The dreams are where her limits die.
The bridge has been washed out and she must cross the river. How to solve that problem? How to choose among the solutions? Teleporting the caravan across is one thing, but what about using surface tension? There's very little point to freezing the river, not when heat-shifting is a pegasus domain (and she's almost sure there's a way around that): even if it happened, it just leaves her trying to maneuver over uneven ripples of ice. Imagine... thickening the water. Making it come together a little more closely, but just where it touches the air. Solidity, enough to support the caravan, and while still remaining a liquid. That's elegant, and so the dream chooses to go with that one. The caravan travels across water which still looks like a river, almost moves in the same way, she could trot on water if she wished and that dream self is content.
But there are layers to so many dreams. One showmare rides atop the caravan and her twin, the one who remains upon waking, can only watch her. Watch and tries to remember, tries to figure out exactly what's happening, there's a theory but that's all it is and she doesn't know how much raw power and control it would take to manifest in reality. Other than 'more than what she has,' because that's the most common answer.
Riding on top. In the dream, her field is strong enough that she no longer has to tow her home. She's had enchantments placed upon it to effectively lighten the load (they cost so much, she had to do it all over again when the original caravan was lost and at least she can recharge them herself, but the strength required for the initial casting is so high), but there's still so much mass, all of it has inertia, and she's a unicorn. The muscles under the blue coat are thicker than most ponies expect: she can kick with surprising force, and that's because just about every day (and sometimes night, when the insomnia is at its worst) sees her trying to pull just about everything she has in the world along spell-shielded paths while hoping the protections hold. And if they don't... if something comes out of the woods and she can't think fast enough, if she isn't strong enough...
...the dream mare atop the caravan sees a monster, and sight is all that's required. The corona surrounds it, and the creature simply doesn't want to be there any more. It flees, and the dream mare, the ideal, the self which the waking unicorn has been chasing since her mark manifested, across what feels so much like every last night of her life... that mare casually shrugs, lets the partial corona wink out, and the enchanted caravan goes on its way.
The waking mare is watching the caravan move now: something which happens in utter silence. There's no creaking of axles or little groans from wood which has been asked to bear strange pressures, because there are no wheels. The caravan has been mounted on sled runners. They glide, their lower edges warp automatically to match the road, the ride is utterly smooth and quiet and they glide because there's a glistening liquid seeping from the wood. A perfect lubricant, one which lasts just long enough to permit free movement before evaporating without a trace.
She would never have to carve out a new axle on the road after her spares run out. (Again.) Never relive the desperation of trying to repair or even replace a fractured wheel while listening to the growls which approach from all sides, because the monsters have scented somepony who's stranded and those who can manage a modicum of thought are wondering whether it's a good time to test the protections again. She's had to become a wheelwright on top of everything else, she hates the finicky process and all the ways in which it can go wrong and she just hates wheels.
Wheels are something which exist to break down. The runners are perfect.
How did the dream mare manage it? The waking unicorn, the one who watches while knowing it's a dream, it's just another dream and the dreams hurt --
-- she needs to work it out. She has to remember as much as possible. Because her talent is for innovation and she has spent half a lifetime trying to come to terms with it, working out a truce with the core of her soul because the talent is for innovation and the mare who so often wishes for destiny to have touched another flank is... just a mare.
Well, not quite 'just'. Stronger than the average, with more control! Decidedly superior in cunning: her continued existence on the road is proof enough of that! And during the day (or in the long nights after a dream has ended and sleep will not return), she tries to restrict herself to the things which might exist within her capabilities.
But in the nightscape, her limits die.
She watches herself create. Destroy. Change, twist, deconstruct and reimagine the world around her. In the dreams, she almost understands. And when she wakes... when she loses the comprehension which arose from the fluid logic of the nightscape, when most of what she remembers is what her ideal self did, all the things which a mare who failed to win the blood lottery will never accomplish...
The mare who waits to wake, who wishes for the division of selves to end so that she would never have to watch... she's looking at the runners. How was that accomplished? What kind of spell managed the feat? And is there a need for it to be a spell at all? The lubricant is clearly being produced by magic, but there's every chance that the substance itself is a natural one. Something basic. It might just be a matter of simple chemistry.
The mare has taught herself chemistry. An audience which usually has at least a third of the attendees forever trying to figure out how her magic is operating can never duplicate results that never invoked thaums at all. So many of the things she does mix magic with science, at least when they don't find ways of eliminating the magic entirely. Chemistry is fun.
...she would have been happier as a chemist.
But the mark is forever.
(Isn't it?)
She's trying to remember: she has no other choice. She sees her ideal self twist a broken road into a smooth path with a thought, and she needs to remember. She'll bring everything she sees into the waking world, and she'll record the observations in her notebooks, compare every theory against the little library in the caravan, there have been recent moons when she was able to write another and ask for an outside perspective and ultimately, she will experiment. Try to recreate all of it, using the strength and control of a mare who exists with limits.
