//------------------------------// // Chapter 18: The World Tree // Story: The Education of Clover the Clever // by Daedalus Aegle //------------------------------// Dashing, bold pirate captain Clover swung across the landing and through the gates of Canterlot House. “Hello, dear,” said her father. “I and your father have hidden the treasure under your friends.” Clover and Star Swirl faced down the hordes of changelings that stood between them and the clock tower, but all she could see was the sound of the hourglass ticking away the moments until she had to stop the revolution before it was too late. The jar of salt spun before her eyes as she fell, and the Professor argued with a blade of grass and her exam was very disappointed in her under the jungle canopy while she climbed the ancient temple in search of Chocolate Bunnies and the Discordians. “Your exam is behind the altar of doom,” Tarsus’ voice whispered through her father’s face, and Clover felt herself falling. “Clover?” Clover was jolted into waking by the sound of her name. She opened her mouth to speak, but a yawn came out first. She pushed the jumbled images of her dream out of her mind. “Sorry, just tired.” She blinked and saw jungle. There was the sound of running water in the distance, and the cry of birds and monkeys up above. “Where were we?” “We are in the wilds of Sumareia,” Star Swirl said as he climbed atop a rock. “We are hunting for the Lost Jewel of Gilgamane. Also your parents are visiting.” “My parents are what?” Clover turned around and saw her parents. They were in the opulent penthouse suite of the Grand Hotel Cambridle, sitting side by side and holding hooves and shooting loving looks to each other. “Hello dear,” said Ivy Cordelia. “Your father and I love you very much, we just want you to know that.” Clover was staring at them in silent shock when she felt a hoof nudge her. “Come on, Clover,” Chocolate Bunnies whispered in her ear. “Focus on your exams.” Clover looked down at the exam paper. On either side of her were desks like her own, and students hard at work. The exam was going great. She had written fifteen pages already, and an easy A was in sight. Clover frowned. “I don’t understand what’s happening here.” A sixteenth page appeared, in her hornwriting, full of end-notes explaining ambiguous points in the prior fifteen. “No, the Lost Jewel of Gilgamane is definitely in Sumareia,” Chocolate Bunnies said. Clover’s parents both nodded in mutual agreement. Clover shook her head. “There was a… there was a revolution?” A stab of pain shot down the length of her horn, and disappeared as quickly as it had come, and she made a very undignified sound. “Oh, no,” said Chocolate Bunnies. “That was all a mistake.” Clover bit her tongue, and focused on what was in front of her. There was Professor Quick Quill at the front of the hall, nodding along as the students wrote their exam. She turned left. There was the Professor, climbing a vine to get up a rocky ledge. She turned right. There were her parents, all decorum and propriety replaced with comfortable affection, nuzzling with blissful glances that they had never shown each other in real life. What’s a good way to see if you’re under mind control? “It sure would be nice,” Clover said slowly, “to have a glass of chilled water.” One appeared on her desk, by her right hoof. “I wonder if this has a drop of lime in it,” she said before tasting it. There was lime. “That’s too bad, I hate lime,” she said, and tasted it again. There was no lime. “I sure could use one of Star Swirl’s special pebbles right now,” Clover said out loud, and waited. Nothing happened. “Interesting. So that means… um. That this isn’t real life?” She tried to puzzle out the logic behind her thought process. “Well, there’s an interesting logic puzzle. Can an all-powerful universe create something that it is powerless to create? Apparently not. Well, that’s an alternative to biting your leg to see if you’re dreaming I suppose.” After a moment’s consideration Clover bit her leg. It stung in the normal fashion, and otherwise nothing happened. “None of this makes sense!” she shouted, and Professor Quick Quill urged her to be quiet for the sake of the other students. “Am I dreaming? The last thing I remember was the fall—” Everything around her unraveled. In a message not carried in words, the universe said “please hold.” – – – Clover woke up. It was slow this time, moving very gradually along a spectrum from deep, restful slumber towards waking. Her bed had never been so comfortable. She felt like she was sleeping on a cloud, or what she always imagined sleeping on clouds was like – she wasn’t a pegasus, after all, and had never slept on a cloud. But all the pegasi she’d known chose that option, so she’d always figured they knew something she didn’t. She turned over, not because she was uncomfortable but just because her muscles wanted her to, and she was still too asleep to question her own muscles. The bed molded perfectly to her form beneath her, so soft that it felt like it wasn’t there at all. She could roll over with all four legs outstretched without problem, and her blanket kept her at a perfect temperature without lumping up or needing to be repositioned on top of her cloak. Wait, Clover’s brain thought without forming the words. Did I go to bed wearing my cloak? Wait. When did I go to bed? Wait. This isn’t my bed. Clover opened her eyes, and saw nothing. There was no ground beneath her, no sky above. She hung, weightless, in an endless void. She tried to open her eyes again, thinking that maybe it hadn’t worked right the first time. It made no difference. “Oh,” she said, and her voice sounded strange to her ears. “Okay, Clover, think. What happened…?” The memories flooded into her head: the university, the exam, the revolution, the coup, her friend Chocolate Bunnies dropping her from the top of the clock