“For this last challenge, I’d like to see our two Star Swirls fight the snakes here.”
"Wait, alone?" Stygian asked.
"Yes," Star Swirl replied. "I suspected that might be the case. No matter, we can handle it, I'm sure."
"Without a hitch," the other Star Swirl replied.
Star Swirl, bearded and shaven, both nodded. Without a word, they were blinked into the arena.
As soon as he landed, Star Swirl was beset by a cat made of fire. It sunk its teeth into his neck and dragged him down. Evidently the serpents had gotten a head start.
The cat exploded after a hoof blow from Star Swirl the Shaven. “Try to keep your attention about you,” he said, before unleashing a flurry of blows that dispersed a dozen more of the firecats. Up above, Ouro and Boros shook their ghostly star rattle tails, shaking out more summoned elementals.
Star Swirl growled, then let loose a prismatic sphere that detonated in the air, cutting off the reinforcements before they landed. He took a moment to regain his composure. “I can’t help but notice you are not using your magic. Not any Unicorn magic, at least.”
The other Star Swirl grumbled and looked his counterpart over, judgement clear in his eyes. “And I can’t help but notice you are using nothing but Unicorn magic.”
The caped stallion wiped his brow and cast a shield dome around them. “There we are: bunker shield. That'll let our attacks through, but not theirs. Now, you were saying you lost your magic?”
Fire elementals raged against the shimmering shell. Star Swirl the Shaven waved a hoof in a whipping gesture, and a coil of water shot out, bypassing the shield and snapping the creatures like snuffing out a flame with the impact. “Of course. You must be mighty indeed, if you have been able to keep yours.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Are they just chatting through thissss?!” Ouro shouted. “The insolence!”
Boros growled. “Ssso arrogant.”
The spirit of the temple chuckled. “Silly creatures. You really have no idea of the situation you’re in, do you?”
Star Swirl paid no heed to the conversation beyond his shield; he was more concerned with the stallion he was fighting alongside.
The friendly smile on the monk’s face faded. “You… did manage to get the Sun moving again, did you not? Without losing all of your magic?”
Star Swirl’s heart sank, and he realised where the timeline for him, at least, had diverged. He had guessed, but part of him wished it wasn’t true. He couldn’t deny it any longer now. “No. I attempted it, but the strain was too great. I couldn’t keep it up for long enough.”
The other Star Swirl scowled. “So you are a coward, then, unwilling to make the sacrifice you expect of your fellow ponies.”
“I did what I could!” Star Swirl snapped. His horn flared with anger, and another wave of giant firecats were snuffed out by the resulting wave of thunder. Boros had taken a different approach, and had tried to bring Earth elementals into the fray, little clumps of clay with fists of stone. They weren’t shattered immediately by the shock, but the arcane energy made their texture crumble, and their clumsy attacks only made them collapse under their own weight. The wizard kept his eye on them, still, analysing the process, committing it to memory. He scolded himself for getting distracted, and his other self for doing the distracting. “As if you are any better. Did your sacrifice accomplish anything?”
“No,” came the sullen reply.
Star Swirl looked up. Beyond the circle, new foes sprouted from the conjuring snakes: ice and wind and water, all dog-sized but relying on sheer numbers for effect. He made a mental note of the gestures the snakes were making, the better to replicate it all later. The ice came in the form of scorpions, the wind in the shape of birds seemingly made of dust, and the water in the form of flowing snapping turtles.
Both stallions saw the new designs, and Star Swirl the Bearded saw his shaven counterpart had realised the same thing he had: the snakes were getting smarter. These new elementals all had piercing elements in their design, namely stingers and beaks. They hoped to find a weak point in the white shield.
Star Swirl the Shaven snorted, the red snakes tattooed on his limbs glowed. He struck out, and twin flame serpents were born from the blow. The things spiralled and bit at the elementals, striking down a dozen in one swoop. A follow-up blow from his right wiped out the ice, and for the wind creatures, he took a deep breath in. The feather markings on his neck glowed yellow, and he bellowed out a gust that dispersed the threat. Once that was done, he turned to the wizard. “My sacrifice made no difference in the end, but at least I made it. No one can say I ducked my duty like you did. Tell me, how do you justify it? Knowing that more and more Unicorns have to lay down their magic forever, or their very lives, every day, just to make the Sun rise? What makes you so special?”
“I am trying to find a solution,” he answered calmly. “Developing new spells, increasing my arcane prowess, combining what we can so perhaps we might not need to sacrifice any more one day. Why, do you think less of me because I did the smart thing? What are you doing to stop the sacrifice, I wonder?”
