//------------------------------// // Chapter V - Larceny // Story: Subject #4: "Determination" // by Starlit Rose //------------------------------// Sunset looks at the Wondercolt Statue. The marble monument shines in the afternoon sun. Freshly polished too, with nary a speck of dust on it. The groundskeeper must have done a last minute job before the school break. She glances at her watch. 3.07 pm. Sunset listens and hears a song a few birds are singing, as she is unable to simply stagnate herself waiting. An unlikely pair of a blue jay and a robin, chirping in good spirits despite the frosty air. The harmonious melody rings in her ears and soon she finds herself humming along to their tune. They dance together in the air - an orchestral waltz to the rhythm and beat of their music. She stops shivering for a moment, focusing on the performance - the twirls and the twists, the loops and the spins - the graceful creatures perform in the air. She flits back towards her arm again. 3.10 pm. Sunset sits down and watches the flowers blooming around her. Despite the snow which still blankets the ground, patches of buttercups break up the white sheen of monotony, signalling the start of rejuvenation. Away with the fall, with the winter, with misery and dejection. Spring is a new birth of life. Spring is a renewed spirit of hope. Spring had always been her favourite season. She steals another peek at her watch. 3.13 pm. A pleasant breeze flows by, leaving a trail of dust. Pollen to be more specific, though Sunset couldn’t exactly tell for sure. And pleasant it may be to most, the wind brings a new wave of chills traversing down her spine. She shivers again, and grips on the woollen jumper, yanking the cords of the hood tighter. Sunset curses at the chaotic weather system - Equestria never had any problems wrapping up the season according to schedule. Though she has lived here for years, this phenomena is perhaps the one feature of her world she still hasn’t gotten used to yet. A chime brings Sunset’s attention to the portal. 3.14 pm. Sunset rechecks her backpack to account for all the supplies for the fortnight-long stay. Satisfied with their presence, she checks her phone for last minute messages from the girls. Not that she should expect any; as far as Sunset knows, she had managed to cover all bases regarding her trip, and so minimise collateral damage if there were any to begin with. It’s show time! Sunset bounces off the steps, striding towards the portal. She pauses for a moment in front of the marble face. The solid surface presents a faint swirl as it recognises a traveller. Funny how it does that - almost as if the magic has rudimentary intelligence - but that’s a matter to ask the princess on later. For now.. Sunset takes a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the journey ahead of her. She dissolves into laughter. What is the point of that? Chuckling at her nervousness, she springs through the portal. A minute later than asked, but Sunset gives it no thought as the swirling magic transports her through the veiled fabric of realities. Sunset steps out of the mirror. On two feet. Two hooves. That’s not right. She flails and falls flat on the floor. Grumbling, Sunset attempts to gather herself up slowly, shaking, yet steady on her hooves once she does so. A few tentative steps reassure her that she doesn’t need to learn to walk again. Twilight isn’t there to greet her. Huh. Frowning at the sheer oddness of a tardy Twilight, Sunset surveys the room she finds herself in. Bright with sunlight streaming through open windows. Comfortably warm too, which is quite fortunate for her as the mirror remodels outfits of those who traverse through it. She cannot begin to imagine how she’d survive if Winter Wrap Up hadn’t gone to schedule on this side of the mirror as well. But it is not to be the case, and Sunset confidently takes a step towards an open doorway. Equestria hasn’t fallen as a nation yet. And that’s when her vision turns to pure white. Moon Dancer stares at the wall. Or perhaps, the non-existence of such a structure. Her limbs lock up as a chilling realisation creeps over her. Screams and shouts blend together in cacophonous melodies as Moon Dancer focuses on the rubble. Equestrian royal guards stream out of the castle into the swirling populace in a desperate attempt to defuse the whole situation. The Canterlot nobles – grace and elegance they may have had a few minutes ago – regress into squawking chickens bowling over each other. Colts and fillies shriek and screech despite their parents trying to calm them down. Moon Dancer ignores them. She ignores them all. But she couldn't ignore what she had done. A thought flashes across her mind autonomously. How to deal with an emergency. Step One: Take a deep breath Moon Dancer follows her mind's request; nay, she follows memorised lines of books read in the past. She had never known when the knowledge would come in use - considering Canterlot's relatively safe track record - but it seems extenuating circumstances call for such measures to arise right now. Her intake of breath - marred by the presence of cinders and ash - dispels all the pathos within her, leaving the more essential logic to deal with the situation. Step Two: Count to ten. Tell yourself you can handle the situation. Moon Dancer ignores this step; far too much time has been wasted already - each second is another tick in the exponentially decaying function of another pony's survival rate. Besides, of course she could handle the situation - a cold scientific mind processes external factors at a rate far superior than one laden with distress, with desperation, with despair. “Ma’am?” A guard trots towards her, pausing for moment to rub his nose. “Ma’am, are you alright? We need to clear”- A sneeze interrupts him. From himself that is. Pulling out a tissue from under his metal helmet, the guard wipes his nose as he continues on. “...clear the area of all civilians.” Noticing the stoic face of the mare in front of her, he repeats himself. ”Please, you need to move away from here; one of our nurses can help you with any inquiries and injuries you may-” A mare gallops towards the pair, interrupting him. “I think it’s best if you leave her to herself sir.” The guard frowns, coughing. “We need to remove all casualties from the zone of-” “Honestly, I wouldn’t give a beaver’s dam what your orders are. Can’t you see the girl’s shaken up? Let me talk to her, alright?” “But-” “Rookie! Forget the civilians, we’ve got ourselves a code black here! We need everypony to search for the intruder!” Widening his eyes, the young guardsman gallops off towards the castle entry without even a glance back towards the mares, though not without stopping for a brief moment to blow his nose. Applejack faces her. “Uhh… sugarcube, you alright there? I didn’t see much when you took off, but it seemed to me you were pretty close to the blast.” Step Three: Analyse the external situation. Check for danger. Check for casualties. Moon Dancer had completed that step during the quibble of a conversation. But regardless of the few remaining patches of fire and rubble strewn about, there’s now an even bigger problem at hoof. Where is the stallion? He certainly hasn’t joined the atmospheric molecules by her explosive arcanics. This would be extremely fortunate for her, if it weren’t for the traces of a teleportation she had been able to detect among the blasted remains of the castle wall. A unicorn had managed to bypass the magical defenses of the boulder and relocate the him in the mere instant before she had overloaded her power onto it. But where? Speaking of overloading, Moon Dancer lowers herself onto the cobble. Her legs doesn't give out per se, but… “Moon Dancer, are you alright? You look as if you’ve just ridden the bull by its horns.” Applejack scans the area. There are surprisingly a large number of medical personnel already in the general vicinity, though none aren’t already treating burn injuries or of the sort. A fair number of ponies had been caught in the blast radius, and while nopony had been outright killed, nopony had gotten off without so much a scratch on their shinbones. Especially not this close, not without a god-almighty shield or an unsettling amount of protective charms and wardens. “Stay here, let me get you some hel-” “Fine! I’m fine! Fine. Though I couldn’t say for certain the same to Mr. Bartholomew.” Applejack raises her head to the scorch marks amid the rubble. She realises what the mare had meant. “He… he hasn’t turned the cart over now, ha-” “No, somepony else had teleported him, blatantly disregarding whatever exotic arcanics that boulder was enchanted with.” - she forces herself to her hooves and faces Applejack eye-to-eye- “Applejack, you need to cover the exterior of the castle. Find more help if you need to. Actually, do find more ponies; more eyes lets us monitor the area. He wouldn’t be too far, the thaumatical energies indicate short-range teleportation of roughly under 150 metres radius from the epicenter of the shock.” Her horn glows briefly before she continues on. “A short analysis of magical wavelengths indicate unusual levels of variability, so he could be literally in any three-dimensional space. That is, of course not currently occupied by solid material; that would be quite the shameful way to die.” Applejack blinks. “Come again girl? What the hay are you talking about?” Of course, Moon Dancer had forgotten who she was speaking to. “Mr. Bartholomew hasn’t died. He hasn’t vaporised. He hasn’t ‘turned’ the cart over. He’s somewhere nearby, and I want you to go look for him outside the castle. Get some help if you need to. Monitor the area just in case he shows up.” More blinking by an unfazed Applejack prompts Moon Dancer to mentally slap her own forehead. “Now, is that a simple enough instruction for you? I could always get out my copy of 'A Filly's Guide to the Alphabet', and we can go over this step by step! It’s-” Narrowing her eyes, Applejack cuts her off. “I can understand damn well that fancy-speak of yours, Moon Dancer. I’m just saying, have you honestly listened to yourself? I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you sound like you’re missing a few loose straws here and there. And it seemed like Twilight was just turning the truth inside out, but no, I see the real deal here.” “Listen, I… we need to get moving quickly; Mr. Bartholomew could be anywhere now, and I need your help to look for him outside the castle.” “And what are you going to do then, jumping out of the frying pan?” Moon Dancer peers through the non-existent castle wall. She swivels her head back out. For a rare moment, a smile flickers onto her face while she cocks her head. “Me? I’m going into the fire.” Moon Dancer springs through the hole, through the fire and rubble. Shouts and screams quieten behind her; the disharmonious tunes lost amid the rush of energy. Somehow, deep, deep within her soul, there is a burning feeling within her that won’t let her collapse. That won’t let her faint in