“And you signed section 3A, front and back?”
“Ye- Oh. Sorry, missed the back.”
“And what about 9N? There’s a line there about releasing the attending physicians of any wrongdoing, that you need to also sign when releasing yourself against our recommendation.”
“Signed it already. And I did section 11C.”
The nurse didn’t look as pleased with that as Twilight felt, but she nodded after verifying all the correct signatures. “Very well, Miss Sparkle,” she sighed, “you’re free to go. But the doctors wanted me to reiterate that you should be monitored for another few days, at least.”
Of course they did. It took a lot for Twilight not to tell the nurse to hurry up, but she clamped down on that immediate compulsion. She was in the downstairs waiting room, almost out the door. She could see the sunlight.
Finally the nurse slid the clipboard back over to her. She didn’t look pleased. “Everything seems to be in order then. But, Miss Sparkle, once again I want to caution you. You lost a lot of blood. Even with a transfusion, if you start to feel weak, or feverish, we want you to check yourself back in.”
“Sure.” No way in hell. “I’m free to go now? Can I have my things back?”
‘Her things’ being the saddlebags and tattered gambeson that the nurse begrudgingly turned over to her. Her padded suit certainly seen better days; it was scuffed and cut and some of the straps had been snapped, but Twilight stepped back into it, right at the hospital desk, and managed to get it tied by herself. It just felt right, and the one thing she hadn’t let out of her sight, her sword, fit right along the back like they’d been made for each other.
But that wasn’t the thing Twilight was looking the most forward to. Not by a long shot. But it would have to wait for later, even though Twilight shivered as she felt its weight in her saddlebags as she strapped them on.
The nurse said something else, probably another warning, but Twilight’s attention was already gone. It’d been a strained thing over the last three days as she endured test after test, even though she didn’t feel bad at all. Each morning had been better than the last until she no longer felt the need to play nice with the hospital.
Especially considering everyone else seemed to have forgotten about her.
Twilight wasn’t interested in any prospective excuse, either. Trixie hadn’t shown her face since walking out on her days ago. Neither had Sunburst or Sol Shard for that matter. Twilight didn’t think the Grand Magister of the High Spire had an obligation to take any kind of interest in her, but it would have been nice just to get some kind of notice about what was going on. After all, she only had a few more days before shipping back to Fort Dressage.
Damn Trixie. Well, if that’s the way her partner wanted to play it, then whatever. What did it matter if Twilight thought they’d parted on… well, not good terms, but at least friendly.
One day Twilight could understand. Trixie was mad at being cut out of the investigation, same as Twilight. Two days, even. Maybe she was off getting drunk somewhere? Or living it up in a casino for a bit.
But three days and not a word? No. Twilight had demanded to be checked out that morning. If Trixie wanted to be an angry mule, then so be it. They wouldn’t be each other’s problem anymore.
It was still early morning. There were a few ponies walking around outside the Sunset Medical Center, either arriving or waiting for a rickshaw taxi. The hot desert air hit hard out here, away from the blessing of air conditioning. It was a dry, oppressive heat, but not as bad as it had been out in the desert itself. Las Pegasus was a city in the clouds, after all - half a construction of both unicorn and pegasi magic, and the other half an amazing work of earth pony mountaincrafting. The result was a resort city of both cloud and stone floating above and around the Applewood mountains. That made it convenient when the city needed to grow - the pegasi could just push more clouds around the existing city center.
The altitude made the heat bearable, at least. But that altitude came with its own challenges, such as the one staring Twilight right in the face a few feet from the hospital’s doorway.
Clouds. Puffy, springy, white clouds that surrounded narrow strips of walkable land for non-pegasi.
“This can’t be real,” she muttered, stunned. She knew that Las Pegasus was a pegasus city, but seeing it was something completely different. She’d just been in a building supported by land which was in turn supported by nothing but… what? Clouds? Did that make any sense at all?
A nearby rickshaw puller chuckled. “First time walking up here?” he asked. “It’s safe. No worries.” He jumped up and down a few times, just to prove it. “The magisterium unicorns keep it all up in the air. They say they don’t have to cast the spell but one time a year, but they do it every three months just to make everyone feel better. Don’t want to scare off the tourists, right?”
“That would be bad for business,” Twilight admitted. Taking a deep breath, she put her other hoof down on the walkway, then her back hooves. It felt… normal. Like regular ground. Just don’t think about it, she thought. It won’t make sense no matter what.
