponyville. Holdup in Canterlot, as I understand. But I'm here now, and that's what matters."
"That's right. Hey, don't just stand there, come in."
I stepped inside. It was a modestly sized apartment that overlooked a busy Manehatten street. Although it was by no means big, it seemed comfortable enough. From the anteroom, one could look into the bright living room on one side, and I heard somepony shutting a cupboard in the kitchen on the other.
In light of the well-known nature of young stallions around Equestria, the place was surprisingly clean. Must've done this just for me, I thought. How nice of him.
In contrast with the openness of the apartment, the door to one of the rooms was conspicuously closed.
"Thank you for letting me stay," I said. "It means a lot, being able to spend Hearth's Warming with my brother."
"Don't mention it. Shining's family is my family. Plus..." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "If you could cheer him up, that'd be great. You know he hasn't been the same since...."
"Of course. It's the reason I'm here, after all."
"Well then, we've actually arranged... hey, Lyra?"
The mint green unicorn stepped out the kitchen. "Hey!" she said, coming over to me. "Long time no see."
"Oh, you know each other?" Sunbolt asked her. "Oh yeah, you used to live in Ponyville too. Anyway, as I was saying, we've arranged to spend a few nights elsewhere. Just to give you more time with Shining, of course." He leaned into the living room, looking at a clock on the wall. "In fact, we should be going right about now. So, the place is yours. Shining has keys. Don't take what isn't yours. Have a nice Hearth's Warming."
Lyra put a hoof on Sunbolt's back, and brushed another leg against his chest. "Sunny, why don't you give me a minute with Twilight? To talk about girl stuff. Ponyville girl stuff. Y'know."
"Sure. Just hurry up, or we'll be late." With that, he walked out the door.
"Hey," I said after him, "thanks again. Merry Hearth's Warming!"
"Right back at you," he said as he disappeared down the stairs.
Lyra waited until he was out of hearing distance. Then she closed the door for good measure.
"Are you serious?" I asked.
"He can't remember a thing," she said with a disturbingly excited smile. "I know, right? So not a word. Hear me? Not a word."
"Sure, no judgement here. You go, girl. Actually, I thought you and Bon Bon were...."
"Ugh, please. About as much as you and Trixie are. She's just a friend."
"Right. Now go on, I'm sure Sunny is waiting."
"Thanks! See ya."
Lyra bounced out the door. Trixie and I... ridiculous.
I was finally alone. All that separated me from my brother now was that door. That closed door. I hesitated with opening it. I had spent the entire train ride from Ponyville preparing for this, and yet, I was afraid to look him in the eye.
Right on the night of the gala, I tried explaining everything to him. He pushed me away, refusing to see me or talk to me.
In the months that followed, that hardly changed. He resigned from the Royal Guard, and has been swinging across the country ever since, living from odd job to odd job, never managing to hold one for long. He visited me in Ponyville once, when he found nowhere else to go, but he absolutely refused to communicate with me. And, of course, he would not take my money. What he did take was the earliest opportunity to leave.
He still had no idea about me or Night Shift. He didn't care.
After not hearing from him for over a month, I received a letter from him stating that he'd crash at an "old guard buddy's place" this Hearth's Warming. I guessed the season's spirit got to him. Through the resulting exchange, I coerced him into revealing where exactly he'd be staying.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.
Shining Armor's room was exactly what the rest of the apartment wasn't; dirty, cramped, and reeking of alcohol and sweat. At the far end, the blinds were closed over a solitary window. All that passed for decoration were scattered tissues, smashed, used take-out boxes, and a few dark bottles in the corner.
His bed was a simple mattress on the floor. I imagined there was quite a story behind that. He lay there with tired eyes, peeking at me from under his overgrown mane.
So..." I forced a smile. "Hello, Shining."
He flicked a few loose strands of his mane from his eyes. His unshorn fetlocks were dark from the dust that had collected through the who knows how many days since his last shower. "Hi," he said. Greetings done, he turned around to face the wall.
I went to open the blinds and let some light in. While I was at the window, I figured I might as well open it. The chilling winter air was still preferable to whatever vapours I had been inhaling. Shining pulled his pillow over his head. My purple aura lifted it and placed it down at the foot of the mattress.
"How have you been?" I asked.
"I'm great."
"Say, what's your job like?" I asked. "I remember your letter, that you're this, er, Sales Area and Client Security Manager? That sounds nice."
"A disco two streets down hired a bunch of guys for New Years to kick drunks in the face when they get out of line," he grumbled. "It's what I'm gonna be doing."
"Well... sure is nice of Sunbolt, isn't it, letting you stay here. He seems to greatly respect you. You're lucky to have him for a friend."
"Yeah. Real lucky. I'm only staying like a week or two."
"Hey, do you know what he'd like? I'm sure he'd be happy if we, er, cleaned up a bit while he was gone. Here, I'll help. We could talk while we're at it. That'd be nice, catching up, wouldn't it?"
"I'll clean up when I move out."
"Oh, right," I said, "like you cleaned up after you stayed at the library. Come on, it'll be easier while I'm here."
"I thought you were dead, mum."
"Wow," was all I could reply.
Shining lay still on the bed, staring at the wall before him, and I stood there, at once furious and filled with pity. Very well, Shining Armor. No more Miss Nice Sparkle.
His coat glowed brightly as my magic encased him. He floated from the bed and was put down onto his shaky hooves, facing me.
"If I were mum," I began, "you'd get slapped so hard, the wall would give you the next one. Alas, I'm not that strong." I slowly shook my head. "Look at yourself. Look at what you've become."
He shook himself, sitting down stubbornly as my spell dispersed. "I didn't ask you to come here."
"Well, I'm here now. Can't I visit my last living..." Stars. I promised myself I wouldn't say it. "My brother. Can't visit my brother on Hearth's Warming?"
He hung his head, turning away again, breathing heavily, frantically. I put my hooves on his shoulders and hugged him close.
"Hey," I whispered in his ear, "how about we get out of here too? Cleaning can wait. You need some fresh air."
"I don't need anything," he said, words weak.
"Please, BBBFF."
I let him go and extended a hoof, asking him to stand up.
"Walk with me."
Shining Armor took my tale of Cadence—of Decadence—far better than I thought he would. Perhaps the scars had healed in the time since the gala. Or, perhaps, there was simply nothing more left in him for grief to take. Whatever the reason, he gave me no judgemental words or disgusted stares. He listened.
Over the days of Hearth's Warming, I realised that I could do more than just talk.
Without the Royal Guard, Shining could not keep his life straight. Yet returning was out of the question, because it hurt him too much. I told him that there was another organisation out there; that he and I, together, had the chance to make the world a better place, to make sure that what happened to us would not happen to anypony else ever again. He did not think long about it. He could not say no.
In the aftermath of the gala, after Decadence, the cultists and their monsters scrambled into the deepest holes and darkest caves in the corners of Equestria. They whispered that once the stars were right, the Children would one day aid in the return of the one Mother.
Night Shift needed agents, now more than ever.
My little closet of horrors had waited patiently for me behind the old bookshelf of my library bedroom. A small family of spiders had made it their home, I found. Although I didn't have the heart to clean them out, I had to ruin one of their prettier webs to get what I wanted: a short, blue ribbon that I never had the opportunity to use. If Luna was still out there, watching over the night, this would help me reach her.
In my letter, I explained that I would return, but not alone. I extended a humble recommendation at the same time. The response arrived shorty, signed not only by the Princess of the Night, but by Celestia as well.
We would no longer be alone in the darkness. Shining Armor and I would face the nights to come together.
I had a lot of stories to tell him.