//------------------------------// // Chapter 6 // Story: Ink // by kudzuhaiku //------------------------------// Twilight Sparkle found herself in a library and there was no sign of Sumac, which made her panic. “SUMAC!” she called out, and then she waited for a reply. When there wasn’t one, she shouted his name again, “SUMAC!” Frightened, her familial auntie worry started to become maternal worry as she began to look around, trying to figure out where she was. Again, she cried out, “SUMAC!” Once more, there was no reply. The shelves were immense, tall as towers on a castle, and the library seemed to stretch out in all directions, an endless expanse of books. Right in front of her was a book labeled, ‘Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship.’ It was an intriguing book, but she ignored it. Her heart was racing too fast for reading right now. Flapping her wings, she took to the air and flew upwards, hoping to spot a little beige unicorn colt. It was time to resort to magic. Charging herself up, she focused all of her considerable concentration on conjuring Sumac. The aether here was strange, or maybe it didn’t exist at all. After spending a full minute or more battling with herself to cast a spell, Twilight’s lip curled back into a fierce, ultra-aggressive snarl, revealing her broad, square teeth. “I AM TWILIGHT FRONKING SPARKLE, THE ELEMENT OF FRONKING MAGIC! I DON’T FRONKING CAST MAGIC, I AM FRONKING MAGIC!” Twilight Sparkle was absolutely certain that if her mother was here, there would be a thorough washing of her mouth with soap. She ignored her guilt and focused on her anger, finding it a far better medium for current magical artistry. Digging deep, she touched the spark within herself, and magic began coursing through her thaumaturgical system. Her horn flared brighter than Celestia’s sun and smoke swirled up from the tip. Strange, unknown motes of magic orbited around the spiral groove of her horn, and a rushing roar of sound manifested in her ears, like a train thundering down the tracks at top speed. Sᴜᴍᴀᴄ! The sound of her own voice terrified her, shook her to her very core, but she didn’t have time to think about it. Her body became a little less than real and she couldn’t tell if she was moving or the library was moving around her. She flew through shelves, though books, picking up speed, and her vision distorted, becoming a tiny bubble in front of her. It was blue in the middle and red near the edges, and she knew that she had to be approaching the speed of light if this was happening. Twilight was again afraid of her mother, because Twilight Velvet had laid down strict rules about obeying the laws of physics, and those rules were being thoroughly violated right now. How was she going to explain this? How would she survive this? How much had time slowed down? This was why you didn’t break the rules! It could be said that Twilight avoided evil because her mother had raised her with such high expectations and standards, and a healthy fear of maternal wrath saved the world from a Twilight turned Evil. There was an abrupt, sudden stop, and Twilight found herself nose to spine with a book. The book had a fancy spine, with a zap apple tree near the top, and it was titled, ‘Sumac Apple Lulamoon, Alicorn of Sorcery.’ This wasn’t what she had in mind, not at all, and she let out an angry, impatient huff. Something about the book title seemed off, but in her current state of anger, terror, and panic, she neglected to notice what it was. Seized with an idea, she yanked the book from its place on the shelf, opened it, and began reading the first few pages. Sure enough, this was a book about Sumac’s life, with every minute detail written down inside. The first few pages were terrifying, unpleasant, and made Twilight even angrier. Exerting her force of will, she forced the book to open to the present, hoping to find Sumac’s location and whereabouts. With a great and powerful curiousity, Sumac pulled down Pebble Pie’s book from the shelf, opened it, and began to read. He flipped around for a while to satisfy his inquisitiveness, and then figuring out how the magic of the book worked, he found far more interesting things to read, such as the first time that his fillyfriend had masturbated. “SUMAC APPLE LULAMOON!” Twilight bellowed, a fearsome sound that might very well echo through the library for all of eternity and then perhaps, beyond. Grinding her teeth, she shoved Sumac’s book back into its rightful place, and called forth her magic once more. Understanding a bit more about how this place worked, she shouted another name, knowing it would take her to Sumac. “Pebble Pie!” Again, the world around her had a blue-red-shift, and she went screaming off to part of the library where Pebble Pie’s book was shelved. This place was huge and she was travelling at super-relative speeds it seemed just to be able to transverse it. When she got to Sumac, she was tempted to give him a lecture. Not just any lecture, but THE LECTURE. The mother of all lectures. When she got done with him, Cadance would need to regrow his ears. When she laid eyes on Sumac, her heart lept up into her throat and Twilight felt the sort of worry that only a schoolmarm—no—an aunt would feel. She sucked in a deep breath, licked her lips, and then let fly: “SUMAC APPLE LULAMOON! WHAT ARE YOU DOING AND WHY DIDN’T YOU TRY TO FIND ME! I WAS WORRIED! SCARED SICK! I WAS TERRIFIED!” “I got distracted by the books,” Sumac said in the meekest voice he could muster, perhaps hoping to diffuse Twilight’s explosive fury. All of Twilight’s anger melted away, receding like winter snows in spring, leaving her conflicted. The lecture was still ready on her tongue, like dragonfire just waiting to spill out to set everything ablaze with her wrath, and all of her aunt-instincts told her to fire at will, but her bookworm instincts told her to be sympathetic. But then, she remembered that Sumac was a perverted adolescent reading up about his fillyfriend’s private activities. “Sumac, you put that book back or so help me!” “But—” “Put it back or I’ll tell Cloudy Quartz what you are doing! She of the Mighty Wooden Spoon!” Twilight’s threat made Sumac’s ears pin back against his head in foalish submission. “I know what you’re reading! I checked out your book to find you!” She sucked in a deep breath, and realised she had questions. “How did you figure out how this place worked? How? How are you so smart? And