Do Not Go Gentle

by ShinigamiDad

Treasure Trove

Twilight stood transfixed, staring at row after row of books, shelf upon shelf of scrolls, sheaf after sheaf of parchment, all sizes and colors, all of them centuries and millennia old, from all across Equestria and countless other worlds and realities.

She walked slowly between the 30-foot-tall stacks, barely breathing, reaching out toward some of them, but drawing back, not daring to touch anything.

“Where did he get all this stuff?!” she whispered, turning in circles as she passed between rows of magical and scientific instruments, jars of indescribable objects and specimens, glass-topped drawers of stones and gems.

She passed out through the maze of racks and shelves, emerging into a sunken central area, lined with benches and tables and low stools. Multiple tomes and scrolls were spread out across the tables, lit by hovering magical orbs.

Twilight scanned the contents of the books and scrolls, barely comprehending anything she was seeing. Words and glyphs shimmered from pages, images moved and distorted as she walked past, alien sounds rose from unknown places if she stopped and looked at certain pages. Her head hurt.

Twilight blinked, shook her head, and left the sunken study area, returning to the relative sanity of the book shelves. She stepped up to a low bookstand and examined the open volume on it. Two similarly-bound books rested on an adjacent table, topped by chunk of uncut diamond.

She peered at the words, and realized this was one of Starswirl’s lost works she had seen referenced elsewhere: “Concerning Pony Longevity, Vol. 3.”

“Wow!” she said, “How many of his “lost” works are down here?”

She started leafing through the volume before her:

“...and further studies lead me to believe that death can, indeed, be forestalled, if not avoided altogether, by use of the runes of Trilfia and Shoiman’s glyphs. But the requirement of a virgin’s blood in order to seal the wards will likely lead me to reject this solution long-term, as I would be unwilling to procure that particular ingredient indefinitely. In addition, I fear the dark magic that tends to accumulate from its prolonged use [see 8 red, esp. G.T. notes].”

“Oh, dear Celestia!” she gasped, “Reaper was right! Starswirl was studying dark magic in an attempt to head off death!” She squinted at the end note: “And Grey Thorn was right there with him, filling in his side notes!”

She leaned back and tapped her chin thoughtfully: “So we know his number-color-coded notebook scheme...where are the books? They must be down here, too!”

Twilight stood and turned back toward the shelves, skirting a pile of unbound, illuminated parchment, heading between two racks of gilt-edged scrolls, toward a long, three-tiered wall-mounted shelf, stacked from end to end with slender red, blue, green and yellow notebooks.

“Ha!” she cried triumphantly, immediately wincing in pain. “Ow! Try to contain your enthusiasm, Twilight--you haven’t found anything, yet!”

She scanned the numbers on the shelves and their attendant volumes, familiarizing herself with the scheme, finally picking out the red-bound number 8 volume she had just seen referenced.

She was about to pull the book from the shelf, when she looked to the left, and realized that there were several thicker, dark brown volumes slotted in just ahead of the “Volume 1” collection.

Twilight absently removed the red notebook and dropped it in her saddlebag as she moved toward the leather-bound books at the far end of the shelf: “What have we here?”

They were simply marked “Journal” 1, 2 and 3, and were clearly older than any of the colored sets to their right. Twilight slid journal 3 out, and opened it, looking for references to Grey Thorn or “G.T.”

She found “G.T.” on the next-to-last page, and began leafing backwards through the text, looking for earlier and earlier references.
Twilight wandered absentmindedly back toward the sunken study area, poring over pages, muttering as she went: “G.T. resolved proper occultation angles...cautioned G.T. again Re: dark magic implications of Highbrier spell of making...G.T. again hesitant to consult with R.A. on lunar positioning inaccuracies in official tables…”

She sat down at the only uncluttered workbench, and spread out the three weathered books. She closed book 3, and swapped it for book 2.

“Where do we first meet you, G.T.?” she mused, flipping backwards through the journal.

“No, no, no…” she repeated as she worked back through journal 2. “How long were you with Starswirl, anyway?”

Then she stopped: “Wait! “Grey Thorn” is mixed here with “G.T.” for the first time!”

She flipped back and forth between a half-dozen pages, comparing Starswirl’s notes.

“Grey Thorn proving adept at gathering some of the rarer herbs from Gracie’s Glen. Will consult with Apoth. Re: efficacy of samples. G.T. now allowed to make entries in botanical record book [c.f.]”

“There you are, you elusive phantom!” Twilight said, triumphantly. “But where did you come from? I really wish I had the Archivist here! She could probably date these journals in a heartbeat!”

Twilight continued to skim quickly back through book 2, then into book 1.

“Knowing my luck, he didn’t note anything other than magical-type notes in these things!” she remarked, flipping back another pair of pages, approaching the book’s halfway point.

Then something caught Twilight’s eye: “Cutie mark? Did it say “cutie mark?””

She slowly worked through three pages, reading closely.

Her eyebrows jumped: “I was right!”

“Grey Thorn’s cutie mark came in this morning. Since he has very limited contact with other foals, I had to explain to him why this is so interesting. A twist of brier is certainly in keeping with his bloodline (at least as far I as know of it). Rumors of Pale Rose’s indiscretion(s?) are old news. Somehow fitting that his mark fits his nickname as well. I doubt he’ll ever be formally claimed by the Highbriers, so his C.M. is mostly academic at this point.”

Twilight puzzled for a minute: “How did Starswirl know Pale Rose was the mother? What nickname?”

She continued skimming further back in the journal, until she had nearly reached the beginning, and was despairing of finding Starswirl’s first reference to Grey Thorn.

Then, to her relief, she read the lines she had spent an hour searching for:

“Brought the colt back to my study after burying his mother. Didn’t want to leave the body in the open; might possibly cause an incident. Pale Rose found on the banks of the S.S. River, in contested Greensward lands, with an obvious bastard foal--we don’t need that headache right now.”

“Not quite sure what to do with the little thing. I’ve informed Celestia that I found an orphan (true enough) during my search for herbs and roots (mostly true), and that he’s one of those displaced by the frontier battles (the real truth not a good idea here). Told her I’d act as his ward (also true). Thought long about his name. He’s Highbrier, so ‘thorn’ works, and using his color seems simple enough. I’m not very creative, I guess! Grey Thorn will be my apprentice. I’ll need one soon enough, I suppose…”

Twilight rocked back and let out a huge sigh: “Finally! We can bring some of these threads together!”

A wave pain suddenly washed over her, as her sense of relief gave way to fatigue: “Oh, my. Now I need to start digging into all those numbered color-coded notebooks--see if I can figure out when Grey Thorn started taking over for Starswirl. See who’s really responsible for that Void.”

“Then I get to find another map, and figure my way out of here,” she said weakly, “with a torn-up wing and half a library’s-worth of books in-tow. And that's assuming I don’t hit any more magic dampening fields!”

Twilight looked around, and noticed a low couch secreted away behind a large stack of folios. She limped over, with several books hovering behind her, and sat down heavily.

She opened one of her saddlebags and dropped in the three journals, along with a pair of colored notebooks. She then removed a small flask, and a pouch.

“I just need to rest for a minute,” she said, opening the pouch and taking out a smashed muffin. “This pain has really taken its toll!”

She opened the third journal again, and began browsing toward its end, seeking some sort of transition to the colored notebooks, or clues to other volumes in the racks and shelves.

She sipped at the cider in the flask, and felt its warmth ease her pain. The words on the page began to swim. She slumped sideways and fell into a light, uneasy slumber.

Comments

[Commander Darklight]

ohhhhh twilights dead