Twilight Sparkle glanced at the floating flowers amidst the mildew crusted sky. It was dark out and the Canadians hadn't yet attempted to put out the enteral fire known as the sun.
She could feel the starry night grasping at her. Trying to draw her in, but she refused to let it, fully. She was Celestia's star student and she had the will to.
The Night was very enchanting and it called out to her. Something was wrong though
[another will... another place... another promise that was unkeepable..]
She readied her broomstick. Not the one of a witch, but one of a worrior skilled in the art of basic housekeeping.
The fire won't go out
Twilight's ears leaned against her head as she took in that voice. Who was it? Why did it scare her so?
[It was the sun, the other sun, from [redacted] grade]
It was herself. She felt something trying to reach out, something in the night. It wanted her badly to lean in. She remembered though:
