//------------------------------// // Act 1, Chapter 3 - Under Guard // Story: Adventures in Magic // by Urist McWriter //------------------------------// Twilight wiggled in her seat, settling deeper into the cushy library chair, almost giddy as she settles in for the long haul of a good book. With a smile on her face, her eyes were intently focused on every word in front of her, absorbing every syllable of 'Redwall' while the distant din of her classmates at recess was barely audible in the quiet school library. The warmth of Celestia's rays fell on her back through the skylight above and warmed her fur and mane. She was surrounded by pure comfort. The smell of books, silence and solitude at home in the best place in school. The only sound was the occasional turning of the pages. There was no magic in this book. . . no literal magic anyways. Twilight winced as she backpedalled the treasonous thought. The simple paper was a relief from the flares of unicorns, rolling aura of pegasi, and steady glow of earth ponies. This was to say nothing of the story of epic struggle being told, the desperate hold-out of the Abbey against their villainous attackers, drawing her into a faraway world. The sound of a door creaking open shattered her peace. Her eyes snapped to her surroundings. Empty. The shadows of the library were shifting, the shafts of light moving from the tables and shelves, crawling up the walls and vanishing from sight. The sky was left empty when the sun simply dropped beneath the horizon and the chill of the sudden new shadows left her looking for covers. She froze still as her eyes crossed the book in her search. The words had blurred, they were. . . melting away from the book in held in her magic. The bleeding ink flowing quickly off the page and onto the table as a thick, viscous black goop leaving a puddle of black. After another heartbeat, she lost her magic grip, sputtering and dying, all magic leaving her control. She watched as the book fell, splashing the ink, leaving her coat spotted. Twilight's heart began hammering as the soft, slow clop of hooves approaching from behind filled her ears, getting closer by the second. 'Run,' she tried to order herself, but her body wouldn't respond. She tried calling up her magic, but it stubbornly refused her will. The steps came to a stop just behind her. Twilight feels warm, wet air blow over her ear. The pony behind her audibly licks their lips and leans forward, the heat of the others body against her own. After a second longer, a tongue traces along the edge of her horn, slowly, as if taking in each moment. Twilights legs finally kick out from beneath her as she launches forward. In a flash, she was out of her chair. The force threw it slamming to the floor as she ran between the bookshelves. The looming towers of tomes blurred past her, becoming solid masses of obsidian and narrowing into a single eternal path. The sounds of those hooves following, like thunder, inching closer and closer no matter how fast she ran. Clop A light flickers on overhead, shining onto her path, and revealing a solid wall. She locked her hooves down, sliding to a halt. She looked around finding now other way. The panic welling as the only way out... was to go back. Clop. No! Nonononono! Twilight desperately hooved at the impenetrable wall. Clop. Tears clouded her sight as strength leaves her body. She lets herself collapse onto the ground, curling her hooves to her body and huddled in the corner as far as ponyly possible. Clop. One. Two. Three. Her breathing stopped, but her mind didn't clear Clop. The approaching pony stopped. A hoof brushing along her side forces a jump out of her, and a wracking sob escapes. The offending hoof recedes suddenly. Twilight waited in the silence, for what seemed eons to gather the courage that seemed to never come. Then a sudden cool breeze flows through her mane. She slowly raises her head and sees waves of green. Instead of the towering shelves of the library, she finds rolling hills of tall grass, twinkling stars above, and the mareless moon bathing the endless field in gentle light. Slowly she gets back to her hooves, looking around with surprise and relief. The cool breeze disturbs the grass and ruffles her mane and fur, almost like a gentle embrace. The cool of the moonlight painting waves as the grass ebbs and flows with the wind. Twilight closes her eyes and revels in the peace, far from her monsters and fears. The soft rustle of the grass could have lulled her to sleep. Then she wakes up. Twilight's eyes shoot open, her breath is startlingly even and regular as the last vestiges of the nightmare fade from memory. The ceiling above the four-post bed was painted a dark grey, and completely lacking the painted stars of her own room. Her mind sluggishly begins attempting to piece together what happened. Her normally encyclopedic memory struggles to conjure images. "I