“See? Firm as a mountain. Just don’t go wandering off the beaten trails unless you suddenly grow wings.” His eyes flicked to her gambeson, then her sword. “Here on leave or something? We get a lot of you guards from the fort before they go back home or to their first assignments.”
“Something like that. An assignment before I graduate. Have you seen any magisters out here this morning? Unicorns in black cloaks?”
The stallion shook his head. “Not today, but I did see one yesterday. Yellow, wearing glasses.” He chuckled. “Teleported away before I could so much as give him my sales pitch. But you’re still here. Need a lift?”
Twilight shook her head. “No bits,” she said. Saying it out loud actually made it sink in that, yes, she definitely had a problem if she couldn’t find the magisters. Sheepishly, she asked, “I don’t suppose you know where the magisters in the city stay at?”
“I’ll do you one better. I’ll take you there and put it on their tab.” He pointed to his rickshaw. “I don’t suppose that you would be cheating me for a free ride, considering whose money you’d be taking.”
So that was how Twilight found herself being carried into town on an authentic Las Pegasus rickshaw. Her puller was telling her about this casino, or that casino, and about the history of the city as they went further in. Buildings got older and the new, pretty walkways slowly gave way to old cobblestone.
“We’re on the mountain now,” the puller said. “Las Pegasus and Applewood used to be two separate things, but it all got mushed together a century or two ago. Still easy to tell, though. The heart of the city is built right on top of a shaved mountaintop. There's a few thousand feet of stone under us. There are some old casinos back here before they started making them out of that spongy concrete stuff that can sit easier on the clouds.”
“So this is technically old Applewood?”
The stallion nodded. “Yup. I’ll be level with you - I prefer it back here when I can put my hooves on the actual ground. No offense to you unicorn types. It’s not that I don’t trust the spells, but...”
“No, I completely understand what you mean,” Twilight assured him. She was breathing easier knowing that it was 100% Equestria below her now too.
And the stallion was right. The buildings here were showing their age and the sturdiness of their construction. Some of them reminded Twilight of Manehattan or the lower parts of Canterlot, with their old stone construction and narrow alleyways between each building. Twilight could see little windows of the day-to-day life of the citizens here when the lights of the casinos weren’t on as she rumbled past.
Eventually, the rickshaw came to a halt in front of a stately-looking row house situated at the intersection of two streets. It stood out from the rest of the block by its off-grey blocks that made up its four stories, rather than the brick or sandstone of its neighbors. Set at the very top, high enough that Twilight had to crane her neck, was a massive attic window that Twilight imagined was the eye of some magical giant, looking out over the city. On each level there were gargoyle statues, each with a different, horrible face, staring down at whoever would dare walk up to the door.
“Creepy, isn’t it?” the rickshaw puller intoned, but there was a teasing smile on his lips. “Like I said, I’ll put the bill on the Chantry’s tab. Although… if you were lying for a free ride, I’d let you just work if off by pulling the rickshaw for a few trips, rather than make them track you down.”
Twilight shook her head, but she had to admit that the building was definitely creepy. “Believe me, I’d find better ways of stealing rides than cheating the Magisterium.”
She went up to the door as the rickshaw puller clopped back down the street. Without him, Twilight suddenly felt alone. Strange city, no money, no real idea where she was - it hit her there, on those doorsteps, how isolated she’d become. If Sunburst or Trixie weren’t here, what then? Where would she go?
But those thoughts didn’t rule Twilight, and she took a deep breath to steady herself. Her hoof rapped on the door with three deep knocks and the sound of them seemed to echo in whatever space laid beyond.
No answer. Twilight counted to ten in her head and knocked again, louder this time. Ponies walking by looked at her like she was mad, whispering to each other as they passed, staring at the little mare in tattered armor knocking on the door to the Magisterium.
A few more seconds went by. Twilight leaned over the porch railing, trying to look in one of the windows. Only blackness stared back at her from within.
“What is it?”
The voice surprised Twilight enough that she nearly fell right over the railing and into the hedges. “Who is that?!” she demanded, spinning around and looking every which way. The ponies on the street still looked at her like a madmare, but none of them had said anything.
But the voice didn't just come from nowhere. Twilight’s ears were still instinctually swiveled toward it - or rather, toward the gargoyle statue crouched closest to the door. It was an ugly thing, with a face like a monkey and twice as tall as Twilight at the shoulders. The etching on it was amazing. Twilight could easily see that it had been carved with armor, lamellar plates if she didn’t miss her mark, and a helmet.