“I am uncovering the wisdom of the ancients. Greater sages than myself will have the answer. These things may hold the key.”
Up above, Ouro and Boros hissed and growled in fury.
“They’re not even trying,” Ouro said.
“I told you,” said the spirit. “If you are boring, I will make you entertaining. These two ponies want you alive. They think your magic might help them move the Sun again. They could wipe you out in a second if they wanted to. Be glad your siblings were only banished. I can’t guarantee they’ll be so lenient towards you.”
Still, Star Swirl blocked it out. A wizard is nothing if he cannot control his own thoughts. “We agree on that, then. But you cannot produce a greater sage, because you don’t have the power to teach. Unless, of course, your solution involves, what, punching the sky hard enough to nudge the Sun along?”
“Scoff all you want. You’re weak, and a coward, and you know it. I made my sacrifice and I became stronger, still.”
Star Swirl nodded. “I can see that. How, exactly? You don’t seem to be using any arcane methods, but from your technique I can only deduce you have some primitive life energy you use?”
“I use my ki, yes, my life energy. The same life energy that suffuses the Universe. It takes discipline to master, and physical development, both things you lack.”
Star Swirl shrugged. “If I can find a teacher, I’d be happy to give it a shot. Who was your master?”
“I was taught by the monks of the Svarog Order. I doubt they’d accept the likes of you, though.”
“They’d be hard-pressed to, I imagine. The Svarog Order perished ages ago.”
Star Swirl the Shaven's snake tattoos glowed bright red for a moment. “What?”
“Svarog? The Monks of the Sun Temple? Their order was destroyed, their books burned, their history all but erased. About three centuries ago, in my world. I'm one of, oh, let's say six ponies who remember that name? Maybe seven, depending on well my pupils are getting along with their homework.”
The turtle marks on his back flared a clear blue at that. “The druids, then. Their power comes from nature itself. Earth ponies have no trouble surviving without a horn, you could have been a master of their craft.”
“Perhaps, if they hadn’t been wiped out.”
Star Swirl the Shaven’s ears fell flat, and only the feather marks on his neck glowed as he breathed. “Wiped out, how? When?”
“The Mokosh Inquisition.”
“The Mokosh?" The monk scoffed. "Those blithering show-offs? No self-respecting druid would ever get caught by them; they’re legendary for the noise they made to announce themselves.”
“They’re legendary for their stealth in my world,” the wizard retorted. “The kings turned their back on the druids, refused to give them shelter, because of their lack of allegiance. The circles were destroyed, the stone monuments shattered. There’s one on this continent, so a few made their way here, I’m sure, but we have found no traces of any living druids. If there were any left in hiding, I fear what knowledge they had will have been lost through the generations, since they lacked any formal written traditions. And if that didn’t do it, then Epona freezing over will have wiped them out entirely.”
“Yes. The Windigos left it a barren wasteland. We’ve had to move everything, same as you. But what of the bard colleges in your world? Surely they kept some of the knowledge? The Library of Gallopsandria?”
“Gallopsandria went into decay when the sages started going into exile for, well, all the usual reasons. Most of the bard colleges burned down a century and a half before the druids were wiped out. Once the conflicts of the Dark Ages erupted, bards were highly sought after for their myriad skills. It was easily taught, not a big strain on our magic, and versatile. The bards jumped right into battle when the call came. They jumped so eagerly the masters got killed before their students were ready. Conflicting allegiances and royal backstabbing did the rest. Eventually, the colleges fell to infighting.”
“The knights of Palomino Hill?” the monk asked.
“Laid down their lives at the Battle of Midnight Castle. The power of the Great Oaths set with the Sun that day. The last survivor made it two weeks before he died of a septic fever. Palomino Hill was levelled to the ground. The sacred shield Netitus is a mere relic, tossed around and battered in battle.”
“But… what magic remains in your world, then?”
A loud slam interrupted them, a mass of soil and stone impacted on top of the shield.
Star swirl shook his head, jingling the bells of his hat. A single white beam blasted through the elemental, reducing it to dust. “Outside of self-made sorcery? Plain old wizardry, I’m afraid, written down in scrolls, kept in libraries managed and paid for by rulers.” He snorted. “When they’re not busy burning the books of their rivals and predecessors, of course. Wizardry and sorcery are hanging on by a thread now, after all the destruction, the loss of our history. There’s a little bit of bard magic, in the occasional talented filly, no druidic magic beyond what Earth ponies are born with. Although my student Clover the Clever does suspect there might be another form of magic.”
