//------------------------------// // 8 - Vacancy // Story: Moondust // by Parallel Black //------------------------------// This would do it. Twilight squinted in the darkness, her horn providing light to make up for the dimming crystals in the chandeliers above. They didn’t get replaced as often as they should, here in the restricted section of the Royal Library, bathing the bookshelves and dusty floorboards in a permanent sapphire dusk. Her own amethyst glow provided enough to make out what she was reading: A translated version of a book from Roamia, concerning an easy method of creating golemized objects and individuals. “Haycartes’ Curse” it was called. She had heard about Haycartes’ Method and had been more than eager to use it once Celestia finally allowed her to start learning Spirit Magic. Until then, she could only read and imagine. That was, until today. She was powerful, and she was more than ready to show off what she was truly capable of. Then maybe the Princess would allow her to really start exploring her potential instead of being trapped on the absolute basics of Nature Magic. The filly frowned, recalling the sight of the plant her best friend had managed to grow. She had felt happy for her at first, before realising her own flower had barely even emerged from its seed. She didn’t understand. The others seemed to manage it so easily, yet no matter how much effort she put in… She refocused her mind. If she couldn’t match Moondancer in body, she would leave her in the dust in spirit, and an easy to use but complicated to learn spell like this one might do the trick. The spell revolved around the concept of “intent”. In other words, the meaning the caster placed into their chosen drawing or line of text took precedent over what that image or phrase actually meant. By that logic, the crude tracing she’d created of the stallion’s portrait would, in theory, bring to life a mimicry of René Haycartes. Twilight grumbled to herself as she noted the energy toll keeping a manifested being in existence would take, only to remember she was still better than Moondancer in magical endurance, if not physical. This would work. This would prove for certain that she was more deserving of Celestia’s praise, that losing a mere spelling bee wasn’t the end of the world, that she could achieve far greater heights than what Nature Magic could offer. She pushed the book aside and placed her drawing in front of her. The light of her horn grew brighter and she focused upon the picture, imagining who she wanted it to become, and all the things she could learn from Haycartes in all his experience and creativity. A chill filled the air and the little filly felt like death was upon her. The light around her horn lost all of its colour and she fell to the floor. ----- She couldn’t let him know. Not a chance. She couldn’t let him know how worried she’d been about Celestia, for the cloudy look in her eyes, or the way she moved and spoke as if she’d left her conscious mind back at the castle. She couldn’t let him know that the Princess had vanished again for an hour before starting the lesson, only to throw their textbooks aside with wild eyes when she returned. Celestia only wanted to protect them, after all. She didn’t want whatever had become of Luna to happen to them, too. “I’m sorry,” she’d said, while cradling Twilight’s regenerating chin in her hoof as the rest of her being was pulled screaming back from beyond the veil. Twilight felt her chin and wiped the last of her soup away, feeling nothing but smooth skin and a soft coat against her hoof. Ever since Spike’s little sneezing fit years ago, much of her front-right leg and some of her neck had this odd, uncomfortable feeling to it. The skin had still felt ever so slightly stretched after it had been healed. It hadn’t hurt for very long and the feeling was easy to ignore, but it had been something of a signature of their relationship. She loved Spike like a mother would her foal, and there was almost felt a sense of pride in having such a large sign of his growth to carry around with her. Her coat was healthy and the flesh beneath was unblemished. Every magical mishap, every bruise, every scar. That tiny nick near the base of her horn from when she’d first hatched Spike, that ever so slight dent on the side of one of her ribs from when Shining had accidentally pushed her down the stairs, and the first hints of vision problems from her years spent staring at pages. They were all gone. She was as perfect as the day she was born, and it was all thanks to her mentor. It was all thanks to her, that every tiny sign of her life thus far had been scrubbed out of existence. It was fine. Really. It was better than staying dead, though anyone with half a brain would say that. No one knew Celestia like Twilight did, and thus, no one appreciated her like Twilight did. She truly had only wanted to protect them, to teach them something that would help them stay alive longer. Whether that was some kind of healing or defensive spell, or