In a way, Twilight was born too late for Magic.
A prodigy since birth, she had eventfully entered the Canterlot School for Gifted Unicorns at a record age, became the personal student of the Princess herself, and had aced her final examinations in Magical Theory, Field Manipulations, and Spellcasting. Not to mention the numerous times she saved Equestria from disaster with her prowess.
And yet, all of that counted for very little in such times.
The Age of Wizards was rapidly passing. No longer was the art of spellcraft one of great usefulness. The stories of old were still prevalent - tales of times full of wonder, colossal beasts hidden under every rock and behind every corner, arcane artefacts powerful enough to risk civilisations, and heroes as gallant as Celestia herself. Sorcerers no longer roamed the lands, no more dragons to slay, or warlocks in dark towers to defeat.
And they were real. It was Magic that subdued Equestria's enemies - Twilight had played a part in that herself. The Sisters had vanquished the Magical beings of long gone, and the Elements of Harmony had crushed those that remained.
But Magic had failed them.
When Chrysalis' army came pouring over the border in late 1010, the hope of much of the Government and Army was that the Element bearers would be able to protect the realm from yet another incursion. The Elements of Harmony may be the most powerful weapon known to Ponykind - but they are not army-killers. Woefully unprepared and unable to rely on the only defence they had needed in a thousand years, Equestria fell back. Much land and Ponies were ceded to the advancing Changelings, while Equestria slowly mobilised.
But that was two years ago. The war is very different now. Far from being a catastrophic retreat from Equestrian territory, the war had evolved into a nightmarish slog with neither side able to outmanoeuvre the other.
Canterlot was not without damage from the war. The physical war had not reached this far in the interior yet - still outside of the range of bombers or attack, yet scars ran deep through the city even if not visible from the lofty towers of Canterlot Castle. Thousands of the young and fit had been recruited and were now afield, asea or above in the skies. Foals and those incapable of fighting were evacuated out of Central Equestria, out to the East. Parks were empty, businesses shut, and schools closed. The city was quiet.
However, it was certainly not silent. Once the war was unavoidable, massive industrial projects had overtaken nearly every major city in the country. Factories hummed and groaned like enormous mechanical behemoths, powered by fire and the sweat of the poor ponies forced to labour within their massive guts. Smoke and ash belched out of their thick brick chimneys in alarming quantities, and the few weather-ponies left in the city who hadn’t been recruited (predominately the old or very young) worked overtime to clear the smog that threatened to engulf Equestria’s crown jewel. From up at the Castle, one could see it all - the trains bringing in vast quantities of unrefined metals, petrochemicals and industrial resources, and then the ones transporting military equipment back to the war. Tanks, Guns, Artillery, Planes - all were needed in seemingly endless quantities, and the endless churn of the war machine facilitated it.
And that's why Magic is failing - It simply could not compete with technology's ability to commit mass slaughter on a never-seen-before scale.
A young Twilight runs around the throne room like a kite in a heavy gale, playing some game only little fillies can comprehend. Celestia observed, sitting on her throne of marble and gold, intrigued at her new student's ignorance of her talent. She had the highest raw power of any Pony she had seen in centuries - and she was still just a foal.
Twilight, however, was far more concerned with fun and games, or what was served for dinner tonight, than her nature as a prodigy. She continued to run around with glee, manipulating a wide assortment of culinary equipment in her magical grasp, much to the dismay of the kitchen staff.
Once the cutlery had been retrieved by the rather angry servants, Celestia gestured at Twilight to come over to the throne.
"Twilight Sparkle, do you know why I took you on as my student?"
The tiny filly looked up at her with a look of bewilderment. "Because I hatched spike into a huge dragon and turned my parents into potted plants and levitated the examiners and-"
Celestia waved a hoof to silence her. "No. I took you on as my student because I saw a spark in you. The spark of magic."
Twilight only looked more confused. "What does that mean?", she asked, looking up at her mentor with a wide stare.