There were only three ways to change that. One doesn't work. The second... the drugs only provide a boost based on her original field strength: even the maximum would never be high enough. And the third...
...it wasn't her.
(It wasn't.)
Some of the spells which the Amulet cast were workings she'd originally found in her dreams: she believes it to have tapped that deeply into her thoughts, and -- she doesn't know how it managed to cast them. Others seem to have been carryovers from previous victims. The Amulet can't really think: it channels desires born from fouled resonance through the helpless minds of the trapped -- but it does seem to have a sort of residual memory. It couldn't tell you about the other ponies it's pretended to be, because that would mean having enough awareness to create its own identity. It just knows what their tricks were, and merger with the field of its latest conquest allows it to use that magic again.
She knew when that was happening. The mare spent most of her time with the Amulet screaming within herself and when the dead were being channeled, the song of agony briefly turned into a chorus. Three of those allowed her momentary glimpses of features, twisted and strained and close to breaking...
...there was recognition at one point.
She thought she knew something of the Amulet's creator, simply from having read his notes.
The knowledge of the pony he became is now somewhat more intimate.
She doesn't like him.
The Amulet could cast all of it. It turned her dreams into reality. But when she tries to reproduce any of it, when a mare with limits fights to break through barriers of blood...
...and she fails.
And she fails.
And she fails.
The imperfect watches the ideal, because she must. She has no other choice.
The mare who will wake has seen more of the world than most, left the borders of her nation: something which is still done by so few. Travel exposes the mind to new horizons. She has learned, and some of the knowledge was -- unexpected. There was certainly no intent to gain an education in theology. But so many of the other species have faiths, things which influence their lives while openly manifesting in little ways: behaviors, patterns of speech...
...funerals...
Some of those species have their own manner of interpreting the shadowlands. (The mare has acknowledged that they may have the right of it, because it's not as if anypony's reported back.) And a few feel that which awaits beyond death must include a place of punishment, meant for those whose deeds in life called for retribution to come after. Something which occasionally operates according to its own sense of irony, turning the crimes of the flesh against a soul which may never find a way to fight back.
She knows what she's done.
(It was the Amulet.)
(...it was...)
And if there is a place of punishment...
She's thought about that.
(...they don't -- they don't know what it's like)
(every night)
(to hurt, to bleed, to loathe yourself every single night)
Her soul will dream. She'll watch her ideal self, the one who can remake the world with a thought, have everypony understand her via simple wish, the perfect mare with a perfect talent and blood which sings within, waiting for the next desire to fulfill. She will do so endlessly while knowing she can do nothing more than watch
that she can never be
and she will never wake up.
Twilight had discovered multiple benefits to performing her own research as a librarian, and the most recent was having her very own periodicals section.
The stallion's death had made the papers: things which set off stampedes often did. But it had been a stampede produced by fast-spreading fear. A mind which had surrendered to herd instinct wasn't going to be issuing priority to rational thought. Those who had temporarily lost themselves were usually offered a single option: run. At best, the majority might find themselves with a choice of direction -- although herd instinct also tended to suggest that the safest path was clearly the one which everypony else was using. You couldn't think, you were operating on something which lurked below thought, forever waiting for its chance -- and if you were truly lucky, it would have company.
Instinct wasn't the only thing operating on that level. That which rose from the mark, something less than a whisper -- that still had a chance to be heard. So if a potential action lay within the dominion of talent, it might remain accessible. Those whose marks suggested stealth would potentially try to hide --
better example
-- Guards primed for combat were unlikely to fall, but those who did would still be ready to fight. Blacksmiths might improvise armor, and those whose talents centered on magic -- at the very least, Twilight had been known to clear her own path. But you needed to have the action be some aspect of your mark, and when it came to those who had been wandering that portion of Canterlot's streets under Moon when the stallion had appeared -- none had been photographers.
So all the papers had was a description assembled from terror-scrambled flashes of memory, and what those had managed to assemble in bulk was 'brown earth pony stallion'. As for the mark -- they were presuming he had one, and multiple publications were trying to pressure the palace into releasing portmortem images. Those who were pro-Diarchy did so with the statement that it would help in locating his family, while the ones who weighed down the other side of the scale darkly muttered about how not doing so suggested the palace had something to do with the death. Especially given that he'd appeared outside it, must have clearly been trying to escape...
Of course, that wasn't the only theory. There had been a teleport arrival, and then there had been a death. In Twilight's rather disgruntled opinion, not enough ponies were bothering to wonder about how the first part had been accomplished, and that was because a headline about Magical Achievement was typically only good for a single edition and small audience. Newspapers could boost sales on FEAR THIS for weeks, and so a new medical condition had arisen from ink. It had a known cause, no cure, was invariably fatal (with 'invariably' based on one example), and if you weren't careful, it could happen to you.