something more worthy of an alicorn, Twilight had been too hasty to learn. Once the textbooks were out of the way, she asked a simple question about Luna and then Celestia… lost her temper. “Ponies are starting to think Luna’s dead, and I think I might be one of them because-” It would explain basically everything. It had to be the reason, and yet Twilight found herself unable to accept it. If Luna was really dead, then what did Canterlot matter? What would Equestria matter to a mare who had just been reunited with her only living family member, only to immediately lose her in such a horrific way? The old castle came to mind, and the charred corpse that had become of its only ruler. The mournful wails of Nightmare Moon’s golden-haired subordinate filled her head, haunting her, hounding her. Maybe Luna had been more than just a sibling to some. The creature had cradled the black husk, the top layer of ash rubbing off on her bare skin as she held the dark mare close. It hadn’t been immediate, that much was obvious. Luna had healed for two weeks, and then something had happened that turned Celestia straight from the caring Mentor into the wild Alicorn, casting aside the authoritative Princess in order to preserve the friends she had left, procedure be damned. And then, Twilight had opened her big mouth, and whatever had taken place in the palace must have come rushing back, and the room turned into fire. She was the most foolish mare in Canterlot - not just for her lack of understanding of others, but for her patience in the face of such… A big frown spread across her face, but she pulled it back. She couldn’t let it show. She couldn’t let Celestia see her sad at this point, else what would have been the point in bringing her back? Celestia had apologised, had vowed to do better, and had fixed every single little imperfection in her body just to sweeten the deal. She hadn’t needed to do anything like that; coming back at all was enough. Being forgiven for being such an idiot was ok. Being forgiven for the horrid eagerness she’d felt when she killed Nightmare Moon… that would have to come later. Celestia had teleported them to the entrance, only for Twilight to find herself pulling against her friends in spite of her aching, spent body, and in spite of the sounds of mountains shattering overhead, practically begging her mentor to let her back in, to let her “help”. It had definitely been her fault. She never wanted to feel that way ever again. To feel the rush of revenge; of righteous fury as if she was some kind of god in the flesh enacting judgement upon an evil creature. The one called Peace hadn’t seemed evil, with the way the tears burned her cheeks as she attempted to bandage the black lump in her golden mane. “Twilight… are we going or not? I’m seriously getting nervous here,” came Spike’s voice, bringing her back into the moment as he tugged on a leg. She realised she had stopped at the entrance. Moondancer’s complaints sounded like they were finally coming to an end behind them. The other unicorn left the staff off with one final, angry humph before she stomped past them and exited the building, the anger still fresh in each step. Only after she took that final bite did she find the hair trapped inside her pie: A big, thick, pale hair that had an unmistakable canine sturdiness to it. What followed had more than likely ruined the experiences of everyone else in the restaurant as Moondancer yelled in fury at the dog who had been their host, waving the hair in his face. He had looked even more horrified than her. She sped up to keep pace, Moondancer once again carrying her bulky chest at her side, her greyish-pink aura looking vibrant once more. “I swear this doesn’t normally happen,” said Twilight, apologetically. Moondancer eyeballed her. “Why’re you apologising for them? It’s not your fault; that fucking dog put one of his disgusting hairs in my food. You were going to pay for it anyway so why would I blame you?” That was a relief. “Right, of course. Sorry. Did they say anything about making up for it?” “Mm-hm.” A small smile broke through the fury. “Along with today they offered me my next meal for free. Heh, as if I’m ever going to use it.” She laughed, mockingly. “My milky-soup stuff was good, at least,” Spike commented, somewhat quietly.   “Your pony-egg soup?” “Yup.” The conversation ended before it really began. The day was peaceful but a cloud hung heavy over their heads after the argument Moondancer had dragged her through. It hadn’t even really been an argument, more a string of accusations Twilight had no idea how to respond to. She wasn’t used to being drilled like that, let alone without having a chance to organise her thoughts first. Putting her hoof down had felt like the only option left. The words “I’m not going to do that,” still stung in her mouth. She frowned to herself. She wanted desperately to reassure Moondancer that things would be ok, but instead… “How’s your scar?” Twilight glanced at her little brother. She had practically walked the conversation into the brick wall that was Celestia, when for a week straight she’d succeeded in keeping what had happened a secret. Spike knew. He had to, after that mess, but he still walked with a smile on his face, glancing between Moondancer and the road ahead. Maybe he was still happy over making a friend out of an enemy and that would overshadow the tense argument that had followed. She needed something that would take his mind off it all, to get the ideas out of his head. Go to Ponyville, she thought. It’s the easiest solution, and the most efficient one, too. But that brought too many negatives with it. Staying here and showing Spike that everything was going to be ok would be better, or at least, it would once Celestia finally returned. It really was starting to feel like a long time now. Another vandalised storefront came into view as they turned off the Golden Mile. For the third time that day the world felt like it was fading from view, like her perspective was sinking behind her own eyeballs, back into her mind where the truth could still hurt her. Her legs kept moving, her lungs kept breathing, and her thoughts kept going, all without her input. What a selfish liar you are, she thought to herself. The moment passed and it all came back. Twilight felt the rounded cobbles underhoof and the sensation of heat in the air, the low breeze bristling softly through her coat. The sky was gaining the beginnings of a colourful tint that would herald sunset, appearing an hour or so earlier than it should thanks to the fact that nighttime had technically already arrived. Spike took a step closer and she ducked her back a little from force of habit. He hopped on, sparing his smaller, softer feet the stress of the irregular terrain, and got comfy as they continued down the road, heading back towards the center line without much of a destination in mind. “Where to now?” Twilight asked. Moondancer shrugged. “I’m heading home, but we’re pretty close to somewhere I wanted to show you if you wanna tag along for a while?” “Sure.” This was bound to be yet another depressing sight, but Twilight knew she only had so many chances left to spend time with her best friend before she went. With that prospect hanging over her, she would go wherever Moondancer wanted to. “Are you going to be packing?” she asked, almost cautiously. “Yeah, probably. Why?” “I guess I could help if you want? We could trade some books while we’re there if that works for you?” Moondancer hummed. “Yep. Works for me.” The little pain blooming in Twilight’s heart gained thorns. Even after everything Moondancer had said, those simple words felt like the final confirmation that she was going. This could be their last day together, and they had spent most of it arguing with one another instead of just enjoying the other’s company. Her gaze drifted back to the Moon. On this street the unheavenly object was stranded in full view, reflected in the little, decorative pools situated between each shop. She turned her attention back to the road ahead and the signs of the unrest from the previous week. “I wonder if Juniper and Amethyst are still in the city,” she mused. If her favourite study buddy wasn’t going to be here to help, maybe one of the others could. “It would be nice to say goodbye to them, too.” Admittedly, she had mostly ignored the others throughout her time at the school, only saying “hi” and “bye” and “how is your research going?”, almost every day. With her meagre stores of social energy spent talking to Moondancer, she’d left the others with nothing more than a cycle of feigned interest. It had only felt right to smile and greet them even if she didn’t really get to know them, but now that most of them had so suddenly left… “As far as I know, Juniper’s already back in Berry Bond,” Moondancer replied. “He left pretty much… um, on the day. Amethyst, I don’t know, so maybe.” The threat of not helping her leave seemed to have been a more lasting scare than Twilight had intended, judging by the momentary look of discomfort on her friend’s face. “If any of them are still here, maybe I could rally them together to help out with the clean up?” “That’s thinking extremely positively, but I guess I won’t stop you if you wanna do that. I say leave the mess to the ponies who caused it. They’ll just litter all over the place again if they aren’t punished.” “Hm.” Twilight ran through a list of her classmates most likely to help. “Do you know if Sea Swirl is still here? She used to have a hobby of tidying up the school grounds.” “No idea. I think I saw her a couple of days ago, at least. Not sure how she’s going to help you, though. She’s never been great at basic levitation, and that’s coming from me.” “You’ve been lifting that heavy chest all day, haven’t you?” Moondancer raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, because I have to. I’m pushing myself.” “Oh, I see.” “I hope things work out for you,” Spike offered. “Huh?” Moondancer looked back at him, surprised. “Of course they will. It’s not