tower, the fall… She wasn’t in darkness. She could see herself, and a brief examination of herself suggested that, other than her newfound ability to float in empty space, her physical condition was unchanged. Clover frowned. “Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?” She looked around. The void was a shade of beige, neutral and not unpleasant, and Clover felt more than saw that there were stars behind the color, but wherever she tried to look it was impossible to focus on. Her thoughts went back to the dimensional rift she had visited with the professor. But while the rift had been cold, bitter, and spiteful, this place seemed pleasantly warm, comfortable, even welcoming. The rift had been a place of death, and this was not. Even though there was no horizon, she had a feeling that beyond it work was proceeding to keep the gears turning. “I don’t feel dead,” she said to herself. “I don’t look dead either, and I’ve met a few dead ponies… And this doesn’t seem like any afterlife I’ve ever heard about. It’s not cold, or burning… In fact it’s kinda comfortable here. It would be like being asleep, if I weren’t wide awake. And—” she reached out with her magic, and immediately flipped over backwards. “Woah there! Okay, background magic levels vastly greater than in Braytannia, and highly reactive… If this is an afterlife, I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to be here. Hello? Anypony? Any deities listening? My name is Clover and I think I’m lost! I’m supposed to be doing my exams. Any help?” “Hello, Clover,” a voice said. It was deep, and forceful, and rumbled straight through her. “Nice to see you again.” “Um. Hello?” Clover looked around her, but still saw nothing. “Have we met? Are you the voice of the universe? I’m sorry to bother you, but I think I’m lost.” “Oh,” said the voice, a slow sound by a voice that felt like taking its time. “No, I’m not the voice of the universe. I think. That’s a good question, actually. But no. Hold on a moment.” There was a great gust of warm, wet wind, and the voice said, “There. Is that better?” And then she saw it. Where a moment before there had been nothing but the void, now Clover found herself standing on a coarse, brown surface, stretching out far to either side of her before dropping off. It tilted upwards ahead of her in the distance she couldn’t tell how far, and the sky beyond it was green. It took her a moment to adjust her perspective, and realize she was standing on a branch, only one so large that she was like an insect by comparison. Then she turned around and saw the trunk, and her jaws dropped. “Oh.” “Hello, Clover,” said the tree, its voice coming from all sides at once, the rumble of it continuing after the words had ended. “I’m glad you’re here.” Clover only stared. It was impossibly vast, larger than Clover could imagine. The trunk rose up farther than the eye could see, hanging thick with crowns of leaves, reached down into a bottomless expanse. Its roots and branches were beyond counting, reaching out and bending so as to eventually block almost everything that was not blocked by the endless leaves. Water fell from the tips of branches that could have been rivers, down to hanging globules of sap so large she imagined they could hold worlds. “Mister Leafy,” she said feebly. “You’re all grown up.” “I’ve had a very interesting day,” Mister Leafy said. “I’ve met so many plants, and they were all so nice to me. I’m never alone now. I can reach out and touch everywhere at once. I can taste the sky and the earth like I never could before. And everything that used to worry me is gone now, like a bad dream. And I thought, it would be nice to tell all this to mister Star Swirl, and to miss Clover. And here you are. This is a good day!” The tree rumbled and shook, and Clover stumbled and fell like a foal on a trampoline. “Sorry,” Mister Leafy said. “I just can’t help myself. I’m so happy!” “I’m… Well, I’m very happy for you,” Clover said, getting back on her hooves. “I mean, assuming this is real, and not some kind of comatose dream I’m having.” “My roots touch the underworld,” Mister Leafy said. “My highest branches hold up the sun. I think there are new lifeforms growing on the undersides of my leaves, sheltering in my bark.” Clover thought. She shook her head. “No, that doesn’t really help me decide, sorry.” “I should tell mister Star Swirl,” Mister Leafy continued. “But I can’t see him anywhere, even though I can see every side of the sky. Do you know if he’s here as well?” At that moment there was a tinkling sound in the air that Clover would have recognized anywhere: the bells on her teacher’s clothing. Clover turned, and saw a robed and pointy-hatted figure in the distance, and felt flush with relief. “Oh thank goodness… Professor, I’m here! Can you hear me? Can you… oh dear.” The figure that came near was definitely her teacher, for some values of ‘was’. It had his robe and hat, his face and his beard. But its eyes were windows that opened onto alien galaxies that spun in accelerated time, a moment-to-moment firework display of light, motion, and explosion. In addition it was no larger than her head, it flew through the air like a paper aeroplane dragging its robe along behind it, and it had no visible body under its robe, like a bed-sheet ghost. “Hurry, student!” said the figure that was her teacher. “No time to waste! The Scattering has commenced and we have a near-infinity on our hooves! Time is passing!” Clover stared at him. “…Professor?” “Gawping is not working, student! The infant multiverse awaits! We have much to do!” Clover blinked. “Infant… what?” “The collision of cosmic interconnection and void substance! We have an unleashed potential gone critical! All the stars were once one, and we must restore the center!” Clover stared, opened her mouth, thought about it, but said nothing. “Did you understand a word