why must you be so perverted?” The colt shrugged. “I have magic here. Strong magic. I’ve never been stronger than I am right now, but I also have perfect control for some reason. The magic tells me how this place works. I think it’s my sorcery talent. Are you still mad at me? Am I in trouble? Do I need to beg for my life?” Sumac, still holding Pebble’s book, closed it and looked up at Twilight. “I understand the will and flow of magic, Twilight, you know that. It’s how my hypothesis formed. The magic spoke through me to let us all know there was a problem. You forget stuff when you panic.” Grunting, Twilight lunged forwards, snatched the smaller colt, and pulled him into a crushing hug. She fought to hold back tears, feeling an overwhelming urge, and she breathed in Sumac’s scent. Growling now, Twilight almost choked and she squeezed Sumac hard enough to make him squeak. Then, Twilight had an idea and it was almost like a lightbulb lit up inside of her head. Pulling her head back a ways from Sumac she asked, “How do we find Eternity?” “We go to her book, duh.” Sumac’s voice was strained and he had some trouble getting air. “Are you okay, Auntie Dearest?” “No!” Twilight’s honesty shocked her, and by the looks of it, Sumac too. A few inky tears escaped from the confines of her eyes and made a run for it down her cheeks. “You stinky little meadow muffin stomper, I should have your mothers ground you forever!” “I’m sorry.” Sumac’s apology sounded sincere, and there could be no doubt that it was. “You know me, I get distracted by stuff. I have a hard time paying attention sometimes. You were the one that encouraged me to go off on my tangents of discovery.” “When we get out of here, we’re both going in the corner.” Twilight had to fight to keep her lower lip from quivering and betraying the fact she wanted to sob. When Sumac kissed her on the lips, a quick, familial peck, she sputtered in surprise, as Sumac avoided such acts of affection like the plague. His poor mothers, all three of them, only got to kiss him like that once a year, during Hearth’s Warming, and they all made a big deal about it. It was an occasion, an event that involved pictures, and they spent the rest of the year reminiscing about it. Hearth’s Warming had come early this year, and Twilight decided to let Sumac off the hook. “Every life is a story,” Sumac said in a voice almost squeaky with awe. “Every story is a book. This library has every book that has ever existed and will ever exist. The ink flows here and even now, words are being added to more books than I am capable of thinking about. The ink can be guided, or it can be left to fill the pages on its own. The ink has its own sapience, its own will.” “Sumac, you’re kinda weirding me out right now…” “I feel really weird, Twilight. I came here, to this place, and something happened. Something changed. I saw my book title. After that, my magic woke up and this place began to obey my will. I suppose that after you see something, there is no unseeing it.” The colt let go of Pebble’s book and it floated off to put itself away. Blinking, he wiggled free of Twilight’s embrace and then looked his aunt in the eye. “I can feel the words being written, Twilight, and if I focus, if I concentrate, I can see them being written inside of my head.” Now calmer, Twilight tried to focus. At first, there was nothing, but then… in her mind's eye, she saw parchment, and spidery little letters manifested upon it in an endless stream. Who’s stream? What was she reading? Who was she reading? What life was this? What story? What book? What was she seeing? It dawned upon Twilight Sparkle that she was seeing her own story being written, and with each passing second, more words appeared. With each thought, a stream of letters was unleashed, creating entire paragraphs of living that filled entire pages of her book. Even now, the letters she saw at this minute, these letters, they were the results of her blooming, blossoming awareness. “Even now, the letters she saw at this minute, these letters, they were the results of her blooming, blossoming awareness,” Sumac said to his aunt in a flat, calm, monotone. “Observing it changes the outcome, and the developing narrative reflects the intrusion of will. Right now, your narrative is about to change, and a few sentences noting and explaining your realisation that what I am saying is true will appear in your book.” “How?” Twilight asked, flabbergasted. “I am a sorcerer,” Sumac responded, still calm and collected. “I am the needle in the groove of magic, and I can interpret those grooves, giving them sound. I can only channel the magic presented to me. My hypothesis, my accomplishments, all of it is because magic and I are connected. But your connection is even greater, Twilight… I am merely the needle inserted into the groove. You… you are more like the entire phonograph and you are capable of creating the records you play. You are amplification, force, and fury. And I don’t know where this metaphor is going.” “Actually, I think I understand,” Twilight said, and she did understand. “Sumac, come… we have a meeting with the author of destiny. The source of all of this… this… Project Eternity.” “Yes, Twilight, I know. The ink has been corrupted, Twilight. The inkwell is running dry and it is time to be replaced with fresh ink, ink untouched by Grogar’s influence.” The colt’s eyes narrowed, and he began to look around. “I’m ready if you are, Twilight. The ink must flow.” “Yes, it must,” Twilight agreed, and she had some awareness of what she must do next. Ears twitching, hearing the sound of a thousand quills, a thousand pens, all of which were scratching words onto paper, Twilight began to feel the will, the flow of magic. Looking down at Sumac, she knew that one of them was going to have to become the Librarian of Souls. This was the place where cutie marks originated, where stories developed, where entire lives and purposes were committed to books representing life. Wings flaring, Twilight’s entire body crackled with arcane energy as she began to believe. Ink dripped from her feathers and the spiral of her horn was now black with the glistening liquid. Sumac’s was as well, and the ink ran down their faces, staining them, turning them black, giving them ink-blot masks that were ever-changing. “Eternity,” Twilight said, breathing the word through her lips and teeth. At first, nothing happened, but then the magic began to manifest...