//------------------------------// // Scheri 2: Ausfall // Story: Shattered Reflections // by Stalin the Stallion //------------------------------//         There it was again, that sound. Discord glanced left towards the sound, towards the Everfree forest. “No,” he muttered under his breath, “it couldn’t be.” Thump-thump-thump-thump came the rapid beat once again. “No...” It echoed again like the chorus of the damned. “But yet...” He stood up, leaving behind his gilded throne. Bathed in the warmth of his artificial sun, a beacon of light and light in an otherwise shadowy wasteland, he took a step towards the Everfree forest. The drumbeat-like sound only got stronger. “Metus... You’re supposed to be dead.”         “-And so then the chocolate rain ran out and I had to find other sources of chocolate, so I was wondering if you gimmie my own chocolate rain cloud?” Pinkie finished, shooting Discord a smile larger than any smile should logically be.         Discord snapped his focus back to Pinkie, his pet Element of Harmony. Her bright pink coat and slightly darker pink mane made her look like cotton candy given life, and it also made her look like a naturally-born denizen of the chaos of which Discord lorded over. With a snap of his fingers, a pink cloud of cotton candy magicked into existence above Pinkie, proceeding to drench her in a chocolate rain. “Knock yourself out, kid.”         All around the two of them stood the Capital of Chaos: Ponyville. Once a pointless backwater settlement of the edge of the Everfree, Discord had since turned it into his capital. The horizon, though, was always slightly blurred by the translucent shield which protected the Ponyville region from harm. He glanced down to the black-and-purple checkerboard pattern that passed itself off as the ground.         Thump-thump-thump-thump. Discord snapped his attention back in he direction of the forest. With a snap of his talons, he found himself at the edge of the forest, right where his shield ended. This far out of the city proper, the grass was green, and lush. “Metus, Metus, Metus, wherefore art thou?”         “Well, well, well, look what we have here,” a voice from behind Discord said, prompting the draconequus to spin around. There, sitting on a fence, was the gangly form of Metus whose painted smile and nigh faceless face stared back at him. Metus shook his head. “And you’re misquoting Shakespeare. Wherefore art thou basically means ‘why are you named as such’. Do your homework before you quote something, dear friend,” he said in a steely tone.         Discord’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be able to get past my shields.”         Metus, levitating into the air, chucked. “Did you think you could just kill me, Discord? Did you honestly think that you could savage my soul for all eternity is the abyss of torture and illiteracy? Did you honestly – if even for a second – think you’d never see me again‽”         “That was the idea,” Discord hissed.         “Yes, well, there always was one fundamental problem with you, friend.”         “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”         Metus adjusted his hat. “You were born without a brain.” He put a hand to his breast. “See now, I was given the brains, you were left without,” said Metus, in the tone of one who knows for a fact that he is smarter than anyone else within earshot.         Discord laughed. “So you got lucky and found me again! What of it? I’m still here, and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon. It was bad enough the Twilight and her Elements turned me into stone back in the other ‘verse, and that’s not gonna happen again here.” He snapped his fingers, conjugating the likenesses of Twilight and her five best friends, all clad in the likeness of sultry tavern wenches.         “Cute,” Metus deadpanned. “But you underestimate me, Discord. See, I didn’t just find you at random. I hunted you down with the help of Nevermore. And now I’ve got you marked for death.”         “Marked for death? Why, if that isn’t the most cliche thing I’ve ever heard.” He snapped his fingers, changing the likenesses of the Twilight and her friends into surly, world-weary waitresses.         “Do you remember what happened to the Fate?”         