> Still mortal, still alive > by Bluntie > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > Prologue > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Warm blood met cold marble. Twilight lay defeated, her fragile form sprawled upon the frigid marble floor. Iron chains, heavy and unyielding, bound her emaciated body while a deep wound seeped blood, staining the purity of the marble beneath her. Her once-vibrant eyes now held a vacant, lifeless echo of despair. Standing before her was the monarch, an imposing figure radiating authority, observing the broken figure below. In the silence, a faint, empty whisper escaped Twilight's lips. “Oh, hello,” she murmured, her voice a mere echo of its former strength. “You know, I imagined this moment differently. When I imagined this moment, you weren’t there.” A weak chuckle followed. “But here you are, even though I imagined this moment differently.” Her chuckle wavered as she added, “Although, I think you’re a hallucination...” Twilight stopped her sentence and paused briefly. Then, because she considered her remark impolite, she added, “I’m sorry. I did not mean to be so direct. But you see, it’s unlikely that you’re the real monarch. If you were, I’d be dead already. Please understand,” Twilight’s voice cracked, a trickle of blood escaping her lips, “the shadow of death looms over me.” As an illustration, she moved a leg and smeared some of the blood she lay in. Her voice was a mere breath. “It’s not unusual for people like me who are dying to have hallucinatory experiences.” “My dear Twilight, you're gravely mistaken; indeed, it is I,” the monarch's voice a blend of warmth and chilling resolve. She lowered a hoof to stroke Twilight’s cheek in a caring gesture to prove her point. The monarch’s glowing eyes looked into Twilight’s lifeless ones for a moment before she withdrew her hoof. “Why did it come to this?” The monarch paused as if weighing her following words carefully. "I too envisioned this moment differently… I actually hoped it would never come to this." The monarch continued talking, but Twilight didn’t understand the words. Struggling to focus, Twilight mustered enough strength to speak. “Sorry, can you repeat that? I couldn’t hear what you said,” Twilight smiled at the hallucination. She wanted to understand what she was saying. Who wouldn’t want to listen to her? Her voice was beautiful. "But if you stand before me, not as a wraith of my imaginings, then... it means my time has come, doesn't it?" her words trembled with a touch of sorrow, a whisper trailing into the quiet air. "I wish things had gone differently. You and I had to make a lot of decisions and some of them led us down the wrong path. I regret a lot of things... I regret having failed you,” she paused and considered her next words very carefully, before she added, "This is the end of one story, perhaps, but not the end of all. Your spirit, indomitable even now, speaks of legacies not yet fully realized," she said cryptically. Twilight's lips curved into a faint, resigned smile. "Legacies... a comforting notion when faced with the abyss. I understand I’ve let you down. The how eludes me." … The monarch looked silently at Twilight. A few emotions flitted through her eyes as if she were debating with herself. … "Twilight, what actually happens in a chess game when the pieces refuse to obey the player?" The monarch asked the question with a calmness that seemed almost eerie, a calmness that carried the weight of centuries of reign. She smiled gently. Behind her eyes trembled an ocean of unspoken words and hidden emotions, but her mask was otherwise perfect. To the untrained observer, she must have seemed relaxed. Twilight's laughter broke through the silence, a faint yet defiant sound. "That's a strange question." Her voice was weak, but her mind flashed in that moment of challenge. The chains that held her clinked softly, a sign of her indefatigable spirit. "If the pieces refuse to follow, then... then the player faces a conundrum, does he not? The player loses control of the game and cannot play anymore." She turned to the monarch, searching her eyes for an answer, for a sign of understanding or perhaps even remorse. The monarch held her gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed as if the walls she had built around herself were beginning to crumble. "Twilight, you don't get it. It's not about what the player does when the pieces don't hear. It's about what the pieces do without the player's guidance. How they decide... how they proceed." ... ... Twilight’s gaze started to waver, her eyes losing focus as if struggling against a heavy mist settling over her mind with naive innocence. “It’s icy in here,” she said, her words tinged with childlike vulnerability. “I get sick when it’s cold,” she added, her voice quivering, a sob escaping her lips as if she were on the verge of tears. Her voice wavered as her distress spilled over. “I don’t want to get sick, but... It’s cold. And I’ll get sick...” Tears gathered under her eyes and dripped onto the floor. “I don’t want to get sick. I want to do something else. Like before.” She continued to cry. “You will endure, Twilight. You’re stronger than this.” Concern about Twilight’s change in behavior crept into her voice. “You will be fine. “ “Promise?” “I promise.” “I’m