Twilight rolled her eyes, embarrassed at herself. It was a speaker system, clearly. Very cleverly hidden. She couldn’t make out where the speaker was, no matter how much she searched for it.
Ah, but the mouth was open, wasn’t it? That’s where Twilight would have put a speaker.
Whoever had carved this thing had been a master, that was for sure. The thing even had rows of carved teeth and a tongue. Was the speaker down there? Twilight leaned in, hoping to catch a glimpse...
The thing’s mouth snapped shut like a bear trap, nearly taking off the tip of her hoof. Twilight flailed and fell back on the steps, looking up in awe as the massive stone thing rolled its neck, sending little flecks of concrete and dust skittering where it moved.
Its eyes rolled up, revealing two black jewels instead of concrete carving. Jewels that Twilight felt zero in on her. Some snickering from the street lessened the wonder somewhat; some passersby had stopped to watch, others to laugh. Apparently this wasn’t too rare of a show.
A look of bored distaste came over the sculpture. “Are you blind, deaf, and dumb? I asked what you wanted with this chantry. We’re not expecting any deliveries today. Solicitors are eaten on sight.” His teeth gave another bored chitter in Twilight’s direction.
Gathering her wits, Twilight pushed off her haunches and (cautiously) approached the gargoyle. “I’m Twilight Sparkle,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, Twilight Sparkle,” the thing said, amicably. “Now. Kindly sod off. Or don’t, and wait for the city watch to catch you. Carrying around a prop like that in broad daylight I’m sure they won’t be long.”
Twilight stomped her foot. “It’s not a prop and I’m not going away! Not until I talk to Magister Sunburst. Or Trixie Lulamoon.”
Finally, the gargoyle seemed interested. But it was the wrong kind of interest. Instead of the boredom from before, the stone ape’s face twisted into a giddy, cruel mask as more and more of its body started to crack and grind. Twilight had thought it was twice her size, but watching it clamber down from its perch she saw that her estimate was… not in the least bit accurate. The thing towered over her. Stretched all the way out it would have to stoop to even get into the building it was protecting.
It suddenly crouched, hundreds upon hundreds of pounds of stone collapsing all at once, in the blink of an eye, until it was only a hair’s breadth from Twilight’s face. “So, you’re saying you won’t leave? That you, right now, are refusing to vacate Magisterium property?” it asked, with barely contained anticipation.
“N-Not at all,” Twilight stuttered, suddenly feeling far, far too small for this conversation. The fists alone on this thing were bigger than her head! “I said that I wanted to talk to Magister Sunburst or Trixie Lulamoon!”
“And I said that we’re not entertaining solicitors.” It reached out and caught Twilight by the back of her tattered gambeson and lifted her as easy as she would a pebble off the road. Up, up, up she went until her legs flailed around in the air a dozen feet off the ground. Now she had been the one brought to its level to talk. “We get fans like you from time to time,” it said, stepping forward off the doorstep in a single stride. Ponies on the street scattered like little animals. “You think that you’re something special and that you can just march down to your local chantry, throw some names around, and get whisked off to magic school. You went the extra mile with the sword, but I’ve seen better.”
The colossal thing dropped her in the middle of the street, though it did bend down so it wasn’t too bad of a jolt on Twilight’s bad leg. “Don’t come back,” the gargoyle warned as it walked away.
Twilight followed.
There were a few gasps from the crowd as Twilight darted between the gargoyle’s legs, standing between it and its perch.
“I’m going in,” she said.
The stone monkey smiled. It wasn’t a mean smile, or a giddy one. Just sad. With one hand, it reached out again to catch Twilight by the scuff of her gambeson.
An orchid glow stopped his hand. The gargoyle stared at its appendage, frowning, but its black eyes glittered. “Maybe you are better than the normal riff-raff I have to deal with,” it amended.
Then it pressed.
Twilight’s legs instantly started to buckle at the intense force being put against her telekinesis. She was a certified telekinetic powerlifter, but this thing was in another weight class entirely. With just one stone arm it was putting so much pressure on Twilight’s hold that her horn was starting to burn from the strain.
“I’m pretty impressed right now,” the monkey stated, and it honestly did sound sincere. Ponies had stopped to stare and the laughter was nowhere to be heard. “I could just choose to ignore your magic and squish you like a bug, but this is the most interesting thing I’ve done in over a decade. But how long can you keep this up?”