like I’m going back without any plans in mind.” He leaned over to her, and for once she didn’t shrink away. “Are you actually going to work at the farm itself?” he asked. Moondancer released a long breath. “Most likely. I may as well use what little Nature Magic I have at my disposal to help out.” “Makes sense.” The ride got a little smoother as the cobbles switched back to large, smooth slabs of marble. The shops looked in better condition here and most were still open and serving customers. Twilight heard a familiar grumble behind her and could almost mime the next words that were spoken. “Hey, Twilight…?” Spike broached. “Yeah?” Spike pointed to one of the more colourful shops on the street. A large picture of an ice cream cone was plastered over the front window; likely the owner’s cutie mark. “Could we get something from there?” Twilight gave him a look. “You just ate, Spike. You’ll feel sick.” “I know, but it’s still super warm and my mouth feels really dry after all that iron. I think I can feel the bits starting to rust in my belly, too…” Twilight smiled knowingly, seeing straight through him. “I thought you liked it hot. I’ll get you something small if you ask really nicely.” Spike clasped his little hands together and gave the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. “Pleeeeease!” He’d been getting good at this. Twilight chuckled and glanced to their friend. “I’ll be right back, Moondancer.” “Get me one, too,” the other unicorn called after them. “I’ll take the cost off whatever you give me for the move!” “Sure thing!” Twilight lit her horn as she neared the door. While Moondancer hauled her entire book collection around by the strength of her own will, Twilight had forewent physical means of carrying items for a while now. There were just a few little issues left to smooth out. She felt a dull pressure under her skull, just to the left of the base of her horn, where she’d blown the end off of one of her aether veins. The vein tapered away into nothingness, spiraling out of the Material Layer and onto the other side of the coin. A few moments passed before the aura surrounding her horn started to lose its vibrant purple sheen, slowly turning an oddly pearlescent grey as something entered her network from the other side. Convenience, she requested. The aura rippled and jumped to a spot a few hooves away from her horn, and as a cold sweat passed over her face, the air began to bleed. It began with a drip, growing to a half-frozen stream, gradually oozing into their reality, bringing with it a deathly chill and a tiny point of light that rotated around her horn like a bee around a flower. This was Spirit Magic, Neutral Magic’s more economic cousin. Rather than a simple matter of input-output, Spirit Magic was more like an investment: The user requested something, and then the “payment” was taken from their reserves over time. One could do incredible things with it, so long as one didn’t ask for too much. The crack widened, the air seeming to splinter and stretch as the portal opened. What used to be a money pouch floated out of the hole, its fabric turned stiff as stone and the coins within cold enough to sear themselves to one’s skin if touched directly. With the bag floating next to her, they went in. A little spurt of fire from Spike softened the bag, allowing Twilight to ease one of the coins apart from the fused clump they’d become. A single moon was placed on the counter, and a trio of cups of vanilla slushie were passed over in return, along with a few bits in change. Spike held onto the slushies and licked his lips, while the coins went straight into the pouch. The bag was slotted through the crack and back into Twilight’s personal pocket space. The hole closed back up as she trotted away from the shop, the half-visible goop slowly receding. “You’re seriously using Spirit Magic for that?” asked Moondancer as she spotted Twilight’s horn. Twilight looked embarrassed like only a star pupil could. The greyish aura around her horn and her tiny, sparkly companion were still there, and would remain in place for most of the day. “Yeah. I… wanted a safer way of carrying my money around.” Moondancer raised an eyebrow. “How did you even do that…?” Twilight felt a rush of excitement at the question. The entire process lined itself up neatly in her mind, complete with talking points and imaginary slides to help with the presentation. “I started researching dreamwalking last month,” she began with a big smile. “I wanted to see if I could develop my own-” “Shorter explanation, please,” Moondancer interrupted. “That wasn’t just some scrying spell; you literally just opened a hole in reality for the sake of carrying your money around. Why go to that much trouble?” Ah. That was a slightly more difficult question. Security? That would be good enough. “I… guess I could just get a bit crystal or a magically secured container, but I figured using the Spirit Layer would be a surefire way of never losing it, plus, this means I never have to carry anything