Twilight had rapidly become sick of the articles about Spontaneous Appearance Death Syndrome, and her feeling hadn't improved after the words had begun to mutate. It had started with a simple premise: if you were teleported, then you might die. This maintained for a couple of days, and then the gears of the press had required fresh lubrication. So a new theory had advanced: if you could teleport yourself, then you might die. In fact, it was just about proven that those who could teleport were guaranteed to die because historically, nearly everypony from previous generations who could either manage the working or been brought along had died. (There were obviously two exceptions, but really, it was clearly just a matter of time.) And from there? Well, what if teleportation actually killed you? Perhaps the between (which had to be introduced to the majority of readers, and Twilight didn't have the time to find and lecture all of them) was nothing more than the mirror pool (same) of legend: you went in, you drowned, and something else came out...
This was the current phase. It had found the Equestrian Magic Society desperately sending out its first ever public newsletter in an attempt to stem the tide, which really didn't work because it had been written by EMS members, who were working under the assumption that everypony could have the vocabulary of an EMS member if they just kept a dictionary and three full buildings of the Canterlot Archives on standby. The palace knew how to dumb things down, but they hadn't done much better: after all, who wanted to read something printed by the government? And so there were panicked ponies demanding that the escort network be regulated or shut down, along with a few rather loving and very stupid parents begging the Gifted School to stop teaching the theory behind the working because advanced studies offered so many more ways for students to not die.
It was an idea which was too stupid to live. (It was also a few hours away from the start of its inevitable collapse.) And in a very-slightly-better world, dealing with that level of idiocy would have been Twilight's only problem.
A few days had passed since the briefing, along with a near-matching number of nights. The mission had yet to formally begin, which left Twilight in a state of mixed anticipation, anxiety, fear, and almost constant speculation: the last was a leading cause of the first three, and all addition was cumulative.
The speculation itself had the dubious benefit of spreading itself out among multiple ponies -- but that came with problems.
Trixie was essentially trapped within the tree. A mare with a known, apparently incurable case of wanderlust was unable to do so much as step onto the balcony without being verbally accosted, because there had been several thousand ponies living in the settled zone at the time of the Amulet and she hadn't written to any of them either.
(The attacks had been kept to the verbal, because there was a sign and, lurking out of sight from the words, an implied Princess. They had also been loud, and most of the originality had been expended on the first five ponies: just about everything after that entered repeats. Twilight wasn't sure if the population lacked imagination or whether certain kinds of rage just tended to follow the same internal scripts.)
Ponies knew where Trixie was. They also knew where the caravan was, which gave Twilight a pair of opportunities to remind herself of two facts: she wasn't Shining, and she couldn't really keep a shield going in her sleep. The third night had seen her huffily levitate the whole battered thing, followed by marching it off to what, as far as Ponyville was concerned, would be Parts Unknown and was actually just parking the whole thing in a barn which Applejack didn't use during the winter. Further security was added through a number of personally-cast spells, the citizenry not knowing where the caravan currently was, and the fact that anypony who figured it out would have to deal with Applejack.
Trixie couldn't leave the tree. When the library was open, she didn't even leave the basement. (Quite a bit of Twilight's lab equipment had been moved into a single corner. The arrangement was expertly personalized, the showmare clearly knew exactly what she was trying to assemble, and it was still taking so much of the librarian's willpower to not put it back.) Research was under way and whenever Twilight could, she went to the lower level so they could do it together. Exchanging theories from a few body lengths away, words carried by voice instead of dragonfire, finally getting the chance to see what they could truly do together...
...but Trixie was oddly quie -- restrained. There was usually a certain flair about the unicorn at all times: on stage, in daily life, and it was something which even managed to put a degree of bombast into her letters. (Words only, as Trixie knew better than to place any personal decorations into the most crucial diagrams.) The mare who moved about the basement, pacing endlessly during slow movements because she couldn't go anywhere, establishing a personal claim over Twilight's usual groove... she talked about the work they were doing, she proposed theories, she tried to advance ideas -- and but for the originality which so often surfaced in those offerings, Twilight could have been talking to another Gifted School graduate. Somepony who'd decided the best way to advance in the EMS was by keeping their head down and offering the most interesting concepts somewhere around the third level of hoofnote, because anypony who managed to reach it would presumably have their expression of purest offense overridden by the required squint.
The palace had sent the fragment back. They were studying it. (Trixie had an idea about how to manage the return transport, something which might keep them safe, and the mares were laboring accordingly.) And Twilight wanted to introduce Trixie to Ratchette. A pony who was not only perpetually at least a day behind on the gossip, but had been lost in the usual reason for it during the Amulet incident: within her workshop, focused on the repair before her, with barely any awareness that time was passing at all. Ratchette had only learned about everything on the following morning: prior to that, all she'd really picked up on was that the light through her window had changed a little, and apparently illumination which was passing through a half-phantom jar was especially good for displaying the flaws in silver wire.