having a panic attack again, aren’t I?” “I believe so.” “That’s okay. Now that I know I have a panic attack, I also know... also that... that I’m venting. My thoughts aren’t a rational analysis of my current situation. My thoughts result from a... d-dis-prop-p-proportional defense reaction to stress.” Twilight recited as if she had memorized it. “It’s hard to think clearly when you’re dying… Can you tell me what it’s like to be dead? But of course, you wouldn’t know because you’re not dead...not dead.” Twilight giggled at her syllogism. She stared blankly at the ceiling for a while, opening her mouth a few times and then closing it again. “Oh, I’m having trouble speaking. I think I’m talking unclearly. Can you understand me?” “I understand what you’re saying. In fact, you just shouted.” The monarch tried to refocus her attention. “Now tell me, Twilight, what happens when a chess player can no longer play because the pieces have stopped listening to her?” The monarch came back to her question. … … “The game continues, even if the player can no longer play... The chess pieces must now make decisions for themselves... “Her last words were so quiet they were almost inaudible, each word a struggle, as if speaking through a veil of darkness that threatened to consume her. For a moment, silence hung heavy between them, a testament to the unspoken sorrow that enveloped both their hearts. ... ... With the last of her strength ebbing away, Twilight’s voice barely rose above a whisper: „Can I go to sleep now? I’m so tired, the shadows grow long and it’s like my head is stuffed with clouds.” “Yes, Twilight, you can go to sleep now.” “Thank you... I’m glad you were here.” In her last moment, she felt a moment of relief. Celestia stood there for a while, watching her before quietly leaving. A tear escaped her eye and fell silently onto the ground. 12 years before... > A eventful morning > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The still young rays of a rising sun streamed through an open window on the upper floor of a relatively small ancient building, casting a harsh yellowish light on the silhouette of a pony lying awkwardly in a nest of blankets and other fabrics. Despite the bright sunlight, Twilight dreamily peered out from her perch of colorful material to look out the window. You could hear the chirping of some birds nesting on the roofs of the surrounding houses. A long, soft yawn filled the room as Twilight stretched her limbs in all directions. Once again, she stayed up late into the night, reading books on various subjects and taking notes in bed. The evidence for this was scattered all over the room. Half-written scrolls and broken quills lay scattered around her figure, tangled on the floor and untidily in her bed. Numerous inkblots stained her crumpled sheets and told her she had fallen asleep again while writing. The inkblots meant she would have to sneak into the laundry room again to scrub them out of the fabric. "Great," she murmured, annoyed, to no one in particular. Well, that was simply the price of studying late into the night. But, spoken in her defense, she had no other choice but to stay up late, at least if she wanted the opportunity to read any books without getting in trouble. It wasn't that reading was forbidden in general, but it would raise the question of where she got all the books. As a child from an orphanage in the city's poor district, even the ability to read was unusual. If someone caught her holding a book in her hoofs, even more, a new and well-cared-for one, she would have to explain how she could put her hooves on it and where it came from. If the truth came out about how she snuck over the stone wall in the fourth adjacent district to steal from the old closed library there, her days of late-night reading would be over very quickly. It's actually a miracle that Twilight discovered her passion for reading and learning at all. People who are so poor only sometimes have the opportunity to look into a book. Here they try to prepare the foals for more "practical" work and regard books as a pure luxury. She shook her sleepy head awake and slowly unraveled herself from the self-made nest of old rags and blankets she seemed to have made provisionally in her sleep. She was careful about this in an ongoing attempt to remain quiet and not wake anyone in the house, but as she stretched extensively and looked out the window at the sky, a sudden sense of panic spread through her mind. If she remembered the date correctly and the sun was already this high in the sky, that could mean only one thing—oh no. She had actually overslept. Without another thought to remain as quiet and unnoticed as possible, as she had tried to do earlier, she raced through her admittedly small and sporadically furnished room, tucking all sorts of empty scrolls and books hidden under the bed into a small canvas bag. Hopefully, no one at the orphanage would dare try to stop her and look in there. Next, she reached onto the small wooden stool beside the bed and grabbed her carefully folded clothes, which she had put there the day before. A pair of tight black pants, made of a material unknown to her, and a lavender shirt, apparently made of linen. In a ridiculous pose, she hastily pulled the pants over her hind legs, the loose-fitting shirt over her