“Until you go get Sunburst or Trixie,” Twilight growled through grit teeth. She sucked in a hiss of breath when the gargoyle used his free arm to press down on the one Twilight was holding back.
Suddenly, the front door to the chantry slammed open. “What is all this ruckus?!” someone demanded, and Twilight dropped her telekinesis in shock. The second she did the stone hand rocketed forward and caught her around the barrel, like a toy. Like her magic didn’t even matter.
The smile on the gargoyle’s face was gone, replaced by a blank look. “Removing a solicitor, Master Strauss,” it said, voice devoid of any inflection. “I apologize for the disturbance.”
“Strauss” was a unicorn stallion. Middle-aged, but coat still a vibrant red, he looked like an angry devil standing in the doorway. His chique, rounded glasses perched precariously on his muzzle, but yellow eyes stared out balefully from behind them. Twilight shivered when those eyes landed on her.
“It took you this long to remove a simple solicitor? We deal with them at least twice a month without you bothering the chantry. Are you suddenly deficient for your task?”
The stone hand gripping her tensed at the question. “No, Master,” it said. “This one is simply more talented than most.”
Strauss scoffed. “Then you are deficient. You have enough anti-warding built into you to ignore Princess Celestia’s magic, if only until she tires of playing and burns you out like a cinder.” The unicorn’s eyes narrowed. “Did you forget, or do you need me to experiment and see why my runes are not functioning correctly? Release them, at once, and I will deal with your failure later.”
Twilight yelped as she suddenly fell half a dozen feet. The gargoyle didn’t say another word as it crawled back up to its empty perch by the door, either. Its black eyes rolled back to stone.
The show was over, apparently. Ponies went back to their business on the street, helped along by the no-nonsense unicorn glaring at them from the stoop. Twilight had a fleeting thought of scattering along with them, but Strauss was pinning her to the spot now with his attention. He looked her over critically, eyes lingering on her gambeson and sword.
“You must be Twilight Sparkle,” he said. “Master Sol Shard mentioned you might arrive sometime this week.” Strauss sighed, but he did extend his hoof out to her. Warily, Twilight shook it. It seemed like the polite thing to do. Strauss dropped her hoof as soon as it was socially acceptable to do so and nodded to the open door. “Come in.” Feeling more than a little whiplash from the different receptions, Twilight stumbled along after the stallion.
The sudden shift from the streets of Las Pegasus to the inside of the chantry was disorienting. The light was so soft inside that Twilight couldn’t even see for a few moments, but when her eyes adjusted all she saw was pure opulence around her. Crystal chandeliers, velvet-covered furniture, thick velour curtains - it was like walking into the Royal Palace in Canterlot (or so Twilight imagined).
Other ponies were walking around as well. Most in the same black magister robes that Strauss was in, but there were three pegasi in armor not dissimilar to Twilight’s sitting in a lounge area off to the side of the foyer. Twilight caught the attention of one of them, and they alerted their companions, so now all three were staring at her and whispering. More than a few glances were sent at her horn and lack of wings, along with some smirks.
“I thought this was the magisterium headquarters,” Twilight asked. Strauss glanced at her, then at the pegasi she was looking at.
“It is, but we work hoof-in-hoof with the Royal Scouts during monster eradication missions. A small five-member flight has made itself available to us, along with their apprentices.” The stallion’s tone made it clear what he thought about that. “They have the first floor to themselves. If you wish to have your… shirt replaced, speak to them later. Goddess only knows what the bits we make available to them go toward.”
Strauss stopped at the stairs leading up. They were massive, sweeping things with a mid-floor landing that transitioned into a switchback that blocked any view of the higher floors. “Take a look at this stairway,” Strauss said, sweeping his foreleg at the first few steps, “because this is the only view you will have unless invited up by a magister, and even then they must consult myself for permission. Delicate magical experiments and spells are being performed on the next few floors and I won’t have laymen interfering with our magisters.”
Laymen? The word made Twilight’s cheeks heat up, but she couldn’t deny that she was very badly out of her magical depth.
But she didn’t come here to be insulted.
“Get Sunburst,” Twilight demanded. Strauss gave her a look, but she didn’t care. “I won’t go upstairs, but I want to talk to him. Or Trixie. Either one.”
“You’re not in a position to order ponies around, Miss Sparkle. You’re here because The Master of the High Spire considered it a favor for me to open my chantry to you.” Strauss’s eyes narrowed. He was looking at her the same way he’d looked at the gargoyle. “That invitation can be revoked. In fact-”
“Twilight?”