around with me, assuming I can fix the temperature problem.” Moondancer glanced at her bulky chest and placed it down, letting out a small breath of relief. “That’s so over-the-top it’s not even funny,” she commented. “It is pretty crazy, even for you,” Spike added. “Spiiike, you’re not helping,” Twilight whined. He shrugged and slurped at his slushie. “Thanks anyway. I wouldn’t have begged so hard if I knew you were going to use Spirit Magic.” “That’s why I got myself one, too, so that it would be worth the effort.” Spike couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Aren’t you tired?” She smiled and shook her head. His concern was understandable. A few months back, when she’d dared to use Spirit Magic for the first time since fillyhood, she’d fallen unconscious for an entire day from the strain of losing so much energy in one fell swoop. The second, she’d thrown up multiple times as the chill of the Spirit Layer crept through her body for hours on end. After all that suffering she’d found a sweet spot that matched her natural output rate, paying off the energy cost at a steady pace without having to worry about the ill effects. Getting used to the cold had certainly helped. She looked back to Moondancer. “This pocket space is something I’m planning on using for my thesis later this year.” At least Celestia wouldn’t have to worry about her if she showed how far she’d progressed in spite of the situation around them. “Reliable material is pretty hard to find when it comes to the more advanced stuff.” “That’s for sure,” her friend echoed. “Everything I’ve read talks about the whole ‘astral projection’ nonsense and the movement of the stars.” “I could always give you some help if you need it?” “Pfft, literally impossible for me to learn,” Moondancer replied bluntly, taking her slushie into her levitation. “I figured out Nature Magic after reading a freaking poem, so if the official textbooks don’t do it then nothing will.” Twilight smiled hopefully at her. “You never know, it might just take the right nudge to break through?” “It’s fine. I’d rather not get possessed anyway.” “Cam thaf happem?” asked Spike, mid-slurp. “Of course not,” Twilight replied with a chuckle. “You’re thinking of Dark Magic. Spirit Magic can only affect a vessel that’s already empty.” “Like my cup?” He motioned to the little plastic tub in his hand, having already finished the treat. No, like a golem, she thought, her smile fading. “Technically speaking, I guess so. Though normally it’s used on something that’s intended to be alive, not inanimate objects.” She shuddered, prompting Spike to hold on a bit tighter. “How does it feel?” “Still pretty unpleasant,” Twilight admitted, feeling the chill throbbing from the tip of her horn like a tooth surrounded by ice cream, “but I should be fine with how warm it is today.” In truth, she could barely feel it, but some things were best left unsaid. It was good that they both believed her first use of Spirit Magic had only been a few months ago. That secret kept her guilt in check over what had happened so many years back, when she had so foolishly decided to learn from her betters in the worst way imaginable. Haycartes’ Curse was the grim cousin of the famous philosopher’s spell. It involved creating a physical representation of a chosen image or phrase, granting it all the qualities a naturally occurring or artificial equivalent normally possessed. Seven-hundred years ago the spell had brought the world to its knees as endless streams of identical soldiers filled the ranks of armies and fake wealth overloaded every kingdom’s economy. Its creator, Haycartes himself, must have lain on his deathbed knowing the pain he had wrought, and that he - or at least some imitation of himself - would be there to witness the fruits of his research again and again, for as long as his face was portrayed and as long as his name was remembered. Twilight recalled the overwhelming sensation of pain and dread that filled her mind when she woke up the following morning. Of seeing her parents’ scared and bewildered faces watching her as she opened her eyes, of the bleeding sore to the left of her horn, and of the occasional Prench comment from the stallion sitting across from her bed. The stallion himself had brought her to the nearest guard and made sure she was alright, but she recalled the look of animosity in his eyes, directed at this stupid filly that had committed a truly unforgivable sin. A golem had no soul. That meant it had nothing to look forward to when its time came. Normal golems were simple-minded, friendly creations made to serve a specific goal, and were often tied to their user’s will. Those created through Haycartes’ Curse, however, were far more complex. With every fibre of their artificial being, they thought they were real. Twilight rubbed her healed chin again and pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind. Too little empathy had caused her enough trouble throughout her life, but too much philosophy could drive anyone insane.