Ratchette had no personal reason to hate Trixie. Establishing some level of professional working relationship didn't seem to be beyond hope --
-- but to introduce Ratchette -- to fully bring the mechanic in, making a team of three -- was to explain the existence of hybrids. Something which was still classified, and Trixie hadn't been cleared. All she'd been able to tell the showmare was that an expert had looked at the fragment and that had been accepted readily enough, but if the unicorn just knew...
She was keeping secrets from a friend --
-- she wanted to think of Trixie as a friend.
A showmare. Somepony who had a performance for every occasion. Identities lined up across the stages of forty settled zones, forever waiting to take their curtsy.
The scrolls had allowed her to exchange ideas with somepony who just about understood magic as an equal. More than that: who imagined in ways which Twilight did not.
The scrolls had been fun.
Her friends (her other friends?) didn't come by for long. They never ventured into the basement. There were requests for updates even when Twilight hadn't asked Spike to send out any scrolls, and they came for a rather transparent reason. Something Rarity had just about openly stated: they were checking on her. Making sure she wasn't doing anything strange or, given that advanced magical research was under way, anything where the strangeness didn't have an assigned direction. And even then, they asked more questions than they ever had. The answers found even Rainbow unable to pretend towards sleep.
They care about me.
She looked out the window, noted the position of Moon and stars. Glanced up from her position at the main library desk to the bedroom area, where showmare and sibling were already asleep. Checked the nearest clock, and then went back to the desk. Reread the open scroll for the fifth time.
Back to the clock.
They're trying to make sure she isn't tricking me.
They don't think I'd know.
It was worry which arose from caring. She understood that. It just didn't make things any less irritating --
-- somepony knocked. As knocks went, it was somewhat softer than the usual specimen, and decidedly controlled. It was also a knock which resounded from a portion of the wood which was noticeably higher than usual, and it came with a touch of metallic echo.
As knocks went, it was an extremely restrained one. There was a lot to restrain.
Twilight checked the bedroom area again, found that the sleepers remained so, and went to the door. Opened it, automatically looking up.
"You are prepared?" her visitor inquired. It was a casual sort of question, which left all the work of suggesting that Twilight had received two hours of advance notice and readiness was expected to the undertones.
Twilight nodded.
"Very well. And the same may hopefully be said of those at our destination." With slight irritation (and again, there was so much to potentially hold back), "Although given that the two of us are traveling together, I am expecting to be offered a tour. Some effort may be required to keep our host's thoughts on the destination."
"You could just tell me," Twilight carefully offered. "Or send over the right volume from the Archives. A picture, a name --"
"-- which gives you nothing of the scent," power calmly stated. "The sensation of the leaves brushing against fur. Books only go so far, Twilight Sparkle. There are times when it is better to learn from life. In this case, under controlled conditions. Stand on my left."
Her visitor drew back somewhat. Not retreat (because the visitor didn't always seem capable of that), but creating the necessary space for Twilight to exit. The mare took up a certain amount of room.
The librarian came out. Locked the door behind her, and rechecked the security spells before tilting her head up again. Waiting.
"A small part of the mystery has been solved," the taller mare stated. "So we will view the answer personally. Which means teleporting east."
She paused.
"Assuming," the very large mare half-muttered, "that you trust me to teleport you."
Twilight nodded.
"In the sense that you have a reasonable expectation of not dying during the trip. Or from it. Or afterwards, in a manner related to having teleported at all."
Again. Just a little quicker.
"There was a press conference shortly before I came to fetch you," the mare darkly stated. "One which contained a rather unique question. I can truly say that prior to this night, nopony had ever inquired, in the context of magic, as to how many times I had recently died."
"...what did you tell them?"
"I answered the question at some length," the mare announced. "In detail."
"...oh."
"Accordingly, we may reasonably expect to see the first active retraction of idiocy in the morning edition." A soft snort. "Which is to say, they may somehow continue to believe in their own stupidity --"
The dark wing unfolded, and the tip touched Twilight's back. Stars flared into existence around the horn.
"-- but when it comes to that portion of the whole, they will no longer be printing it. Shall we?"
Twilight had been surprised to hear that the nation's most crowded settled zone also featured its most comprehensive botanical garden, in part because she hadn't been able to picture just where anypony was going to put it. A settled zone known for overcrowding had found a few ways to compensate, mostly through shrinking living spaces to the point where the main feature of a studio apartment was offering enough space for a pony to reasonably lie down within. (Jumping, turning, deep breathing, and possessions were considered to be optional.) But it also sought out the sky: something unusual in a ground-based settlement. The tallest buildings were known to climb some twenty floors into darkness, and expected their residents to do the same. It had given Twilight, who'd never been to the city, the image of a dozen-plus sections of soil which had somehow been stacked on the vertical.