w-was," . . . wait, no. "M-maybe I was," . . . no. Shaking her head at each rejected relocation. Wait, it was the day of the entrance exams. I passed the written exam. "Of c-course I did," she scoffed at herself. Then the. . . practical test was. . . Oh no! Twilight's breathing rapidly sped up as she shot straight up on the bed. She had a flare out! The Princess herself had even shown up. A flare in front of the Princess at an exam for her very school! "N-no. No n-no no!" Her blood ran cold as she shuddered, holding herself. Squeezing and pressing down on her own barrel with all the might she could conjure as if the harsh rubbing would wash away what had happened. "M-maybe this is a nightm-mare a-and I'll wake up, at home, i-in my own bed." The raw ache of pain now spreading across her chest confirmed, to her dread, that this was real. Twilight's eyes finally moved off the ceiling and to the rest of the room. To her surprise it wasn't a cell with an unusually comfortable bed, nor did it shine brightly with enchantments. In fact, it seems entirely mundane except for the candlestick holders that give off a soft glow. Not even the fireplace had any of the usual safety enchantments found in most living spaces save for the glow of the flame itself. The shadows and lights cast by the flames paint a room far removed from her imagination. Two couches were set out and a paired dresser and vanity sat across from the fireplace. One wall was dominated by the exit to a balcony, revealing that the entirety of Canterlot was cast into the soft, embracing light of night. The moon hung very near its rising position and the Mare in the Moon seemed to stare at her despite the distance between them. That feeling, one of safety and welcome, was something her father had admitted he shared with her. A part of the reason he had discovered his cutie mark was long nights spent studying its surface. A quick glance at her star-covered flank reinforced her own failures. She was just a. . . blank. . . Twilight's wide eyes, questioning reality again, brought her gaze slowly back down to her flank. Right there was a prominent amaranth north star sat atop a white six-pointed star, a field of five further stars arrayed around it. "OhmyCelestia!" She couldn't contain her excitement, practically vibrating while rolling off the bed and rushing toward the vanity to get a better look at herself. After a few moments of scrambling onto the chair to get herself up, Twilight levitated a candle over and held her flank up so she could stare at her new cutie mark. Twilight couldn't help but stare, taking in and memorizing every detail again. The north star! Just like dad calls her! And then the white stars, what could that mean? Do they relate to astronomy? Or a field of magic? She has a sudden flash of worry, glancing again at the moon. Could this be a dream? She had tested, but how could she be sure? Some of her nightmares felt very real when she could remember them, or when she became aware they were dreams. Drastic measures had to be taken to ensure this wasn't some cruel trick of her mind. After a moment of hesitation, she places the candlestick firmly on the vanity. If she was wrong, it wouldn't have been the first time. Memories of a furless fetlock crossed her mind though luckily the fur had regrown. Her parents were never the wiser of her terrors just an hour before though. Twilight stares at the candle for several more seconds before reaching forward, holding her hoof six inches above the flickering flame. Then she begins to lower it, centimetre by centimetre. The heat grew predictably stronger the lower it got until her hoof was only an inch away. Taking a deep breath, she takes the plunge, pressing her hoof down into the flame. Immediately she had to hold a whinny of discomfort, the flame licking against her hoof harmlessly for a bit as it always did, seeming as cool as the rest of the room for a good thirty seconds. She waits until the pain hits her, when the fire finally overcame her resistance to it, yanking the now burned appendage back and cradling it. "Not a dream," . . . not a dream. As the reality settles in, a sense of relief fills her, and she looks down at her flank again. Twilight's excitement begins to creep back up, a smile working onto her face. This feeling of accomplishment is enough to overshadow the pain in her hoof and the exam hanging in the back of her thoughts. Until the door opens, that is. Her head whips toward the door, the rest of her body freezing. A royal guard clad in white and gold armour whose surface mists with an orange tart, a veil similar to the one used by the proctors, but turning the guard's fur white instead if cloaking the features. The ground under his hooves lit up for a moment when he took a step, like he was putting pressure against some sort of field. The dots connect in her derailed mind. A view of Canterlot outside the balcony, a royal