//------------------------------//
// Chapter 16: Sad Gambit 
// Story: Child of Mine 
// by Starscribe 
//------------------------------//

Things were not going well for Twilight Sparkle. 

She’d already known she faced a daunting task, one of the most difficult magical feats that anypony had ever attempted. But how could she say no to Cadance? She’d looked into her face and been able to taste her desperation, as real as the dirt under her hooves.

But the longer she invested into probing the boundary between worlds, the less she felt like she was making any progress. Yes, she had created a spell that could track Flurry past the boundary of worlds, into the place in some neighboring space where she had deposited herself. But expecting Twilight to be able to get there just because she knew the place was about the same as expecting a compass to teleport its holder to the North Pole.

Before Flurry’s disappearance, Twilight’s laboratory had been more of a novelty than anything else. She tinkered with casual magical experiments, probing at the boundaries of her world and inventing new spells. Ever since she’d become a princess, Twilight had less and less time to actually use the space. Building that room had been as much because the library had one as because she actually needed it.

Now half her castle felt like a library. Every day she received half a dozen new missives from the Princess of Love, speaking of how much larger their outpost had become. Acres of forest had already been felled, and a sizeable fortress was going up around the spot. Flurry’s Vigil would keep the location safe, as well as bringing in spellcasters from around the world to do their own, independent investigation.

Twilight probably should’ve felt insulted by that, but instead it only made her relieved. Maybe some other ponies will figure this thing out before I do. Then I won’t be the one Cadance remembers as the pony who couldn’t save her daughter.

Once they got Flurry back, all this would be in the past, and the baby would probably be kept in a magically insulated wing until she turned a hundred.

“The construction crew has finally arrived from Canterlot. Apparently this is going to take a few months to build. Hopefully it isn’t needed. But I realize how wrong it was to put all this pressure on you, Twilight. Only one pony has ever done what we need, and he had a lifetime to study before he built his miracles. You don’t have that kind of time.

“I still expect you to send daily reports of your progress to the growing research team I’m assembling here. They’ve already constructed a modified version of your device, using your design. They tell me it uses the connection to Flurry to confirm she’s still alive.

“I know I shouldn’t be worried. The elements would’ve claimed a helpless pony on their own by now—that she lives gives me hope that she’s been taken in by kind strangers. I intend to show them the true depth of the Crystal Empire’s gratitude when we travel to reclaim my daughter.”

And what wasn’t said, though Twilight could practically see it printed in bold letters—was the threat of terrible wrath waiting if something did happen to her daughter.

What if she dies before I finish? Should I even complete the spell? Cadance might take all of Equestria to war against another world that doesn’t even know we exist.

She could only hope she would never face that choice, for her sake and Flurry’s.

Growing up as the personal student of the princess had never spoiled her with wealth the way many suspected. Celestia gave her a room, but that was all. Some part of her never truly recognized just how wealthy the monarchy could be.

The Crystal Empire wasn’t just funding the construction of an outpost a hundred miles from the nearest pony village. She was funding all of Twilight’s research, sending anything she requested by the fastest shipping available.

Should she feel guilty about all the bits she was spending?

Where before Twilight had always been conservative, building new spells with care and plotting their matrices over weeks to be sure they’d be right, now every day brought a new package of gold and silver wire from the smith. Almost as often, she traded boxes of scrap gold and tarnished silver, twisted vaguely into spells that hadn’t proven their worth.

I can’t rush this. It doesn’t matter how urgent it is or how much time I want to invest. I’m not going to correctly bridge our worlds by accident. With an Alicorn’s power, her experiments were unlikely to fail gently if she got close—they would probably create spectacular disaster for one or both worlds, and she would be the one who declared war for Equestria.

I have to slow down.

Twilight crossed her lab, walking straight for the mirror portal against the far wall. It was face down right now, its workings exposed for her to copy. The walls around it were covered with sketches of the runes, expanded to their full interaction with a dozen hours of careful attention.

If it was just about making an exact copy, we would already be done. She stopped beside the mirror, leaning down to touch the silver with one hoof. She could feel the faint energies beyond, creating a bridge that opened only once in a great while. 

That was Star Swirl’s solution to the problem of thaumic feedback, and too much contamination between worlds. Her design wouldn’t even have to worry about that problem, since they would use it only to cross once, then return.

How do I tell her that I’m not going to finish this in a month? For all Twilight knew, she wasn’t going to finish it this year. There were no experts to call in—Cadance was wasting her bits by hiring an assortment of Equestria’s mages who promised they could wave their hooves and do the impossible.

But she wasn’t going to tell her that. All these failures aren’t helping Flurry. I need to take my time, break down the theory, and figure out why this spell works, not just stare at it and pretend it makes sense.

Twilight sat down, selected a quill, and started to write. 

“Dear Princess Cadance…