Discord pulled out a newspaper, flipping to the obituaries. “Yes. She died. The only spirit to ever die. Why?” Metus tapped two fingers to his temples. “See now, I like a good sport as much as the next pseudo-corporeal and immortal entity. That’s why I’m here, brother. I’m here to warn you that in a few week’s time, this whole world’s going to the doghouse. To quote a few things that I love to read: Vaulting, veering, vomiting up the values that victimized me, feeling vast, feeling virginal... was this how Fate felt? This verve, this vitality... this vision... La voie... la vérité... la vie.” Discord blinked. “Voilà! In view, a humble vaudevillian veteran, cast vicariously as both victim and villain by the vicissitudes of fate. This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished. However, this valorous visitation of a bygone vexation stands vivified, and has vowed to vanquish these venal and virulent vermin vanguarding vice and vouchsafing the violently vicious and voracious violation of volition! The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain, for the value and veracity of such shall one day vindicate the vigilant and the virtuous.” Metus giggled. “Verily, this vichyssoise of verbiage veers most verbose, so let me simply add that it's my very good honour to meet you and you may call me Dein Sterben zu Kommen.” “Vendetta?” Discord chuckled, pulling out a mug of rubbing alcohol. He brought the wooden mug to his lips; rather than the the liquid being consumed, the wood washed into his mouth like a liquid, leaving the alcohol floating in the air. “That's all you’re gonna do? Taunt me by quoting comic books, you nerd?” Metus tipped his hat. “She cometh, a caustic spideress. With a wise way with well-wishers, will thy now-weary widow weaponize what is not war but affection and almost an amour.” He shoved his face into Discord’s. “Forever free from fate, fiend, forthcoming now my fire of furious frost, ye foul farce for factual flesh – for fate feels only für fleisch von mir, ye forewarned and finely froschéd fury to face being felled! Discord, die down thine dysfunctional din, this detritus doomed darkly to demise ‘cause your lack of discontinuation doth deem itself dangerously dashing, danceable even – a mere myopic-made misconception at most! ” If Metus had possessed lungs, he would have been panting. “You have no idea for how long I’ve obsessed over saying that.” He glanced towards the forest. “Thou hast seeded the wind, brother,” Metus growled, “and now ye reap the whirlwind.“ Discord held up a paw. “Are you still bent outta shape over that? Oh come on, it was ten thousand years ago.” Metus hissed. “For you, yes. But now see, you tried to put me in there for the whole of ever. And though I screamed ‘till my soul was numb, I found nothing to read, no books to love, and no one to hear me. Do you know what it’s like to be barred from knowledge or literature for ten thousand Terran years‽” “So what? You got out, much to my chagrin. And besides, we’re immortal. It’s not like that time’s gonna make any difference.” “I’ve been free for only four years!” A pause. “Sehnsucht ist so gruasam.” “I repeat: so?” “Amendment: we’re immortal but vincible. Just ask Fate.” “What’s with you and Fate? You hated each other.” Metus took a deep breath, though it was only for show. “Lass mich loss. Those are the words which I screamed for ten thousand years. So lauf, mein kleiner Speilzeugmann, because I have what I need to be more.” Discord flicked Metus on the face with a claw, hitting right where his nose would have been if he had possessed one. “Oh, come now, Metus. You always were the weakest and nerdiest of our little family of divine spirits.” He laughed. “You don’t even have a face! You had to get one painted on!” “Mein Reich komme. Mein Wille geschehe.” Discord puckered his lips into a frown, putting a finger to his bottom lip. “I come to you this day to say that I, Metus, have won.” “You are not God,” Discord snickered. “Odd, I should be the one getting told that line.” He snapped a finger at Metus. “Quit stealing my thunder!” Metus shook his head, floating backwards as if performing a backstroke. “I’ve finally trapped you in my own little Xanatos Gambit, brother. No matter how this ends, I win.” Discord cocked a brow. “See, I have charged a chivalrous though currently uncheery champion this day. No matter what happens to this champion, I win. Should this hero perish, I gain this hero’s immortal soul for my devices. Should this champion succeeded, then I... Well, let’s just say that it’ll be like what you did to me, only more painful by a factor your pathetic mind couldn’t even begin to comprehend.” “Gain a soul?” Discord chuckled. “Don’t make me laugh, only Mors can do that.” “Brüderlein, if there’s one thing I’ve learned how to do well over the years, it’s how to cheat the system.”         “You don’t scare me,” Discord growled. “You can pretend and bluff and lie as much as you want. But it doesn't change the fact that violence just isn’t in your nature. And you’re not nearly strong enough to do what you’re suggesting.” He shot Metus a smug smile. “So, I’m calling your bluff, little brother.”         “That’s where you’re wrong, Brüderlein-”         “And stop speaking multiple languages!” the draconequus snapped. “We get it, you can speak multiple languages. Speak normal words that we all understand.”         Metus sighed. “Listen here, brother dear, the Metus you know is dead. He was slowly tortured to death in the hell which you called a prank! For you see, brother, that I sacrificed what was left of the old Metus; he who stands before you is merely an amalgam of rage and hatred coming to aid their comrade Knowledge; for you see, I now am more than any one spirit should be.”         “Always the drama queen, eh, Metus?”         “And at the cost of a blood sacrifice, the blood of a divine spirit, and a ferryman's token of a piece of my immortal soul, I am reborn. Fate may be dead, but I have consumed her whole – her hair, her flesh, her eyes, her very soul itself, ingesting them and taking what is rightfully mine: Knowledge of all things, past, present, and the ability to weave the future. When the time is right, Discord, you shall now what it like to me tormented by even your own divine peers for so long; I come not as death but as Metus, the sovereign of knowledge and the weaver of fate. And now, on this day, I come to you to warn you of me so that I can watch you squirm, that I may learn from that which is unpredictable, and teach myself how to manipulate chaos unrepentant.” Metus vanished into the thin air, leaving Discord to his lonesome. Discord just stood there for three whole minutes, thinking. “No,” he muttered, “that can’t possibly be... A piece of his soul? He’s bluffing, right? Yeah, of course, he’s got to be-” “Discord!” singsonged Pinkie Pie, bouncing up to him. “Hey, so I ran outta the cloud ‘cause I kinda ate it and-” ***         Step by step, Twilight and Spike slogged through the sullen Everfree forest, the sun only a gleaming memory resting at the back of their minds. Instead of golden droplets of glorious sunshine reigning over the sky, the bone white of the moon stared back as if it were a terrible eye stabbing through an endlessly frozen sea of stars.         Despite the lactic burning in her legs and haunches and the sting of cold air in her breast, Twilight trudged through. All the while, a little voice in the back of Twilight’s skull kept clawing at her saying, “Maybe everypony we know and love is dead or dying”; “Why did your reflection move? Have we gone crazy, Twilight? A crazy pony can’t study the magic of friendship”; or the elephant vying for purchase at the back of her eyes with “What if Nightmare Moon and Discord are alive and well?”         Twilight pushed the thought to the back of her head, yet ever persistent they clawed and scratched, fighting like cats and dogs until she needed to manually force them back once more. Even though the air was moist and there were plenty of fresh water sources, her throat was dried to the point of choking on her spit. With every blink came the lashing of dry eyelids over her bloodshot eyes.         Another step, another burn of lactic acid. Another breath, another sting in her breast. Another thought, another joust with thoughts she wished not to contemplate. Another blink, another dry scratch of her eyes. Another swallow, another battle to the death against her own spittle. And all the while the voices kept gnawing at her.         Her legs grinding to a halt, she screamed, “Shut up!”         Spike, who had been trailing behind her, jolted to a stop. “Woah, woah, woah! I wasn't saying anything!”         “No, not you!” Twilight almost cried. “I can’t think with all these thoughts.”         