A complex look at the magic of Equestria and its origins and repercussions.
"The Cards That Bind Us" is a story that is essentially the "bag and tag" of all of the germs for stories that I've had mashed together in an intricate romance-adventure involving extra-planar creatures, the origins of magic in Equestria, and the limits of the pony (human?) psyche. Rated Teen for violence, minor gore, sexual themes, use of alcohol, and a bleak image.
The coverart and all the illustrations are done by my brother DigitDaemon and his bud blastmast. I am eternally grateful to them for all of their help, and everything looks beautiful and fantastic. I'm sure I'll be paying through the nose for it later, but it was absolutely worth it. Editing done by my closest friend Glade. His insight is one of my most valuable assets, and the read as a whole would be nowhere as pleasurable as it is without him.
A spiritual successor to "A Comet's Tale". You don't need to read "A Comet's Tale" to understand what's going on in "The Cards That Bind Us". (Actually, please don't. The only semblance is some minor plot elements, one of the characters, and the protagonist of "A Comet's Tale" will make a minor cameo. I'm not proud of "A Comet's Tale". Don't read it.) Including one of the few things I liked about "A Comet's Tale" was unavoidable, and this, in a way, is me redeeming myself for that whole experience.
Any feedback is always appreciated. What you liked, what you didn't like, etcetera. If you have a suggestion for where you think the plot is going or should go, go ahead and drop me a line with your thoughts.
Magic, at its most rudimentary of forms, is simply the extension of one's mind onto the world around them. The honing and perfecting of the mind is the truest conduit of magic in its base form, and will be the cornerstone of any mage's studies. Although this is only a generalization that will be delved into in greater detail later, the mind (and, by extension, magic) can be organized into twelve separate categories, hereafter referred to as Schools. Numbering twelve in all, these fundamental traits of any mind are a necessity of their respective School of magic. Not every fundamental part of the mind is a positive aspect, however.
Some of these schools reflect different weaknesses of the mind. Each is incredibly powerful in its own right; so powerful that even at their most basic level they can wreak havoc on the mind of the caster and that of those around him. These schools, six in all, have been deemed by the Highest of Council Sages Forbidden Schools of Magic. Tapping into these parts of the mind is dangerous and life-threatening. Experimentation in these artes should never be attempted, even in the most dire of straights.
The six Practical Schools of magic are broken down into two categories: Common Magic, which can be performed and perfected by any race of pony, and Unicorn Magic, which requires a level of magic attunement that does not exist amongst Pegasi and Earth Ponies. The three schools of Unicorn Magic originated from the three schools of Common Magic, when all the races of Ponies had a deeper connection with the magics of the world. After experimentation with the schools of Common Magic, Unicorns discovered inherent abilities of their own that made them unique from the other Pony races. Magic was to be what separated the Unicorns from the stoic Earth Ponies and the powerful Pegasi.
~
~
Practical Unicorn Magic Conjura (The School of Conjuration) - Conjuration is the arte and school of creating and changing physical objects in the world. The most elementary of spells of the school Conjuration is the ability to mend objects using magic. Because magic is an extension of the mind, the quality of craftsmanship of these spells is based upon the skill of the caster to create (or mend) the object in question. This being said, this is one of the easiest schools to learn, but one of the most difficult to master. It takes an incredible amount of patience to learn the intricacy of each and every item that is created or mended. Many mages who specialize in conjuration as a school choose a type of object as well (clocks, as an example), and branch off of this into other spells in the school of conjuring.
Practical Unicorn Magic Evocies (The School of Evocation) - Evocation, not to be confused with Conjuration, is the ability to manipulate energy with the mind. Evocation specifically manipulates energies (kinetic, potential, intramolecular, etcetera), as opposed to Conjuration, which deals with objects, items, and trinkets. Evocation is the most popular form of Unicorn Magic, and the most widely used by masters and novices of any school of magic. Perhaps one of the oldest of forms of magic, every unicorn is inherently an Evoker, with the most common of spells being levitation. With a fundamental understanding of levitation (the process of giving an object enough kinetic energy to move in a way it would not normally), Evocation can be applied to any number of scenarios. Fire, ice, and the most honed of arcane bolts are at the horn-tip of any unicorn who has the intellect to understand the complexity of such energies.
Practical Unicorn Magic Scryx (The School of Scryomancy) - Scrying is the magical arte of extending one's consciousness to become aware of living things around oneself. With proper focus and training, scryomancy can identify individuals in a crowd, locate objects at extreme distances (legends tell of planet-wide scryomancy of objects and individuals), and alert the caster to even the most subtle of movement and esoteric of changes in objects or living things the caster is focused on. Scrying requires an innate amount of awareness - mental awareness is at the base of any scrying spell.
Practical Common Magic Alchemica (The School of Alchemy) - Alchemy is the use of the innate magical energies of herbs and plants to create potions. Although anyone can learn and practice Alchemy, it is users are few and far between in the common eras due to the uncanny amount of diligence required to perform Alchemy. Based on rigorous and precise formulas and recipes, mishaps and miscalculations can be lethal. In addition, experimentation is seldom practiced in Alchemy (for obvious reasons stated above), and the same collection of tested and well-used recipes and formulas are often passed down from generation to generation, creating unique cultures centered around the practice of such artes.