of that?” she eventually asked Mister Leafy, who filled the air with the sound of rustling leaves, the sound of a world-tree shrugging its shoulders. She sighed. “I’m sorry, professor, and I’m glad to see you, but can we start from the beginning?” “The beginning?” the figure said, and nodded. “First was the great scattering. Then I found Clover. Now is the present. Now we must find Chocolate Bunnies and the center!” “Chocolate Bunnies? Is she here?” “All points are the center of the multiverse. Remember your lessons!” Clover stared at Star Swirl the Sprite in silence. He bounced back and forth like a ball on a string, making high-pitched noises of encouragement, and then confusion. “Alright, let’s try to do this slowly,” Clover began, and Star Swirl wailed. “First things first: where are we? I know I’m not dead because I have a pulse, right?” “First things first?” Star Swirl the Sprite tilted its head this way and that, then nodded. “In the beginning there was void matter, inert, but containing vast untapped power. Then came order, plunging into the void, and there was upheaval, volatile, and swift. In the mixture it created a field of endless possibility. It reached out for purpose, and purpose it found, in many minds. It listened to them, and they told it what the world should be, and so it was! Understand?” The Sprite looked expectantly at her, awaiting her response. Clover thought, and shook her head. The Sprite sagged. “No. Not dead.” “Alright,” Clover said slowly. That’s… good. I’m glad to hear it.” She looked around her, thinking hard. “Well… This place sort of reminds me of the dimensional rift. But that place was…” She shuddered at the memory. “It was vicious, and bitter, and spiteful. This place is almost downright friendly by comparison. Like it wants me to be happy here, but doesn’t understand how?” “Mirror,” the Sprite said. “Measurements. Conscious thought and magic! All number of things?” Clover shook her head, and it sagged again for a moment. Then it perked up, and stars flashed in its eyes. “Think back, student! What is today?” “You’re not being very helpful, Professor.” Clover sighed, and looked up in thought. “Today is my exam day. I was working on my exam when I got interrupted. I… I was up on the tower. Bunnies… She dropped me off the building.” The Sprite grunted in affirmation. “Yes. And?” “I fell off the building. I thought about how disappointing an ending this would be. I was killed for no good reason, for the sake of a revolution that doesn’t even make a lick of sense, by somepony I thought was my friend. I saw you down on the green, with Ginny and Tarsus, and you didn’t even see me falling. I saw the salt—” She froze. The Sprite waited. “The salt… I saw the salt hit the porridge. That was the last thing I saw.” The Sprite nodded. “What is salt?” “Salt is a seasoning.” Clover scowled at her teacher. “My little hoof-shaped jar of salt. I like that jar, you know. It’s the first time I felt like I was getting comfortable studying under you. And then you told me that my salt had hydras.” “Phase hydras.” “I don’t care what kind of hydras! There shouldn’t be hydras in salt, Star Swirl!” “Salt is—” “I know that salt is hydraphilic!” Clover caught her breath and stepped back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t yell at you, professor. It’s been a long day… Okay. Swirly Star told me that salt exists outside the universe… She and you used my little jar of salt to bridge the two worlds just so I could go home. At the time I thought that was the most ridiculous thing ever, but now that I say it out loud it sounds like a whole lot of work, and I don’t think I ever actually thanked you for that.” Clover sighed. “And to think I only used it to improve your void porridge.” “Very nutritious. Full of vitamins. Pure cosmic energy keeps you fit for fight.” “Yes, professor. And it’s delicious with salt.” “Yes.” Star Swirl waited. “Think, Clover.” Clover blinked. “The salt. Your void porridge tastes magical with salt. I saw the salt hit your pot of void porridge, and…” “Interdimensional mechanics,” Star Swirl said. “Depleted phase hydra nesting salt of cosmic possibility collides at high velocity with concentrated void substance.” “Right. Yes.” Clover thought. “So when I dropped the salt into the porridge I dropped the entire infrastructure of a multiverse into a pot of primordial cosmic mass. Which means you get… You get…” “Oh,” Mister Leafy said beneath her. “Hold on. I think I can show you.” Clover snapped out of her thoughts as the tree began to move. She fell to the bark with a yelp, and clung tight. Mister Leafy raised his branch, twisting and stretching and straightening, and lifted them out through the endless canopy, until the last clusters of giant leaves fell behind them, and Clover looked out and saw the sky. It took a few moments for her to notice anything out of the ordinary. At first glance it was indeed a sky, dark, and filled with pinpricks of starlight. But it was not the sky of Braytannia, or any other land of ponies. The constellations she knew were nowhere to be seen, and it was as she looked for them that she noticed the stars were all moving fast enough to see with the naked eye. Later on, Clover would think to herself that it was like being inside an optical illusion, that everything she looked at was simultaneously so small and close that she could pick it up in her hoof, and yet also vast and distant. Every star, once she focused on it, flickered, and took shape. She saw sights of ponies in the light of each star, she saw landscapes and cities and happiness and worry. Like windows to other worlds, like bubbles of soap, they moved. Clover looked. “Oh.” “Every star in the sky is a pony,” Star Swirl the Sprite said, looking up beside her. “Every pony is its own universe.” A soft aurora shimmered, thin sheets of light billowing across the heavens under the