"Will he be okay?" Escutcheon lay in a covered wagon which was heading westward, across the desert. Dusk was sitting next to him, she had never left his side. She sounded so far away. His eyes followed hers.
"I don't know. He suffered horrible head trauma, most of that has been taken care off." Quadratic answered Her horn glowing as magic poured form her to him. "I don't know why he isn't up already."
"It's not because of his physical injuries." Pythagorean's voice answered. The two fillies looked over him. "Not really anyways. He's suffering from his trauma true, but that is being magnified by what he did. He used dark magic. Doing that for the first time has terrible adverse effects on the soul."
"He didn't use black magic!" Dusk screamed.
"I didn't say he did." Pythagorean responded calmly. "Unicorn magic is strange. if you put enough hate and anger into your horn your natural aura will become dark. Fear will obtain the same result but it's effects on the soul and body, will be less extreme." Pythagorean sighed. "When the dragon hurt you. Well he must have snapped we saw nearly ten tell-tail signs of dark magic. That much to someone so acclimated to it, combined with his physical trauma. Well this was the inevitable result."
"Then it's my fault." No it's not Dusk you saved me.
"No if you hadn't done that then you both would have died. He just didn't control his emotions properly." Quadratic answered. "Sorry Escutcheon you need to go back to sleep." He felt her magic washed over him. He drifted into unconsciousness just as the pain began to spike and intensify again.
"Dusk." Her name was stuck in his throat. The last thing he felt before slipping away was her hoof folding around him. "I'm sorry. Dusk." Pain kept him semi lucid, he never truly fell asleep, but Quadratic's spell put him under enough to not feel most of it.