Practical Common Magic Meteon (The School of Meteomancy) - Contrary to popular belief, the ability to control and manipulate the weather (a practice known as Meteomancy) is very much magic. Often practiced by Pegasi who gather ingredients rapidly by virtue of their apt mobility, Meteomancy serves its greatest use in the maintenance of suitable living standards for ponies worldwide. Great laboratories and colleges of Meteomancy pepper nations, creating, regulating, and monitoring weather. There is a dark side to Meteomancy, however. The greatest disasters of the known world are caused by weather, and the tapping into such powers creates a formidable and terrible weapon. This being said, self-control is the greatest asset to a practitioner of weather magic.
Practical Common Magic Phyllia (The School of Phyllomancy) - The final and most powerful school of practical magic is Phyllomancy, the magic of friendship. Friendship, and by extension love, has the greatest influence on everyone around the caster. Friendship can dominate any other school of magic because rather than the mind of the solitary caster, Phyllomancy draws upon the powers of every individual that shares a special connection around the caster. As such, Phyllomancers are very delicate when solitary. Caring, above all, is the greatest tool a Phyllomancer needs to draw upon their allies to defeat the greatest of evils.
The Forbidden Schools of Magic (sometimes referred to as Black Magic), are the source of casualty and catastrophe of legend. These artes have long been left untouched and undisturbed for each of their respective reasons. Only the wariest of eyes should proceed further. In recorded history, the only Ponies to have ever experimented with these schools have been Unicorns. It is said that only Unicorns are capable of conducting these greater artes, but any mind is capable of these weaknesses, and therefore theoretically, any pony is capable of delving into Black Magics.
Forbidden School Necronomica (The School of Necromancy) - Necromancy is the manipulation of the life-energies of living things. The spells of a Necromancer vary from the raising of the dead and controlling of undead thralls to the communal with spirits of long past. These spirits, having found closure with the mortal coil, often return to haunt and torment the living they have been thrust back into the world with. No one pony has the capacity or authority to command the base energies of others, and as such, Necromancy has been forbidden since the beginnings of the study of magic. Within the heart of every Necromancer lies fear of some kind. Be it fear of their own mortality, fear of loneliness, or fear of any sort, it is always at the root of these dark artes.
Forbidden School Geome (The School of Geomancy) - The invisible channels that bind magic to the known world are known as Ley Lines, which contain within them magic in its purest and most undefined form. The tapping into and tearing of these Ley Lines is known as Geomancy. Geomancy has the potential to give one a power greater than any single pony, but at a dire cost to the very planet on which we live. Any spell cast using Geomancy has permanent repercussions on the planet as a whole. Disregard of these consequences drives Geomancers to make an ultimate sacrifice of the natural balance of our world.
Forbidden School Chronos (The School of Chronomancy) - Time, the enigmatic power to change anything and everyone, was never meant to be controlled by any mortal living thing. The manipulation of time, even at its simplest with gazes into the future, warps and destroys the mind with confusion and doubt. The caress of time energy on a Chronomancer often causes changes in perception for that individual that lead to insanity and exile from normal thought. Perhaps one of the most complex of the forbidden schools, its roots and potential are shrouded in a mystery that should never be uncovered.
Forbidden School Nixes (The School of Nixiomancy) - The Nix is the manipulation of magics so they feed into themselves, creating infinite loops of swirling energies. It is this forbidden school of magic that creates cursed artifacts and hexes that loom over ponies for generation after generation. The bending of spells so they feed into themselves is not only difficult, but taxing on the body of the caster. Often, Nixiomancy creates scars upon the caster that are as permanent and immutable as their spells. This can vary from simple cuts and burns to the deformation and distortion of entire limbs. More than once has a Nixiomancer given their very life to loop greater spells. Surely, their hearts and minds are riddled with spite upon others in order to wish pain and suffering on them eternally.
Forbidden School Entropy (The School of Entropomancy) - Entropomancy is the magic that bends and breaks the rules that govern the universe. Referred to simply as Chaos, these energies are the physical manifestation of havoc and unrest. Even Entropomancers often have no idea what their spells can lead to, as knowing Chaos is knowing nothing at all. The desire to dismantle even the most basic of laws of physics requires dissatisfaction so strong that life often appears to be a long, cruel joke to Entropomancers. Their intimacy with uncontrollable energies often causes what is referred to as "drift", which changes the body in a most unpredictable manner. Ponies who dabble in the magic of chaos have been known to sprout appendages of odd animals and sometimes change into new species of creature altogether; neither living or dying, wishing forever that the world around them was less whole.
Forbidden School Daemonia (The School of Demonology) - Layered upon our planes of existence resides other Ill-Begotten Realms in which fantastic and dangerous creatures reside. Through Demonology, Summoners can create Ley-Gates that allow them to commune (and sometimes, travel) with beings of these Ill-Begotten Realms. They, of ageless bodies and unknowable power, often take contract with Summoners, exchanging pieces of the Summoner's soul for magical advantages in our world. What the Daemons of the Ill-Begotten Realms do with said pieces is still a mystery, and often Summoners disappear from our dimensions, never to be seen by living things again. To summon the courage to communicate with such creatures, to be willing to give away the purest piece of one's soul, must require nothing short of desperation to achieve their goals.
~
~
Caramel Twist's eyes were heavy as he pored over his textbook. Magical Studies had to be one of the most boring subjects in the history of subjects. There seriously had to be a somewhat more interesting way to spend an aftern--
"Caramel Twist!" The tawny unicorn leapt from his chair in surprise, making most of the class giggle. "Did you hear a word I said?"
"Uh..." Caramel searched his mind for an excuse.