vast canopy of Mister Leafy. The sky itself was black as night, and yet the tree was brightly lit underneath it. The stars moved across the sky like the passage of an eon compressed into each minute. Clover swallowed. “So we are in a…?” “Infant multiverse,” the sprite said gravely. “Swallowed up everything around it. Everypony. You. Me. Everypony.” She looked from Mister Leafy, to the strange figure of the sprite, to herself. “So why are we…?” “It looks inside your head. Raw magical energies, just waiting to come alive. Waiting for shape, for form. It becomes what you think, what you want.” “And so Mister Leafy becomes a world tree,” Clover muttered. “And when I was dreaming earlier, those weren’t really dreams, were they? That was the universe trying to make my thoughts come to life. Only it didn’t work, because my thoughts were too incoherent to take on meaning.” They were silent for a moment. Clover looked out across the vast expanse, her mind turning. “They’re all out there…?” she asked, more to herself than anypony else. “Lost in a multiverse with no connection to our home.” She smiled. “Alright then. This sounds like a job for us, doesn’t it? What do you say, professor? We’ll go find them all and bring them back, and then we’ll find a way back to Cambridle.” “Find Chocolate Bunnies,” Star Swirl the Sprite said. “Undo the scattering, and restore the center.” “Find Chocolate Bunnies. Gotcha.” Clover nodded. She looked out at the vault of stars, trying to pick one out, but they were all alike to her. “Can you tell which one is Chocolate Bunnies?” “I might,” Mister Leafy said slowly, and somewhat uncertainly. “I can touch every world at once. I can see all the ponies there are. It’s… hard to pick out any one pony. They’re all shapes, and thoughts, and memories of each other. But I can taste some hint of her. Let me see… I think she is… that way.” Clover waited. “I can’t actually see which way you’re looking, Mister Leafy.” “Oh. Right. Sorry. Um… Gosh, giving directions that aren’t in Leaf is confusing… Hold on.” The great branch moved across the trunk of the tree, the bark bending around it, and straightened. “If you jump off the branch you’re on, and keep going that direction straight ahead, you’ll get to her in a little bit. I think.” Clover looked out from the relative safety of the tree to the endless bounds beyond, and gulped. “Leap into eternity,” Star Swirl said. “Then see, and know.” Clover nodded. She dug in her hooves for traction, then galloped towards the end of the branch. She jumped off it, and into the sky. The tree fell away beneath her as she flew, her legs moving instinctively. She felt nothing beneath her hooves, but she still felt like she was galloping, rather than falling. The stars moved above her, and ahead of her a pinprick of light was growing larger. It abruptly exploded and enveloped her, and a roaring sound like the birth of planets flooded her ears. – – – When the multiverse stopped spinning, and Clover regained her sense of her own physical presence, the first thing she felt was the touch of solid ground, and soft grass under her hooves. She let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. She let the blinking lights fade from her eyes and looked to see where she was. The grass was blue, almost black in night-light. Stone towers rose up around her in the dark, not in the nice orderly lines of Reneighssance city planning she was used to from Whinnysor and Cambridle, but jagged and uneven. They loomed overhead, leaning precariously as if they could not make up their minds if this was the night they would finally fall, and take everypony down with them. Cracks ran deep through the stone, and the shadows of ponies wandered past her, oblivious to her presence. “So, this is Chocolate Bunnies’s mindscape?” Clover said. “Somepony reads too many gothic horror novels.” When she heard no response, she turned and looked around her. “Professor?” Star Swirl was nowhere in sight. “Professor? Chocolate Bunnies? Are you here?” Nopony answered, and Clover suddenly felt very alone. Clover bit her lip and looked around her uncertainly. “Okay, Clover, don’t panic… You’re just in an alien world, all by yourself because the Professor is gone. But you know what you’re doing. There’s a plan. You’re looking for Chocolate Bunnies. You can do this.” She stood still for some time before she managed to persuade herself to move forward. She walked. The ponies – she was fairly sure they were ponies – around her ignored her, and went about their shadow-lives, walking resolutely and going nowhere in the ruined city. She tried to get one’s attention, to no avail. Even stepping out right in front of them only got her a snort before they pushed past. One particularly fragile-looking structure hosted what looked like a great party. Atonal music played feebly from a trio on strings and flute while a great crowd of shadows told the same stories and laughed at the same jokes under a roof that looked ready at any moment to collapse if somepony were to breathe in the wrong spot. An empty window frame was admired for the window it had once hosted, and the shadows agreed that it had been a very excellent window indeed. Clover wandered down the street, and felt that she was being watched. Strangers looked down at her from high windows, and when she looked up they made a show of turning away into their ruined homes, and pulling the curtains shut. She turned a corner and froze. The image was all wrong – the buildings were decayed and crumbling, the lines had lost their straight edge, grass was feebly digging its way up through the cobblestones, but there was no mistaking it. The university rose up in front of her, gaunt and ominous. She was in Cambridle. She turned and left the city center, starting to feel nauseous. Once she saw it, she couldn’t miss it: everywhere she looked, she saw the ruins of her home