Two weeks after moving into the Friendship Palace, Starlight Glimmer received an invitation for tea with Princess Celestia. She took an early train and spent the entire journey with her eyes closed tight, trying to ignore the nausea raging in her stomach. She didn't say a word to anypony.

She fared no better upon reaching the castle. Princess Celestia radiated brilliance; looking into her eyes was like biting a lightning bolt. Starlight kept her head bowed, and only spoke when she was spoken to.

The two sat on Celestia’s balcony, looking over the vast gardens below. Celestia sipped her tea thoughtfully, perfect face illuminated by the glow of the rising sun. Starlight shivered and shuddered, unable to drag her eyes away from the floor.

“Starlight,” Celestia said, stabbing into a nice stretch of silence. “You seem nervous.”

“What? No!” stammered Starlight. She put on a grin and lifted her teacup exactly two inches off the table. It shook in her magic. “I’m fine. Just perfect, Your Highness.”

“Do you know why I invited you here?” Celestia asked. She paused and looked down at Starlight, but got no response. “Twilight tells me that you’re having some trouble making friends. More specifically: you’re not even trying.”

“I [i]am[/i] trying,” Starlight said, scowling. She looked away. “Easy for her to say. Twilight doesn’t have to worry. She never worries about anything—” Starlight threw a hoof to her mouth. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, that was rude, I really didn’t mean it, you have to forgive—”

“Twilight says you haven’t been going outside at all,” Celestia continued. “She says you barely even leave your room. When she tries to talk to you, you don’t answer. Is this true?”

Starlight didn’t answer.

“What’s wrong?” Celestia raised a brow. “Are you worried about what ponies will think of you? What they’ll say?”

“No, that’s not it.” Starlight managed a smile. “Almost no one in Equestria actually knows about anything I did. And even if they were to find out, most of Ponyville would probably forgive me anyway. That’s just who they are.”

“What’s the matter, then?”

“I—I’m scared.” Starlight took a hard swallow. “Scared that I’ll destroy the world again.” She forced herself to look Celestia in the eye. “Think about it. When I traveled back in time, all I did was say a few words, move a few clouds. All I did was stop a stupid race between some foals. And what happened? Millions of ponies died. I nearly destroyed the universe.”

Starlight dropped her head. “I can’t risk that again.”

Celestia frowned. “So you’re avoiding the risk by…?”

“Locking myself in my room, away from everypony,” Starlight said. “Making myself a complete nonfactor in the world. If I live, nothing happens. If I die, nothing happens. I don’t leave a trace.” She sighed. “The only way to beat the Butterfly Effect is to avoid the butterfly altogether.”

“Mhm.” Celestia sipped her tea. “I think you’ve already left quite a trace. And what if by doing nothing, you trigger something?”

Starlight went pale. “Princess, please, don’t say that. Goddess knows I'm barely coping with the existential dread as is.”

“You can’t spend your entire life being scared of the future,” Celestia said. “Imagine if everypony thought like that. Nothing would happen!”

“Nopony would suffer,” Starlight whispered.

“Nopony would [i]live,[/i]” said Celestia. She rested a hoof on Starlight’s “The world is what it is, Starlight. Things happen. Ponies laugh, cry. They suffer. They find joy.” She smiled. “You might save yourself some pain by locking yourself away, sure. But you’re going to miss out on so much more.”

Pictures ran through Starlight’s mind: the end of civilization, never-ending wars. She thought of herself, crying in the corner of a damp cave, run out of the prison camp she called a utopia. What part of that was worth living through?

“I’m gonna miss out?” Starlight asked, scowling. “On what?”

Celestia smiled and turned to the horizon. “On all this.”

Starlight glanced towards the east and found herself caught. Blazing blues and reds and oranges leaped across the sky. Birdsong filled the branches below. Sunrise grabbed hold of Starlight’s weary eyes and held them tight with all the force of the universe. And in that perfect stillness, a new feeling entered Starlight’s chest: a fire—a sunrise of her own, burning away the fog.

“Sometimes,” Celestia said, “life is worth it. All of it.”

For the first time that morning, Starlight drank her tea. The fire did not fade.