"It means that, what I saw in you, I have seen before. In ponies such as Star Swirl, or in other powerful magicians of long-gone times. You not only wield the power of a great sorcerer, you understand its importance. Equestria is built on magic. It's our industry and our culture, and what separates ponies from the rest of the races of Equus and beyond. Our duty is to wield the cosmos through our magic. Without it, we are nothing but slaves to our own existence. To be a truly great wizard, you must not only have power but know why we employ it."
Twilight didn't look any less baffled. "I don't expect you to understand now. Go back to your frolickings, though try to not upset the servants if you can help it.
But one day, you will."
In the darkness of a warm summer night, echoes of light hoofsteps resonate through the Institute for Magical Studies in Canterlot. It was the premier place of Magical research and study in all of Equestria, just outside the palace walls in the highest district in the city. It was the seat of the Archmage, a largely ceremonial position that had not been occupied in a near century. Unicorns graduating from Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns commonly ended up in its opulent halls, conducting experiments, discussing magical theory, and honing their arcane craft. The scholars were unrivalled in their diligence.
Or at least, this is how it had been. The once gilded walls were stripped of all the lavish decor that once earned it the cultural centre of the Capital. Formerly full of noise and life, the institute was now as silent as a graveyard after dark. Solar and Lunar guards, who once displayed their might and prowess at every corner and doorway, now stood eerily empty. Equestria’s best were out in the fields and the forests - Canterlot's garrison was a skeleton of the once numerous Royal Guard. Not that it mattered much - no guards were needed here. Not anymore.
All the faculty and students were gone too. Even at this late hour, the chamber would be alive with quiet study. The servants, steady in their service to the crown, seemed to have disappeared into the dark and secluded corners of the Castle. The air was still.
Twilight Sparkle paced angrily around the defunct halls. Full of serpents was her mind. Each brazened hoofstep was followed by the angry flicks of her tail while her telekinesis furiously buzzed away. It was to be converted into a factory. A place of discovery and knowledge transformed into an engine of demise, producing whatever creations of horror and death the arms companies of Equestria desired. Twilight had objected, of course - how could she let such an influential place in her life be destroyed? Celestia and Luna disagreed. Said it was 'necessary', despite 14 other sites around Canterlot that could host it instead Twilight had found. That Magic was 'obsolete' and that winning the war required such losses. She had stormed out of that meeting, tearful. She may have been a Princess, but she couldn't prevent herself from being overruled.
The students were away at war. There had not been teaching in the institute since the conflict began. But now, the staff were gone too. The magical researchers and professors, some of the finest minds in Equestria, were ordered to respecialise in more 'practical' academic fields, or go home to their families and live out the rest of their days in relative peace - but without the work that defined who they were. Many were friends, colleagues, or former teachers. Even some of the students she had known are buried beneath some war grave. The rudeness of the soldiers to the staff had particularly riled Twilight, but she legally couldn't intervene. It was the Diarch's project to regulate.
The Great Hall of the University was still impressive, a millennia after it was built. A huge hexagonal skylight provided more than enough illumination during the day, but at Night the silvery moonlight crept through like a hanging fabric. The lofty ceiling, possible from magically reinforced beams, had made it the spectacle of early Canterlot when no traditional materials had such constructive properties. The centrepiece of the room was a painting of Star Swirl, its founder and first Dean, protected from decay by ancient magic he likely formulated. Magically illuminated lights kept wherever one was working aglow, even if they were all off now. With its copper green walls and seemingly endless bookshelves on obscure magical topics, there was no place in Canterlot quite like it.
And in the tiled centre of the grand room, there was a pile of books, artefacts, contraptions and other junk found within the building. All the work and progress of a millennium of Magical development was left abandoned like a corpse on the cold floor - the very heart of the institution, the entrails of discovery, had been ripped out and dumped.
Just looking at the heap, Twilight's heart sank. She had until the sun rose to decide what she would salvage - and what would be melted down, burnt, or sold. The tears returned.
Scattered beside her like leaves beneath an autumn tree were countless manuscripts. Intricate details of Magical theory, obscure and powerful spells, and Celestia-knows what else. The knowledge hidden between these pages was immeasurable, yet Equestria's finest had condemned it to destruction.
She looked up from her pile with watery eyes and a look of fury. It just wasn't fair! How could such an ancient discipline, one so important to Equestria's history and identity, to her identity, be swept under the rug so easily?
She thought back to the early memory of Celestia explaining why magic was important to Equestria, and subsequently why she was gifted. She hadn't understood at the time - foals of that age, even academically oriented ones, have other matters on their mind. Twilight thought she had understood Celestia's cryptic messaging when she became an Alicorn - her duty to Equestria and her training in Magic were one and the same. To serve her country was to be prepared to face the magical threats that haunted Equestria, and her devotion to study was to improve the lives of its citizens. And now, Equestria had betrayed Magic - betrayed her. Was Celestia's premonition wrong? Or was Twilight lied to?
Her small fur began to stand up on end. Her wings and ears twitched in seething rage as the air crackled purple with magical energy, struggling to contain herself. Screaming in anger, Twilight picked up an object from the heap - a small metal container with a sparklingly cut crystal embedded in its centre, of some unknown purpose - and hurled it to the other end of the room. In her act of rage, she failed to notice that she had aimed it directly at the ancient painting of Star Swirl. Ordinarily, Unicorns could not throw objects this far - but Twilight was no Unicorn, and certainly not ordinary.
It smashed into the painting, the auras of magical energy from both creating huge sparks that illuminated the dark room. Once the light show had cleared, Twilight saw the effect of her fit - a gaping hole torn in the fabric of the archaic painting. Twilight's face turned from one of rage to horror. To deface such an important artwork was a crime against history itself.
"What have I - What have I done?!" She vocalised in a strained voice.
Under the weight of her despair, her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. A bitter feeling coursed through her limp body like the burning hoof of fire itself. Racked with sobs on the cold stone floor, she failed to notice the shuffling hoofsteps of an old stallion entering the cavernous hall - nor his careful approach to the young mare.
"Hush now," He said in a worried voice. "What is a young mare such as yourself doing crying on this old floor?" He spoke softly, and with the air of wisdom of a Pony who has seen it all before.
She looked up from her lament in surprise, and stared directly into eyes she recognised - the eyes of the old director of the institute, Occasus Solis. Eyes she knew intensely well, as he was one of the most powerful and accomplished mages in all of Equestria, and a constant figure in her academic life. His pale blue mane seemed to have faded with age, and solemn wrinkles sagged upon his wizened face.
"You - you're n-not meant to be in here. You're meant to be home. The doors were locked. I did that myself!" She managed, trying to suppress her overflowing emotions.
He chuckled softly. "We both know that a little lock wouldn't stop either of us. What matters is why you're here, sitting on your rump, crying your heart out. Especially in front of such a...", looking over the pile of junk strewn over the floor with a withering expression, "Mess."
With a sniffle, Twilight observed her surroundings. It was a sorry sight. She wiped her damp eyes with a hoof. Here she was, a grown mare, a Princess no less, bawling her eyes out in a lonesome building in Central Canterlot.
"I- I can't believe this place is closing! And to make a factory no less! After all that we accomplished, and all that we learned, it appears Magic isn't long for this world. Every day some new inventor comes and replaces all that we created, cheaper and more destructive than we ever did.
Communication spells? Who needs those when you can use a radio! Or what about our industry, agriculture, or production? Factories and mechanisation have replaced artisans and earth pony farmers respectively. Our history of duelling and combat magic has been replaced by the far cruder and deadlier weapons of today, and millions have died as a result.
And now here - the Institute for Magical Studies - is closing to make way for such barbarism. And I can't stop it. The Princesses overruled me. The centre of Equestria's magical teaching, the core of our identity as Unicorns, is being stripped away to make way for new technologies. How have we allowed this to happen?"
Twilight looked down glumly, now finished with her rant. Occasus Solis just looked at her in curiosity. The silence mulled as the old sorcerer contemplated her words.
He eventually began to speak.
"Technology is a tool. A tool used by ponies to accomplish their goals, such as allowing one to complete the work of many, or achieve what is not possible at all. It allows us to do wonderful things just like Magic can. Just as with Magic, it can also be misused to horrific effect.
