After the incident with Aura and Ace’s talk, Prism threw herself into her work at school. She greedily devoured every scroll and book she could get her hooves on, and stayed late at nights classifying and testing magic items. Taking heart in the filly’s returning work ethic, Ace pushed no more and let her proceed. Prism, for her part, couldn’t exactly tell what she was working for, she felt like a confused mess, yet wouldn’t stop working. The tasks, a new scroll or an unknown item, gave her a structure. A purpose rather than the storm of unknowns that roiled inside.
Prism’s work was interrupted one night by a hard knock at the storage door. Pushing herself away from a table of random bits and bobs, the filly dragged her hooves walking toward the door. She found herself quite surprised when she opened it, and not only because it was already dark out, but also by the pony in the doorway. Humbug, one of Hex’s crew stood at the door, his wide frame practically filling the hall. He had an unusually serious face considering his generally simple personality.
Before Prism could ask him to leave he spoke, a sincere sadness dripping from each word, “I, uh, I wanted to say sorry … for Hex.” Prism could hardly believe her ears, none of them had apologized before, least of all Humbug. The bulbous orange unicorn continued none the wiser, “He should have left you alone in the hall … I’m sorry.” Humbug seemed to gather the right words to put together before continuing with effort, “He hasn’t really been that close to anyone, so I don’t think he even knows what it’s like to lose them. It hurt when my pa died,” Dull eyes looked up to Prism hopefully, “but it does get better.” Prism couldn’t place what she was feeling, but something in Humbug’s speech moved her, and she began to shut the door in his wide face before it was stopped by his hoof.
Humbug reached into his bag quickly and withdrew a small scroll which he offered to the filly across the threshold. “Umm, I thought he should make it up to you so I, uh, borrowed this from him.” Too curious for her own good, Prism took the scroll in her grasp as Humbug continued, “You know, he … he wasn’t good at magic before too. It made him really sad, but this made him feel better. Maybe it could help you.” Humbug gave a small smile.
“How did you get this? What’s the catch?” Prism inquired as she tucked the scroll into her robes.
Humbug looked back and forth slyly, before tapping his temple knowingly, “I’m not as think as some ponies dumb I am.” Oblivious to his mistake, Humbug beamed with pride before a shiver traveled up his back. “Uh, no price, just don’t mention I gave you that, right?” As Prism nodded he made his retreat, looking about as if expecting a spy at any moment. Prism, meanwhile, shut the door and bolted it, before making her way to the table with her unexpected gift.
Unraveling the scroll under horn light, Prism immediately noted that it was of eldritch origin, covered in seemingly meaningless symbols and drawings. Arcs swept inside triangles encased in circles and more, the geometry seemed impossible, bending and shifting as Prism studied the paper. It wasn’t until after some time of studying the yellowed slip of paper that Prism finally deduced that it was a scroll written in some other language. Fetching the emergency spectacles of Comprehend Languages from their case, she read the text at least easily, even if she still couldn’t discern its magical meaning.
Under her breath, working through the words in the way she had been taught now for years, Prism pronounced the strange words, not recognizing the alien things her mouth spoke even if she knew the meaning thanks to the spectacles. Her view locked on the paper, she didn’t notice as the lights of the room dimmed one by one, or as the miscelania on the desk formed into the same impossible symbol as on the paper. Prism only finally noticed as she read the last words, and left her horn as the only source of light in the now dark room. Putting down the paper, she looked desperately back and forth, the room fading into a yawning void beyond the dim light of her horn, as if only the desk, paper, and herself existed.
