//------------------------------//
// Relapse 
// Story: Gilded Sister 
// by Kind of Brony 
//------------------------------//

"Oh, I'm so nervous," Moondancer says, shifting in her seat. "I don't know if I want it to be my turn already or if I want to run away as fast as I can."

"Don't worry, you'll do fine," I comment, looking around the room at all the other fillies and colts. Many of them are in the same state as my friend, shifting with nervous energy in the small, foal-sized chairs lining the space. Parents have been asked to wait in a different room, and I can't help but think that's part of the test. Parents are a comfort, and Dad had mentioned part of this test was to see how well prospective students can perform under pressure. Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns is the most prestigious magic academy in Equestria, and they only want the most gifted, mature ponies to enter.

Seems like a stupid criteria to me, expecting foals not to act their age, but then again, maybe there is a reason I don't know about. This is Aunt Celestia's school, after all, so I'm sure there is ancient wisdom behind everything.

"I want it to be my turn so I can be accepted already," Bluey says dryly, head propped up by the hoof against his cheek. "I don't even know why I have to take the stupid test; Aunty should just let me in."

"You know she can't do that," I chide. "Everypony has to be treated equally. Aunt Celestia can't show favoritism."

"It wouldn't be favor-whatever," answers Blueblood, sitting up straight and jutting out his chin. "I was the best student in our whole kindergarten class, so why not just let me in here?"

Well, he had a point there. He was top of the class, followed by a tied Moondancer and Buttercup, then Twilight Sparkle, all of whom are here for the entrance exam. Our other friends weren't trying this year as unicorns can apply to Celestia's School at any level. They'll be attending regular classes, same as me, for now.

All this besides, I still say, "If you're so confident you'll pass, what does it matter?"

Blueblood rolls his eyes. "Because it's boring. We only have a couple more weeks before we go back to school, why should I have to waste a whole day sitting here when I could be at home or playing with friends?"

"You can support our friends then like me," I suggest. "Moondancer and Twilight are really nervous."

"Moondancer will do fine," he dismisses, getting the beige filly to blush. "She's almost as good as me. As for Twilight... she seems okay."

Said filly is sitting in the corner, opting to be alone and hide behind a large book. I frown and contemplate going over to try talking to her again when Blueblood's name is called. "Finally," he says loudly, hopping off the short chair. "Took long enough."

"It's only been, like, twenty minutes," I mumble with a roll of my eyes, getting my brother to nod.

"Yeah, I know. Forever," he answers, heading towards the door.

"Good luck," Moondancer calls after him weakly, getting the colt to raise his nose a little.

"Won't need it," he says, then adds, "... but thanks."

As he walks, he takes a moment to send a quick glare at Buttercup, who is sitting opposite of us, and she returns it. I sigh tiredly at the hostile exchange and shake my head. The truce between us has held well enough and made kindergarten way more enjoyable, but Blueblood and the filly now take every opportunity to challenge each other. Their little rivalry is what has pushed them both to the top of the class, and this test is yet another competition to prove who is better.

"So, how do you think he'll do?" Moondancer asks.

"He'll pass," I say instantly. "He's the strongest magic user in our class."

"Buttercup will pass too," says the beige filly, sending fleeting glances over at the scowling unicorn. I'm pretty sure that's just her default expression. "She's really good at magic."

I nod. "Probably. And then you'll pass." When she looks doubtful, I add, "You have better control than her, and your magic is almost as strong."

Blushing, Moondancer looks over to Twilight, and frowns. "And... what about her? She was super nervous when we tried getting her to sit with us."

"I... don't know," I admit. "I hope she passes, she's super smart and knows more about magic than any other foal in our class, but her magic is really... sporadic." Moondancer nods, maybe not fully understanding what I mean, but we fall silent. Twilight is a hard one to figure out; sometimes her magic feels really strong and she does well, but other times, if she gets distracted or fretful, she can barely lift a single marble.

With how she's been hiding behind that hardback the entire time, I have my worries about her state of mind, and secretly doubt she'll make it. Performing under pressure just isn't the filly's strong suit. For the next several minutes, Moondancer and I are mostly quiet, saying only a few words before Blueblood finally returns. Instantly, I notice the scowl pulling at his lips.

"The test is stupid," he says immediately upon sitting down. "No pony can do it."

While Moondancer tenses up, I give him a surprised look. "You... didn't pass?"

