//------------------------------// // That Unsettling Light // Story: In Spirit Golden // by Meridian Prime //------------------------------// The chatter of hundreds of milling ponies blended into a low hum in the back of her mind as Gossamer Loom picked her way through the market day crowd. Occasionally, a particularly loud haggling would break through the low drone, or a shout of laughter from one of the many foals darting their way underhoof. She paid them no mind. She only had one reason to visit Harpers Ridge. The town was nothing special. A mining community, and one of the many small settlements that had sprung up in the decades since the Founding that truly embraced the pony races newfound solidarity. Unicorns to find the veins, earth ponies to mine them, and pegasi to haul the precious cargo away to the larger trading posts in the south. It was not anything particular to the town that had brought her there. No, it just so happened that Harpers Ridge was the closest place that she would be able to reach from her hometown in time for market day. And with market day, came the merchants. Travelling merchants had existed in the shadows since time immemorial, but with the sudden lack of border patrols and embargoes, the once sketchy profession had blossomed into one of the new nation’s most prosperous trades. Enough so that decidedly more niche goods could now be found if you knew where to look. Squeezing through a narrow gap between some stalls, Gossamer emerged into a small square, a little less busy than the bustling high street. Spotting her prize, she trotted forward and ducked inside. The tent had looked rather nondescript from outside. Hastily erected, sturdy but a little weatherbeaten, and interchangeable with a thousand others—only the name on a hastily scrawled sign revealed just what, and more importantly who, lay within. Solar Swirl’s Enchanting Emporium The interior was decidedly cramped—less, she felt, for a lack of space and more for the sheer intimidating volume of things crammed into it. Stained and worn old shelves groaned under the weight of hundreds of knick-knacks and assorted magical tomes. There had clearly been an attempt at a sorting system once upon a time, one that had been soundly beaten back by the advance of time and the accumulation of yet more junk. She brushed a wingtip over worn and weathered spines, her sharp green eyes flitting from title to title. Most of it was worthless, but one or two hinted at a more discerning taste. She smiled to herself. Yes, she thought, he’ll do. “You have a rare gift, Solar. Why, you might grow to rival your cousin one day!” “The greatest mind our line has produced since Star Swirl himself.” “He mastered that almost as fast as Star Swirl did!” “A true prodigy. Star Swirl would have been proud.” First cousins. Not removed. That was what separated Solar Swirl from the greatest mage to ever live. And no one had ever let him forget it. Whatever he did, Star Swirl had done first, faster, better. His talent didn’t matter, his achievements meaningless next to this burgeoning monolith of history. And so, even as he grew to ever greater heights, the young unicorn grew bitter. And in his bitterness, he swore to uncover the secrets of the one magic Star Swirl could never seem to master. Bond magic. A myth for centuries, and then the Founding Six had only gone and saved the pony race with a spell so potent that the sheer volume of magic became visible—the famous ‘fires’. Love, friendship, hatred, grief. All had a power that seemingly dwarfed more traditional spellcasting, and yet accessing that power seemed impossible. But others did not share his enthusiasm. He had endured the sneers and whispers for as long as he could bear them, but when a colleague at the academy had laughed in his face, mocked him as some cheap conjurer on a fool's errand… They hadn’t let him stay after that. And so he went out into the world, his task only clearer in his mind. But though he searched and searched, his efforts were to no avail. Until one day, a young pegasus mare dropped by his shop. A rustling noise caught his ear, and Solar Swirl glanced up sharply, quill freezing in his telekinetic grip. It was not often, after all, that his out-of-the-way little tent garnered any traffic. The shop was in truth a secondary consideration, a burden he did not suffer gladly. Nothing more than an excuse to travel with the merchant caravan that was slowly making its way across the northern reaches of Equestria, granting the opportunity to search for rare materials and texts, and a minor source of funding for his true passion—research. And yet it seemed he had a customer. Joy. He waited, his thin mouth curving down