Unkempt hair, and finally, over her up-to-now naked body. It was not unusual to walk around naked. Instead, the opposite was true. However, it had become customary to dress accordingly on special occasions to clarify that it was not commonplace. Twilight always felt like someone else when she put on her clothes. Like someone who didn't belong in a place like this orphanage. Like she was someone important. A thought that others would probably smile at best and scold at worst. Reality always caught up with Twilight in the end. She was no one special. These few rags were nothing more than a mask. A lie you put on to make others feel less bad for you in their presence. Her clothes were among the End Twi's most valuable possessions, at least in pure monetary value. Nobles always see this as an excellent opportunity to polish their image thoroughly and donate their no longer usable possessions to poor orphanages in the region. As it happens, every noble in the kingdom thinks their old, worn-out clothes would make a perfect donation. And so it came to pass that every orphan in the orphanage, and probably in every other similar institution, was furnished with more or less fine textiles. Those nobles had no books or anything like that to give away was, of course, obvious. Who needs something like education? As soon as Twilight was ready and had gathered all her necessary utensils, she vigorously tugged open the decayed wooden door of her room. The faint morning light streaming through the narrow windows of the upstairs hallway cast long shadows in her path as she stormed down the monotonous corridor. Each of her steps made the dusty floor creak as she reached the stairs in record time. When she ran down the steps, skipping every other one in an ongoing attempt to move faster, she nearly toppled over due to her admittedly small stature. From a distance, the scene must have looked ridiculous. With each of her jumps, the old wood of the stairs protested with an almost unbelievably loud creaking, as if the steps wanted to draw extra attention to their dilapidated state. Swirls of dust danced in the rays of light that crept in through the broken windows as Twilight continued her way down. The warm morning light that poured in through the large gates at the end of the hallway drew bright paths across the cool stone floor, making the otherwise plain walls shine in an unusual glow for the facility. Unfortunately, once on the first floor, she didn't get twenty feet before a rough and familiar hoof grabbed her by the shoulder and slowed her down. "Wow, what's the hurry today? Otherwise, at least in the morning, we'll be spared from you," an arrogant voice next to her mocked. Twilight's muscles tensed instinctively, and she whirled around to face the source of the mocking voice, only to meet the cheeky grin of Silver Gleam. He was towering over her, his broad shoulders blocking the light. He was three years older and at least a head taller than her. The difference in stature was only emphasized by the fact that he was solidly built. "Dressed to impress, aren't we? It looks as though you have something important going on," he said, stepping closer to her with a confidence that filled the space around them. His unwavering grin never left his face. She took a hesitant step back, deliberately increasing the distance between them, and put on a tentative brave grin, but the subtle quiver in her gaze pierced through the facade. "Oh, nothing really important," she stammered, barely hiding her urge to flee. "I just wanted to take a walk. I'm already leaving," she added, her voice trailing off, "and won't bother you further." She spun around, her hooves barely touching the ground, as she attempted to exit the foyer as quickly as possible and resume her hurried sprint through the city to her destination. Yet, before Twilight could start running, she was grabbed roughly by the same hoof on her shoulder, pulling her back with force. Her heart sank as the realization hit her; there was no easy escape from this confrontation. Hold on a minute," he started. "Believe me, nothing would make me happier than for you to go away for a while." he let his words hang in the air as if it was a complete statement. "But come on, you're not seriously going to tell me you got all dressed up just for a little walk," his grin widened even more. "Besides, don't think I didn't notice the bag you're clutching so tightly. So, what are you hiding?" he teased, his voice dripping with mock concern. Twilight felt a knot form in her stomach, her grip on the bag tightening reflexively. She fought to keep her expression neutral, aware that any sign of weakness would only encourage him. "I... uh..." Twilight stammered. Her voice barely escaped her throat. Her breath hitched, and her heart hammered incessantly in her chest, echoing like thunder in her ears. She knew what he was up to. Silver didn't like her. That was no secret. He was always looking for a way to make her day difficult. Truth be told, Twilight didn't care what he or anyone else thought of her. She had long ago dismissed the significance of others' opinions, focusing on the worlds hidden within her treasured books, far from the scornful glances and whispered judgments. In the eyes of the others, she was already written off anyway. She was an