Twilight’s eyebrows climbed as she watched her burly guards drag the intruder before her throne. It struggled only a little, likely due to their roughness; she’d have Gallus speak to them again about that. But then it wasn’t every day they caught a nameless pony covered in head-to-tail wrappings wandering around Canterlot Castle. But while the pony was unknown, its getup was uncannily familiar. The wide-brimmed purple hat, all-encompassing purple bodysuit, purple cape, and purple tail wrap, seemed ripped out of Twilight’s distant memory. Her mind was drawn to one sunny day, decades before, when she and her friends had felt Rainbow Dash needed to learn something. Twilight rose to her full, commanding height, and searched the whited-out lenses covering its eyes, seeking anything she could recognize. But the figure merely stood silent, gazing back at her. “You look like Mare-Do-Well,” Twilight said. The figure nodded. “Who are you?” Silence. Twilight glanced between the sharp eyes of her two young guards, and the faded blue of Gallus’ age-withered face next to them. Gallus raised a claw and cleared his throat. “They couldn’t get anything out of her either, Princess. But she passed our thaumic safety checks, and doesn’t seem like an [i]overt[/i] threat… no matter how weird this all is.” A dull ache grew in Twilight’s heart as she thought more of the friends who’d inspired their Mare-Do-Well misadventure. She strode down from her dias, approaching the figure. Its gaze tracked her, but it did not move otherwise. Fighting down her uncertainty about what she should make of the pony, Twilight strode right up to it, and stopped almost face-to-face. “Will you show me who you are?” It cocked its head. “Please. The likeness… is haunting.” They regarded each other at length before the figure reached up and removed its hat. It tugged at a strand of wrapping that Twilight hadn’t noticed behind its head. Then it nodded toward her, and gestured with the strand. After a few more heartbeats, Twilight lit her horn and tugged at it. Her breath caught as the top of the pony’s mask peeled off, which had heretofore seemed like a single, smooth piece. More alarming, though, was the absence of [i]pony[/i] underneath. Soon even her guards took notice, shouting and readying their spears, as the whole figure unraveled, loop by loop, revealing… Nothing. There was only a hat, and a pile of wrappings. Gallus’ expression of shock echoed Twilight’s feelings, but the griffon was quick to recover. “Seal off the throne room,” he barked to the gathered guards. “Set up a perimeter around—” “Hold on,” Twilight said, closing her eyes and extending a sensory spell into the figure’s remains. Something old lay at the center of it. Something warm, familiar, distant. “I… don’t think it’s a threat.” “If it can appear and disappear through our wards, it’s a threat,” Gallus said. But Twilight shook her head. “Not this. Gallus… prepare an escort. We’re heading down the mountain.” “Princess?” She furrowed her brows. “I think this was sent by the Treehouse of Harmony.” [hr] The flight down from Canterlot to the Castle of the Two Sisters was not one that Twilight took often. Not that she left the mountain much at all these days. Peace had long since overtaken Equestria and its neighbors, opening up a new richness of daily life for her ponies and other creatures, while creating new bureaucratic headaches that needed attending. There were festivals to plan, cultural events to approve, trade deals to oversee, and no shortage of obscure research to conduct from the comfort of her own chambers. And fewer creatures she knew well outside those chambers. She kept her eyes fixed on Gallus as they descended toward the overgrown patch of Everfree that encompassed the castle, feeling a pang of impending loss for him as well. Though he was still an able flier, he was far from the powerful fighter he’d been in his prime. So much so that she knew he’d feel guilty if she [i]hadn’t[/i] ordered him to bring guardsponies on what ought to be a more private trip. They alit in the shattered rotunda at the center of the castle. Gallus ordered some of the guards to take up positions while he, Twilight, and a few others picked their way through the dusty ruins. Twilight didn’t know the way, but let Gallus lead them through the castle’s twists and turns with quiet confidence. “How long has it been?” Twilight asked, breaking the silence. Gallus grunted. “A long time, since me and the others.” “How about just you?” He didn’t answer for a moment. “Only once, since Silverstream.” “Of… of course.” Twilight wracked her brain for what to say. “It’s… hard, missing them. All of them.” He gave her a plaintive expression, and she was quick to add: “Even more with her, I know. I’m… sorry.” “Don’t be. We all knew you and Spike would be the last. Didn’t count on Smolder going when she did, but I guess she went out doing what she loved.” He plodded on a bit further. “Didn’t figure it’d be [i]me[/i] left, of the rest of us.” “I guess, me neither. A—and I don’t mean that a bad way!” He chuckled. “I get you. Wait… hold on, that doesn’t look like sunlight.” Twilight saw it, too: a pale glow emanating from around the corner of a chamber up ahead. She lit her horn and tried to sense what it was, and felt her eyebrows climb at the flicker of harmonic resonance. “I don’t understand. I thought you said the Treehouse had gone silent…” “It had!” Gallus turned wide eyes on her. “You’re telling me—” “I can’t be sure.” Twilight quickened her pace, and both Gallus and the accompanying guards matched her. Around the corner they went, taking in the sight of the Treehouse. Though decrepit and shattered in places, it gave off a faint glow. Twilight and Gallus approached it, each touching a forehoof or foreclaw against it. “Warm,” Gallus said. “It hasn’t been warm… in years. Not since I was a kid.” “I’m here,” Twilight said, giving the structure an appraising look. “You called me here.” “U—” barked an utterance in Twilight’s own voice. She herself took a step back. “U—” Gallus met Twilight’s eyes. “Uh?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. “U—” it vocalized again. “Uh… up?” Twilight guessed, glancing at the cavern’s root-encrusted ceiling high above. “Under?” “U—” There was a pause, then a great flash of light. “[b]Us.[/b]” The Treehouse faded to darkness. Gallus pressed his claw to it again. “Twilight. Sorry… Princess. It’s going cold.” Twilight touched her hoof next to his claw, soaking in the crystal’s chill. “Us?” Silence. Gallus took a step back. “Us. You… and me.” “What do you mean?” He touched a claw to his chin. “You said, ‘I’m here.’ But it was us. Not [i]just[/i] you.” “It… oh.” Twilight took a step back as well, letting her eyes linger on the faded crystal. “You’re right. Or [i]it’s[/i] right. It’s not just me, it’s… us.” “Why do I get the feeling that you’re getting more out of this than I am?” A sad smile touched Twilight’s lips. Memories of her friends continued to swirl through her head. And not just of presiding over their funerals, but of the good times, too. Of summers long past, and silly costumes, and trying to teach lessons, however inexpertly at times. “I’ll tell you what I think it means,” Twilight said, letting warmth spread through her smile.