Both unicorns turned to look up the stairs. Sunburst was staring down at them, confusion and pleasant surprise written on his face. “I wasn’t expecting you to get out of the hospital for a few more days.” He stepped down the stairs, putting himself just wedged enough that it was only police for Twilight and Strauss to step away from each other. “How did you get here?”
Relief washed over Twilight; she felt anchored again, just seeing someone she recognized. “I signed myself out and took a rickshaw. The puller knew right where to bring me when I asked him about magisters.” Blushing, she added, “He said he would, uh, bill you guys later. Because I don’t have any bits.”
Strauss frowned, but Sunburst waved off her concern. “That’s fine. It’s my fault for not keeping a closer watch on your recovery.” He nodded toward the stairs. “Come on up. I was going to get a room ready for you, but I thought I had a few more days. You can at least store your things there.”
“Sunburst,” Strauss cut in, “do you think it wise to let an uninitiated acolyte wander around the chantry?”
“She’s not an acolyte,” Sunburst cut in, before Twilight could. His smile was pleasant. “She’s a guard trainee we picked up from Fort Dressage and worked closely with us in the business outside of town.”
Some kind of byplay went on there, between Strauss and Sunburst, and Twilight didn’t need to be a social butterfly to see that Strauss was out-gunned. The other unicorn just managed to catch himself at the start of a sneer, but the narrowing of his eyes and the tightness of his lips let Twilight know what he thought about this whole thing.
“Miss Twilight will be under your care,” he said, but it sounded more like a threat before he abruptly popped out of existence. The sudden departure made Twilight jump, but Sunburst just let out a small huff of air that could have been a sigh of relief.
He turned back to Twilight with a wry expression. “Sorry that you had to deal with him for so long. I only felt your magic a moment ago, when things got heated. Strauss can be a bit difficult to ponies he thinks could disrupt the flow of his chantry.” Sunburst motioned to follow him up the stairs. “We’ll get you settled. No worries.”
The stairs creaked under their weight and Twilight’s heavy horseshoes scuffed the wood more than once on her way up. Sunburst hardly made a sound, though.
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?” Twilight asked. She smiled at the surprised look the stallion sent her. “You know where all the loose boards are on the stairs.”
“Clever. Yes, I have been here before. And I know these stairs very well, considering how many years I spent going up and down these very steps.”
That wasn’t the answer Twilight expected. “You grew up here? In Las Pegasus?”
Sunburst scoffed at some mental joke and shook his head. “Can you imagine growing up here? No, I simply came here for my journeymanship. It’s the step a magister takes after finishing their apprenticeship.” he explained. “I’ve always had some interest in card tricks and hedge magic, so it seemed like an excellent fit. So, when I was offered a choice where to study I picked the chantry here. It’s where I met Trixie, as well.”
Twilight’s ears perked. “Trixie? She was here too?”
“Well, not the chantry. Not at first. We met after she jumped up onto the stage of a magician act I was watching one night. Said that she could put on a better show than what the magician was doing, and basically ran him off the stage with some magicked fireworks.” Sunburst laughed at the memory, and Twilight smiled as well. That sounded exactly like something Trixie would do. “When security managed to drag her off the stage, I was waiting for her outside. She took her aptitude test here at the chantry, and that was that.”
Something tickled the back of Twilight’s mind and an odd memory clicked into place. “She wasn’t wearing some kind of silly magician hat and cape when she jumped up on stage, was she?”
“Well isn’t that something? I didn’t think she would tell you the story! She always gets embarrassed when I bring it up.”
“I just saw the hat and cape in her travel trunk.” That she made me lug around. “But… aren’t we all around the same age? Can you take an apprentice that young?”
“I’m flattered you think I’m as young as you are!” Sunburst laughed. “I’m well into my twenties, but unless I’ve missed my mark you’re still in your teens?” Twilight nodded, suddenly a bit bashful. Sunburst certainly didn’t look much older.
But, then again, the stallion did have a stately air around him. His little wisp of beard made him seem a bit more dignified, like a wise old goat from a storybook, and the glasses tied it all together. And when he wanted to explain something, he got a look in his eye. The beginnings of a twinkle.
“Trixie is only a year younger than I am, but she’s a very special case.”