"Before you tell me how riveting your textbook was, could you please tell me what Starswirl the Bearded's preferred school of magic was?"
The color drained from Caramel's face as he realized every face in the auditorium was on him. He needed an answer. Anything. Anything at all that would make him sound like he was paying attention. His breath became heavy in his chest, and his tongue began to taste like felt. There had to be something in the book he had spent the past half hour idly browsing that would help him.
"Starswirl the Bearded was a Sage; he didn't have a preferred School of Magic." Caramel blurted out before stuffing his head back in his book.
The professor, a beige unicorn whose mane hung in coils around her head and neck not unlike snakes, paused for a moment to adjust her glasses. "That is... correct."
Class may have resumed as it did for the past four months, but Caramel's head swirled like a bowl of tapioca.
Where did that come from? Did I make that up? Was that luck? Everyone must think I'm a nerd now; a freak who spends all his time reading some stupid textbook. Deciding that burrowing his head into his book wasn't helping his case at all, Caramel put it down and scanned the room. Nopony was staring at him. No jeering of faces... maybe... maybe that little outburst went entirely unnoticed. Caramel slumped against the backrest of the bench in relief.
"Psssst..." A soft voice next to Caramel made him rocket out of his chair in surprise.
Shivering in his hooves, head buried in his arms, Caramel could feel his distress whipping around him. He could feel every bruise, every wound he'd ever endured sear his flesh as fear ran through his veins. He never wanted to go to a fancy Canterlot school for magic, he never wanted to be the prodigy of his family or make a name for himself. What was wrong with wanting to stay home and make candy all day? He was good at that, and ponies couldn't beat on him from behind a counter.
"Caramel Twist!" A distant voice called to him. It was different than the voice that scared him.
"Go away!" Caramel shouted from under his arms.
"I will! I promise! Nopony is going to hurt you! Just come away from the edge!" That last part made Caramel look up, confused. Wind whipped around his mane as he looked around to see all of Canterlot. Clay shingles beneath Caramel's hoofs made an odd noise as he caught his footing.
Getting an explanation from your older sister when she can’t seem to make coherent sentences is difficult. Every time Peppermint Twist would stop, gasp for air, and sit back up in her seat, she would take one look at her little brother and flop down on the ground, laughing hysterically.
Caramel was far too tired to be angry this early in the morning, and he was going to be late to school if he didn’t find out what Pepper had lacquered his pillow in and how to detach it from his face.
“Okay... okay...” Caramel’s sister finally sat down in front of her muffin, ready to eat. “Ith juth---” She cleared her throat, “It’s just gum base and sugar water.” Caramel got up from his cereal and moved to the bathroom without a sound.
Gum base, often made of elastomers, resins, and waxes, is a non-soluble compound designed to carry artificial sweeteners. Because they do not dissolve in water, they should dissolve in other non-soluble compounds. Caramel reached for his sister’s mane conditioner in the shower as information rushed through his mind. He didn’t know (and at this point, frankly didn’t care) where it was coming from as long as it was useful. He was far too tired to care why he knew the properties of six hundred artificial sweeteners and the emulsifiers used to mix them with gum base. As he thought about the sticky goop that attached his pillow to his jaw and cheek, the information simply rushed in along with it. It would be gone as soon as he thought about something else, and as long as the conditioner was working, the headache that came was worth it.
Wiping the oily conditioner off of his face, Caramel made sure he had managed to clear all of the gum out of his red mane. Perhaps he should swap the salt and the sugar again... that was always good for a laugh when Pepper’s friends came over. As he looked at himself in the mirror, the large bags under his mahogany eyes sent a chill down his spine. They reminded him that he hadn’t really slept in two days.
Every time he nodded off, he could feel a pair of eyes boring into his skull. Bright yellow eyes that came in and tore him open, taking piece after piece from his mind until he was an empty shell. He washed the thought away with cold water. He needed to be alert for Magical Studies with Professor Cupid today.
When he returned to the table, Pepper was just taking a bite out of her muffin, and the look on her face suggested it didn’t please her.
“Waff in dis?” She speckled her plate with flecks of muffin from her mouth. Caramel turned to look at her, information already spewing from his mouth.
“1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour, 3/4 cup white sugar, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 2 teaspoons baking powder, 1/3 cup vegetable oil, 1 egg, 1/3 cup milk, 1 cup fresh blueberries, 1/2 cup white sugar, 1/3 cup all-purpose flour, 1/4 cup butter cubed, 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon, artificial sweeteners, blue 40...” The information was moving faster than he could breathe, and when it stopped Caramel collapsed to the table, coughing and gasping for air. His head pounded with enough information on muffins to fill a tome. It wasn’t until Pepper spoke again that it vanished.
“Caramel... are you... okay?” She didn’t know what to make of what she just saw. Caramel moved like a recording in fast-forward. His speech was so fast it was practically unintelligible, and Peppermint knew that he didn’t know half of that information yesterday.
“I’m fine...” Caramel fought back a yawn. “I need to go; I’m going to be late for school.”
“Are you sure?” After that performance, Pepper wasn’t sure that school was such a good idea. Caramel already had his things, and was moving out the door.
“Have a good day,” Peppermint Twist called through the open partition in the door.
The headaches worsened as Caramel walked down the sidewalk. Each and every thought branched into hundreds and tens of hundreds of other bits and pieces of information like a great, gnarled tree. It was the voice of a friend that pulled Caramel back to reality.