Manehattan was overcrowded. The 'suburbs' -- she'd asked Luna to go over the word twice, and still didn't understand why it seemed to taste funny -- weren't.
The city's main university technically wasn't. It existed outside Manehattan proper, which gave it the freedom to spread out exactly as much as it dared. If you could clear and secure land in a wild zone, you could keep it: something which gave the botanical gardens two hundred and fifty acres more or less to itself. It also created work for earth ponies, who had to make sure everything had the nutrients to stay alive. Just about as many pegasi labored to maintain ideal environments. And when those who lived in the city needed a reminder that nature existed, they traveled to the gardens to look at it for a few hours, which allowed many of them to live happily without thinking about it again for several years.
The university didn't charge for access to the gardens, although tips for the staff were appreciated. Manehattan's government, forever irritated by the loss of fiscal opportunity when it came to ponies seeking any means of temporary escape, had tried to set up a toll gate at the entrance. This had been shut down when the school had pointed out that they were technically outside the settled zone and had no obligation to adhere to their traffic regulations: after that, the mayor had settled for trying to put one on the road which led to the school. Students trying to come in for a new semester had found their tuition effectively boosted accordingly, considered just how much they were going to pay for going out to party every weekend, then collectively plopped their luggage down in front of the gate and announced their dorms and classes were going to be held right there.
Lawsuits had gone back and forth for a while.
Currently, you could still get into the gardens for free, and there was no toll road for the university. The mayor had responded to the loss by threatening to charge for access to the city's air paths, as there was clearly a limited amount of sky available and wings were taking up too much of it.
Nopony had found a way to both set and automatically extract a toll for those who were teleporting in, but research was presumed to be underway.
When compared to the full population, Twilight didn't have a particularly strong sense of smell. She wasn't all that bad, but she could miss small details. There were times when it worked against her, especially during research: missing the first tiny waft of I Should Run Now wasn't good for what would soon remain of her mane. But on this night, trotting through the gardens with the proud stallion in the lead, it was actually helping her.
...well, it was keeping the confusion down.
Slightly.
She had similar issues in the palace gardens. There was a section which was themed to her home, and she enjoyed going there and simply... breathing for a while. Her pulse and tail movement would slow as her body briefly accepted the illusion that the most familiar part of her life was only a short gallop away: her mind cherished the fact that the illusion contained no upcoming quiz from her mother. But if she left that section, crossed a border set by two kinds of magic -- rain forest, and something deep within would want to know how she'd gotten there. Leave that for prairie, there was an option to head into false mountains and the pegasi had thinned out the air accordingly...
There were ways in which the repeated virtual dislocation could be dizzying, if you didn't know how to brace for it. And the palace gardens, with every section as its own ecosystem, still had a single theme: the continent. If there was an environment set within, then it was a place which could generally be found in Equestria. Most ponies would never step within those places in their natural state -- the majority hardly ever left their own settled zones -- but it was possible to do so without leaving the nation of their birth.
The university gardens were trying to recreate the world.
Twilight's travels had taken her across a good portion of Equestria, and somewhat beyond. (She had yet to see the ocean, and being this close without reaching the actual shoreline was irritating her.) So she recognized the tundra which lay outside the Empire's protective effects, where most would not. And Appleloosa was in the desert, so that just created a good place to warm up -- or would have if the pegasi who'd arranged the conditions hadn't remembered that the desert was cold at night.
Tundra, desert, forest. Things she knew. But...
...flowers stretched their petals towards Moon, drinking in that light first and best. Colors, shapes, blooms -- all unfamiliar.
They took an elevated path over a place where some of the grass rippled, and other portions reached.
Vines grew around each other. A few seemed to work in a symbiosis of mutual support, which worked perfectly well until the third type decided that was all the more to be eaten.
Her body, and especially her nose, wanted to know where she was. Weary eyes were getting tired of reading assorted warning signs. Her mind was mostly trying to figure out if the knotholes of those last two thick-barked blackwood trees had just blinked at her.
"-- and it is an honor!" the university's Master Of Botany gushed as he led them towards a rather large building: one of the few enclosed structures Twilight had seen during their night tour. "To meet and guide two Princesses --"
I wish he wouldn't --
"-- one Princess," Luna evenly stated.
He turned. A mane reflective of untrimmed hummingbird vine shifted across forest-green shoulders, and confused yellow eyes blinked at them.
"And a librarian," the younger of the Diarchy finished. "But also a Bearer, which is currently more important. I appreciate the chance to see a portion of what has been found over the centuries, Mr. Dalton-Hoofer, and I do intend to return in the future. A daylight visit may also be scheduled."