Queen Chrysalis has used technology to try and achieve her goals of control over Equus after she failed with Magic at your hoof. The only way we can defeat her is with larger, more productive machines, deadlier weapons, and more extensive armies. Magic is not well suited for a continental conflict. In this way, technology has been utilised for something awful and forced us to react similarly.
However, it is not unique in this. Have you not forgotten the horrors of what powerful Magic users can achieve? The Elements of Harmony defeated Nightmare Moon, Discord, Chrysalis, Lord Tirek, and Sombra to name a few. If not for yourself, the fate of Equestria would be far darker than any future brought about by technology. The difference is you were able to prevent those potential apocalypses, but not to prevent this war.
And for all Magic has accomplished, technology is not far behind. It has brought the cost of consumer products down with mass production, improved the quality of life for non-unicorns, and freed up manual labour in the workforce for other endeavours - the arts, science, and mathematics. While the 'spirit' of Magic may not play such a role in these aspects of our lives anymore, these are inarguably useful developments for Equestria.
The difference between the two is not one of function, but one of soul.
Magic isn't just a tool we employ to create, or kill, or enrich ourselves. Magic is the very fabric that holds us together. You, of all Ponies, should know this - you've spent long enough studying the Magic of Friendship. Magic isn't just what Unicorns use to grasp something, it's what defines us in relation to our environment and our society. It's what gives us life.
It's what makes us ponies.
And I assure you, no matter what happens in this war, Magic will not disappear. Magic vanishing would be the loss of Ponykind itself. What is being lost, is our craft of old. While a shame to practicers of it such as ourselves is ultimately fair for the rest of Equestria. We spent too long with our heads stuck in the clouds, distracted from what was meaningful and important - those around us. It's time for us to head home.
The war will end, sooner or later. Chrysalis was a fool if she thought she could come out of this conflict victorious. Once it is over, it is your divine duty to ensure the survival of Magic. You have an eternity to teach the mortal its importance, and if you're half as good a teacher as you are a student, you will be better than we deserve.
I doubt I will survive to see it. I am old and frail, and my prime is long past. The present is the era of the youth, and the elders must make way for their replacements. The war is taking its toll, even if I am not fighting. It is a sign we, Equestria, must move on.
But you will persist. You are young, healthy, and an Alicorn Princess - even if you feel underrepresented by the Sisters. You will one day command respect from them, I am sure. They too are old. Ancient, even.
And your time is only just beginning."
The first thing one noticed was the fluttering of banners. Equestrian flags, mounted from every pole and rooftop spire, waving in the light wind. The air in Canterlot was free from the acrid smell of misery and death that had emanated from the factories during the war. It may have been a cold spring morning, but the city gleamed. Celestia had outdone herself for this one, Twilight thought. In preparation for the victory day parade, Canterlot had been completely transformed back into the shining Capital it had been before the war.
The rubble was long gone from the streets. The arms factories had shut down and were likely to be repurposed into more practical facilities. The previously quiet and empty streets, once devoid of life from evacuation and conscription, were once again bustling with ponies wishing to take part in the celebrations. The war was over!
The air was ecstatic. Every street was packed with ponies partying, visiting shops, or enjoying the city reborn. Music wafted through the air, followed by the scents of baked goods and other delicacies to sustain the crowds for the duration of the event. A fanfare blared across the city as the military procession made its way down the main promenade.
Each illustrious tower, every radiant building, and all the paved streets were perfect. Equestria had suffered enough to make victory an event worth celebrating lavishly. The grim horrors of wartime life were but a fading memory.
The second time Twilight thought she understood Celestia's prophecy was at that moment, atop her lofty spire in Canterlot Castle, watching the festivities from a comfortable distance.
She often thought back to her meeting with Occasus Solis. Correct as ever, he had predicted his own demise - he had passed away a little more than a year before the war ended. His funeral had been a short, drab affair, attended by his former colleagues and associates. Despite his passing, time had only revealed to her just how right he was.
Watching the heaving crowds below her, Twilight saw with her own eyes what he had meant. Magic was not gone from Equestria. It was thriving.