“Like… what you guys do with candidates who go into the military late in life?” Twilight wondered. If she had taken Feldspar’s offer, she would have started the Magisterium now, at seventeen. That seemed old for some kind of magical school, didn’t it?
Maybe I would have fit in after all, Twilight thought, unbidden. If there were ponies in the same situation as her, starting later in life, then… then…
Twilight hadn’t noticed she’d stopped until Sunburst walked back up to her. The twinkle was gone, now replaced by concern. “Are you alright? You stopped for a moment.”
“Sorry. It’s… it’s just a thing. When I think too much. I get-”
“-wrapped up in the thought? Oh, there’s no need to apologize. Not to me, at least. I can lose days when I start thinking and researching something. Trixie says I turn into a… what did she use to call it? A ‘great and bespeckled log’?” Sunburst snorted. “As though she doesn’t have any quirks. As if any magister doesn’t.”
He doesn’t think it’s weird. “R-Right. Just a quirk.” It’s not weird here. Twilight shook her head. She had to, to get the thoughts out. But they were still there, whispering to her. “Y-You were saying something about Trixie? About her being a special case?”
Sunburst blinked. “Oh. Right. Well, she was already fairly talented in illusionary magic when I ‘discovered’ her, even more so than her father, who is a bit of a local legend around here. I knew that she was a bit old for introductory training, but I explained her situation to Master Sol Shard and he agreed to let me try. And she took to it rather quickly, so she was more of a… junior research partner than my apprentice. She- Oh. We’re here. Your room.”
And they had been walking, hadn’t they? Twilight looked over her shoulder - rows of doors were behind her, all closed, and a thin slip of daylight shining at the far end of the hallway. In the beam of light Twilight could see a snowfall of dust coming from the wooden ceiling and walls; the building was ancient.
But when Sunburst opened the door fresh sunlight hit Twilight square in the face and it took her eyes a second to adjust. Instantly a whole of Las Pegasus was before her, right behind a massive bay window. It was a wonderful view; Twilight could even see the Sunset Medical Center way off in the distance.
“Sorry that there’s not much room, but you know Trixie. It was impossible to convince her to put all the trunks in storage.”
Twilight blinked and refocused back on the room. It was a double dorm. One bed on each side and there were three large trunks stacked on one of the beds. Trunks that Twilight instantly recognized as belonging to her missing partner.
A smile tugged at Twilight’s face, despite her bed being treated as nothing more than another shelf for Trixie’s storage. “It’s fine. I got used to her sharing a tent. At least there are a few feet between me and her sleep talking now.”
Sunburst chuckled, but his eyes went distant. “She can go on for hours if you don’t stop her,” he said, smiling in turn. “I can’t count the nights I had to cast a silencing charm on… her… oh.”
He realized what he’d said just a moment after Twilight, and he suddenly seemed more like a blushing teenager than the wizened apprentice of Sol Shard. “Ah, um. Not that we ever…!” Sunburst backpedaled. “We just… for the Magisterium, you understand, we had to share a lot of accommodations-!”
The stallion’s mouth finally clicked closed, face burning. “I… I’m just going to… go. YoushouldcheckinwithMasterSolShard!” he stammered as he nearly ran out the door.
Twilight hollowly chuckled in the empty room. She looked around and threw her rucksack on her bed, next to one of Trixie’s trunks. Why did he get so embarrassed? They were adults. Adults did… things. All sorts of things. “Don’t know why he thought I cared,” Twilight reasoned out loud as she roughly pushed Trixie’s trunk on the floor. It hit with a loud thud that shook the ancient wooden floor.
“Because I don’t care.” The trunk thudded again as Twilight pushed it against the far wall. This time it felt like the walls shuddered. “Why would I care?
She didn’t. Trixie could do what she wanted, with whomever she wanted. She was apparently this adult, mature unicorn who had better things to do than visit Twilight’s hospital room, or even send a letter. Turned out she was just another boring adult. That was fine. It was all fine. Everything was f i n e.
Twilight’s eyes turned sly. Oh, everything was just fine because she had something much better to do right now.
Quickly, Twilight shut the door to the little room and tugged the curtains closed. They were thick things of black canvas, so the room was almost pitch black now. She waited, silently, not even breathing, and listened right at the door. No sounds. Good.
She levitated off her saddlebags and set them on the bed. Her sword she propped up in one corner. As interesting as the blade was, and as much as she missed its weight already, Twilight was focused on just one thing and one thing only.