“Caramel! Caramel! Where are you, the moon?”
“Oh... good morning, Pip... Just... Just a headache.” Pipsqueak had been Caramel’s friend since they were very small. People always called Pipsqueak “the brawns” of their operations. He had an overwhelming sense of adventure that Caramel admired. He was in Canterlot with his family on athletic scholarship.
“‘Just’ a headache? You can’t even walk in a straight line,” Pip laughed from his second story window, “Did you have a wild party last night and not invite me?”
“Something like that, I guess...” Caramel winced at the thought of those eyes burrowing into the back of his head. It made his headache of swirling raging information hurt even more.
“Well, don’t be late for school! And invite me next time, ya mook!” Pipsqueak was quoting one of his favorite actors. A protagonist from a Manehattan action-drama of back in the Great Depression. Born in 1104 in Vanhoover---
Caramel had to smack himself to stop his train of thought before it became too much to handle. School... he just needed to get to school and then everything would be fine.
It wasn’t long before the migraine shook him to the point that he couldn’t walk anymore. He stood there in the street, cringing as throngs of information flooded his mind. The molecular structure of grass, the contemporary art that hung in a neighbor's living room, there was too much to take in. Caramel shut his eyes, trying to tune it all out, and that’s when he saw them. The great yellow eyes of his dreams, staring at him from within his eyelids. Pupiless slits that burned him like knives.
I have you now, Caramel Twist.
Caramel collapsed under the weight of those eyes and his very essence groaned and creaked under the strain.
How long I have fed... Your mind... it now belongs to me.
Caramel shattered like a piece of glass undertow. Thousands of tiny glittering pieces that whipped up in the wind and disappeared.
~
~
“So why have you come to see this One?”
Caramel blinked. “I’m sorry. What?”
“You have come to see this One, and It wants to know why you have come.”
“I... I’m not sure.” Caramel was in a study. Lit only by a great fireplace on one wall, the walls of books and tapestries held colors of deep reds and golds in the dim light. Caramel could hear the ticking of a clock, but he was not sure where it came from. Across the room, in front of the fireplace, stood a large armchair that faced away from him. The voice of whatever was speaking came from this location.
“If you are here with this One, then surely you must be in some sort of peril.” A grey limb moved into view and beckoned him over with long, pointed fingers, “Please, sit.”
On command, Caramel moved to a second chair. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed it until the figure in the chair had gestured to it. The creature, now sitting across from Caramel Twist, was at first disturbing, and then fascinating. Its face completely featureless, it sat tall and bipedal in the chair, with arms meeting in front of the chest, and long pointed fingers laced together. It was... overcast in color. That was the best way Caramel could describe it. Its color changed like a shade of stone coming in and out of the light of overcast on a day it could rain. Sometimes, the creature had horns on top of a slender head, but most of the time Caramel couldn’t tell.
“This One is the One That Draws The String. You are?”
“Caramel Twist, sir.” Caramel wasn’t sure if he was terrified or happy to see the creature. More than anything, he was just confused.
“This One is no sir, Caramel Twist;” It corrected him, completely motionless aside from the subtle changes in the color of its skin, “Your formalities have no meaning here.”
“Where is here, uh... One That Draws The String?” Its head moved to glance around the room at this question as if it was obvious.
“This One imagines this place is a shard of your subconscious.”
“I’m inside my mind?”
“‘Inside’ is a relative term in this place, Caramel Twist.” Caramel didn’t really understand.
“How did I get here?”
“You have always been here. You have only become aware of it now because you have nowhere else to go, Caramel Twist.”
“How did you get here?”
“This One has a space in every mind. You would not be corporeal without the assistance of this One.” Caramel waited for it to continue. “To answer your question, Caramel Twist, this One has always been here.”
“What happened to Equestria?” The creature made a sound that Caramel thought was a chuckle, but he wasn’t sure, given that the creature had no mouth to chuckle with, much less hold casual conversation.
“The place you refer to as home has not changed, Caramel Twist. You have changed.”
“Okay... so what happened to me?”
“You have been contacted, Caramel Twist.” Caramel had nothing to say, so he waited for the creature to continue.
“This One believes you have been Touched by another One such as this One.”
“There are more of you?”
“There are more such as this One than there are such as you, Caramel Twist.”
“Ah. So... I’ve been Touched? Is that why I have been having headaches and bad dreams?”
“This One confirms your suspicions. Your conscious mind was never meant to burden the weight of your entire psyche.” Caramel began to put two and two together.
“Is this my real body?”
“‘Real’, again, is a relative term, Caramel Twist.” A pause. “No, Caramel Twist. That is not your corporeal form.”
“Where is my real body, then?” It made that noise again. Its shrillness sent shivers up Caramel’s make-believe spine.
“This One imagines it is where you left it, Caramel Twist.”
“Can... Can my body function without me?”
“You have not been possessed, Caramel Twist. Your mind has been broken, so What Remains will act out your last wishes.”
“What Remains?”
“This One believes mortals refer to it differently. The mortal psyche is built upon What Remains, and What Remains is what is left when the psyche leaves.”
“Do you mean like primal instincts?” Caramel had to write a paper about psychology for school. “Id?”
“If that is what mortals call it, Caramel Twist,” It motioned similar to a nod, “This One shall refer to it as well.”
“So... what does my body do with only an Id?”
“Your body will do the last thing it was doing, Caramel Twist.” Caramel nodded, in thought.
So it will be going to school without me... Caramel jumped to find that his thoughts echoed throughout the chamber.