crumbling all around her, filled with ghostlike ponies who didn’t know or care, weighed down by an oppressive and forbidding atmosphere. She walked for what felt like a very long time, feeling her heart growing heavier and heavier as she went. Somewhere, she thought, there had to be something. Something that would give it purpose. She found it on the edge of the city. In the distance she saw a light glowing, and she walked towards it. On the outskirts of the city she saw a barn, a warm light glowing through an open door. She stepped into it. “Rocks,” said the voice of his father. “The whole world is made of rocks, son. Big rocks, small rocks, hard rocks, crumbling rocks, common rocks, rare rocks, valuable rocks, shiny rocks… There are a few rocks so big they hold whole continents up, slowly wearing against each other like dragons fighting… only at the speed of rocks. You can count on rocks, son. No matter what else happens, rocks will still be rocks. There’s not much else in the world you can say that about.” The pink colt with the purple mane looked around the field of rocks. Far away, on the horizon beyond the rock farm, there were buildings, and ponies, and crowded streets. He was fifteen when he walked those streets for the first time, his ears full of the sounds of ponies going about their lives, the rock farm far behind him. The lights! The noise! The crowds! He had longed to walk among them, to see their lives, to hear them speak. He dreamed of fireworks and rivers of honey-milk, where ponies would come. He had no produce to sell, no rocks, no nails and hammer, but he had a vision of ponies joining together to find a purpose larger than themselves. He stood in the streets and he spoke, but nopony listened. They looked at him, and they did not understand. “He’s an earth pony,” they said, “but he’s not a farmer, or a builder. What is he? He is a nothing.” And they walked away. Night came, and the ponies returned to their homes, and the streets were emptied of all, all but him, and the ponies in uniforms who chased him away. He wandered the streets, lost and alone, tired but unable to sleep on the streets that were as hard as the rocks he knew. He wandered until he left the lights of the city behind him, until he was out on the edges, where the houses are far apart, a stranger to all, not knowing what he was looking for. But there is one who welcomes strangers. There was a barn, and there was a light inside, and a pony who said to him, “we’re all strangers here.” And he wasn’t alone anymore. “What’s your name?” And he told her something false, and she chuckled. “Sure you are,” she said. “This is my dad’s barn. We hang out here at night. There are just a few of us, but you’re welcome to join.” “I’m not a farmer,” he said, and she flapped her wings. “Do I look like I am?” “You can’t know a pony just by looking at them.” They all knew the same story. “Why are we doing this?” “It will make them think.” “No it won’t. It never does.” “True. But let’s do it anyway.” Every night was another adventure. They painted walls for fun, when nopony was looking. He taught them how to make rocks that would burn in different colors, and she knew how to make them fly. They went back to the city, day after day, and talked louder, and nopony listened but it was alright now, because he knew that he had found his place and someday their time would come. “It’s okay,” he said to them, his back hurting. “They just don’t understand. But they will.” “Maybe there’s something we can do to convince them?” “Maybe. You know what we need?” Gallopsky grinned. “A carnival float. Hello there! Do you have a moment to talk about Lord Discord?” Gallopsky turned around and saw Clover staring at him. “Who are you?” Clover yelped and fell over. Gallopsky frowned. “Where are you from? You’re not one of them. You’re not one of us. So that means...” His frown turned to a grin. “Have you thought about letting Lord Discord into your life?” “Um… No thanks,” Clover said. “Listen, I’m trying to find Chocolate Bunnies. You… you know her, right? Have you seen her anywhere?” “Oh, right! Yes, I know what you want.” “You do?” “Yes! You want to join us for one of our gatherings,” Gallopsky said eagerly. “We have cookies! They might explode. But they’re delicious! And really, what kind of life have you led if you haven’t exploded even once?” Clover bit her lip. “Umm...” “There are few of us as yet. But that’s okay! More keep coming! Many of them leave again. But some don’t! And we have friends in low places, and that’s always more valuable than it sounds. You’d fit right in here! I know, I can tell.” He beamed at her with wide eyes that seemed to burn deep inside, his too-large mouth smiling too widely. “You’ve been around, haven’t you? Somehow when I look at you I get this feeling. Like you’ve seen more than most ponies.” Clover gulped. “Well…” “Yeah,” Gallopsky said, turning and staring out the door, towards the horizon. “Yeah. There’s a lot out there. But we’re in here. And the question is… who is in here? Are you? What are you looking for?” “I’m looking for Chocolate Bunnies,” Clover said, the words rushing out of her mouth. “You know her! Do you know where I can find her?” “Chocolate Bunnies?” Gallopsky mouthed the words, and a shadow fell across his face. His grin shrank, and turned to sadness. “...You don’t belong here,” he said again. “You are one of them after all. You can’t even see it.” He shook his head sadly. “Chocolate Bunnies… She offered us a deal with Discord. Of course we said yes. I wanted to let her in, we all did. But she was unraveling us just by being there. I could see it in her eyes. I could see it all around her.” He shuddered. “Everything she touched just… unraveled.” “Where is she?” Clover asked urgently. “Was she here?” Gallopsky turned to look at her and there was a deep pain in his eyes and it cut right through her when she