“We’re both very proud of you, Twilight,” Celestia said.

Unicorns in the formal yet chintzy clothing of academics streamed down the amphitheatre stairs. The highly-educated herd parted like waves around the speakers’ platform. Some glanced darkly at the sisters, then looked away quickly. Some twitched their ears and tossed their heads as if lost. A stallion in a tweed jacket snorted at Celestia’s remark.

Luna and Celestia held their heads high, neither proud nor embarrassed. Twilight knew she was seeing true dignity for the first time. She, meanwhile, could barely keep her eyes from her hooves.

When the door closed on the last tail, Twilight slumped to the floor.

“I stood in front of the Royal Academy and called you both frauds,” she said, sniffling.

“Your arguments were most convincing,” Luna said. “You should be pleased.”

“Then why are we all crying?” Twilight wailed.

“I am not crying. It is not crying until the film of water over the eyes grows thick enough to… oh, bother.” Luna wiped her eyes.

“You just stood there and smiled! You didn’t… didn’t even disagree!”

Celestia only continued smiling her loving, infuriating smile.

“STOP it! Say I’m a liar! Say you’re a liar! Say something!”

Celestia looked toward Luna. Luna nodded.

“Yes,” Celestia said. “It’s time you learned about being a goddess.”

Twilight opened her mouth to speak, then didn’t.

“That is most unattractive,” Luna said. “We do not listen with our mouths. Come, let us walk to the throne room as we talk.”

Their hooves rang on the marble tile as they entered the palace proper. The distant echo spoke of long corridors of polished stone. It sounded like power, and history. Twilight had never liked it before. But now she wanted to be awed. She wanted to believe. “I’m not a goddess,” she protested.

“Then I am a fraud,” Luna replied with a chuff.

“All ponies are gods,” Celestia said. “But most are gods nopony believes in.”

Was this some new story, to cover up… Twilight bit her lip, ashamed of her thoughts.

But Celestia had lied. And not just to her. “But… do you move the sun and moon, or not?”

“Yes, and no,” Luna said.

“We couldn’t tell you before,” Celestia said. “You wouldn’t have done what you had to do.”

“Done what?”

“Made Equestria a better place.” Celestia paused in front of a large, embarrassing tapestry on one wall. Life-sized figures of all three of them stood side-by-side, gazing sagely down the side corridor opposite. Celestia compared the portraits and the originals. She and Luna shared a worried glance, then hurried on, faster than before.

“Why do you think my sister and I have lived so long?” Celestia asked.

“Because you’re goddesses?”

“Not quite. Because of faith.”

“Why do you think my sister and I are so large?” Luna asked.

“Still going with goddesses.” Suddenly Twilight realized what had been off about the tapestry. The sisters were larger than life in it. And Twilight was… smaller. Funny she hadn’t noticed before.

“No. Faith.”

Twilight lowered her ears in confusion. “What do you have faith in?”

Celestia laughed. “The music of birds, the power of stories, and the repayment of kindness. But I wasn’t talking about myself.”

“What’s this got to do with explaining orbits?”

“You made Equestria more believable. More real. Does that make sense?”

“No!” Twilight shouted. A guard turned his head sharply toward her. “I just showed what must be,” she said more quietly.

“And so it will be,” Luna said.

As they entered the throne room, they filed past Ironhoof as they had so often before. She read the shock in his eyes just as it hit her: she was looking down at him.

“Sit,” Luna said, gesturing at Celestia’s throne.

“I couldn’t!”

“Please,” Celestia said. “Quickly.”

Twilight crouched over the throne, blushing, and felt the pillow brush against her bottom.

“It’s not an egg,” Luna said.

Twilight sat. The cushion’s softness didn’t help; looking down on Celestia and Luna made her feel as cold and hard as the rock the throne was carved from.

Her hooves reached the floor easily. The sisters craned their necks back to look up at her. They smiled, hugged each other, and cried. Then they both stepped forward and bowed low to Twilight. Twilight could see the flagstones through Celestia’s head and neck. She cried out and leapt forward, but felt only air.

“We’re both very proud of you, Twilight,” Celestia whispered one more time before they vanished.