into a slight frown. The point of his quill tapped absent-mindedly against the margins of the parchment he had been scrawling on. Then his mysterious customer came around the corner of an overladen bookshelf and into view. He put the quill down. Solar Swirl could admit, at least to himself, that most of what he sold was junk. It served its purpose—the odd trinket sold to an overly superstitious earth pony, a book of herbs to a minor spellcaster or the like. Magical dreck, hawked at the unlearned and gullible. But it was not often that he saw a pegasus in his abode, and he found his attention caught. His interest in this unusual customer was only strengthened by the undeniable fact that she was strikingly beautiful. A pale blue mane and tail, elegantly unruly, whose wispy nature only seemed to highlight the pure alabaster of her coat, astonishingly unmarked by the dirt and dust of the busy marketplace outside. He straightened, frown smoothing out into a neutral line. “Can I help you?” Polite, but measured, and not very far at that. Old colleagues had charitably described him as terse—at least those that did not describe him in far fouler language. “Why yes. I do believe you can.” She, conversely, had a voice to match her appearance. Melodious and warm, the small part of him that still missed his mother wanted to melt away into the sound. It was, however, only a small part. He quirked an eyebrow. The mare smiled. She even had perfect teeth. “I am looking for an accomplished spellcaster, and one who is not ...restrained, shall we say, by the rules and regulations of the Everfree Academy.” Emerald eyes flickered with amusement. “And I doubt there are many spellcasters more accomplished than one of Star Swirl’s line.” The eyebrow lifted higher, and the other soon joined it. Most assumed his name a coincidence, or worse an affectation. Even some of his former academic colleagues had doubted his lineage, but this pegasus, this strange mare, was utterly confident in her proclamation. “I believe we should discuss this more privately, miss…?” Her smile widened. Sitting at the small table he kept in his private quarters half an hour later, his attention had yet to waver, but in place of his earlier curiosity he found fascination—and more than a little wariness. “I must admit,” he said, the deliberate lightness of his tone coiling like a springtrap, “I find myself curious as to why a young pegasus mare whose name and mark imply textile work knows about highly secret research that I have spent most of my life working on,” he paused, eyes narrowing, “and, for that matter, why she cares.” If Gossamer was at all intimidated by the older stallion, she did not show it. Her unnaturally white coat gleamed in the lamplight, unmarred, not a single hair out of place. It almost seemed to glow. Her slight smile never wavered. “I did my research.” Above the disarming smile, her eyes were hard as flint. “That does not explain,” he said coolly, “why you care about bond magic.” She gestured at the parchment that lay between them. “We know that the emotional bonds between sapient beings have power, love—of any kind—most of all. We know that because this country was founded on it, scarcely over a century ago. And yet we haven’t the slightest clue how it works, how to control it.” “I’m aware,” he interrupted icily, “I spent the last forty years trying to no avail.” “But you,” she said, “worked alone.” She held up a hoof to forestall complaint. “This is about bonds; emotional investment is needed. I doubt any temporary help or test subjects had that.” His frown deepened a fraction, as close to an admission as she would get. “But I do. If we work together…” He leaned forward. “You still haven’t answered me. Why do you care?” Silence. The lamplight flickered. “...I have never understood other ponies,” she spoke at last. “Oh, I understand what drives them. I just don’t understand why.” For the first time all evening, her smile had vanished. “It’s… frustrating. I can mold ponies minds however I please with just a subtle glance and a word, uncover their every vice and flaw, but I cannot grasp how they connect. It’s unpredictable. Unknowable.” Her eyes bored into him, an unsettling light flickering in their depths. “I want to know. This ritual will let me. I just need you to cast it.” She slid the parchment across the table. Solar Swirl contemplated the paper for a moment, before wordlessly lifting it in his magic, bringing it into the light. After a minute, he set it back down again. “The ritual is… sound,” he said. “Your work is quite impressive.” Her smile was all teeth. “I did my research.” He glanced down again, then gave a sharp nod. “You have yourself a deal, Miss Loom.”