guard. She is in the Palace! Her train of thought threatened to derail into a panic before the guard spoke, the firm stallion's voice cutting through her internal struggle. "Miss Twilight Sparkle, the Princess requested your presence when you awoke. Would you please come with me?" The royal guard's eyes peered at her in the relative darkness of the room, going to the candle after a moment, then to her cradled hoof. "Did you burn yourself? If you'd like, I can -" Twilight quickly and violently shook her head, "N-no! N-n-no! I. . . d-don't w-w-want t-to k-keep the. . . Princess w-waiting!" The guard's gentle smile didn't do much for Twilight's fears. She was going to see the Princess! She remembers the moments after her surge, the Princess had calmed her and ended her surge, but maybe it was just a trick? To stop her from. . . No! What are you doing? This is the Princess! Surely she wouldn't do that, right? The same Princess that ended the Minotaur's Empire in a single day. The same Princess that has ended countless threats to Equestria by her own hoof. But. . . was also the same Princess that smiled at her during the Summer Sun Celebration and banished her fears. "Are you ready, ma'am?" Ma'am? Twilight manages a jerky nod, climbing off of the chair- "Ow," she hissed almost forgetting about her hoof, but her hoof didn't forget about her. It takes several moments of adjusting how she stands on it to reduce the pain, but she eventually starts making her way toward the door. As she walks, each hoofstep produces a golden glow, radiating up her hooves and down through honeycomb latticework in the floor. The enchantment holds her gaze as it stays hidden from her magesight until each new exploratory step is found. Is it. . . looking for something? With her focus intent on the ground, she barely avoids walking horn-first into the guard, who easily steps out of the way, coughing discreetly, catching her attention. "This way, ma'am." Her eyes move off the ground and she begins following the large royal guard, his armour not making a sound as they move through the Palace. The halls were all bright marble and white walls, gold inlays ran through the floor, buried beneath a layer of resin and polished to a perfect sheen before being placed, like small rivers shining against the Sun's light. Laid into the ceiling are an endless series of carvings, carefully taken out of the seamless woodwork in the shape of flowers and stars. Each flows into the next in a way that formed one giant carving that must go through the whole castle! "Beautiful," she whispered as the daunting weight of how much work must have gone into the palace. What was most startling were the lights. Placed carefully at even intervals along the ceiling, the trilliant-cut sapphires seem to recast the Moon's very own light from outside and project it here. The gentle silvery flow of the Moon's glow was comforting, even if confusing as it eased her fears. This had the effect of casting the entire hall in a gentle shine, dancing and reflecting across the gold in the floor and flowing off of the Royal Guard and walls, casting shadows along the ceiling carvings. The pain in Twilight's hoof was forgotten during this walk, her head turning endlessly from one wonder to the next, fully captured by the beauty of the palace. Discordian Era statues, carefully restored to their original forms of spirits and guardians. Solar Era mosaics that depict the Sun, Moon, and stars. One dominates an entire wall, forming an image of the Diarchs standing atop a hill with the First Sunrise behind them. Unification Era paintings, one large piece is of the Four-Year Siege of Cloudsdale from the walls of the cloud city, depicting the assaulting coalition of the Princesses walking on bridges of solid light at the defenders. At the head of the army is the future Warmistress, Princess Luna, clad in dark steel and eyes glowing with the power of the Moon and Stars. It captures her image of righteous fury so intimately that Twilight could imagine her walking off the canvas and into reality. Imperial era artefacts hanging along some walls; swords, shields and the like. A set of original Legion armour is passed, glowing from the hardening enchantments hammered into it and made of blue steel from the Lunar Foundries of Everfree City 1600 years ago. Twilight nearly bumped into the royal guard when he came to a stop, they had ascended several staircases and entered a new wing of the palace. The glowing gold in the floor had seamlessly changed to fine silver some time ago, one of the twisting veins leading directly to the imposing oak door the guard had stopped in front of. An image of the sun, burned into the surface, seems to stare at the pair of them alongside the two still royal guards standing watch. The guard doesn't even attempt to knock as a rolling smooth voice, like a river running over smooth stones, comes from inside. "Please, come