"I don't want to do it," Twilight says.

Celestia waits for her to continue.

They sit, side by side on Celestia's balcony, looking out at the streaked pre-dawn sky.

"It feels wrong somehow. Like I'm taking something away from you. Or replacing you"

Celestia wraps her wing around Twilight. "You're doing nothing of the sort." She needs more prodding than that, though. "I'm asking you to do this. Just to try it."

Twilight adjusts her wings. The sky remains dark. Twilight takes a measured breath. [i]For the Princess[/i]. She lets her power flow, reaches out into the sky and across the Gulf and feels the sun. It sits below the horizon waiting for her. She touches it and pushes and—

[hr]

Celestia's limp body lies before her. The feathers of her wing are blackened and burnt. Twilight cannot tell if she is breathing, especially through the tears running down her face.

[hr]

—let go, recoiling both in mind and body. "I can't."

"What's wrong?"

"I-I tried, but I couldn't help but see you. Gone."

Celestia is already hugging her. But she hugs tighter. "Don't worry, Twilight," she said, "I like a good plan, and I have a lot of them. And me leaving is not in any of those, I promise you."

Celestia is patient, for all is right with the world. She will wait here, encouraging her friend for as long as it takes. Even though she supposes the roosters are getting impatient. "You [i]have[/i] done this before," she offers.

To no avail: "That was different, with Tirek. That was an emergency, and you couldn't do it."

"Then don't you think you should know how to do it properly? for when there are emergencies in the future?" Twilight may no longer be her student, but Celestia is always ready to give one more lesson. Speaking of which, she thinks of a new angle.

"As it happens, I did see your sunrise during the Tirek incident. Would it help if I gave you a bad grade on that and asked you to redo it?"

That does get a chuckle out of Twilight. Celestia knows well that it is those small victories that pave the way to larger ones.

"Well, when you put it like that..."

It has been several minutes now. The frozenness of the sky is becoming more and more apparent, and a little bit discomforting. Celestia is impeccable in her routine, and delays such as this do not normally happen outside of disasters. Twilight herself has a vague feeling that she needs to fight somepony.

It's just a good thing the moon has already been lowered. As it is, far too many ponies are going to worry that Luna had a relapse.

That will be the price she pays for this stunt, Celestia thinks. Her court is sure to be full of ponies complaining and worse about the matter. But it will be worth it.

Twilight, meanwhile, has also thought of Nightmare Moon again. And when the pain of her memory fades, she finds in her mind a name for her fear, or part of it.

She speaks again, and Celestia listens. "I guess, I'm afraid of replacing you. If, like I was saying, something happened... Or... if I—turned."

"You won't," Celestia says. Her answer is instant and automatic, born of absolute faith. It is, however, time to needle a little harder.

"And this concern over replacing is new, anyway. I distinctly remember, on more than one occasion, walking in on you and your classmates reenacting Luna's and my lives. And you always played the part of me."

Twilight blushes. Like many, she feels (or feels like she should feel) a certain amount of embarrassment when events of her foal hood are brought up in conversation. She also sees Celestia's point.

The gradient of the sky still has not changed, though the eye adds tension.

It is time—long past time—to try again. Again she closes her eyes, again reaches, again touches, again is flooded with memory:

[hr]

Sheets of paper with wingshapes scribbled on them are taped to her sides. She prances in front of Moondancer, looking as regal as a little filly can. "Be quiet," she says, "this is very complicated magic." She throws her head back and a paper sun rises (it is convenient that Lemonhearts' magic is just the right shade of yellow) shakily in the background.