He shakes his head. "I did, but the test is still stupid."

"Wait, you couldn't do it... but you still passed?" Moondancer questioned, confused, same as me.

Blueblood shrugs and grumbles while another foal is called into the exam room. "They said I did good, even though I couldn't do it. Some stuff about potential."

"What was the test?" Moondancer blurts, biting at the end of her hoof. "If you couldn't do it, then how will I...?"

"They... said I shouldn't tell anypony," he begins slowly.

"Well then, you probably said too much already," I comment, looking at Moondancer to give her an assuring smile. "Don't worry; we know you don't have to actually do whatever they ask you to, so they probably just want you to try your best."

"Maybe," she mumbles. While we wait, I manage to get Bluey to whisper in my ear what the test is, pointing out how I'm only here to lend support to Moondancer and not to actually take the test. Technically, I got my parents to sign me up to take it so I could be in this room with my friends, but they know that I'm just going to back out when my name is called.

It's surprising to hear that there's a real-life dragon egg just on the other side of that door, and even more so that they're asking foals to try hatching it with magic. From what I understand, dragons are thinking creatures, same as ponies, so it doesn't sound exactly ethical to be using what is the equivalent of one of their young as an exam prop. I remind myself that Aunt Celestia is probably the one who designed this test and so there must be more to it then that. She wouldn't endanger a child of any species like that.

Apparently Mom and Dad were in there watching too, and I wonder why. They must have been called from the other room and brought around, but was it to encourage the foals or make them more nervous?

Eventually, Buttercup comes out, wearing a similar scowl as my brother had. I wonder briefly if she managed to make the egg shake like Bluey, but figure she probably did and is only upset that she couldn't make the dragon break out of its shell. It's not long, and Moondancer is called up.

I give her a brief hug and more words of encouragement before she heads inside, and wait with baited breath for her to come out. When she finally does, it's on shaky legs, but the bright smile is clear on her face. "I... I passed," she says, reaching the seat, then toppling sideways into it.

"Are you alright?" I ask worriedly as the filly pants some, but she simply giggles.

"Just tired," she breathes. "Even touching the egg with magic was hard; it felt almost... slick."

"I know, right?" comments Bluey. "It's like the shell was covered in slime or something. I still can't believe I couldn't make it hatch after putting so much magic into it."

"At least you still have some," Moondancer says tiredly, smile fading, "I put all of mine into it, and it barely wiggled."

"But you still passed," I chime in. "That's all that matters."

After that, it doesn't take long for my name to be called, and for me to decline taking the test. The proctor doesn't push too hard before moving onto the next name, and our little trio is left to talk among ourselves. Technically, we can head out the other set of doors to reunite with our parents and go home, but Moondancer and I want to wait for Twilight to take the test first.

When her name finally is called, she noticeably tenses behind her book, and when she puts it down, she reveals herself to be a jittering mess. I try to be extra encouraging, as does Moondancer, but our cheers only seem to make her more frazzled.

Once she's past the threshold, I heave a sigh, already planning what I'll say when she comes back out. Hopefully a reminder that our other friends and I won't be going to Celestia's school this year either will help lessen the sting of failure. While thinking this, I hear a distant, rumbling boom and notice a bright light slipping from beneath gap of the door for just a second.

Then it feels like my skull is shattered and my entire world fractures into a thousand images.

Is that screaming? I can't tell over the sound of rushing water in my ears. Why is there a waterfall in the room? Blinking rapidly, my vision changes to a dozen trailing images, choppy and blurred as I try to turn my head. Huh, strange, as much as it hurt for that first split second, I don't feel much of anything now.

Not even my own body.

Perhaps that's why I have so little control of it? The attempt at turning becomes a horribly dizzying whip that makes my eyes spin in their sockets. I try to put a phantom hoof out to catch myself, but the world drops out from under me and I feel myself in free fall.

It's probably good that I'm so numb right now, because with how jarring that impact is with the hard floor, I imagine it was very painful. Is the floor shaking or is it just me? Is that question even important right now? Nothing really seems urgent, not even the coppery taste in my mouth.

Surely there is some urgency though. Why else would Bluey be screaming like that otherwise? I know he is because he's just put my head in his hooves and I see his chest heaving and his mouth opening wide and shutting. His eyes flick between me and the room around us, but no matter how much I try to focus my attention on him, I can't hear his voice over the roaring in my ears.