inside." She had to take several deep, calming breaths. This was the moment of truth, was she going to face the Undying Sun or the Smiling Princess? She didn't sound angry. . . Twilight manages a gulp to clear her throat and moves forward. One of the watchers opens the door for her. Entering Princess Celestia's office is like entering another world, far removed from whatever troubles sit outside. The floor is a bright, rosy coloured wood that is almost the same shade as the wide, roughly hoof-carved desk that was glaringly out of place amidst all of the master craft around the room. Bookshelves line two of the walls, filled with unmarked tomes and knick-knacks from around the world. On the wall near the door was a painted portrait of Princess Luna, a depiction of her unlike any Twilight had seen before. Instead of the Conqueror or Warmistress, she seemed almost normal. Sleeping peacefully on a lounge chair bathed in moonlight, face perfectly content, the room around her some long-lost place of mystery. On the other end of the room was the entrance to a large balcony that only held two cushions. It was unavoidable that her gaze would be forced to go to the Princess, the door closing with a quiet click behind her. Celestia was tall, to put it mildly. Twilight knew that of course, and had seen her before, but to be personally before the alabaster white alicorn was beyond expectations. Her face was a thing of beauty, perfectly formed and proportioned with a long, thin muzzle. Her flowing ethereal mane was a cavalcade of colours to Twilight's magesight, but the Princess wasn't as bright as she imagined she would be. In fact, the only place she was giving off any magic at the moment was her mane and eyes. The Princess' pink and purple iris seemed to hold back a well of eternal power and wisdom, and all of it was focused on her. The Princess' horn began glowing, gaining a subtle, white aura. Twilight flinched, expecting a flare of bright light, but it never came. A small stack of papers levitated from a nearby shelf and onto the desk, which was clear of anything except a simple pen and Newpone's Cradle. It was only now that Twilight realized the Princess didn't look mad, or angry at all. In fact, she was still smiling, a gentle curve of her lips that reassured Twilight that she would be just fine, exactly like the Summer Sun Celebration. The Princess rises, moving to stand next to her desk, Twilight now almost having to crane her neck to see the Princess' face. "Would you like to join me on the balcony? We have some things to discuss, Twilight." With a numb nod, Twilight follows the Princess into the open night air of the balcony. The view was breathtaking, the entirety of Equestria seemed to stretch out in front of her, Cloudsdale visible in the far distance, the endless Everfree Forest, and a small town sat against a stream amidst rolling green hills filled with apple trees. The Princess seemed content to allow the silence to stretch on, absorbing a view she had undoubtedly seen countless times before, but Twilight was not. It took her gathering her courage for several seconds before she managed to speak, "P-p-princess. . ." "Celestia," the monarch interrupts. One word and I've already made mistake. What if she doesn't like me? Wait, what does she do to ponies she doesn't like? That's a long drop from here. . . She continued, interrupting Twilight's morbid thought, "While we're here, you may call me Celestia, Twilight." All of her ingrained instincts were screaming at her to disregard that and continue to refer to her as 'Princess', but something. . . something about the way the Princess stood, the way her face rested, stuck out to Twilight. The Princess wasn't taking in the view, her eyes were distant, her posture relaxed enough to reveal the slight tension in the way she stood. Like she was preparing for some sort of disappointment, just like Twilight did when she was scared, by pretending it didn't happen. Twilight gulped again, and restarts, fighting every bit of social norm ingrained into her, and manages to get out in a squeak, "C-c-c-c-Cel-Celestia. . ." A flutter of surprise washes over the monarch, and she looks down and over, now focused on Twilight. Her smile has widened a fraction, approval literally radiating off of the Princess, her coat glowing slightly. This gives Twilight the courage to press on, "W-why a-am I in t-the P-palace? W-where a-a-are my p-parents? I. . . I didn't h-hurt them, d-did I?" Twilight's heart nearly stops as the Princess lowers herself, curling her legs up under her barrel and resting near eye-level for the lavender unicorn. "Twilight, I assure you that your parents are fine, your surge was a result of my own carelessness, and I apologize." She almost made to interrupt the Princess and refute that, but the sudden informality caught her tongue. The alicorn presses on, "I brought you here after your surge so