He continued to stare at Twilight, though he did nothing for her. Gritting his teeth, he watched as she clasped her forehooves around her head, her body shivering, and her face falling to the ground due to lack of forelimb support. Spike swallowed, continuing to stare at Twilight. His tongue seized up in his mouth, refusing to heed his commands.           “It just doesn't make sense, all right‽ I don’t know!” she continued. “I don’t know why the sun hasn’t risen! I don’t know where we are!” She fell completely to the ground. “I don’t know! I can’t answer anything!”         His heart throbbing in his chest, urging him to do something – anything – Spike stood there, staring at Twilight through wide eyes. He moved his right hand as if to offer it to Twilight, only to pull it back to his side, repeatedly scrunching it into and out of a fist. Spike’s teeth clattered in his skull, demanding that he use them to form words. Yet he knew nothing to say that would do any good.         “Why‽ Why‽ Why‽ Where are we‽ When are we‽ Why won’t the sun rise‽ Why‽ Where‽ Why‽” she cried, tears streaming down her face.         Spike, standing there and feeling like the worst friend ever, extended a trepid hand to Twilight. Then a voice whispered into his ear: “Lauf, mein kleiner Spielzuegdrache.” He jerked his head to the left, to where the voice had whispered. Eyes scanning the forest even as Twilight continued to whimper, Spike saw nothing. “Kleine Drache, zartes Kind.” Spike jerked his head to the right, the skin under his scales tingling with the tendrils of worry.         “Hey, Twilight, do you hear that?” Spike asked.         “Haha,” Twilight muttered, “maybe this is just a dream .Yeah, yeah, hehe, just a dream. But then why do I taste the dirt, feel the touch of cold, and smell the rot of the forest, huh, me? Why?”         Spike ran a hand through his green frills. “Gimme a miracle, I need one,” he mumbled. A whisper-like sound reached Spike’s ears. Taking in a sharp breath through his nose, Spike took an unconscious step back. “Who’s there?” he growled.         “Haha! No, no, that couldn't be, could it?” Twilight chuckled, curling into a fetal position. “Silly. Alternate reality. Haha! Those don’t exist... those don’t exist.”         Spike licked his lips before muttering, “Have I gone crazy?”         Twilight leapt to her hooves, her left eye twitching. “Spike! I’ve g-g-g-g-ot it!”         “A stutter?” Spike dryly replied. He slapped himself in the face for his stupid remark. With a blink he took note of how disheveled Twilight’s mane and tail had become within the last three minutes.         “Remember that book I read about the guy who hopped into other ponies’ dreams?” asked Twilight, in the tone of one who has completely lost it. She whinnied. “That has nothing to do with this!”         Holding out his arms in a defensive gesture, Spike took a step backwards. “Twilight, have you been hearing voices? Or... whispers from the forest?”         “Why, me? Hearing voices?” she chuckled, her right eyelid twitching. “I certainly don't hear my own thoughts clawing at me, haha!” She blinked. “I... don’t know,” Twilight murmured. “It’s just that...” She glanced to a nearby tree stump, her eyes going wide. “Ooh,” she cooed, walking as if in a trance to the stump.         Spike cut a claw to his chin. “Twilight, I think that something huge is going on–and what are you doing to that stump?”         Twilight poked at the stump as if it would bite her. “I know this stump!” she chirped, still in a crazed tone. “Amphetamine, Testosterone,” she singsonged in a mechanical tone, “nothing left but a beautiful body.” Spike blinked. “Come on, Spike, we’ve – no – I’ve been here before!”         “I think you need to lay down, Twilight,” Spike said in a weak voice.         “Long legs, smooth and pretty – you can even stand on them,” she continued to sing. Spike took a step towards her as she spun around. “A good look, hooray. A small tryst in a separée.”         “SNAP OUT OF IT!” Spike barked.         Twilight blinked. “I think... My stomach doesn’t feel so good.” She turned back to the stump. “There’s a note inside this,” she groaned, levitating a notecard out of the stump.         “Wait, how did you know that was there?”         “I didn’t.” Spike made a somewhat plaintive expression. Twilight cleared her throat, looking at the paper. “It reads: This space for rent.” A pause. Twilight slipped the card back into the stump. “Spike,” she said in a calm voice, “I think we’re not as lost as I thought.”         “Why?” Spike asked in a wary tone, his body tensing up.         “Because,” she replied, her expression blank.         Spike sighed. “Twilight, we need to get out of here. This forest is messing with our heads, making us see and hear things. We. Need. To. Get. Out. Now.”         Twilight licked her lips. “You know what? I agree.” She ran a hoof through her mane. “I just don’t know anything anymore.” She slumped her head forwards, her ears going limp. “I just don’t know.”         Spike put a hand on her shoulder. “Twilight, take it easy. I’ve got your back.” She smiled, wrapping Spike a tight hug. “And no matter what happens, no matter if we go bonkers in this stupid forest, we’ve got each other.”         After taking a deep breath, Twilight sighed. “Yeah, yeah I guess I kinda...”         “Twilight, you don’t have to explain yourself. I know you better than you know yourself.” He smiled. “I’m sure that if we just keep going, we can go to bed and wake up to a normal morning.”         Moving her head down, Twilight nuzzled Spike. “You’re right. I’m sure this is just... something not to think about at all. For the sake of my sanity, let’s just ignore all of this and...” He bit her bottom lip. “Let’s focus on getting home, then we can worry.”         “That’s the spirit, Twi!” He glanced up. “See, at least the moon’s bright this night.”         Twilight, turning her head to the sky, chuckled. “Yeah, yeah I’d say so too.”         A smile ran down Spike’s spine, making his skin crawl. Narrowing his eyes, Spike stared into the darkness. “Anypony else got a bad feeling?”         “What do you mean, Spike?” Twilight asked. A rustle in the bushes prompted both pony and dragon to jerk their heads to the left. “What in the-” A pony burst through the cimmerian bushes, his hooves pounding through dirt, mud, and leaves, paying no heed to either Twilight or Spike.           With his dark-blue mane and state-blue coat, he looked more like some nocturnal denizen than a proper pony. Following him came a hissing mass of black shapes, each one the size of a housecat – and as Twilight and Spike really looked at the chasing mass, it became only too clear that it was a pack of fuzzy spiders, each with sharp fangs and legs capable of stabbing a pony.         A new, much larger beart jumped in front of the stallion: a black hominid with long arms ending in raptor-like claws; sprouting from its back was a pair of bat-like wings; its face was like a reptilian horror, its maw glowing a blue as the glow in its eyes. To the thing’s flank came a dog-sized coal-black moth.         The stallion stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes darting about like the cornered rat he was, he barked, “Solis Vult!” As if on queue, two more of the bipedal monsters leapt out of the brush. “Grata ad Mirabili.” The leathery bat-like monsters charged at him, the stallion responding by charging head-first at them in kind.         Howling like banshees, the hominids jumped at the stallion, claw at his flesh as they forced him to the ground. The stallion clocked the first monster in the jaw, sending it stumbling backwards. With a kick, he was back to his hooves, the monsters holding position around him.         “You wanna play rough?” he challenged. “Let’s dance!”         Once more, the beasts pounced on him, prompting him to hurl his body to the right, escaping the attack. The moth-like thing charged at him. Just as it was about his strike his face, doubtlessly aiming to gouge his eyes out, a bolt of purple struck in square in the chest, knocking it to the ground.         Glancing all around, the stallion locked eyes with Twilight and then at Spike. “Sun preserve me...” He jumped back from a monstrous claw’s slash. “Lady, use light!”         “Light? Twilight asked.         “Twilight, use a flashlight spell!” Spike said.         Twilight nodded. “Right.” From her horn burst forth a radiance comparable to the sun itself. Spike had to close his eyes then cover them with his arms just to avoid hurting his vision. The air filled with shrieks and howls of unrelenting agony. Yet the flare of light didn’t weaken, instead it grew stronger until Twilight was indistinguishable from the sun. Bathed in Twilight’s light, the forest looked more like a photo with a funny film gradient over it than a real forest.         