Moondancer flits in and out of my sight, and I feel myself getting slightly miffed at the filly. Really, just hold still a moment so that I can see you.

This might be the last time, after all.

Wait? Why think that? I don't even know what's happening. Why wouldn't I see my best friend again? Such a silly thought, distracting me from far more important things. Like keeping fresh air in my chest. Breathing is a particularly hard challenge right now and my eyelids won't stop drooping for some reason, despite my insistence that my eyes stay on my brother.

He seems so worried, I try to tell him that whatever it was is passing. The numbness, for instance, is being replaced by a strange sensation like pins and needles, and it feels like I'm floating. That's an improvement, right? Despite the darkness creeping up from the corners of my vision, or perhaps because of it, the ceiling light over Bluey's shoulder draws my attention. It begins to glow painfully bright, but it's also familiar somehow and I can't look away.

Huh, where have I seen that before...? Oh.

I force my gaze from the light, almost fearfully despite how muted everything has become, even my emotions, and look back at Blueblood, who's now staring down at me, tears streaming down his face. It takes all of my strength to bring a hoof up and touch his cheek, and I force my darkening mind to etch every detail into memory.

It might be the last time, after all.



How could it have gone so wrong? That's what Ornate had been asking herself for the last hour as she sat with her head in her hooves. She sniffled occasionally, and her body trembled under waves of grief and worry, but she had no more tears left as she waited for the doctors to come out.

Her husband had been pacing back and forth since they had arrived, expression dark as a storm cloud as he waited just the same. An irrational part of the mare felt spite towards the stallion who was grumbling like an insane pony instead of comforting her, but she knew that wasn't fair. She hadn't tried to calm him down yet, after all.

At the moment, neither parent could focus on anything other than the state of their daughter. Another, more violent tremble racked Ornate's body when she remembered the scene from nearly two hours ago. She and Blueblood had been just outside of the room, so close to the twins, yet so far away when the whole building shook and they needed her most.

It had been so intense that she had been knocked off of her hooves and the sound of crumbling stone pinned her ears flat. By the time Blueblood had helped her up, the air was filled with panicked screams and parents were rushing into the foals' waiting room. The higher pitched shrieks from that room had Ornate's heart pounding against her rib cage. When she had gone in to see her daughter, head in her crying brother's lap, eyelids partially open to form twin slits of white, and with a trail of blood running from between her lips, Ornate's heart practically fractured her sternum.

The events between then and when they had arrived at the hospital were a blur. She knew that the Princess had been there and had taken control of the situation. She knew it was under the alicorn's order that a stretcher had been retrieved immediately and for Pureblood to be taken via her personal, pegasus-pulled chariot to the hospital.

She also knew her husband and a guard had been forced to wrestle her away from her daughter as she had been too hysterical to let anypony near.

The pink mare took a shuddering breath and lifted her head. Princess Celestia had been kind enough to take her son with her to wait in the lobby, keeping the colt from charging into the ER to be by his sister's side, so it was just her and the elder Blueblood. The grandparents would either arrive soon, or had decided to wait in the lobby. Ornate could barely care at the moment, especially when Doctor Mend came out alongside a pegasus she didn't know.

She was on her hooves immediately, bombarding the pair with questions as Blueblood did the same. "Please, calm down-" Doctor Mend tried, only to cause the stallion to go flush with rage.

"Calm down? Calm down!?" Blueblood yelled. "My daughter's in the ER after a magical disaster and you're telling me to calm down!?"

"Please, just tell me if my daughter is okay!" Ornate continued to plead, fat tears rolling down her cheek. "Please say she'll be alright."

"Pureblood has the best doctors in the city taking care of her right now," Doctor Mend tried to explain. "Celestia's personal staff, in fact."

"But is it enough?" Blueblood growled, stepping closer to the scrawnier unicorn. "Tell me what's happening to my daughter."

"She'll most likely survive," cut in the pegasus, getting between the two unicorn stallions to level a cool stare at the father. "Attacking Doctor Mend won't help increase those odds."

"Most likely," breathed Ornate, feeling lightheaded. Most likely was not one-hundred percent, and to the ears of a mother, was more terrifying than any curse. Her husband had to prop up some of her weight when her legs failed to do so. "Why most likely?"

