Twilight arrived in a flash of violet light in front of you and then collapsed, gasping, her hooves shaking as if the floor itself were wrong beneath her. When she finally looked up, her eyes were wide, unfocused, full of something far worse than fear. “I saw myself,” she whispered. “Not a reflection. Not an illusion. A copy. She formed in midair while I was teleporting perfect in every detail and she was already limp, already empty. Then she vanished… and I fell.” Twilight swallowed hard, her voice cracking as she tried to steady herself. “I didn’t land where I meant to. I landed on… on us.”

She told you about the pile. About the bodies. Dozens no, hundreds of her own corpses, purple coats stretched tight over bone, some reduced to little horned skeletons at the bottom. Every version of Twilight that had ever teleported and been discarded, left to starve in that sealed place. “Some of them weren’t dead,” she said quietly, staring at nothing. “One of them screamed at me. Called me a murderer. She tried to kill me with weapons made of… of bones.” Twilight didn’t describe the fight. She didn’t have to. Her silence said enough.

Her horn flickered weakly as she went on, more clinical now, like she was clinging to logic to stay sane. “Teleportation doesn’t move me. It makes a copy complete, memories and all and throws the original away. Every time I cast that spell, I die. The Twilight you’re looking at right now isn’t the first. I don’t even know how many there have been.” She shuddered, her stomach twisting as she admitted what the bodies showed her: starvation, dehydration… cannibalism. “Some of them ate the others just to live a little longer. I might have, too, if I’d stayed.”

Twilight finally looked at you, really looked, desperation breaking through the numb horror. “I wrote a message there, in blood. GRAB HER NOW. I’m hoping praying that one of the next Twilights sees it before the copy disappears. That she grabs herself, escapes, and never teleports again.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “If that happens, then all of this ends. Even if I’m still trapped there… it will mean it was worth it.” She reached out, trembling, as if grounding herself in your presence. “Please. If I ever try to teleport again—stop me.”