“Be calm, Caramel Twist. You and this One are in your mind, after all. Id will only act with Id’s primal instincts.”
“You mean like a fight or flight response?”
“Id is only capable of one, yes.” Caramel relaxed into the chair. At least nopony would be worried about him if he was going to school like normal.
“You should not relax, Caramel Twist.” The creature turned, its head now down at the fire instead of toward Caramel, “You are still in much peril.”
“What must I do?” Caramel got a bad taste in his mouth when he realized his diction was similar to the One Who Draws the String’s.
“When they come for you, you must be resilient. You must combat the One Who Preys.”
“How do I do that?”
“Your mind will be left with a single splinter. That splinter will be your greatest tool to learn our ways to combat the One Who Preys.”
“A splinter? I don’t understand.”
“You must find the Bell, Caramel Twist. The Bell will lead you to the second splinter.”
“You aren’t making any sense.”
“One has found us, and this One must take leave of you now, Caramel Twist.”
“I still don’t know what I’m doing!”
“This One left instructions. You may now be at ease, Caramel Twist.”
Nothingness. Wrapped in a blanket of a night darker than the likes of which any mortal has seen, the Collective Unconscious is the stage and meeting place for the Fates. In the all-encompassing darkness, the One Who Draws the String sat and waited.
“This One has been to see him,” echoed a voice in the darkness. Throaty and guttural, the voice was deep and loud, echoing in the emptiness that stretched for all eternity. The One Who Draws The String was unmoving in Its sitting position, waiting for speaker to show itself.
“This One knows the laws and chooses to ignore them. Unwise, It is,” A second voice piped. This new voice was similar to something sharp on porcelain. Its shrillness bit at the air, leaving its listeners cold and on-edge. Used to the passively hostile tone, the One Who Draws The String was unfazed, however.
“It is done.” The One Who Draws The String remained motionless at the sound of the first, deep voice. “The One Who Cuts The String surely knows the importance of breaking the laws One knows.”
“Indeed,” Piqued the high-pitched second voice, which materialized before the present figure. This new second figure, not unlike the first in color, was dramatically different in shape. While the One Who Draws The String was tall and slender, the One Who Cuts The String was not unlike a tree stump in shape. Flat yet gnarled, its voice pierced the darkness with the shrillest ring. With four stubby legs, it circled the One Who Draws the String.
“Why is this One the one to do it, hmm?” Reaching out as if to caress the One Who Draws The String, but never touching It, the One Who Cuts The String continued, “Never before has consciousness materialized to mortals, but now It does so freely. What must go on within the inner workings of this One...”
“This One should not mock Its predecessor,” A third figure took shape beside the two of them, forming a circle, and silencing the One Who Cuts The String, “Manners took so long to develop, after all.”
The One Who Cuts The String cackled at the remark. “What of the One Who Finds The String? What great wisdom does It impart to this One who breaks fundamental laws?”
“Never has it happened before...” The third figure, bent and crooked, would be taller than the One Who Draws The String if it stretched flat. As one smooth shape, it could easily be mistaken for a large viper. “...And never shall it happen again.”
The One Who Cuts The String had nothing to say to this, and the three of them became very quiet. “Regardless of the transgressions of this One,” The One Who Finds The String finally spoke again, “There is much to be done.”
With that, the eternal darkness broke for a split second as a gold line appeared on the horizon, exposing a dark beach with black water crashing on the shore.
“The One Who Preys never sleeps, after all...”
~
~
It took Caramel Twist a couple of tries to get his eyes to adjust to the bright light.
“He’s coming to.” Before Caramel could get a good look at who it was, a female pony disappeared out of his vision. He inhaled, and smelled antiseptic. The bed was soft enough, but had no give under his weight. A corner table with a lamp was to his immediate left.
A hospital. Great. Scanning what he could of the room, Caramel found his body was far too weak to move. Because it took the least amount of energy, Caramel turned to look in the direction the female pony had gone. At the end of the long, rectangular room sat a door. He could see the outline of somepony talking behind a piece of smoked glass.They talked for no more than a minute before the outline motioned like a small curtsy and came inside. The female she saw earlier was a nurse, who had stepped outside to speak to someone he couldn’t see. His bright and alert face startled her.
“C-caramel! You’re awake. How do you feel?” Caramel tried to sit up.
“Like my body went on holiday,” he smiled sheepishly. The nurse returned the smile with the same amount of sheepishness.
“Well, according to the Princess, it kind of did.” After a pause, the memories of all that had happened came flooding back to him.
“Wait... are we real? Where is the One Who Draws The String? Am I safe? Do you have the bell?” The nurse rushed to his bedside and tried to settle him.
“You need to relax, Caramel. You are under heavy sedatives currently. Once they wear off, you can go ahead and get up if you are feeling up to it.”
“You tranquilized me?” Caramel gawked for a moment, but rational thought slowly returned to him. “What day is it today? What did I do?”
“I think I’ll take it from here, Nurse.” A voice behind Caramel caught him off-guard. With another small curtsy, the nurse scuttled away. “As you wish, Princess.”
Mustering his strength, Caramel turned his head around to find nopony other than Princess Twilight Sparkle standing next to his bed.
“Princess!” Caramel would have had a more dramatic reaction if he was physically capable. “I’m sorry, I’m not decent.”
“I would say so.” She avoided his gaze. “You bit me.”
“I... what?”