saw it. “You don’t belong here. And you don’t want to see Chocolate Bunnies.” He turned from her. “Go away.” “Look, I just want to—” Clover began, when she felt the wind whip at her face and the rim of her robe flapping. She turned and saw a black gaping vortex open right behind her. Like a fly blown away by a sharp breath, she was thrown through it and evicted from the universe. She fell backwards through the cosmos, unable to control her movements, the ocean of stars whirling around her at dizzying speed, until finally she crashed hard against the bark of Mister Leafy. Clover lay on her back for a while, waiting for the spinning to stop. She opened her eyes. They stung, and she blinked. Star Swirl the Sprite hovered in front of her. His empty, star-filled eyes looked at nothing in her direction. “You fell,” he said. “Oh,” Clover said. “There you are again, professor.” The voice of Mister Leafy rumbled under her. “I can’t see that world any more,” the tree said slowly. “Did it go okay?” Clover got up, her head spinning. “I think…” she said, slowly piecing together the sounds, “I think I need more help.” “You are permitted to seek assistance,” the Sprite said. “You are trained in interdimensional mechanics. Every star is a pony. Find Chocolate Bunnies.” “Great.” Clover got up on her hooves and looked up at the heavens. “I don’t even know what just happened… But thankfully I have friends. I just need to find them… Hey, Mister Leafy? Do you know where I can find Ginny?” “Miss Ginny? Sure.” The branch bent, and turned to point at a different quadrant of the heavens. A lone, sharp twig pointed outward, directly at a lonesome star. “I think that’s her there.” “Thank you,” Clover said. Star Swirl the Sprite took up position beside her as she ran. Once again she suddenly found herself soaring across the heavens, her hooves carrying her confidently between the stars. The star-bubble grew in front of her, and through it she saw shelves of books and ponies. It opened up in front of her, and Clover landed on a stone floor with a clatter, drawing a round of loud shushes from all around. “Sorry,” she whispered, and looked around, and smiled. The Professor was gone, but she immediately recognized the familiar surroundings of the Cambridle University Library’s main hall. There in the center was the counter, that was more like a barricaded encampment from which librarians would send out expeditions to the far corners of the library. Around the walls students – ordinary ponies, she noted with satisfaction, not ghostly wraiths – were quietly searching the shelves, or sitting and reading. “Finally, someplace normal. That’s a relief,” Clover said under her breath. She walked up to the presiding librarian at the front of the counter and smiled widely. “Hi, is Ginny here? I really need to talk to her.” The librarian shushed her with an unforgiving glare, and returned to perusing her log book, occasionally stamping a page heavily. Clover steeled herself and spoke again. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I really need to find Ginny. This isn’t really a library at all, you see, it’s – well, it’s a long story. Is she around?” The librarian looked faintly annoyed to be interrupted. But before she said anything a bell rang on the counter, and the librarian looked down. Her lips pursed. “Hm,” she said and turned a skeptical eye to Clover. “It seems you’re in luck. She will see you.” The librarian turned and pointed to a stair farther in the hall. “She waits for you within the manager’s office. If you would enter, ascend the staircase to the uppermost floor and pass through the gates at the back. But enter only if you are certain of what you seek… for you may just find it.” “Great!” Clover said, and ran, ignoring the ponies shushing her as she passed. She raced up the stairs and found the door in question, a plain and functional wooden office door. She went inside, and jumped with a yelp as it slammed shut behind her, plunging her into darkness. Immediately after, she heard Ginny’s voice call out across the room, strong and loud. “Who comes to enter the inner sanctum?” Clover sighed with relief. “Finally, a friendly face… Well, voice. Hi, Ginny. It’s me, Clover. Listen, I really need to talk to you. There’s some pretty heavy stuff going on, and…” She fell silent, looking around, seeing nothing. “Can we get some lights in here?” A candle flickered to life up above her, and Clover looked up to see Ginny’s face peering down on her from a higher level. Her expression was hard, and cold. “A new suppliant comes to the inner sanctum seeking knowledge of the ancient mysteries.” “What?” Clover blinked. “No, Ginny, it’s me. Clover. Can we step outside for a bit?” “Silence!” Ginny commanded. “We have carried the ancient mysteries across the ages. We have protected the sacred arts of the shelves, of the stacks, of the silence. When the island of Naglantis was lost to the waves, we were there. When the Great Library of Bucephalia burned, we saved the scrolls from the flames.” One by one, more candles came to life above her, and Clover began to see where she was. She was in a round stone pit, and up above her were ponies in cloaks carrying candles. Something moved in the shadows to her side, and she heard a growling sound. “Ginny…?” “Only those who are worthy emerge from the rituals,” Ginny said. “Before you lies the gate. Enter it, and face your darkness.” Clover gulped. “And those who do not prove worthy…?” “They are eaten by the Library Hounds.” As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark Clover could see the strange dog-like shapes of aged parchment, their yellow eyes glowing with magic life. In front of her was an open doorway where the little light of the candles did not reach. Her heart raced, her instincts screaming at her to flee from the wolf-like creatures with all her might while her reason told her