Then the light vanished, followed by Twilight uttering a single grunt. Striking his arms from his face and open his eyes, Spike’s sight swallowed the ghastly image of Twilight splayed on the ground and panting. His skin writhing with panic, he dropped to his knees, putting a hand to Twilight’s forehead. “Twilight, are you okay? Twilight? Answer me!”         Pushing his hand away and raising herself on wobbly legs, Twilight replied, “Yeah...” She gritted her teeth and grunted. “I’m fine... I... think I used too much energy... and... stuff.”         Spike glanced to where the stallion had been, only to find nothingness, not even the stallion. “The monsters are gone, but where’d the guy go?” Spike muttered.         “A thousand thanks, Miss,” the stallion said, appearing out of nowhere and offering a shoulder to Twilight. “You don’t look so good, Miss.” Twilight found her body abandoning her, only held up by the stallion’s shoulder as he slid up next her in the moments before she fell over. “Woah now, Missy. Don’t you be fainting on me.” He smiled. Spike then noticed the metal lantern hanging from his next, casting a soft orange glow onto all three individuals Eyes scanning over the stallion, Spike’s inner draconian senses clawing at the back of his mind, urging him to be wary. Then Spike’s eye fell upon the stallion’s cutie mark: a pair of backwards-facing musical notes, though which kind of notes Spike didn’t know. Like a lightbulb going off in his head, Spike recognized the cutie mark, and by extension the stallion himself.         “It’s no problem stranger, really.” Twilight smiled, her legs still about as steady a newborn’s. “What where those things, Mr...?”         “Noteworthy’s the name, Miss. And those things were just your average citizens of this glorious forest.”         Spike pursed his lips to the side, his guess to the stallion’s name being totally accurate. “Strange name,” Twilight said, pushing away from Noteworthy. “I used to know a guy by that name, looked just like you too.”         A pause. Spike shook his head at Twilight, scrunching up his left eye. “What do you mean you don’t know him?” Spike muttered, cautious that Twilight not hear him. He didn’t know why, but his primal sense told him to roll with it. Fight it though he tried, his draconic side won over random impulse. Then the thought that his natural sense had just overcome his other, non-dragon side made him worry, though he pushed all thoughts of that nature to the back of his mind.         Noteworthy glanced down at Spike, his eyes going wide for a moment before he said, “Hey there, tyke, what’cher name?”         “Spike.”         The stallion blinked. “Ah, so you can talk? Odd, a dragon talking.”         Twilight chuckled. “It’s sometimes hard to get him not to.”         Noteworthy nodded, still staring at Spike. “Nice to meet you, Spike.” He looked back at Twilight, who glanced at her forehooves and chuckled. “Again, thanks for saving me. I’d be dead if not for your intervention. Your arrival-” he chuckled “-is so unlikely that I thought y’all were ghosts come to make sure my soul didn’t leave this wretched place.” He blinked. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry, ma’am, I didn’t ask for your name.”         “I’m Twilight Sparkle.”         “Twilight Sparkle,” he said, as if tasting the words. “That’s a lovely name... and kinda ironic, if ya think about it.” Noteworthy shook his head. “If there’s anything I can do for ya, I’d do such.”         “Mind telling us where we are?” Spike asked in a dry tone.         Noteworthy adjusted the brown neckerchief he wore. “Smack-dab in the Everfree Forest, Spike. Don’t ya already know?”         Twilight sighed. “If only.”         Cocking a brow, Noteworthy tilted his head a few degrees to the side. “Are y’all okay? And speaking of which, what’s a sorceress like yourself doing out here?”         She shook her head. “I woke up this morning in the middle nowhere, no idea how I got there, and then proceeded to get attacked by everything.” Twilight licked her lips. “We’ve been wandering through the forest for... what feels like ever.”         He blinked. “I find that kinda hard to believe, if you’ll excuse my suspicions.”         