A mind which was still visibly trying to process 'librarian' tossed off a second defensive blink. "You can actually go out in --"
And before that frequent mistake could start to bury another owner, "But these are my natural hours. Not hers. So I must inquire as to the proximity of our destination, in both the temporal and physical aspects."
Twilight had gained some familiarity with the way ponies tended to react around Luna. The current tail twitch wasn't exactly unique, and the twisting of ears was pretty much textbook.
"How close are we to what you wanted to show us?" she asked, and watched Dalton-Hoofer's face exit Translation Mode.
"It's the stop after that one," he told them. "I thought that the Princesse -- that a Princess and a Bearer, who's seen so much -- they would surely enjoy our Most Dangerous Plants exhibit!"
They both looked at him.
"It's right up ahead," the enthusiast continued, because the nature of those looks meant nothing in the presence of a chance to show off. "That building."
"The one with the reinforced walls," Luna checked.
"Yes!"
"And when I say 'reinforced'," the alicorn continued, "I refer to thickness. The use of metal. Enhanced by multiple spells."
"We know what we're doing," the stallion smiled. "However, when you go in --"
"-- the legal waiver," Luna went on, "printed outside the main entrance -- standard?"
Proudly, "It saves time."
"Ah. As does providing a place for signatures."
He nodded.
"However, I sign nothing without reading it in full. And to go over something the size of a sky banner might require a few hours. Especially given the small print. So given that, as I recently stated, Ms. Sparkle's hours are limited --"
There was a rather abrupt !THUD! from inside the building. The stallion didn't jump. Twilight pulled back.
"That wall just buckled," Luna neutrally observed.
"It'll spring back in a minute," offered the Voice Of Experience, and followed that up with the most natural action of any university staff member. "Let me just see if there's a student around at this hour -- oh, perfect!" Attention focused on a green mare, who was just rounding the corner of the building. "Want an extra credit?"
Thick eyebrows arced, and then the mare nodded. Several reddish tangled roots which appeared to be growing from her head shifted accordingly. The kerchief never moved.
"Get in there and sing the Throttler back to sleep," he ordered. "No soprano notes. Keep it droning."
She thought that over.
"Righteous," the earth pony mare decided, and placidly headed for the door with the kind of gait which suggested a bloodstream consisting of 1% Opiates and 30% Don't Ask.
The stallion, displaying the contented air of a pony who no longer had a problem, turned back towards his guests. "Anyway, once she's done, we'll go in. But once you finish suiting up and clear the new -- oh, what was it called, airlock -- you should still duck --"
"-- we will not be visiting that particular exhibit on this night," the younger Princess announced. "But I shall always recall that you offered the opportunity. The destination, please."
I don't know these smells.
I don't know any of these plants.
I don't know where we're supposed to be --
"There," Dalton-Hoofer announced. "Just off the path, on your left. It's safe to approach, and you can sniff it. But try to avoid touching anything except the leaves. Don't shove against the wood. And if you do make contact, make sure you wash when you get home tonight. Just in case."
Luna nodded, moved in the designated direction.
A little like a rain forest. It's moist enough. Even under Moon, everything's so green. And dense. Vines, hanging in so many places. But the bark on that tree is like armor plates, overlapping each other. There's something screeching up in the branches, something awake and moving. Fluttershy might know...
They were under Moon, and so many of the colors still felt too intense. Wings whirled above them: too small for a pegasus, angry at the intrusion. Three curious blue flowers turned, and Twilight realized they were reacting to the vibrations from their passage: their movement stopped when hers did. But what they had been told to approach was... just a bush. One about half again her own height and three of her body lengths across, but it was still a bush. One which felt somehow strange...
It took her a few seconds to register why it seemed so unusual. The leaves were extremely broad, with a shape more appropriate to what she would expect from an oak -- only at double the width. There was quite a bit of overlap, enough to initially block her view of the center. And once she managed to find the right angle --
-- the interior structure was much like the leaves in hue: reddish-brown. But it was also scant. There were relatively thin branches stretching out from the core, a few subdivisions, and then the leaves just flared out. Masking. It was possible for a pony to stand within the larger gaps -- well, it was possible for Twilight: a larger pony would have been in some trouble, and it was only the outermost branches which ended in leaves. Any deep breaths taken within might find wood poking into ribs, wood which ended in points --
"The most common name is Espinho de chama," Dalton-Hoofer told them. "In Equestrian, Flamethorn. Not that it has thorns," he quickly added. "But the branch tips are sharp enough to substitute."
"And you have verified that this is the plant which caused the wound," Luna checked.
Twilight forced herself to approach a little more. Sniffed.
It's a little cool. Almost like coating my snout in mint, but it's not mint at all.
It smells strange.
It doesn't smell like anything else in the world.