you could recover, although you are back on your feet faster than I expected. It seems you rise with the moon, hm?" A slight wry smile adorned her face. Something in the Princess' look made Twilight think she was missing something important. She stutters out a response, her eyes getting watery as she recalls the events of the past day. "B-but w-why are y-y-you being s-so n-ice? I f-f-f-failed, a-and b-blew up the e-exam room. . . A-a-and. . . and y-you s-s-saw m-me b-be a f-f-failure. . . A-and. . ." Streams of dark fur colored her face as she gasped for air for her next breath. Celestia places a hoof on Twilight's shoulder, resulting in an 'eep' as the two retract from each other. Silence fell both of them for a second. Celestia's smile faltered, but came back as if nothing happened. "You didn't fail, little one. In fact you passed with flying colours, in what I can easily say is the most impressive fashion a ten-year-old has in the history of my school. Besides, why would I not be nice to my Student?" Twilight Sparkle's heart nearly leapt at those words, she didn't fail? "Y-y-you m-mean I c-can g-go to y-y-your s-school?" The Princess nods, her bright smile widening again, is something Twilight said funny? Is this a joke? "If that is your wish, but I believe you would benefit from another source of education. If you would have me, I would like to take you as my personal student. It would not be a standard class environment, although you may have to attend some lectures now and then. I will oversee your education and tutelage myself." Everything was still. Did I mishear? No, that can't be it. The Princess wants to teach me? Personally? Say something. . . something, anything! The Princess gives a small chuckle, eyes practically twinkling as she returns Twilight's blank stare. "I take it you agree?" Finally, her brain managed to work through what exactly was being offered to her. She began hopping from one set of hooves to another, physically unable to contain her excitement, blurting out, "Ohyesyesyesyesyesyesyes!" The Princess' light, happy laughter fills Twilight's ears, making her realize exactly who the audience for her little dance was. She immediately stops, lowering her gaze and stuttering out through her hot blush, "S-s-sorry! I-I n-never thought a-anything like t-this w-would happen!" "That is quite alright, Twilight," The Princess' voice was coloured with amusement, her eyes bright like the sun. "You will need to move into the castle, of course. Your parents have agreed, but you will have a week or so before you must move your things to spend with them." Nothing could penetrate the haze of joy and excitement that sits over Twilight's mind, and she simply nods. "A guard will escort you to the gates, then. A messenger has already been sent to your parents, and they will collect you there. The guards will recognize you as my student from now on." The Princess rises now, returning to her full height, "I look forward to our first day as teacher and student, Twilight. Be sure to come prepared, we will be running through several tests to examine your progress in various fields." 'Student.' Her student. Me! Wait. . . 'Test.' That word managed to drag Twilight out from her stupor, "O-o-of c-course P-princess! I-i-i'll be ready!" The alicorn peers down at Twilight for several more seconds before nodding towards the door. "O-oh, yes. Me, h-home. F-family week," Twilight says while backing through the office and through the door. "B-bye," she yelps as she turns and bolts down the hallway. Clear Skies was an alias that Celestia hadn't used in seventy years, but it's still holding up well enough. She hardly needs extensive documentation for what she is doing, beyond the simple Equestrian Social Services ID which was easy enough to acquire. A manilla folder held the education records of four young ponies; Defiant Armet, Astral Sketch, Sunset Maille, and Silver Ember. The other students of Homeroom 1A of the High Street School of Elementary Learning that had switched to homeschooling in the past three years. She might not have even chosen to look into this personally given the report that Inkwell returned with, but something about the entirety of the situation felt. . . off. The teacher's record was spotless. By all accounts Blossom Rose was a regular schoolteacher who might not be exemplary but did her job to the high standards of the Council of Education. Celestia might have closed the report and began a more thorough investigation of Twilight's own family, were it not for the one fact that the teacher had no complaints on file about her. Not a single one, even from a disgruntled parent or jealous coworker. She even went to the Council's own record rooms to see if they had been left out of the report, just to confirm there were not on file. That had been a warning bell. It is possible for a teacher of five years to have no complaints on record, however