“I was looking for a book in the far library, and saw you on the roof of the tower. I rushed out to help you. You were like a wild animal.” She shook her head, purple hair flowing freely, “We had to restrain you to identify what happened.”
Caramel swallowed hard. When they said primal instincts, they weren’t kidding. “Princess, let me expl--”
“Be calm, Caramel Twist.” She smiled at him. “I know what has happened to you. I am the one who brought your consciousness back to your body. And I forgive you. There was no way you could have controlled yourself in that situation.”
Caramel breathed a sigh of relief. Exile would have only made the task at hand much more difficult.
“There is one thing you can explain to me, though,” Curiosity lit her eyes behind the apparent concern. “What caused all of this to happen? Where did your conscious mind go when separated from your body?”
“Well, I imagine it all started with these nightmares I was having...”
Starting from the beginning, Caramel recollected as many details as he could, from the intimidating yellow eyes to the great rushes of information. He did his best to describe the One Who Draws the String as well. After a good half an hour, Caramel found his explanation at a conclusion, and he was able to sit up in his bed. “Does... does any of that make sense to you?” Princess Twilight nodded, lost in thought.
“Parts, yes. I want to show you something.” With a flash of light from her pointed horn, Caramel found that she had taken the two of them, bed and all, to the castle.
“Where are we?”
“This room is called the Antechamber of Secrets. Few ponies have ever been in here.” Caramel gazed in wonder at the stained-glass windows circling them. Over a dozen in all sorts of shapes and sizes took up an extreme majority of the space on the walls. “What you have experienced is a puzzle that has remained unsolved since Princess Luna and Princess Celestia were very small.” Princess Twilight moved to a window closest to the door, and began to tell an ornate story:
Long, long ago, there was a point when destiny was governed by creatures beyond any form of pony comprehension. These creatures, similar to spirits, exist outside our world, manipulating and changing it as they see fit. We have come name them the Daemons of the Ill-Begotten Realms. There are a small number of instances where anypony has believed to have come into contact with one of these Daemons in all of recorded history. Almost all of them have ended in tragedy.
Each Daemon serves a pre-defined purpose in our world. Some designed the plants and allow them to grow; some designed the mountains or the valleys; but there are three that serve a much greater cause: the weaving of destiny.
There is a story in our archives, the writer long forgotten to the annals of history, detailing an interaction with these three Daemons. In his tale, the pony referred to the three as the Fates: Past, Present, and Future. The three of them together had the ability to watch all of time, controlling when and where the most important events of our history occurred.
In the story, the wealthy pony was visited on a dark and stormy night by a poor weaver seeking refuge. With nothing to pay for his stay, the weaver instead offered the wealthy pony a gift like none he had never seen before. The wealthy pony, having seen much of the world collecting on his travels, was fascinated that the poor weaver could offer something new to his experienced eyes, and he eagerly accepted. Days passed, and soon the wealthy pony became frustrated that the weaver had been incapable of procuring this “gift” that he spoke of.
Finally, the wealthy pony confronted the weaver for taking advantage of his hospitality. At sword point, he demanded the weaver produced the gift immediately, or be slain on the spot. Before the killing blow could be struck, however, the weaver suddenly divided into three creatures. His head and neck crawled off of his body, his torso wandered away, and his arms and legs were left remaining.
The three creatures announced in unison that they had seen enough, and cornered the terrified pony in the room. The arms and legs told him that if he wanted the gift so badly, then he may have it. The head and neck drew a piece of sunshine from the window which shined brilliantly like a star in his mouth. It was then taken by the arms and legs, which spun the piece of sunshine into a golden thread that was handed to the torso. The torso then bestowed the thread upon the wealthy pony, saying that if the torso were to cut the thread, the wealthy pony would surely die.
That was the weaver’s gift: the strand of light that made up his very life. It was indeed a priceless treasure, one that the weaver found the wealthy pony had taken for granted in the days he spent in his estate. His life was selfishly alienated, despite the fact that the thread was meant to be part of a much greater quilt of all life. Because the wealthy pony was determined to live for himself and his own personal gain, perhaps it was better for the strand to be in his care. The torso finished by telling him that as long as that string was never cut, the wealthy pony would live eternally, never coming to harm.
Before the wealthy pony could apologize for his rudeness to the curious creatures and thank them for so generous a gift, the three of them vanished without a trace, never to be heard from again.
The wealthy pony was overjoyed at the curious golden thread, eager to test its powers and ignorant of the true meaning of the gift he was given. Putting it in a small bottle on his mantle, the he went out to experience the world for three lifetimes, enjoying food, drink, and pleasurable company unlike any other ponies have yet to experience.
Eventually, this lifestyle bored the wealthy pony. He was tired and sad after outliving even his great-grandchildren and being there to watch every loved one he ever had pass away. He then began to realize the gravity of his gift. He was truly incapable of completely sharing his life with anypony he cared about.
The legend concludes that this pony still wanders Equestria to this day, half-mad from loneliness, incapable of death.
Caramel was left speechless at the end of Princess Twilight’s story. Could the One Who Draws the String be the arms and legs of the weaver from the story? Did he really bare witness to such a powerful and dangerous creature?
“If you have had an encounter with what you think you have,” Princess Twilight became very serious, “And after placing your consciousness back into your body, I think you have.” She helped him off of the bed and onto his own four hooves, “Then at least for now, it would be wise to do as It says. Once we know what Its plan is, we can decide where to go from there.” Caramel blinked, almost incapable of believing what he was hearing.