"Yes," the botanist verified. "Your doctors found a little bit of the oil on the rim of the wound, I understand? And eventually recognized it as plant-based? We're familiar with it. They're fine as long as they sit on the skin. All you'll get is some discoloration, as if you'd been lightly burned. But as I said, the branch tips are fairly sharp. If you poke them hard enough, you will get hurt. And if enough of the oils are introduced into the blood..."
This can't be what did it. They never would have let it just grow here.
"...well, you'll be itching for hours," he finished. "If you're among the ninety percent who have reactions, starting from about half an hour after exposure."
"And that is all which happens?" the younger Princess inquired.
"The other ten percent just need to clean and bandage the wound," Dalton-Hoofer told them. "You just can't discover which category you're in before it happens. And since it's not native to Equestria, most ponies will never find out." He gestured to a nearby sign. "We just post the usual notice, so they won't learn the hard way."
Twilight blinked.
Not native to --
She looked back towards the botanist, and recognized a Ready To Lecture pose. "Does anypony here grow it? For harvesting the wood, or the oils?"
He shook his head -- then quickly corrected himself. "There's another one in San Dineighgo, within their gardens. To my knowledge, those are the only two on the continent. There could be a private grower, but they would have to be working on a rather extensive personal collection. It's not good for anything other than showing that you're being comprehensive, especially when the oils break down after a few days. And the wood is strong, surprisingly springy -- but there just isn't enough of it." With growing pride, "It was quite inspired, asking us about plant-related injuries. I am honored to serve, Princess -- and Bearer. And when it come to the secrecy clause --"
"-- where does it grow?"
"Portions of the southern hemisphere," he immediately declared. "Mostly in the rain forests of Mangalarga Marchador, although you'll find a few in Criollo."
The southern hemisphere...
The other half of the planet. Somewhere she'd never been, where even the stars were different. She'd seen charts --
"Thank you, Mr. Dalton-Hoofer," Luna offered. "You have given us what I had hoped for."
...an entire half of a planet. Were those names countries? Continents? It had been years since her geography classes and if unicorn magic didn't emerge from a region, she mostly hadn't cared. Twilight could pick out Prance on a map, and generally didn't want to because it meant acknowledging that Prance existed. The southern hemisphere...
"Did you figure out the soil samples?" she hastily asked. "Did that narrow it down?"
The stallion blinked at them again.
With utter confusion, "Soil samples?"
"Princess Celestia was sending them out --"
Luna began to raise her left forehoof, and failed to do so in time to beat out the stallion's little shrug.
"Some ponies do say that it's easier to work with native soil," he said. "That it takes a little less effort. But with the number of earth ponies we have on staff, added to the tourists? So much of the Cornucopia Effect soaking into the land, day after day, compared to the cost of importing that much dirt?" And Dalton-Hoofer laughed. "Who needs to worry about soil?"
The alicorns were both silent for a time, trotting back down the paths under Moon. Drifting breezes wafted past their snouts, carried little pieces of the world with them before reaching invisible borders.
Traveling together, with only each other and a compressed planet for company.
"The soil samples went to Mazein."
Twilight looked up at the dark eyes.
"Minotaurs explore," the mare stated. "Now and again. Most are happy with their home, but -- when one chooses to travel, they can go quite a long way. Bringing back appropriate souvenirs. And as they have a necessary interest in keeping things growing without the Effect, they have found themselves in possession of the science known as agronomy." And before Twilight's lips could part, "The study of soil management and crop production. Canterlot's university has an experimental department exploring the possibilities -- one which has yet to truly explore how everyone else performs the feat. Let us say that initial results have been poor. And that their attempts to supplement the student meal plan are best avoided."
"Mazein." The word felt hollow, as if it had been weakened by the distance it needed to cross.
"The Ambassador owes the palace favors. As do we, towards him. So we inquired. And in return, he did not. One of us checks at a designated time each day, Twilight Sparkle, in person. We will have their results in time."
A few more hoofsteps, and they crossed into the plains. Normal grass swayed against Twilight's hocks.
She could have teleported us back by now.
The older alicorn stopped. Looked up at Moon, and a cool gaze regarded craters. Went back down to Twilight.
"I recognize the irony of the next term," Luna softly announced. "Especially given the subject under discussion. But magic is a tool, Twilight Sparkle. A single tool in the box. And there are ponies who act as if it was the only one."
The little mare didn't know why she'd just winced. Then she did, and had to fight back the next.
"As such," the younger of the Diarchy continued, "they use it for everything. They refuse to consider other possibilities, for who would ever need them when magic exists? So they bring out their single tool, over and over again, and will not let themselves recognize when it would be best off with company. Or... when they need to put it away. For there are times when it is inappropriate, others when it makes things worse, breaks, or -- what it is trying to construct is impossible. Or should never be built at all."
The breeze did not chill. The temperature failed to drop and Twilight, who knew a little about Luna, wondered how much effort that was taking.
