//------------------------------// // The Princess // Story: From Dust // by Vermillion Prose //------------------------------// Twilight Sparkle paced in her study, several scrolls listing the intricacies of a dozen mind spells floating along with her as she reviewed them again, triple checking to make sure the mental barriers she would be erecting would be sufficient for the task at hoof. After she had managed to calm her accompanying guards and one incredibly irate Rainbow Dash, she had enlisted their aid in moving the armor and as many of the intact relics from the wreck to her castle for further study. After several letters back and forth to the other princesses, it was agreed that, given the sorcerous nature of the armor she had found, it was right up Twilight’s alley of research. She once bore the element of magic, after all. However, the elite platoon of Royal Guards, trained by Shining Armor in all manner of defensive spells, succinctly displayed the concern for Twilight’s safety. After the first incident, precautions had to be taken. Twilight had been careful in her phrasing regarding the purpose of the strange enchanted suit, not wanting to discourage her peers from allowing her to study it for fear it would cause her permanent harm. The guards were, in fact, her idea; a bit of a concession, to ensure she could sate her curiosity, but in truth a welcome emergency measure. Thankfully, these guards were well versed in mind magics, a response to the previous changeling incursion. Quite fortuitous, the youngest princess reflected. The armor stood impassively in a magic circle inscribed on the ground, set to immobilize it if it tried to flee or fight. However, it had not reacted since her first contact with it, and had in fact been almost eerily inert. Her rough handling, figuratively speaking, of the connection she had inadvertently initiated before, had evidently put it into a dormant state. Hazy recall of unfamiliar battlegrounds reminded her that its current state was quite likely for the best. Who knows what kind of damage it could have done if it had been dragged here against its animating will? She shook off the shudder that traveled her spine at the thought and indicated to the guards that she was ready to proceed. She had spent the better part of two days pouring over the spells she would be performing today. Mind magic was dangerous, and best employed with every protective measure possible. it was not something she had practiced extensively, as it was not only incredibly difficult, but quite morally ambiguous. However, the circumstances seemed to justify her experiment, and she had too many hypotheses to simply let this opportunity pass. Her horn glowed fiercely as she cast a half dozen spells at once, utilizing the containment circle to focus her energies and improve spell efficiency. As the magic manifested, the world around her faded away and her perception focused on the primary construct of her efforts. And with a final burst of power, she entered the realm of the mind. He blinked. Realizing what he had just achieved, he blinked again. He had not blinked in millenia. He looked down upon himself and saw his body clad only in a crimson chiton. He realized he was somewhere, but looking around, it seemed as if he was nowhere. He had the distinct impression he was standing on firm ground, and could determine the relatives of “up” and “down,” but beyond that,he found himself in a hazy lavender void. His mind snapped into the logical structures ingrained in his psyche and he began to theorize aspects of his surroundings. Given his ability to influence the space, he was likely in a lucid state. Testing the theory, he tried to summon something familiar. In his hand, a khopesh appeared. He turned the sword through a blade routine he had learned so very long ago. He could not remember where he learned it, or who taught him. He felt as though he should, but he remembered very little in his current state. The only things that returned to him at will were those indelibly etched into his being, the mental equivalent of muscle memory. As he perused his mental vaults, psycho-conditioned knowledge made itself available, including the fact that he had received psycho-conditioning and hypno-therapy. He recalled what he was, what his purpose had been, and the tools of his craft. A warrior. A Legionary. A Space Marine. An Angel of Death. The training was accompanied by the psychic echoes of those who taught him, and he recalled his place as one of Magnus’s Thousand Sons. It stirred emotions of pride, eagerness, and, he reflected with some confusion, shame and betrayal. As these emotions churned and grew, the empty spaces in his recall began to fill. Twilight Sparkle was absolutely fascinated. She had prepared a wide variety of spells and even done the necessary research to merge a few, an accomplishment worthy of note on its own. They combined her experience restoring her friends from Discord’s magic, as well as telepathy and simple recollection spells. Quite useful for shopping trips or daily duties when checklists fail. She had not expected the mind trapped within the armor to show such plasticity, however. This time, before she had completed the connection, she had established filters and barriers that allowed her to view the mind without actually merging with it. As such she observed all that occurred within the dreamscape she had crafted. Luna had corresponded quite thoroughly in managing this particular detail. Several things had become apparent quickly. It was a he, or at least considered itself such. His recall existed, but as was the case with any unused knowledge, had become distant and hazy. She noted that not having a physical brain to store such information and being forcibly bound to a suit of armor might have that effect on somepony. The next was his form, bipedal and nearly hairless. Apelike, but with far more intelligent eyes. His arms bulged with muscle, and he was nearly as imposing without armor as he was with it. Or as it. The fact that the first thing he had summoned during lucid dreaming was a sword validated her concerns. He was a warrior, that was undeniable. What she found fascinating was the fact that he did not show aggression, or an immediate need for action when in an unknown situation. She could see the flow of his mind and the thought processes he followed. He was curious. Not just a warrior, but as his recall picked up speed, she could see he had been a scholar. His mentors had wielded powers that seemed an awful lot like magic, but were distinctly different. Less elemental but more unstable, if such a conceptual clash could exist. She observed with rapt attention as his mind repaired itself, the spells she had set in place taking back seat as his formidable mind saw to its own restructuring. In the real world the guards were shifting nervously. Since the princess had begun, its eyes had blazed into life, and the head tilted forwards as if to regard Twilight, but it had otherwise remained still. The princess, however, was furiously consuming parchment, ink, and several quills as her note taking spell recorded everything she observed, and there was an incredible amount as his mind picked up speed. The abridged, shorthand notes now totalled seventy-two feet of parchment. His journey through memory and experience had finally reached his arrival and the strange creature he had observed. Twilight noted with alarm the xenophobic reflex trained into him compelling violent action, but it was immediately overruled by the scholarly need to know the unknown. She let out a breath she had not know she was holding as he decided that the creatures did not pose a threat, and even if they did, could be dealt with. Instead, he recalled the moment of contact and drudged up the impressions he had received. Twilight watched her own patchy memories flit through his mind, an incredibly surreal experience, and saw the spark of recognition at every instance she used her magic. He was particularly enthralled by any knowledge related to the Elements of Harmony. But as his knowledge of her skills grew, so too did his suspicion. That was when the failsafe spell gave her a warning that he was probing the artificial dreamscape for mental constructs. If he could find them, he could pick them apart, mage or not, and discover her. She could already tell that a mental intrusion would warrant violent reprisal if she did not have time to explain herself, which she seriously doubted she would. So she followed her planned course of action and withdrew, opening her eyes hesitantly as she returned to the physical. The eyes in the armor continued to blaze for a few moments before dimming, but she could not know there was more light and life in those cold lenses than there had been since the Rubric was cast some ten millennia ago.