“Does that mean...?”
“Yes, Caramel Twist. I would like you to become my pupil in the studies of magic.”
Colter Avenue: a hustling, bustling nexus of color and taste. Each and every storefront, regardless of its wares, was as bright and cheerful as the sun that peeked over the square at the end of the lane in the mornings. This was the perfect spot for Sweetie Belle to give her two closest friends, Applebloom and Scootaloo, a day they would never forget during their short time in Canterlot.
It had been so very long since the last time she had seen either of them. She still had mixed feelings about her new fancy private school away from Ponyville. Part of her still wished that she could have gone to Ponyville High with her two best friends. Forcing these feelings down, Sweetie Belle was determined to enjoy herself and her time with her friends in these few days that they had.
“This place is amazin’, Sweetie Belle,” Applebloom’s eyes glittered with delight. She had grown much taller than Sweetie Belle over the years. She had the charm and the heart of her older sister, but beneath all of that was the strength and stubbornness of her older brother. She knew it was just hormones talking, but Sweetie Belle was always jealous of Applebloom’s looks after her growth spurt at the end of elementary school.
“I don’t even know where to start...” Scootaloo gawked at the sight before her. The culture was overwhelming.
Scootaloo had grown even lankier than the last time Sweetie Belle had seen her. As she moved the black stripe in her hair out of the way, Sweetie Belle couldn’t help but chuckle to herself about when Scootaloo first got it. She swore up one side and down the other that it wasn’t grease from the auto shop, but Sweetie Belle and Applebloom didn’t see it until after she had started spending most of her time there. At every chance she got, Scootaloo would talk about some new device she was working on. She would be able to ride it like her motor scooter, but it used a larger vehicle motor and four wheels. A “kwad”, or something like that.
“We have the whole day ahead of us,” Sweetie Belle beamed with glee. “Where do you want to start?”
~
~
“Ah... I can’t eat another bite.” Scootaloo hung herself over a chair at a cafe, stuffed with lunch.
“Ah hope so,” Applebloom shook her head, “Ah’m not entirely sure what ya did with the first two plates.”
“So... what do we want to do next?” Sweetie Belle was eager to get on her feet again.
“The money ah brought didn’t last as long as ah thought...” Applebloom’s coin pouch jingled with only a few coins when she shook it. It was disappointing.
“Yeah... lunch was a bit more expensive than I thought...” Scootaloo patted her stomach, stretching her wings to get more comfortable.
“Hmmm...” So they needed something that would take a few hours, be relatively inexpensive, and still be something fun that they could only do in Canterlot. She had an idea. “Do you guys remember Miss Cupid? The fortune-teller that came to Ponyville when we were little?”
Her friends’ blank stares provided answer enough.
“Well, there is this awesome fortune-teller at the end of the lane that uses tarot cards. It’s pretty cheap, and should be good for a laugh.”
“Why not?” Scootaloo stood up, bending forward to stretch her back.
“Ah’m in.” Applebloom smiled, and the three of them went together.
A red painted building at the end of the street was their destination. Cards dangled about the windows, amongst the flowers, and fluttered around and around the entrance, as if caught in an indecisive breeze. A closer inspection revealed that each card’s peculiar movement was stimulated by a faint magenta aura.
“All of this is done with magic?” Scootaloo was amazed. There had to be dozens of cards outside the building alone that were all moving at the same time.
“Indeed.” A voice inside made the three of them jump. A familiar unicorn, hair in coils about her face, stood in the doorway.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Cupid.”
“Miss Cupid, Sweetie Belle,” her magical studies teacher corrected her. “And I’m not teaching right now, so just Cupid will do. Who are your friends?”
“Applebloom, ma’am,” She gave a small curtsy.
“And I’m Scootaloo.”
“Charmed,” Cupid’s flat voice sounded uninterested, but her small smile inclined the three of them to think otherwise.
“Well, Sweetie Belle, let’s not leave your friends in the sun. Come in and have a seat. The cards have been waiting for you.”
“Wait...” Sweetie Belle shook her head. “Why do I have to get my fortune told?”
“Come now, Sweetie Belle, what manner of fortune teller would I be if I couldn’t see the future?” She looked up at the cards that flitted about above their heads, searching for an explanation. “Applebloom is too embarrassed, and Scootaloo doesn’t appear to have any money at all.”
The friends looked at each other.
“How did she do that?” Scootaloo was amazed.
“Ah wouldn’t be a very interestin’ read anyways, Sweetie Belle...” Applebloom was already turning pink.
“All right, all right.” Sweetie Belle knew she had lost before they had started.
The three of them came in and had a seat at a small table in the center of the busy room, with Sweetie Belle in the middle. It had a deep red tablecloth that hung off the sides, ending in tassels that moved with the breeze from the window. Hoof-reading diagrams and charts of astral symbols lined the walls on all sides, except for a cupboard containing a collection of glass ornaments on the far wall. Within it included the twelve animals of the zodiac, a collection of odd-shaped vials, and a magnificent, opaque, crystal ball. A faint smell of lilac hung in the air; Sweetie Belle observed that it was there in class as well, and most likely was Cupid’s favorite perfume.
Once Cupid started speaking, the cards from all over the house came whisking over to the table in a flash of colors, “The secret of card reading is to be as relaxed as possible.” Cupid appeared before them dressed in a silk robe that almost touched the floor. “My favorite color is red,” she moved about the room, waving over lazier cards that dawdled over to the table, “and lilac has always kept my head clear.”