anomaly. This one dissonant note that didn't fit in with the rest of the harmonic symphony. The freak. A label forced upon her by those who couldn't or wouldn't look past her quirks. But who needs the recognition of others? They only distracted from the essentials anyway. However, Silver Gleam's mockery cut deeper and proved far more invasive. He had taken every opportunity to make her six years in the orphanage as unbearable as possible. In one instance, Twilight ran through the echoing corridors, her heart pounding as Silver's menacing hoofsteps caught up with her. The chase ended at the old laundry room, where he mercilessly plunged her into a vat of icy, soapy water, holding her down until her frantic struggles ceased. On another grim occasion, Silver confined her to a suffocating closet, its air thick with mustiness, leaving her imprisoned for the whole night. Or the other time, he had chased her onto the orphanage's roof, where he threatened to push her off. Silver probably would have done it too, but it had occurred to even a brute like Silver that he wouldn't get away with it unnoticed and had left it at, scaring Twilight with the prospect of the fall. The house's matron was seldom seen, too overwhelmed with the amount of foals she has to look after, so Silver had been given many opportunities to bully Twilight in any way he could. But probably the cruelest thing he had ever done to her occurred a few months ago on her sixth birthday. Twilight looked up at Silver. The disgustingly twisted grin on his face resembled a caricature. She could feel the bile rising slowly within her. His gaze and the proud manner in which he towered over her stirred up some painful memories—memories she had tried to bury deep in her thoughts and forget. As she closed her eyes, the harsh reality of the orphanage's foyer faded, replaced with the scene from a small wooden chamber in which Twilight was hiding. > Birthday Betrayal > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Twilight found herself in absolute darkness. Her legs were pressed against hardwood on all sides. The musty smell of old wood and stale dust filled her lungs as she tried to breathe shallowly and quietly, hoping not to be discovered. Through the thin slits in the cabinet door, just enough light came in for Twilight to make out the outlines of herself and the few belongings she had brought with her. Her heart beat quickly and irregularly in her chest, and cold sweat dripped from her forehead. Outside, she could occasionally hear muffled voices and the occasional creaking of the old wooden floorboards as someone walked past. Every noise made her flinch, and her heart skip a beat. Today was her birthday. Anyone who thought of presents, cakes, and celebrations led a very sheltered and privileged life in Twilight's eyes. For orphans, it was not uncommon to be able to cross their own birthday off the calendar. Who would spend money or time on a worthless and unwanted foal? Certainly no diligent, decent pony. For most, their own birthday was an essentially typical day. Perhaps their friends would spend the day with them or at least congratulate them, but that was all. For Twilight, however, this day was anything but ordinary. Every year, without fail, Silver would come up with a prank for her birthday. It was his way of celebrating the day. For Twilight, her birthday was a day of humiliation. A sudden shadow falling through the narrow gap in the door, blocked the light amd made her hold her breath. Someone must have stopped in front of the cabinet. Twilight's ear twitched as she heard a voice. "Hey Melody, are you going to the party, too?" Twilight recognized Cherry Tart's cheerful voice. "Party?" Melody sounded confused. "What party do you mean?" Cherry Tart's voice held a rare excitement. "Silver organized a party in the dining hall. The whole orphanage is invited." Twilight held her breath. Silver had organized a party on her birthday? That couldn't mean anything good. "Oh, that's unusual," said Melody, suspicion creeping into her tone.. "Why is he bothering? That doesn't suit him at all." Cherry Tart lowered her voice. "It's for Twilight. It's her birthday today," Cherry said quietly. "But shhh, it's supposed to be a surprise." Twilight's stomach twisted. A surprise party for her? And in the dining hall of all places. "Silver is organizing a party for Twilight?" Melody sounded skeptical. "I thought he didn't like her." "I thought so, too. I heard he's going to apologize or something," Cherry shrugged. "Apparently, he feels bad for always bullying her." "Hm, interesting…" Melody pondered slowly. "If I'm honest, I don't know what to think about it. Doesn't that sound a bit odd?" "You worry too much. Oh please say you're coming," begged Cherryin the sweetest tone. Melody sighed. "Fine, I'll come. But alas, I have to regret it in the end," She said as she continued her way down the hallway. "Great! See you later," Cherry Tart called after her, and her steps moved off in the opposite direction. Twilight remained still in the cabinet for a while, her heart pounding wildly. What should she do now? The party was definitely a trap to pull some prank at her expense. So she would just have to avoid going to the dining hall today, and nothing would happen to her. But what if it wasn't a trap? What if Silver