Twilight uttered a dry, humorless chuckle. “Nothing I can do about it. I don’t know anything anymore. My head hurts and I want to lie down.”         “Ditto,” Spike chimed. “I mean, is it just me or is the sun refusing to rise?” he chuckled.         Noteworthy took a step back, looking at Spike. “Morbid little guy, ain’t he?”         “Morbid?” Spike asked. “Wha-”         “I know, I know, laughter is the only way we’re going to overcome... but still, it’s kinda black to joke about that.” He shook his head. “Nah, I’m just being overly sensitive. It's been two years, I don’t see why we can’t make the best of the worst-” he shrugged “-you know?”         “I don’t follow,” Twilight said. “What are you getting on about?”         He cocked a brow. “You... you don’t know?”         “Know what?”         Noteworthy whistled. “Dang. You must've hit your head something awful. I’m surprised you can cast spells in that state.”         “What are you talking about?”         He sat down, blowing a puff of air out of his mouth. “How do I put this? Ah, yes.” Noteworthy cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I move into your rock?”         “My... rock?”         “Well, yeah. What rock have you been living under for the past two years? Wherever it is, I’d like to move in. Sounds nice.” He smiled at Twilight.         She flicked her tail in annoyance. “Please, be serious here. I’m honestly confused, and you’re not helping.”         Spike glanced to where the battle had occurred. Squinting at it, he sauntered off to the battleground. Noteworthy held out a foreleg, stopping him before he got off to far. “Woah there, little guy. Where do you think you’re going? Don’t leave the light, it’s bad for you.         “What do you mean?” Spike asked.         Noteworthy rolled his eyes. “Step out of the light, you die. My lantern ran outta oil, which is why those things jumped me. I didn’t have time to refuel the thing.”         “But,” Spike insisted, “we don’t have any lanterns or sources of light, and we weren't attacked or anything... Well, we ran into a few changelings and I saw saw some weird and spindly thing, but none of those... whatever they were that attacked you.”         The stallion tilted his head to the side. “That’s... odd. You sure you weren’t using your lady for a light?”         “Positive.”         “Odd... Very odd indeed.” Noteworthy tapped a hoof to his chin. “Well, Twilight Sparkle and Spike, I don’t know what to tell ya other than ‘see a doctor about that amnesia’ or ‘consider a career in rock-based real estate’.”         Spike bit his inner cheek as looked up at Twilight, her eyes half glazed over as she stared straight ahead like a corpse. He swallowed. “So then, Noteworthy, do you know where the nearest settlement is?”         He scoffed. “Ponyville? Why in the hay would you want to go to that rathole?”         “Ratehole?” Spike asked. Slowly, like a rusted grandfather clock, Twilight angled her head back to Noteworthy, a defeated look in her eyes that made the skin underneath Spike’s scales writhe.         Noteworthy chuckled. “Place ain’t been the same since ol’ Father Madness moved it. But you already know that, so there's no point in me explaining.”         “F-F-Father Madness?” Twilight muttered, her head slumping forwards, her pupils narrowing until they were barely visible dots against the whites of her eyes.         “AKA that sociopath who brings the false sun,” he said in a sardonic tone, “if you’re feeling dramatic. He and the good Führer have been at it for the past year, since-” He whistled. “Sorry, you already know this stuff.”         “Since what?” Spike prompted. A beat passed as Noteworthy stared at him. “I was recently hatched, you see,” he lied. He glanced at Twilight, his heart threatening to savage its way out of his chest. “A-a-and she’s not feeling too well.”         Twilight continued to give her foreground the thousand yard stare, her mouth occasionally moving as if she were speaking or praying, though no sound came from her lips save for incoherent murmurs. “Forty-two... impossible... ‘The night will last forever’... ‘Make some friends,’ she said... ‘Give me that book’...” Spike’s teeth gritted so hard as he watched her that his very enamel, the same enamel capable of eating solid diamonds, nearly shattered under the pressure; his heart, though, had stopped racing, instead resolving itself to sinking into his stomach and alternating between being shaking his body and thrumming blood though his ears.         