unlikely, but possible. To have no complaints after five highly talented students over three years withdrew to homeschooling alongside her noted just-above-the-bar performance? That would have been quite a coincidence. Celestia could smell something off in her school administration and she was going to get to the bottom of it. Both for the safety of her littlest ponies and for her new Student. The house of Defiant Armet was a simple affair, the 11-year-old colt is the son of an earth pony engineer from Manehattan and a Unicorn baker. His grades were exemplary throughout his early education, then seemingly without explanation or filing, his parents had pulled him from High Street and began hiring tutors to homeschool the colt. The entrance exam for her School for Unicorns indicated none of the talents for advanced mathematics had left him. "So why had he left High Street?" Celestia mused quietly to herself. Celestia took in the house for a few moments, allowing her vision to pierce the brick and wood walls. Peering through the home revealed nothing to be concerned over. In fact, it was well lived in and the father, Radical Quotient, was sitting down with his son to go over several mathematics worksheets. Perhaps as a distraction while they waited for the exam results to go out? It was almost startling when she realized she was being stared at by the ponies passing by. She wasn't the Princess here, she was just a pony staring at a house from across the street. With that, she set off, heading up the small path that leads to the front door and ringing the doorbell. Half a minute later, Radical Quotient opens the door, his large brown earth pony form standing a few inches taller than the peach unicorn disguise that Celestia had donned. The stallion takes her in for a second or two before asking, "Can I help you?" Clear Skies gives a bright, chipper smile, "Hello, I'm here on behalf of ESS. I have something to discuss with you, an. . . oddity in our record keeping that we're trying to rectify. I also took the liberty of grabbing a letter for your son before heading over here, one he'll be excited to receive I'm sure." Radical stood and stared a moment. "Oh, pardon me, I'm Clear Skies. You must be Radical Quotient? A pleasure." She proffered a hoof to shake. As she spoke, the earth pony seemed to grow serious, a frown settling in on his face even as she gives him a moment to examine her badge. Radical scoffs. "You're finally responding to our complaints then? Well, better late than never. . . Come inside." Turning away to allow Clear in, leaving her hoof afloat. She bites back her pride, keeping in mind her objective. She keeps her smile up as Radical leads her inside and to the kitchen. Clear settles down on an indicated cushion, turning her gaze to the archway that leads into the living room. Defiant Armet's eyes had locked onto her, they were wide and his pupils were dilated. Fear? Afraid of what though? He looked ready to bolt in a way all-too-similar to her student. His father took a moment to get her a glass of water, hoofing it onto the table in front of her before looking over to Defiant and calling out, "Son, Miss Clear Skies has a letter for you, from the school." That seemed to overcome some of the fear in the young colt's eyes as he frees his sight to look back to his father but he still not budging from his spot. In fact he clutches his math textbook harder, his horn flickering and dropping his pencil from its magical grip. More and more disturbing. Forcing the colt will get nowhere. With a resigning sigh, Clear turns back to her bag, grasps the letter from her folder and floats it over to Defiant, dropping it in front of him before he could try and take it from her telekinesis. Her appearance might be altered, but brushing magic with the Sun would be very noticeable. The sealed letter bearing her school's sigil seemed to taunt the terrified colt. He looks toward his father, who nods. Defiant snatches the letter and scurries to his room without a word. Radical Quotient lets out a tired sigh, sinking into his own cushion as the sound of Defiant's door slams shut in the distance. His ears droop and he spends several seconds staring at the table before meeting Clear's concerned gaze. Taking a deep breath and placing a hoof on the table and he asks, "So you came to investigate a. . . Clerical error?" Clear nods, horn lighting up once again and withdrawing the education summary sheet for Defiant Armet, setting it on the table. "You withdrew your son from the High Street School of Elementary Learning at the age of eight, correct?" Radical nods, and she continues, "We noted an oddity in that there was no filed reason for the departure, and as far as I know, we have received no complaints from your family." His face twists in an expression of defeated anger, a deep scowl that had Clear momentarily surprised as he began speaking. "We filed a