really wanted to apologize to her, and she didn't show up? What if his party was a fiasco because she didn't come? Would the other children resent her even more than they already did? Twilight took a deep breath. It was a difficult decision. On the one hand, she could protect herself from possible humiliation by simply staying away. On the other hand, she couldn't be sure if this might be a genuine gesture of reconciliation. If she didn't go, she could miss a chance to change things. Slowly, she opened the cabinet door just a crack and peeked out. The coast was clear. After a brief hesitation, she made her decision. She would go to the party. She had to know if Silver might be serious. She had to be brave. A few minutes later, Twilight slowly stepped out of the cabinet and blinked into the dim light that filtered through the hallway windows. Her legs were stiff from the long time she had been curled up on the hard floor. With a movement reminiscent of a cat, she stretched extensively and let her spine crack. A soft sigh escaped her as the tension eased for a moment. She took a cautious look down the empty hallway, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow, making sure she was not being watched. "Be brave, Twilight," she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse from the dry air in the cabinet. A first tentative step brought her out of her hiding place, and she began to sneak carefully through the orphanage's hallways. Every step seemed louder than the last, the soft creaking of the floorboards echoing in her ears. The hallways seemed to stretch endlessly, like a labyrinth leading to the lair of a beast. The faint light of the scattered oil lamps burning in the dawn cast long shadows that danced on the walls like ghostly figures. So far, the hallway had remained empty, and not a single pony had crossed her path. By now, Twilight could hear the soft murmur of voices drifting through the hallways. It sounded as if the entire orphanage was already gathered in the dining hall. With each step, her heartbeat quickened, and her uncertainty grew. Slowly, the large double doors to the dining hall came into Twilight's view. She paused for a moment in front of the doors, hesitated, and once again questioned whether it was a good idea to go into the dining hall. "I can do this," she encouraged herself, clenched her hooves determinedly, and pushed the door open. The sight that greeted her surprised her. Almost all the foals in the institution had actually come. She could see the faces of Cherry Tart and Melody in the crowd. Someone had even gone to the trouble of making makeshift decorations out of colorful napkins. Some foals stood in groups, chatting animatedly. As Twilight entered, several heads turned to look at her, and the noise level fell momentarily silent. Silver Gleam immediately ran up to her, a broad smile on his face. "Happy birthday," he said in a singsong voice that made Twilight shiver. "We've all been waiting for you!" He grabbed her hooves and pulled her further into the room. The sudden attention overwhelmed Twilight. Under the curious gazes of the other foals, she shrank inwardly, feeling smaller and more vulnerable than ever. "I was afraid you wouldn't come," said Silver Gleam and winked at her. "I've prepared games and even got you a special present." His smile grew wider and wider until it seemed almost unnatural. Twilight felt a knot form in her stomach. Something was wrong here. She put on an uncertain smile and mumbled, "Thank you, Silver." "You don't have to thank me." Silver Gleam disappeared into the crowd for a moment, only to return with a large gift on his back. It was a big red box with a white ribbon on top as decoration. "This is for you," he said, placing the gift on the ground before her. "Go ahead, open it." Twilight looked at the enormous gift in front of her. The red box glowed in the dim light of the dining hall, and the white ribbon was artfully draped. With trembling hooves, she knelt down and began to untie the ribbon. The paper rustled under her touch, and the room seemed to hold its breath, watching her with curiosity. Slowly, she lifted the lid of the box. She leaned slightly over the edge of the box and caught a first glimpse of her present. What she found inside made her heart sink heavily in her chest. It was a tattered and dirt-covered rag doll. To be precise, it was her former rag doll, which someone had apparently stolen from her room and destroyed. Her eyes welled up with tears. A mocking laugh broke out from Silver and a few others in the crowd. "Well, do you like your present?" Silver sneered, his eyes gleaming with malice. "This is not funny at all," stammered Twilight quietly, her voice trembling with suppressed tears. Without another glance back, she turned and ran out of the room. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the hallways as she ran aimlessly through the orphanage. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her breathing was heavy and uneven. The mocking looks of the other foals and their amused laughter echoed in her thoughts. She would never forget that laughter. Twilight ran and ran until she reached the kitchen. There, she stopped, her body trembling with emotion. But before she could compose herself, she heard footsteps behind her. Silver and his friends had taken up the chase. She had to find a way out, but the kitchen was a dead end. Panicking, she looked around and tried to hide in one of the kitchen cupboards. Too late! Silver yanked her violently by her right foreleg out of the cupboard and practically threw her headfirst into the arms of his two companions, who held her tightly. Silver stepped closer, a sadistic smile on his lips. "You thought you could escape, huh?" he hissed, his voice dripping with malice. "But I wasn't finished yet." He raised his hooves to hit her, and the anticipation was written all over his stupid face. He stood tall like a bear and reveled in her despair, like the lousy tyrant he was. Years of humiliation and pain fueled her next move. With all her strength, she kicked. The satisfying contact was followed by his scream, loud and guttural, as he sank to the ground. For a moment, a fierce triumph surged through her. She had fought back. He recoiled and screamed as loudly as his lungs would allow as he sank to the ground. His two accomplices grabbed Twilight by the head and pinned her to the floor. Her feeling of triumph disappeared instantly. Her knees scraped against the rough floor, and the pain made her gasp. After a moment, Silver got up, his face red and swollen, his eyes filled with tears. He glared down at Twilight, not with mockery but with burning contempt. "Seems someone forgot their place," he hissed venomously. Without hesitation, he grabbed a knife lying on a brown wooden cutting board in the kitchen. The sharp blade glimmered dangerously in the dim light of the surrounding torches. "Shall we remind you?" His voice was barely more than a whisper, filled with threat and pleasure. Twilight desperately tried to free herself from the firm grip of Silver's companions. She pulled with all her might at her legs, wiggling left and right like a fish out of water. Her efforts were futile. The grip was relentless, and her hope faded with each heartbeat. Silver grabbed her left foreleg and slowly cut deep into the flesh with the knife. The pain was overwhelming, and she screamed throughout the entire procedure. Twilight's coat turned red around the incision, and blood dripped onto the cold, old wooden floor. Salty tears ran down her face and mixed with the blood soaking the kitchen floorboards. She hoped someone would hear her screams. She wished someone would come to help her. But no one came. No one ever came. At that moment, amidst the pain and despair, she swore to herself that one day she would leave this place. Twilight lay on the ground in a small puddle of her own blood. Her fur was matted, and her eyes burned from crying. She felt the world slowly but surely fading away, and her eyes grew heavy. Just as she thought she might lose consciousness, she heard the soft clatter of approaching hoofsteps. The kitchen door opened, and Cozy Crinkle, the matron of the orphanage, stepped in. "What's going on here?" she called out in a stern voice as her eyes fell on Twilight's lying figure on the ground. Silver and his accomplices hastily stepped away from Twilight. The matron, an older mare with yellow fur and grey mane, knelt down beside Twilight. "What happened here?" she asked, her voice trembling with shock. "Uh, I'm not exactly sure," Silver said nervously. "We found her lying on the ground like this." The matron raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Is that so?" She turned her attention to Twilight. "Twilight, dear, would you please tell me why you're lying on the ground, bleeding profusely?" Twilight could barely speak. Her throat was raw from screaming, and the pain constricted her voice. She lifted her head slightly. The first thing she saw were Silver's angry eyes. She hesitated for a moment. "I-it was an accident," she finally stammered. "I was clumsy and tripped. The knife..." The words came haltingly as tears streamed down her face. "An accident, you say? That looks like a very strange accident." The matron looked Twilight directly in the eyes, as if trying to pull the truth from her. Twilight whimpered softly, too scared to tell the truth. The matron shook her head, and for a moment, it seemed she might investigate further. But then she sighed deeply. "Alright, if you say so. Let me bandage that up." She carefully helped Twilight to her hooves and slowly led her to the kitchen door. "You need to be more careful, Twilight," she said as she supported Twilight while they walked. "An accident like this shouldn't happen again." "Yes, Mrs. Crinkle," Twilight whispered. Silver grinned as Twilight was led out of the kitchen. The matron took Twilight to her room and left briefly, returning with a small brown case marked with a red cross. She opened the case, took out some bandages and a small glass vial. With a steady hoof, she began to clean Twilight's wound. The antiseptic liquid stung Twilight's skin, and she clenched her teeth to avoid crying out again. Her eyes filled with tears. "It will get better soon," the matron murmured as she carefully applied the bandage. "Try to rest." Twilight nodded silently, her thoughts swirling. The matron packed away her supplies before quietly leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Left alone with her thoughts, Twilight stared at the ceiling of her room. "Someday..." she thought.