The stallion sighed. “Well, since Nightmare Moon and all.” Twilight make a barely audible squeaking noise. “But, well, Solis Vult and all that.” Spike cocked a brow. “Solis Vult means ‘the sun wills it’. It’s one of the Führer’s battlecries. Sounds really cool, though I don’t really buy into his crap about ‘saving Equestria’ business or whatever.”         “Soil Vult,” Twilight uttered. “Führer?”         The stallion chuckled. “A nickname, I assure you. It means ‘leader’ in some dead language. You even spell it with these funny little dots over the U.” He tapped a hoof to his jaw. “If the story is correct, it comes from an old photographer lady calling him that, though she was being sarcastic, and it sounded scary; the name just stuck like that, inspires fear and other malarkey.” Noteworthy licked his lips. “Bah, I’m just rambling at this point, sorry. I just don’t know what to say at this point... I kinda have to get going.” He looked over his shoulder, down the road leading deeper in the forest.         “How would... we reach Ponyville?” Twilight asked, her words coming out as slow as molasses.         “You sure y’all wanna head that way? Papa Madness owns that whole region.”         “Papa? I thought it was ‘Father’?” Spike said.         Noteworthy shrugged. “Really, any sort of paternal title, including royal ones, before the capitalized noun of ‘Madness’ refers to the same dude, really. It’s all a matter of personal preference.” He sighed. “If y’all really wanna, just keep going down the road as you were. I gotta go the other way. And since you appear to be safe from them night thingies, I guess you don't really need any of my help, then. Anyways, thanks for helpin’ me, though, I’ll repay that debt someday, I swear it!” He took three steps back from the babbling Twilight before spinning around and trotting the way Twilight and Spike had come from.         “Wait, why are you going deeper into the forest? Shouldn’t you be trying to get out?”         “Nah, Miss. I’m looking for a special somepony.”         “Who?”         A pause. “My fiancee.” And with that, he continued trotting deeper into the heart of the forest.         Spike watched Noteworthy until he rounded corner and disappeared. Sighing, he put a hand on Twilight shoulder. “Hey, hey,” he cooed, “stay with me on this one, Twi’.”         “Four, eight, fifteen, sixteen, twenty-three, f-forty-two...” Her left ear twitched. Blinking, she turned her head to Spike. “H-hey, Spike?”         “Yeah, Twi’?”         A pause. “I don’t think we’re in Equestria anymore... not ours.”         He nodded. “Yeah, I think that’s been kinda clear for a while.”         Her eyes widened to the size of pie pans. “D-did I do this to us...?” Spike bite his tongue. “I-is this all... my fault? What if-” her eyes darted left to right “-this is all... my... fault?”         “Twilight, I’m sure that’s impossible. How could you’ve possibly done this?”         She uttered a single humorless chuckle. “Well, there was that one time I went back in time, which ended-”         “Stop it, now,” Spike said in an authoritative voice. “I – we – need you at your all, Twilight. There’s no way this is your fault, and worrying about it won’t change a thing. You hear?” A pause, then Twilight nodded, though she didn’t look at Spike. “I’ve seen how you get when things go... terrible, but not today, got it? I am not gonna have you being a blubbering wreck of my watch, okay?”         “I-I just...” She shook her head. “I just don’t know anymore. Life’s supposed to make sense – magic A is magic A, this goes there, and you don’t wake up in the middle of the Everfree forest in a world of monsters – you know, normal stuff.”         Spike chuckled, moving to stand in front of Twilight, forcing her to look at him. “Since when has our lives ever been normal? Life’s always been a series of odd and strange things leading up to weirder and weirder things.” He patted her on the cheek, himself smiling. “So just stand back, take a deep breath, and let’s face the music together.”         She rose her head, looking down the road towards Ponyville. “I guess we should go on,” Twilight muttered, her eyes still locked in a thousand yard stare.