Prism could feel her pulse quicken in the dark, fearing not that she was alone, but that she might not be. Suddenly, her fears were made all too true as a calm voice spoke from behind her, “Well aren’t you interesting?” Prism jumped at the provocation and her horn’s light faded in the shock. Her body flailed about, still turning rapidly to face the threat as her training had taught her. As she did so, she saw them, two brilliant yellow eyes luminous in the darkness all around her, the source of the voice. Prism failed to even muster a scream in her shock, her voice failing her entirely. Seemingly noticing this, the voice continued in an authoritative tone, “Oh, you really are a quiet one aren’t you? All the better to listen. I can tell that you have a lot of promise, you could be very useful.” The pounding of Prism’s pulse nearly drowned out the siren-like voice as it drifted from word to word with an alluring grace, “Of course, I’m getting ahead of myself. What do you want, my little pony?”
Prism was sickened by the situation, every part of her body telling her that something was wrong, that she was in danger. In spite of this, her mind felt under a haze, as she was compelled to answer the question. In a voice hardly above a whisper, she hung her head as she spoke, “I can’t have what I want. I just want things back to normal, I want to go home and have my Ma waiting for me with a hug and a smile, telling me it was a bad dream.” The yellow eyes widened, getting more than they had expected in this compulsion as the filly kept going, tears welling in her eyes. “I want to get her back, even for a moment. I’d stop studying magic, I’d stop fighting, I’d even stay back at the shop for the rest of my days if it meant I could get my Ma back.” Prism shook off the compulsion, wiping her eyes at the things she’d said. She knew they were true, but hearing herself say them changed it all.
As she recovered, she noticed the yellow eyes narrowed into overjoyed slits. The voice spoke with this enthusiasm to Prism, “Well that sounds quite agreeable.” With a flash of light, a spotlight came down just a step away from the crying filly. At its center, a wide smile across her face, was none other than Sight Ward. Beside herself, Prism dived toward her ma, enjoying nothing in the world more than the embrace that she was pulled into. Any effort she’d made to stop her tears was now fruitless, as her ma gently wiped the tears away.
Once again, Prism was rendered speechless, no words could satisfy the moment. Instead, it was Sight Ward who spoke softly to her child, “Come now Sweet Pea, let’s get home.”
Prism nodded tearfully as she stood under her own power again, but with her eyes dry she saw something that made her racing heart stop. She didn’t feel angry, happy, or even sad, it was as if all feeling had fled her body as she noticed the slightest detail. Prism hung her head and spoke in a monotone, “I can’t.”
Sight Ward looked to her daughter perplexed. “Why not, Sweet Pea?” She inquired, drawing in closer she continued, “What’s wrong?”
Despondent, there was nothing but defeat in Prism’s eyes as she looked into her ma’s. In the same dull monotone she continued, “You’re not real.” As the words came, Sight Ward faded into a cloud of shadows, dispersing away. Prism winced in pain before the plain mask took over her face once again.
The two yellow eyes returned, incensed. The same voice spoke, now in a near rage, “Look, even I can’t bring back someone who doesn’t want to. That’s the best you’re getting, take it or leave it kid!” The world started to tremble and shake in the rumbling voice.
Prism couldn’t muster rage to match the voice, even at what it had done. Her feelings were numb, a wash of grey had frozen her heart. Instead her response resonated from an empty chest, “If ma doesn’t want to come back, she’s staying.” Prism looked up to meet the eyes, any shine in her own gone, “It’s like I said, I can’t have what I want.”
The livid fury of the voice was gone as it seemed to accept defeat for the time, “Oh well, it sounds like I win this one anyway. Maybe next time, my little pony.” Prism jolted awake on her desk, her eyes bolting open as she drew a sharp breath. Even still, looking at the scroll before her she had no doubt of the legitimacy of what had happened.
Prism walked away from the desk and started her late trek homeward. Dark city streets and night carriages surrounded the filly as she walked. In her head she juggled many questions. Why didn’t her ma come back, was she not good enough? Who did she just speak to and when would next time come? Why had this all happened to her? And most important of all, why couldn’t she muster even the barest scrap of emotion away from this numbness? Finally, Prism dismissed all of these, and didn’t think of anything at all as the carriage left its post.