The monk grunted as he absent-mindedly decapitated a giant ice bear with his water whip. “Ugh, don’t tell me your Clover came home with that ‘Magic of Friendship’ nonsense, too?”
“She did. I didn’t have the heart to explain to her the nuances of emotional energy, the ancient art of gnostic magic and the lost arts of shamanic trance, or to point out that what she called ‘harmony’ amounted to nothing but bonding with fellow underlings over the hatred of their bosses.”
“A ridiculous concept in and of itself. It’s almost as bad as the Crystal Empire’s ponies with their Magic of Nationalism.”
“Quite. Though I will confess I was very impressed she could fire a prismatic spray at her level already. That much, I am very proud of.”
"Oh, obviously. Even if she doesn't understand the mechanics of it, it's still an impressive feat, yes, I'm very proud of mine, too." The monk sighed. "It's a sad thought, though, that magic is all but dead in your world. And to have to continue the sacrifice on top of that?"
Star Swirl squinted. “Tell me, would you have made that sacrifice if you hadn’t had all your other schools of magic still intact? If you had ended up with only the schools of wizardry at your disposal, but no way to become a wizard again, would you have done what I did?”
“What difference does it make? You’re still a coward for not doing it,” the monk said.
“And you’re a fool for having done it,” replied the wizard.
The marks glowed again, smoke rising from the muscled stallion's fur. “Watch your tongue. The only reason you are standing here is because ponies like me sacrificed themselves for your benefit.”
“And the only reason you are here is because, ages ago, cowards like me did not. There’s no glory in a senseless sacrifice. I can teach the next generation of wizards because I knew my limits. If my predecessors had done the same, perhaps their traditions might live on in my world as they do in yours.”
“So… you would not sacrifice your power because you are a master, and you can’t perish before you’ve trained somepony to succeed you?”
“Yes. I’m sure the monks that trained you would agree.”
“Interesting, that you don’t see the logical flaw in your own reasoning.”
“It’s perfect reasoning.”
Star Swirl raised a smoking hoof and put it menacingly under his counterpart’s chin. “You could perish here and now. Then all the Unicorns you failed to save would have been sacrificed for nothing, and you still would have nothing to show for it.”
Up above, the snakes relented their attack. The spirit laughed.
“I suppose… I hadn’t considered that.” Star Swirl’s horn ignited with white light. “And if you were to perish here, then all the sacrifices your ancestors made will have been in vain. The world would have to hope that the next wizard or monk to fill your shoes would be stronger, and you would have, well, absolutely no say in the matter. You have a Clover the Clever, like I do. Would you ask her to sacrifice her power, her potential? Suppose she could find a solution? Would you deny her the chance to try?”
“You’ve already denied so many.”
“And they would have failed, surely. Clover may succeed, or I might.”
“What gives you the right to decide?”
“Experience in judging students, and authority as a master. Go back and ask some of your teachers when this is over. It must be nice to have that luxury, a surplus of masters. It is a luxury we sorely lack. I have no master: the knowledge of pony magic begins and ends with me. I am a wizard, yes, but I am also a sorceror: a source of magic, however difficult that may be. I’ve had to fabricate fifty new spells based only on legends of what we might have been capable of in ages past. And then I had to transfer that arcane knowledge, so other ponies might do what I can. Do you remember how hard it is to convert sorcery to wizardry? To put into words feelings, concepts, ideas that we often don't even have words for. I didn't simply invent new magic tricks for myself: I reinvented magic. I analysed it all, recorded it all in mind-numbing detail so hopefully, hopefully, someone may build upon it and we can have proper magic in pony lands again. What have you done to progress the craft of wizardry, eh? Fine-tune any arcane kicks? Punch some ghosts? Eat any good books, perhaps?”
Again, the spirit laughed.
The monk glared, but backed down. “That does not excuse anything.”
“We are beyond excusing in this matter. Cause and effect, that is all. I have no master, no peers, so I must do it all on my own. Just as I can do this on my own.”
“You’re wrong.”
Star Swirl’s eyes burned. “I… am never… wrong!”
Light erupted from Star Swirl’s horn. White light, that separated into tiny stars and comets, a barrage of arcane missiles that peppered the bodies of the snakes above.
The snakes cried out in pain as they fell to the ground. The spirit of the temple cackled with delight.
The Unicorns ignored them all.