While Doctor Mend anxiously looked away, the pegasus sighed and said, "She's undergoing procedures to treat the damage done to her mana network, but said damage is... extensive."

While Ornate's breath rattled in her throat, Blueblood squeezed his eyes shut tight and grit out, "What's the damage?"

"I'm ashamed I didn't realize sooner; it was something Professor Augur was able to spot immediately on the MRI. He's been studying these things in pegasi for years, of course, relating leyline problems with difficulties flying, but still..." mumbled Doctor Mend. "It explains her sensitivity to outside magic pressure perfectly..."

"What are you gibbering about?" snapped Blueblood.

"He's referring to the abnormally thin walls of your daughter's mana pathways," explained the pegasus. "On previous MRI's, he only mapped Pureblood's leylines and their development as a network, but he never realized how weak the walls of those leylines are." The flash of confusion in the parents' eyes is enough to prompt an elaboration from Professor Augur. "The leylines of a pony- also called the mana system by some- is not unlike the circulatory system; it consists of almost artery-like structures which a pony's mana flows through."

"But Pure's have thin walls," Doctor Mend spoke. "It's why they were so sensitive to outside mana pressing against them; enough pressure could essentially pinch them off, which caused the discomfort. More relevant to her current condition, however, like veins and arteries of the circulatory system; thin walls are vulnerable to bursting. Aneurysms, they're called."

"Is... is that what happened to my foal?" Ornate questioned, choking back a sob. "A magic... aneurysm?"

"Essentially," said the pegasus. "there's three, as well as several points along her network in which the pathways have been completely crushed shut."

Ornate failed to contain the sob then as she buried her face against her husband's neck. Blueblood's features went slack in shock. "But the doctors are doing everything they can to save her," Doctor Mend interjected quickly. "A technique, one used to temporarily treat vascular trauma, is being used to reopen the sealed leylines. Magical structures, tubular in design are allowing mana to flow while sutures of a similar nature are sealing the tears."

"Temporary..." Blueblood breathed, blinking as his eyes came back into focus. "What does that mean? Will the treatment work or not?"

"Well..." the doctor began slowly. "These techniques are battlefield medicine. See, in the case of more... conventional wounds out in the field, specifically to the cardiovascular system, these spell structures can be used to stabilize a soldier's condition until proper surgery can be performed. A crushed artery, for instance, would have a physical mesh inserted to keep it open, but that can't be done here. In the case of your daughter, the magic structures and sutures will have to remain for the entirety of her recovery."

"So they will," Blueblood said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "The spells will be cast and she'll be right as rain."

"Except, magical structures don't last long," Doctor Mend informed. "Especially not while being eroded by another's mana, which will be occurring as Pureblood's mana flows over the structures created by the doctors."

"Then what... what can be done?" Ornate asked finally, pulling her tear-stained face away for her husband's chest. "Surely something, right?"

"The magic will have to be reapplied roughly every hour for the next three weeks," spoke Professor Augur. "That's how long it will take her mana network to recover enough to function on its own, and even then, it will be fragile. No casting near her for quite some time. Frankly, we're lucky the solution the surgeons came up with is a precise application of small amounts of magic, or them using magic to treat her network would simply cause more damage."

"She'll have to stay here, then?" Blueblood asked, getting Doctor Mend to nod.

"Yes, and under the watch of several surgeons the entire time. A challenge, to be sure, but one they're willing to face to ensure the filly's recovery."

"When can we see her?" asked the mother, legs once again able to support her own weight. "I want to see my foal- to talk to her."

Both parents saw the doctor flinch and the professor's mouth become a thin line, and they felt their stomachs drop. "That second part might not be for some time," said the doctor. "She'll need to wake up first, and we... don't know when that might be."

"As you probably know," cut in the pegasus. "The mana network of unicorns resides mostly within the head, specifically weaved throughout the frontal lobe... which happens to be be where one of the ruptures occurred."

"Mana has bled into the surrounding tissue," Doctor Mend continued. "Which, while we're sure hasn't caused... permanent brain damage, does seem to be having an effect on her. Brain activity is abnormal, and she's unresponsive... As of right now, your daughter seems to be in some sort of coma."

Blueblood was stunned, eyes wide and jaw hanging open, too stricken by what he had just been told to be able to catch his wife, who fainted and dropped to the floor with a thump.

Doctor Mend winced.

He hated giving bad news.