exhaustion. That won’t stop her from what she wants. “I swear by my apples that mare’s gonna be twisted deep in plundervines before she sees it coming.” Applejack turns away from the ruined wall and searches the - by now pacified - crowd. She notices a young guardsman being berated by a pair of nobles. She sighs. Moon Dancer jumps into the castle. Despite the rays of afternoon sunshine behind her, the room soon dissolves into an inky blackness, not unlike Luna’s night. She lights her horn, producing an ethereal glow which flows away from her, illuminating the space around her. Now with the ability of sight, Moon Dancer racks her mind to locate herself; the castle couldn’t have changed significantly since she reviewed the floorplans a few years ago. It is an unnecessary feat however, as the sheer number of magical artifacts surrounding her make an easy decision. Mundane Magical Mausoleum. The odd naming scheme had left quite the imprint within her memory. Moon Dancer pours more energy into the radiance of her spell, to peer into the darkest corners of the room. Satisfied with a lack of animated beings, she continues on to find an exit, being careful so as to not bump into the rickety shelves either side of her. She’s already in restricted space according to legal jurisdictions; accidentally breaking an object of unknown arcanics within here would only provide further problems to her. After a dozen minutes of almost being lost, Moon Dancer approaches a door. If she remembers correctly, it should lead to a hallway - a more expansive and simpler-to-monitor location to start off her search. Though if she’s wrong… She pushes on the knob. The door refuses to budge. Moon Dancer frowns, subsequently pushing with more force. No change in the door’s physical state. By this stage she’d have sent a teleport matrix to circumvent the nefarious obstacle, though due to an inability of gauging the objects on the other side with reasonable estimates, Moon Dancer cannot assure herself to not end inside a potted plant. After all, that would be quite the shameful way to die. So, in an alternative manner, Moon Dancer slides back along the marbled floor - to give herself distance away from the epicenter - and prepares yet another destructive spell. She doesn’t cast it, fortunate for the aging historical accounts beside the door, as a prominent sign reveals crucial information, only noticed from her current angle. Pull to open. Oh. With a simple pull, the door swings without the expected squeak of rusty hinges. It opens to a brilliant white light, blinding Moon Dancer for a few seconds. Cursing, she staggers through the doorway, attempting to get across and away from the blinding glare. What on Equestria is this? Failing to grasp a solid object to cover herself with. Moon Dancer employs the negative of her illuminative spell. Streams of darkness flow out from her horn, clouding the air around her in a cloaked mist. Testing the brightness levels by opening her left eye - the weaker one, in case of permanent blindness - she finds the issue to be resolved, to a manageable extent at the very least. Though still uncomfortable to do so, Moon Dancer looks around the room to find a defining feature, something to lock onto and relocate herself. Perhaps she had made a slight error in her navigation. Perhaps new connections had been made between rooms since she had last glossed over construction blueprints. The room is a complete polar opposite to the mausoleum; glazed windows allowing light to filter into the dark fog, crystal columns towering over her own head, pristine  marble floors with a luscious carpet on top. None of the dust, the dirt, the grit and the grime from the mausoleum appears in here. But Moon Dancer doesn’t notice these details. Rather, she notices three pedestals, each of a different crystal makeup upright upon a raised platform in the center of the room. A circle of radiant light shines down upon them, keeping her own spell of darkness at bay. Entranced, Moon Dancer takes a few steps closer, to make out the objects on top. Important artifacts perhaps? National treasures? The Princesses’ crowns. What is the jurisdiction on breaking into the Royal Vault? Each pedestal is inscribed with a symbol; a representation of each princess: The sun, the moon, and the stars. Moon Dancer loses focus on the former two in front, paying closer attention to the third crown. Elements of Harmony Or more specifically, the Element of Magic. What is it doing here? The jewel embedded within the crown dazzles her eyes with its sparks, energy crackling from the surface. She steps forward to inspect it, curiosity overcoming all of her screaming, raging morals. Morals which are fighting with damndest determination against the wave of coldness spreading through her mind as if it is a plague delivered by angered gods. Logic demands to seek knowledge. Compels to seek truth. Forces to seek power. Her hoof reaches out towards it. What am I doing here? Moon Dancer shakes her head, pulling her hoof back towards her. Strange. Odd. Bizarre. She had been controlled; that is blatantly obvious. But by who? Or perhaps more disturbing, by what? Questions which remain unanswered as Moon Dancer trails backwards away from the pedestals, to remove herself from the source of confusion. A pinpoint of pressure locates itself on the upper regions of her flank. She pauses in her motion. A gruff male voice answers a question for her. “...Knew there’d be another pony trying to sneak in through the back door.” ... What was the question?