“How do you manage something like this? It seems really complicated,” Scootaloo was overwhelmed by the performance before her. The cards shuffled and reshuffled over and over, making shapes, patterns, arcs, and loops.
“Well,” The look in Cupid’s eyes suggested she was half-awake, but Sweetie Belle knew that she rarely looked different, “I was raised to speak with the cards.” Cupid’s smile hinted at admiration. “I really don’t have any control over them anymore. I am more so here to interpret what they have to say. Think about it: if I knew what cards were where in the deck, I could choose whatever fortune I want.” She shook her head, “That’s not fortune telling. The cards will show you what they want you to see.”
The three of them were silent with wonder. The deck sat in the middle of the table, occasionally quivering, as if eager.
“My cards can tell you past, present, or future. Love, spirit, wealth, and the mind are all at the whim of the cards. Do you have a question?” With a delicate hoof, Cupid spread the cards in a circle around the edge.
“How about a loooooove fortune?” Scootaloo elbowed Sweetie Belle as a wicked grin curled on her face.
“Wh-what?” Sweetie Belle’s blood shot to her cheeks. “Do I have to?”
“Well, can ya think of anything better?” Applebloom liked the idea of hearing a love reading.
“Is there a Shining Armor in your future?” Scootaloo put her hooves together, kissing at the air.
“Stop it, Scootaloo,” Sweetie Belle pushed at her to get her away. After some thought, she came up with a safe compromise: “Is there anything special coming up that I should know about?” Scootaloo pouted that it wasn’t directly about love, but settled for the fact that it very well could be.
The cards rippled to life on the table, spinning around and around in a circle before stopping in front of Cupid, a single card breaking the formation.
“This first card describes the event you are referring to,” Cupid explained before revealing it to anypony. “It will tell us something about the events to come for you.”
The card revealed itself as a swirling torrent of wings. Cupid nodded at it. “This is the Eight of Wings. It means that the event in your future will be difficult to overcome. Perhaps impossible at first. When you first discover it, you will certainly get stuck.”
The air became very thick with Cupid’s words. Sweetie Belle didn’t like the sound of that, but said nothing. The cards moved themselves into a tall, single stack on the table.
“This next card will tell us if this event will come with help. Surely, you wouldn’t try to conquer an impossible task on your own, would you?” Sweetie Belle shook her head.
The card on top was a pony in a feather-topped hat. He carried a light sword and had expectant-looking eyes. A smile curled on the side of Cupid’s face. “This is the Knight of Hooves. He is a good ally to have on your side. He is passionate, romantic, and will defend you until the end of his days.”
Scootaloo crowed as Sweete Belle’s face turned scarlet. Cupid ignored her, “He could represent a new relationship in the future. A new friend, or someone wanting to become more than friends.” The cards then made a circle with a cross in the middle.
“Before I reveal the third card, is there anything you want to ask the cards to make it more specific?” Sweetie Belle’s arms flapped uselessly as she spouted, “Gobacktotheproblemplease!” Cupid stifled a giggle.
The card Cupid turned depicted a pile of wands. “The Seven of Wands. Unfortunately this is not the best of cards, given your situation. This card means it will take everything you can muster to overcome this problem. It will be no easy feat when this card rears its head.” Sweetie Belle’s look turned even more sour.
“Aw, cheer up, Sweetie Belle. We’ll do whatever we can to help you.” Applebloom put a hoof on her back to try and relax her.
“The final card that I will turn is your incentive. This is the fun part. This card will show us what your reward, your just desserts, so to speak, will be when you complete this task.” The cards, responding to the end of her speaking, began organizing into flurries of shapes and ornaments. Cupid wanted her last card to be particularly flashy to try and pull up Sweetie Belle’s mood. After creatures and symbols made of cards covered the table, the cards all floated up into the air in formation, creating a great chandelier on the ceiling.
Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Applebloom were at a lost for words as the magenta glow above them sparkled and slowly gyrated.
After a moment or so, a single card dropped out of the center of the great formation, flitting down to the table by gravity alone. It landed on one corner, did a three-quarter spin, and flopped down on the table face-up. It was completely blank.
All four of the ponies sitting at the table leaned in close to examine the card.
“The Wild card.” Cupid smiled at Sweetie Belle. “The cards can’t tell me what your reward is.”
“Why not?” She didn’t like the sound of that. “Does that mean there is no reward?”
“Quite the contrary,” Cupid held up a hoof to silence the white pony before her. “My cards can tell many things. Enduring love, great knowledge, eternal wealth, and new adventures are all at their beck and call, but what you will receive is something not even my cards can predict.”
The three ponies were fixated on the blank card now, eyes sparkling with imagination.
“I believe it may be best to take your friends back to their hotel, Sweetie Belle,” Cupid gestured outside. “Darkness quickly falls and the chill it brings will be bitter.”
The three friends thanked her for the reading, payed her, and took off into the twilight, laughing in their elevated mood.
Waiting for the three to disappear out of earshot, Cupid beckoned a chair over to the table and sat down, sinking deep into its cushions. She watched the card that lay on the table without blinking, lost in thought. The smile had long since vanished from her features. After a while, a cup of tea floated over and Cupid drank heavily from it.
My deck of cards is one of a kind; passed down for eight generations through the seers in my family to give us insight into the futures to come. I have watched these cards since I could hardly walk, and I know every single one of them better than I know my own mind. I could call all of them, by name, right now, except for this one...