complaint against the classroom environment! The Council of Education just told us that they would look into it. Defiant wouldn't talk to us about anything. . ." Radical took a deep breath to recompose himself. "So I went in and spoke to the teacher, to try and learn more. She passed off our concerns by saying she would 'look into it', then didn't do anything. My colt just got worse and worse so I pulled him out. My wife and I got in a huge rut about it, but it. . . he was worth it. I don't know what. . ." The stallion's composure failed again, closed his eyes and taking several deep breaths before continuing, "I-I don't know what you're expecting. You said this wasn't on record?" Clear's face had gone blank over his explanation. Somewhere between anger and disgust she had withdrawn away emotionally, lest someone got hurt. Someone in her Council of Education had gotten rid of the filed complaints. Someone was abusing her system and was getting away with it. 'Was.' She reached out with her telekinesis to grab up the glass of water, bringing it up to take a drink. She absently notes the water has heated up in her grip, and is scalding hot by the time it enters her mouth. She barely notices the relatively low temperature before setting the glass down. With a sigh she responds, "No, no I can safely say this wasn't. I have been assigned to look into a series of errors that match yours and locate the source. I can assure you that the Princess herself has noted this hole in the complaints system and is looking into it personally." The mention of herself seems to ease a few of the pony's worries, but the father face remains grim. Understandably. "I just. . . felt so helpless," he shakily admits. "I couldn't do anything for him, and no one in the administration was listening." Clear rises from her cushion, moving around the table to place a hoof on his shoulder and straight into his eyes, "I assure you, I will do everything in my power to locate the source of this issue." Dispelling the tension, she pushes on, "In the meantime, your son has been accepted to Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. They have several well-accredited therapists on staff. I'd recommend encouraging your son to see one during his attendance." Radical Quotient nods after a moment, setting his shoulders as she lowers her hoof. "Thanks, I'll. . . I'll talk to him about it. It really eases my mind to think the Princess herself has noticed the issue." Clear gives the earth pony another smile, "I'm sure she appreciates the trust." Clear Skies left Silver Ember's home with a deep scowl. the sidewalk beneath her hooves gaining a soft orange glow, heat radiating waves of distortion. Three more families, three more of the exact same story. A talented student enters Blossom Rose's classroom, a traumatised mess leaves for homeschooling. None of their complaints made it to the Council of Education or even past the Principal. With a flash from her horn, Clear teleports to her office. The wards remain silent sentries, doing nothing to stop their master. In a burst of heat and light, Clear Skies' form falls away and Celestia makes for her desk. She takes a seat in her cushion and pulls a thick, callous paper from its position on the nearby shelves. With pen dipped in ink, she scrawls out a message. Each word and letter carefully measured in cursive print, the act itself, relaxing in it's own way. When she finishes the note her horn flares again and it bursts into unnatural flame that hungrily consumes the letter, sending it directly to the Intelligence Service branch of the Royal Guard. Celestia rises from her cushion and heads to her balcony, her hooves unable to find rest as she paces. "How had such a hole remained open for exploitation in MY school system!? How had this gone unnoticed?" Her eyes wander over the countryside, basking in a sudden flood of perfectly preserved memories. The battles she had won as her eyes trail over the fields outside Canterlot. The battles they had won as her eyes stray to Cloudsdale. The most important battle, the one she had lost as her eyes settle on the Everfree Forest. She can still see the castle in her mind, her sister's face, gnarled in rage, screaming at her. She had failed her. Celestia's eyes go up to the moon that hangs high in the sky, locking eyes with the image of a mare marked on its surface. "I will not fail her, Sister," she whispers. With a flash and burst of flames, a scroll materialized next to Celestia's. Sealed with the Intelligence Service's mark. Celestia breaks the seal and sets her eyes on the dark yellow unicorn mare in the top left of the page, staring back at her with a wide smile. A hot anger settles in Celestia's stomach. The dark grey scroll contained several pages that make up the file of Ms. Blossom Rose, teacher of Homeroom 1A in the High Street Academy of Elementary Learning. "What did you do to my little ponies?"