//------------------------------// // Look to the Past // Story: Never Too Clever // by Zennistrad //------------------------------// Clover had seen a lot of strange things in his life. Evil spirits of winter that fed off hatred, completely unrelated ocean spirits that also fed on hatred, an artifact made by sapient feathered lizards that could steal a pony’s memories, and even an evil sorceress using said artifact to wipe memories of friendships to bring back the aforementioned winter spirits. Or was she trying to bring back the ocean spirits? He couldn’t remember, and wasn’t entirely certain if that was his fault. More than that, Clover had seen glimpses of lands that no other pony had laid eyes on, and witnessed magics older and more potent than that of any unicorn in history. Not a single pony in the fledgeling Equestrian Confederacy could claim in earnest to have seen the things he saw. Not that Star Swirl would have believed him if he told of it, of course. He had been under the Great Wizard’s tutelage for several years now, and despite his insufferably large ego, Clover had quickly developed a fondness for his teachings. Though they butted heads often, there was something about their mutual relationship that he found oddly satisfying. Maybe it was the fact that it presented him with frequent opportunities to trade verbal barbs, but there was something more to it than that. Friendship, perhaps, but friendship in Equestria had always involved telling stories, sharing laughter, and an almost uncountable number of instances where ponies would spontaneously burst into song. Somehow, Clover doubted that snide remarks would have kindled the Fires of Friendship. Now, he sat within the confines of his room, a small bedchamber in Star Swirl’s tower with a disheveled assortment of books, scrolls, and scrawled notes laying about. The bed had not been made in months, the windows were perpetually closed and covered in dust, and the only thing that was maintained with any care were the pair of potted plants he kept on his desk. To others it would have looked crude and disorganized, but despite Star Swirl’s constant nagging it was the one place in Equestria where he always knew where to find exactly what he wanted. He simply accepted the room as it was, as that was all that he needed it to be. Both of Clover’s rear legs were crossed beneath him as he sat upright, eyes closed, and holding his front legs out by the sides. It was a meditative position used by many of the bipedal races to the east, one that was meant to evoke the beauty and tranquility of the lotus flower. His horn glowed, and blue and green wisps flickered on the edge of his vision as he drew from the mana lines of Equestria and beyond. He reached outward with his feelings, peering into the threads of the world itself, seeing the stories of past and future that were etched deeply into the planar fabric. When he opened them, he could see the stories before him in dozens of bright, glowing white runes that hovered in front of his eyes, written in the language of Harmony herself. He squinted, unable to exactly comprehend what the letters meant, yet he could gain a vague idea as the runes projected a rough approximation of their meaning directly into his mind, seemingly of their own will. Of the runes, there was only one word that stuck in his mind with perfect clarity. Alicorns? he thought. That’s the third time I’ve heard that word from my readings. I thought it’d meant the mineral found naturally in every pony’s body, but it’s being referred to here in the plural, as though an ‘alicorn’ was an individual object instead of a substance. He puzzled over the strange yet bizarrely familiar word, his mind picking apart anything he could use to gain further context. The rune after it could mean either ‘aurora,’ ‘sun,’ or ‘cake,’ and the one before it could mean ‘dreams,’ ‘moon,’ or ‘volume.’ But just what the hay could possibly connect these meanings? The door to the room burst open, and the sound of wooden board slamming against stone walls snapped him out of his concentration. In an instant the runes vanished, and Clover tumbled backwards, hitting his head against the floor. As stood himself up, he was greeted to the frowning image of the most famous facial hair in Equestria. “Tambelon’s Bells, master,” Clover cursed, “how many times have I told you to knock before coming in?” “You are staying in my tower,” Star Swirl countered, “and as long as it remains mine, I will enter and leave any room as I please. And I thought I told you to stop bothering with that silly clairvoyance.” “It’s called mythomancy,” Clover replied. “And it’s not just clairvoyance. Everything we do leaves a story etched into the world, and the more important or profound, the deeper it’s written. These stories extend across all of time, and mythomancy not only lets me read stories of both the past and future, it lets me write my own stories into the world. That’s how I recorded my memory when...” Clover’s words trailed off, the upper half of his eyelids falling into a glare. “...and you’ve already stopped listening, haven’t you. I don’t know why I keep bothering.” “I’ve told you before, there is no such thing as true divination magic,” said Star Swirl. “It is a false practice peddled by grifters and con artists. They demand coinage in return for cryptic statements that could fit hundreds of situations, then later claim to have predicted any event that vaguely matches them.” “Right. That’s why I said that my magic also helps me read the past,” Clover retorted with a smirk. “I must be an especially crafty con artist to scam people into paying money to learn things that already happened. Do you think I could get an edge on Hoofroditus in that market?” Star Swirl harumphed loudly, his bells jingling lightly at his cloak. “Our studies are not concerned with such matters. Our responsibility as mages lies with the future, and how to best shape it for the betterment of all. The past and its failings are of no importance to us. We must discard it, and move forward in the name of reason and progress.” “And how do you propose we get to the future without the past happening first?” Star Swirl gave an exasperated sigh. “I’ll be having none of your semantic games today, Clover. I have come here bearing an urgent message from Fort Cloudsdale. Over the past week, the settlement has faced repeated attacks from a creature called a raijū, an elemental spirit of lightning. It has so far transformed several of the fort’s key structures into powerful thunderclouds, all of which have subsequently been destroyed by their own electric discharge. The attacks are happening at increasing frequency, and the pegasi fear that the fort will be destroyed faster than they can rebuild it.” Clover’s eyebrows shot up. “Sounds like that could be a big problem. Have you contacted your little adventuring party?” “I have sent word to the other Pillars, but they are currently attending to a diplomatic crisis in Griffonstone,” said Star Swirl. “It may be days before they return. We will have to go ourselves.” “Say no more,” said Clover. His horn ignited, and he levitated his cloak from the end of his desk chair, and quickly draped it around his body. “Don’t forget the cloudwalking spell, alright?” “A simple task for an accomplished wizard like myself,” said Star Swirl. “Let us make haste.” With a twirl of his cape, he turned away and cantered out of the door. As Clover followed, he winced silently to himself. Here’s hoping his solution isn’t ‘make a planar portal and shove the monster through the other side’ again. I’m still sore from exhausting my magic closing the last one.