not to give them something to chase. She gulped, and nodded slowly. “Alright. I’m going in. But after this I really do need to talk to you, Ginny.” She walked slowly, trying not to make any sudden moves. Her head passed under the stone arch of the doorway. The door slid shut behind her, stone grinding on stone, and she was alone in utter darkness and silence. She relaxed. “Well,” said a young mare’s voice, “this is a fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into now.” Clover froze, her ears perked up. “Who’s there?” “Who do you think, moron?” Clover thought. She shook her head. “I have no idea,” she admitted. “Your voice sounds kind of familiar, but I can’t place it. Sorry.” “Yeah. That sounds like you.” The voice sighed in exasperation. Then she stepped forward, and Clover could see her: a young mare, green-coated and curly-maned, wearing a plain brown robe. “I’m you, dumbass. I’m your dark side.” Clover stared at her own reflection, who looked back at her with bored disdain. “Huh,” Clover said. “Okay then. So, what do we do now? Do I have to, like, fight you or something?” “I dunno,” Clover’s dark side said. Clover blinked. “You must know something,” she said. “You’re my trial to overcome, apparently.” “Yeah, they didn’t tell me anything more than they told you,” Clover’s dark side said. “You have the worst friends, seriously.” “I have great friends.” “Yeah right.” Clover rolled her eyes. “This is pointless. Are you going to help me get out of here or what?” “Oh sure, that sounds like a great idea.” Clover’s dark side said, and shrugged. Clover looked around the room. Even though there was no source of light, she found she could see the interior of the stone chamber clearly enough. The door she had entered was behind her, and another lay in front of her, behind her dark side. Clover took a step to the side and trotted around her double, watching her to see if she would do anything. Finding that her dark side did nothing, Clover turned her attention to the door: a heavy wooden door in another stone arch, with no handle. She pushed at it. It didn’t budge. “You won’t be able to open it,” her dark side said from behind her. “It probably doesn’t even open at all. Honestly, I don’t think any of this means anything.” “Certainly it means something,” Clover muttered, as she tried pushing the door in different points. “If Ginny wants me to go through this, then there must be a reason.” “This isn’t Ginny’s library,” Clover’s dark side said. “This is a made-up world of magic trying to copy her thoughts. Ginny has no idea what this is about. This is what happens when all your dreams come true. It’s just a big mess.” “I’m not convinced you’re really my dark side at all,” Clover said as she bent down and studied the outer edge of the doorway. Is this a keyhole, or just a crack? “Ginny! Hey! Can you hear me?” “She won’t answer,” her dark side said as Clover put her ear to the crack. “She’s probably forgotten you’re down here.” “My friends don’t forget me that easily,” Clover said. “Ginny! Please talk to me! I think the door is stuck!” “Quiet!” Ginny’s voice hissed from behind the door. “You have to defeat your dark side!” “Honestly, there isn’t much there to defeat,” Clover said, glancing back at her double. “It turns out my dark side is pretty underwhelming. All she does is make snarky comments.” “I resent that remark,” Clover’s dark side said. “This is your task,” Ginny’s voice said through the door. “This is the only way you can prove you are worthy.” “Worthy? Worthy of what?” Clover asked. “Ginny, I just need to talk to you! Can you please let me in?” “No! Not until you defeat your dark side!” “I don’t understand, Ginny!” Clover blurted out. “This isn’t like you! Why won’t you just talk to me?” “I guess you don’t understand your friends as well as you thought,” Clover’s dark side said, and Clover glared at her in response. She heard hoofsteps behind the door, and then a stallion’s voice speaking softly. “Maybe you should hear her out, Ginny. I think she means well.” “I know she means well,” Ginny said. “But she’s tainted. You know what happens to ponies who get too close to him.” Clover’s eyes went wide as something stirred in her mind. “Ginny? Who’s there?” “Never you mind!” Ginny snapped. “Face your inner demons!” Clover groaned in frustration, and glanced back at her dark side. Her dark side rolled her eyes. “Yeah, listen Ginny, I’m not sure this rite of initiation thing is working out.” “This is just as much of a screwup as everything else you’ve put your mind to,” Clover’s dark side said. “Come on, Ginny,” said the stallion’s voice. It was a nice voice, Clover thought. It sounded like somepony who was always smiling, who always made your day brighter for being around him. “Let’s just hear what she has to say.” There was a brushing sound, the sound of two ponies’ coats rubbing against each other, and Ginny sighed. “You’re always too trusting,” Ginny’s voice said. “Too forgiving. I am giving her a chance. I’m letting her take the rite of initiation! By rights I shouldn’t even speak to her. He was banned from the library for a year. He was expelled from the university for what he did to you! You were gone for so long…” “Shhh,” the stallion said. “I’m here now.” “You realize you’re being super stalkery right now,” Clover’s dark side said. “Shh!” Clover said. She turned back to the door. “Ginny? That pony you’re talking to… Is that Turner?” There was silence from the other side for a long moment. “Time Turner,” he said. “Do you know me?” “No, I don’t,” Clover said. “But you knew my teacher.” “Yes. I did… Come on, Ginny. Let her in.” The door slowly creaked open, and Clover stepped in. Her eyes took a few seconds to grow accustomed to the fresh light. She was in a cozy drawing room, with a roaring fire in the fireplace. Ginny was there, but Ginny as she had been when she was young, the same