"Or they create abominations," the dark mare softly said. "And tell themselves that they have made miracle, for it was magic which brought it forth..."
She was quiet for a time. Constellations twisted in her mane, and three stars flared.
"The core of the Last Question is this," the alicorn continued. "'Is all magic one?' Do all the forms express themselves as aspects of a whole? It is, in its way, a magnificent query. Something which might yet be answered. But Twilight Sparkle -- think about how much it excludes."
I don't understand --
-- no. She did. But it had been more than her mind which had heard the statement, and something within her soul longed to reject it.
"Magic which creates abominations." Luna's eyes briefly closed. "Ponies who seek abomination. And they tell themselves they have reasons, cause, that anypony who truly knew would understand..."
The half-tangible tail and mane stilled.
Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.
"Luna --"
"-- I wish you to consider something, Twilight Sparkle," the dark mare tightly stated, and the words were forced, each dropping into the grass in a sonic shell of soulforged ice. "A thought to keep in mind, during the times to come. Consider that this stallion, still awaiting his name and past -- consider that he might have sought this of his own will. That he wished for his mark to change, or even be eliminated. For everything to have been -- purposeful, and born from his own desire."
She swallowed. And then she realized she'd just swallowed back vomit.
Wings flared as her hackles rose, ears flattening at the same moment when her tail began to lash. "Luna --"
The silver-clad left forehoof stomped. Twilight's words died.
"What is the typical jest?" the alicorn darkly wondered. "Ah, yes. 'You speak blasphemy!' Yes. Rather fluently. I am not insulted by your reaction. I would expect the same from nearly any pony in the world. But Twilight Sparkle -- can you, given all of your recent experiences, truly think of nopony whose first reaction to their own manifested mark would have been the desire to be rid of it?"
Twilight blinked. Thought, and then swallowed again.
"Tish." Barely a whisper, the most sound she could force herself to make, and nearly taken by the breeze.
Placidly, "Yes."
Green blades rustled against their fur.
She had to rally. She had to think...
"But that situation was artificial, Luna! It wasn't natural --"
"-- once in a lifetime, one would hope. Better yet to be once in history," the alicorn agreed. "And yet she is not the only one. I know that my sister has told you something of Joyous Release -- and I will not be telling you very much more, not before you speak with her yourself, without prying. For now, let us keep it to this: there are many ways in she is much like Triptych. Each has a talent which could potentially change the world -- and neither desires to do so. But at one point, their deepest desire was to shed what had been given as their destiny, with a talent beyond their control. Either would have rid themselves of their mark in an instant. I have considered introducing them, but..." A small shrug. "...circumstances oppose the meeting. And yet..."
The taller mare took a slow breath, released it with no air warmed.
"...in time, perhaps. But keep the thought, Twilight Sparkle, even when it pains you to do so. I know something about --" and the dark head dipped "-- desiring to shed what had been perceived as destiny. One pony is happenstance, an outlier. Two could be passed off as coincidence -- but three can indicate a pattern. Those for whom the pony which existed at the moment of manifest is not who they wish to be for all of their lives."
And then she was looking directly at Twilight. The dark gaze fixed upon her, and the weight of centuries bore down.
"Can you truly say that you never doubted? Never wished for anything else, not once? Not even for the briefest instant?"
I --
i don't have friends i don't have any friends i have magic and books and nopony comes near me so the magic has to be enough
forever
Her tail was sagging, ears pressing against her skull, wing joints loosened and all four knees felt as if they could no longer bear her weight --
-- the nuzzle touched her forehead, near the base of the horn.
It was a cool touch, if only slightly so: it was still Luna. And yet it was warm...
"And there it is," the dark Princess softly said. "Eyes and soul. But take no shame from it, for I understand, Twilight Sparkle. I am... intimately familiar with every moment of doubt, and there are far more than four who share it. Speak with the others, when you feel it is appropriate. I would suggest beginning with the Lady Rarity. That doubt is more common than you might ever imagine --" and her tone briefly went dry "-- if you care to continue imagining blasphemy. So grant that the stallion might have desired for his mark to change, or vanish. And if that is true... try not to think less of him for it."
She held the nuzzle for a time, and Twilight... didn't know what to do. Luna was so much taller, and the nuzzle was near the horn. Any time to return it would dislodge --
-- the alicorn stepped back, lifted her head as the mane began to flow again.
"There is a portion of the gardens which matches your birth home," she said. "As found on one of the posted trail maps -- do not feel that you erred in missing it: my night vision far surpasses yours. We are going there, Twilight Sparkle, to stay for a time. Because this mission will send you further away than you have ever been. And I wish for you to have a memory which is new. Something constant and clear."
The dark eyes closed, one last time.
"Do what you must, all of you," requested a living weight of centuries and pain. "To help, if help is required. If blasphemy was not freely chosen, to bring it to an end. But when it is done -- remember how to come home."