Twilight drew out the book. The leather-bound spellbook she had plucked from the Necromancer’s lair. Even now, just holding the thing in her magic, the feel of it made Twilight’s skin crawl. Monsters used leather for armor, but never ponies. It was a banned substance in Equestria, outside of some museum pieces, even though it was a very desirable material for armor. Griffons used it to great effect years ago, during the last war between Equestria and Griffonstone. Minotaurus used it too, despite how familiarly close they were to the cattlefolk that provided most of it.
Though, for a book... leather-bound books were the things of evil wizards or necromancers in stories. Evil tomes that kept their wicked spells safe and sound until the hero could miraculously throw it into a fire and save the day.
But I have one right here. Twilight couldn’t stop shivering. A lifetime of spells at her disposal. Spellbooks were jealously guarded by any mage, and Twilight hadn’t caught even a glimpse of Trixie’s after days of traveling with her. Twilight doubted that the mare would even travel with it. It was the summary of years of magical dedication. A place to put magical spells, which Twilight now knew were magical rune wheels, that a mage could quickly reference.
One last check at the door and the windows. Then, not even daring to light her horn more than a glow, Twilight lifted the front cover. Squiggly characters started from the very first page, filling everything, including the margins. In fact, page after page was full from top to bottom, over and again. Twilight told herself that she would crack whatever code the necromancer was using later; what she wanted were the spell circles! Circles that would give her an edge getting into the Royal Guard, as a trained unicorn with a spellbook!
But as she flipped and flipped, her enthusiasm was replaced by something else - Dread.
Where were the circles?
Twilight’s mouth went dry. She flipped a page. Then another. Then another. Then she flipped a chunk of pages all at once, scanning each one as they flew by. There was only text. Walls and walls of text, written in the same gibberish. From front to cover.
But no circles.
I saw them! Twilight furiously thought, flipping back to the front and rapidly cycling the book again. She knew she had seen them, down in the lair! Dozens of circles! Dozens of spells!
All gone. There was nothing but front-to-cover gibberish. The book slipped from Twilight’s grip and she sat down hard on her rump. All the spells she could ever want or need. Her chance to impress the Royal Guard judges at the end of her training.
My only chance to pretend I hatched that stupid dragon egg.
It was the last thought that made Twilight’s nose flair. Her eyes fell on the book. The stupid, bespelled book! It had been a trick! She had taken it… almost gotten them all killed…
Her magic flared red. Hot. Scorching. This book. This thing! The smell of burning leather filled the room as Twilight near-instantly compressed the cursed thing into a ball of jittering fire the size of a marble. It hung in the air like a tiny star, spitting little globs of burning ash as it was crushed by enough magical force to flatten a cottage.
Twilight was huffing, but she didn’t feel tired. She felt… exhilarated. Her disappointment was already bleeding away into a pleasant adrenaline high, not unlike the one she always got after a heavy power lift. And it was comforting just to watch the stupid little thing get turned into so much slag. It made Twilight feel like she’d taken something back from it, for all that disappointment.
It made her feel powerful.
Slowly, Twilight eased up on her magic. The ball expanded in a grand pop! that was so loud Twilight felt the air around it displace against her coat. A thousand little sparks showered down around her, but they burned to cinders before anything caught fire. Darkness descended again on the room and left Twilight with nothing but a fleeting feeling of empowerment and nothing to show for nearly getting herself and three other ponies killed.
Her hoof scraped against the soot on the floor. She was going to have to clean this up before Trixie came back.
But as Twilight started to get back to her feet, she felt her cropped mane start to shift. And then her tail. Like they were being blown by a breeze.
Then she felt the soot on her hoof start to move.
Quickly, Twilight jumped up, horn flaring. In the dim light, she saw all the soot on the floor start to slither, rolling into clumps both big and small. She lifted her head, angling her light at the far side of the room where it was all gathering up into… something. A writhing, pulsing something that seemed to shy away from Twilight’s light.
“Mistress, please! The light!” The pathetic little voice was whimpering from the soot. It was pushed back against the thick window curtains, trying to get away. “Turn off your light, Mistress!”
Twilight stomped her hooves, supremely agitated. Was this… was this some kind of feature of the chantry? But no, it had come from the ashes of the book! Twilight had no idea what the creature could be, or what manner of magic gave birth to it, but she set her jaw.
“Tell me right now why I shouldn’t throw open that curtain!” The thing wailed as if she’d already done it. It wasn’t loud, thank Celestia, but the high-pitched noise made her ears twitch. “What are you?!”