“I cannot afford to be wrong, do you understand?! I am the Pillar of Sorcery, the only pillar holding it up, the only source to draw from. There is our prehistory, our Dark Age, and then there is me. If I make a mistake, everything could collapse. Canterlot, our fledgling schools of magic, the Crystal Empire, pony history as we know it, there is nothing left that came before me. I had to build up my own sorcerous powers, study wizardry from scraps and…” His breath caught, his body shook. “I will not suffer another wizard to go through what I have in order to become what I am now. No child will be put through that kind of ordeal, ever again, if I have anything to say about it.”
“I managed a dozen.”
“What?”
“A dozen, before my name was drawn.” Star Swirl the Shaven idly rubbed over a smoking arm. “A dozen new spells, translated and dictated from sorcery to scrolls and taught to new wizards. I was so proud of myself, too. And yet, it takes its toll on the mind, wizardry. I suppose in a way, I was weaker than you. I gave it up, and focused on the more primal techniques once I had an excuse. But you are right: I have not found the answer in the ancient texts. I could stand to innovate on what I have, seek out other avenues of power in the shadowy unknown. You did make a sacrifice, then, in a way.”
“When all the magic is gone, sacrifice is the only thing that really works.”
“For a time, yes. But not forever.”
The snakes were down on the ground now, breathing heavily and glaring at the two stallions.
“It seems we have kept our foes waiting long enough. We’ve learned all we can from them,” Star Swirl the Shaven said.
“We are in accord, then.”
“Yes. I think we can agree on one thing, at least. We cannot take the snakes alive.”
“A tragic loss, but necessary. I doubt they could have helped. Their power is too primitive, unrefined,” Star Swirl the Bearded said. “And they are slaves to their impulses. I can end the sister. A simple prismatic spray will suffice: disrupt her ties to the elemental energy that allows her to manifest in this realm, she’ll be banished.”
“And I can end the brother. I may not have the variety of elements to shoot with, but I still have enough raw power to send him where he came from.”
“And the wish?”
“I think we both know how to spend it. Let’s not give the spirit a chance to prepare against us.”
Star Swirl turned his back on his counterpart, raised his horn, and let the white light of his magic split into a rainbow of elements.
"You're a joke," Ouro hissed. "So upset about your destroyed history, but so eager to destroy ours."
"It's a sad fact of magic," Star Swirl replied as the rainbow swirled and spiralled, gaining momentum. "Destruction is infinitely easier than creation. But I'm sure a summoner like you will agree: the two often go very closely together."
When the Star Swirls emerged from the pit, everypony stared in awe.
“Well done,” said the spirit. “That was very entertaining, indeed. Tell me, did you learn anything from this experience?”
Star Swirl the Bearded nodded. “Do not mistake motivation for suffering, even if they do blur together.”
Star Swirl the Shaven nodded in kind. “Discipline to attain power is nothing without the wisdom to apply either.”
“Also, elemental magic is best done swirling energy inward when conjuring a cooling element, and outward when conjuring a heating element.”
“The Four Elements Singularity Strike is best applied to the head, so it can disperse the energy of an incoming attack.”
“And don’t waste energy on small summonings,” the wizard added. "Oh, and conjurers are pathetically weak when immobile, glass ballistas, the lot of them. They need to be able to move out of harm's way, by their nature."
The monk chuckled and nodded. “D’oh, yes, and, very important lesson: turns out giant area of effect attacks are not as energy-inefficient as the scholars would have you believe.”
“Sorry I asked,” the spirit said. The giant golden apple descended towards the ponies, presenting itself. “Now, I did promise you would get a wish. Have you settled on one?”
The wizard and monk exchanged a glance. “I believe we have. We both wish for the same thing.”
“Then place your hooves upon the apple, and wish for it. But I warn you, it may upset your mortal mind.”
Silently, solemnly, the two stallions placed a hoof upon the golden surface and closed their eyes. For the briefest moment, time stopped, and Star Swirl could feel the thought he shared with his counterpart. The thought became an echo, a sound, then a vibration, a concept, and finally, a cosmic rule.
They both withdrew at the same time. Behind them, one of the statues of the mural exploded.
“Oh, dear, it’s never done that before. Sorry to cut this so short, my little ponies, but I think you’d be better be off.”
Star Swirl turned, and blinked.
The last thing he felt was fear, as Stygian was pulled into a portal with shards of stone swirling around him.
Star Swirl collected his thoughts and readied a counterspell.
No.
Darkness fell upon him.