stern, knowledgeable gaze in a face free of wrinkles, with a full and colorful mane. And sitting opposite her was a brown earth pony stallion with a necktie and an hourglass cutie mark. “Ginny?” Clover asked. “I let you in,” Ginny said. “I’m trusting you, Clover. But I don’t like it.” ‘ “Be nice, Ginny,” Turner said with a chuckle. “I am nice,” she said. “I am a nice pony. I am willing to work with ponies even if I don’t like them. I tolerate things that I don’t really believe should be tolerated. I know secrets and mysteries that are thousands of years old, secrets and mysteries that will still be there when everypony now living is dead, and I still try to help ponies learn things here and now. I think that qualifies as nice.” “You are,” Turner said in a foalish voice, “the nicest pony I have ever met. Who can tie me down so I can’t escape in ten seconds flat. You are the nicest pony who knows unspeakable ways of getting your way. You are the nicest pony who can find references and make books doubt their own existence before the rest of us can say lickety-split.” Ginny smiled, a hint of blush on her cheeks. Her hoof found his, and they locked together. “You are so nice,” Turner said, tilting his head towards Clover, “that I think you’ll talk to her, and hear her out.” Ginny looked away and sat silently. Clover looked at her friend with worried eyes. “What’s the matter, Ginny? What’s this all about? Will you tell me, please?” Ginny drew a sharp, shaky breath. “You are,” she admitted. “You’re what’s the matter.” Clover bit her lip. “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.” “You’re walking a road that only leads to destruction,” Ginny said. “And I don’t understand it. You’re a good pony, Clover. You could do anything. What on earth are you doing giving your time to him?” “You mean the professor.” “Of course I mean him,” Ginny said, an anger moving in waves just below the surface of her voice. “Star Swirl the Bearded destroys everything he touches. He lives entirely outside of any civilized order, and he cares for nothing but himself. And you’re studying under him, learning to be like him. You defend him. You idolize him! You could have been a great librarian. But instead…” She shook her head. “That’s what’s the matter.” Turner put his arm around Ginny’s neck, and she pulled close to him, not wanting to let go again. “Even after all these years, you never stopped loving Turner,” Clover said quietly. Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “Do you even know what your teacher did?” Clover nodded. “He told me about his student days. He told me about Turner.” “I never really forgave him,” Ginny said. “He never tried to earn it, for that matter. He left, and I never saw him again either. Not until you came along, and brought us back.” Clover nodded, running over it all in her mind. “So you put me through this… challenge, because…” “Because I don’t trust you,” Ginny said. “I never really did.” Clover stood still, awkwardly trying not to awkwardly watch the ponies. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said. “And, well, I’m glad you’re still willing to be my friend. You’ve always been very nice to me.” Ginny looked at her, and her voice was cold. “You need somepony to talk to who can counterbalance his influence.” Their eyes met, and Clover could see the burning rage deep within. She instinctively stepped back. Part of her wanted to protest her innocence, to object to being blamed for her teacher’s actions. She stepped back forward. “This is a beautiful library,” she said, looking around the magically conjured drawing room, shelves full of books lining the walls. “You love the library. You dedicated your life to it. And I know you have very high standards, Ginny. You wouldn’t invite just anypony to join the Mystical Order of Librarians. So when you put me through this initiation challenge… One way of looking at that is that you don’t trust me, so you’re testing me. But there’s another way too. It’s an invitation. Because you think I’m worth giving a chance. A chance to prove that I’m…” “That you’re better than your teacher,” Ginny said quietly. She sighed. “Alright, Clover. I’ll hear you out. What’s going on?” “Well, the universe has tumbled into chaos,” Clover began. “We’re all trapped in our own private pocket dimensions that are taking their shape from our thoughts. The professor and I are trying to find a way out, but I’m not having much luck, and I was hoping you’ll help me. Because I think I need all the help I can get.” She looked uncertainly at Turner. “And this is very unpleasant, Ginny, but because I’m your friend I need to tell you—” “I know,” Ginny said, looking at the young stallion. “I knew before you came that it’s not really him. He’s just a figment of my imagination brought to life. By your teacher.” Clover bowed her head. “I’m sorry.” “In truth, I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive him.” “Honestly, he hasn’t forgiven himself either,” Clover said. She sighed. “I can talk to him. He’s getting better, really he is! I’m sure he would say he was sorry, if you talk to him. He liked Turner.” Ginny looked at Clover, and slowly shook her head. “Here you are, still standing up for him,” she muttered. “You are better than him, Clover. I don’t know what he did to deserve you. Alright. I’ll trust you.” Ginny turned to Turner, the young stallion smiling at her, warmth and love written on his face. “It was nice to see you again,” she whispered, and nuzzled him. She turned away from him and nodded. “We can go.” And then he was gone. And then everything was gone, and Clover was back with Mister Leafy. And there was a new star shining in the sky. “Well, that was sappy,” said her dark side. Clover grit her teeth together. “What are you still doing here?” “You didn’t defeat me,” Clover’s dark side said. “And I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”