A small, clawed hand reached out from the soot and grabbed a tiny fistful of curtain to wrap around itself. “A quasit, Mistress! A humble quasit!”
Twilight had zero idea what a ‘quasit’ could be, but the thing had answered her. Warily, carefully, she dimmed her horn. “If you try anything, I will crush you into nothing. Do you understand?”
Two bright, yellow eyes stared back at her. The thing was only about half as tall as Twilight’s foreleg, but it slowly crept forward, hunched over and cringing. Whenever Twilight's horn would move, the thing’s little head would find cover behind one of its long, willow-like arms. It seemed to be bipedal, like a minotaur, but Twilight also saw that it could jitter forward using all four limbs, with its long, rat-like tail to keep balance.
“That’s close enough,” Twilight warned when it was a few feet away. Her light increased in intensity a bit, showing the full creature. It was green, she noticed, with little horns and barbs all over its skin.
“Yes, Mistress. Powerful Mistress.” Its mouth was also full of needle-like teeth. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of them. “Please, no brighter!” it begged as Twilight took a step forward. A wing - a white, dove-like wing - folded around the quasit to shield it. “I am not used to the light, Mistress!”
Twilight stopped, but she didn’t dim her horn. “I’m not your ‘mistress’. Where did you come from? What do you want? Are you part of the chantry guard, like the gargoyle?” Oh, but if it was… if it had seen the book…
“I am here because you freed me, Mistress!” it cried, yellow eyes peeking out from behind its wing. “Because you destroyed one of 【Ｈｉｓ】tools!”
Twilight shook her head. “What… what did you say? What language is that?” Something pressed in her mind like a headache when the little thing had spoken, but Twilight had understood all of it. It was speaking common Ponish. But her head was throbbing!
But she wasn’t so far gone as to not catch the quick little movement stalking toward her. Twilight’s horn flared and the quasit screeched as the light hit it. The little beast leaped back from her. “What did you try and do!?” Her magic grabbed the curtain and shook it, causing the thing to skitter under the bed with a wail. “You want me to turn you back into ash?! Get back out here or I swear to Celestia I’ll blow a hole in the roof! Then you’ll get all the light you can take!”
“Mistress no!” it cried. “I submit! Please! I submit!”
“Then get back out here and sit still, or else!”
Slowly the pitiful thing crawled back out into the center of the room. It was shivering so much that Twilight almost felt sorry for it - until it opened its mouth and she saw all the teeth again.
No, it would stay far away from her. “So you came from the book. Or you were the book.” Did that even make sense? “Were you the book?”
The quasit raised its eyes as high as it dared, which was only Twilight’s chest. “I am a part of my 【Ｍａｓｔｅｒ】. A part of 【Ｈｉｓ】 knowledge, given as part of a bargain. I-I am sure to be rewarded. The deal was broken fairly before the fulfillment of the contract! That is good for me!”
Again, the strange words in the quasit’s speech hit Twilight, but she was mentally prepared for them this time. It wasn’t Ponish. She was sure of it. But the meaning was clear to her, all the same. Like her mind instinctively knew what the strange barking sound was in the middle of a sea of proper Ponish.
Twilight caught the intent stare of the quasit and smirked. It wouldn’t get another chance to ambush her this time. This thing, whatever it was, wasn’t nearly as cowed as it wanted her to believe.
“So you were… given to the necromancer? Why?”
“Because that was what she bargained for. Knowledge of beasts and spells. Dark magic.” The quasit’s thin little claw tapped its head. “All put here, by my 【Ｍａｓｔｅｒ】. So 【Ｈｅ】could watch.”
Twilight felt a cold line of sweat trail down her neck. So he could watch. “Is he watching now?”
The little head bobbed up and down.
“Can… he hear us?”
Another bob.
She reached for her magical reserves.
The little quasit wasn’t shivering anymore.
“Where is he?”
A touch on her shoulder. The slightest scrape of a claw on her neck. Twilight’s mind wasn’t fast enough to fight the instinct not to turn. Not quick enough by far.
The quasit was behind her. On her back. Mouth open in a maw stretched open wider than she was tall. Thousands of teeth descending like a rain of daggers.
Inside its mouth - Abyss.
Twilight Sparkle - Falling.
【Ａｎｄ ｎｏｗ， ｈｅｒｅ ｙｏｕ ａｒｅ． Ｗｉｔｈ ｍｅ．】