365,000
“From the failure whence I came, here I lay unabashed..."
Four vis’ worth of concentrated magic exploding at the tip of one’s horn is a terrifying prospect, both in destructive capability if preventative wards aren’t cast beforehand, and the unimaginable searing agony it could put a pony through. When a spell backfires, the residual mana doesn’t just equilaterally burst neatly into the air like an explosion or a fireball, burning its’ energy as fast as its’ source and medium allows; It tears, and it claws, and it forces its’ way through anything with magical capacity that isn’t already occupied.
Mana, in this way, can be thought of as a balanced system of pressure. It seeks equilibrium. All magic shares this feature, at least all observable forms of magic relying on mana as its’ fuel source. In creating a power relay to store four vis worth of mana from myself, I therefore increase the pressure of that system. Inversely, I depressurize my own wellspring, making me susceptible to backlash. Weaving a ritual this big is akin to balancing a river of mana on my nose whilst wearing high-hoof horseshoes riding a unicycle, and I’m the only dam in the room.
So when the dam breaks, all the mana tears straight through the lowest pressure system it can find: Me. Path of lease resistance, it’s a fundamental and universal law of nature.
“Moonlit stars it doesn’t get any easier…” I mumble, rubbing a hoof at my poor, tender horn that just suffered a cataclysmic level of power surging straight through it from the wrong direction. I’m lucky I have enough time between the failsafe wards and the spell’s activation point to prepare for it. Half a second at best, but it’s enough to prevent my horn from being physically mangled before I’m thrown to the floor in a singed pile.
Life one hundred. Here we go.
‘seventy-six, seventy-seven, seventy-eight.’ I stand up, forcing my face to a neutral expression and lighting my horn. My body’s still searing from the inside, but after the hundredth loop I realized my pain tolerance allows me to operate after seventy-eight seconds of recuperation. In the future I’ll likely learn a faster way, save some more time.
Seconds can count, I’ve learned. And now I’m using those seconds to harness the residual mana in the air that hasn’t dissipated, siphoning the massive cloud of chaotic energy to restore just enough of my wellspring to cast a cantrip or two. It stings like a scorpion’s kiss to the cranium, but after so many reiterations I know I can take it. I’ll need this magic, just enough to dispel the wards on the door to my chambers and to power the arcane seal on my strongbox.
Ninety-four seconds. I’m a second late.
I let the spell fade and jaunt half a step toward the door to make up the difference. There’s debris and upheaved books everywhere, obstructing the path, but I trample over them as if they don’t exist. Because frankly, in about three minutes and ten seconds, they won’t. At least from my perspective.
I’m doing something different this cycle. No stress relief shouting match with Celestia, no direct challenge to her authority (which was a foolhardy pipe dream to believe I could best an Alicorn even in the best of circumstances,) and no attempts to stack the current political climate against her- The Everfree kingdom will fall eventually, with or without my influence, bringing it about sooner is moot. I need to see what comes next. Where does she go from here, when her perfect lie all comes tumbling down? The frozen wastes to try and undo the curse, the blasted and baked plains to the west? I need information, I need to learn further out. Maybe the solution to my current problem lies not in the now, but in the future.
One minute, thirty-nine seconds.
I’m just outside of my casting chamber, and I move at a precisely-timed trot to round the first corner just as the first alarmed guard arrives to investigate, and after the flower maiden who had been slacking off in the adjacent hallway slinks off. Her seeing me sneak away results in Celestia waiting for me when I pop out of my next spell, and I can’t have that. I need total surprise for what I’m planning. This life is going to be special.
I reach my personal chambers just in the adjacent hall. With a quick dispelling incantation I power down my paralytic ward, allowing myself entrance. I don’t bother closing the door as I dart to my desk, ripping out the top right drawer and spilling its’ contents onto the ground. Out of the mess of quills ink and scrolls, a small strongbox with my cutie mark emblazoned on it lands right-side-up. I lower my horn onto it, letting a minuscule stream of my magic seep into it.
The box’s many latches and self-destructive failsafes deactivate, and I throw the lid open by hoof. Inside, strung with a silver thread, is a small gemstone carved into the shape of a crescent moon. It’s radiating with power, and as I reach my hoof down to scoop it up it nearly bakes the keratin as it comes into contact, sending a magical bolt through my body, jolting my horn to life with a spark of newly found magic.
Ten vis. That’s the power this small gem holds. Days worth of my raw potential. It’s taken a year to develop and adequately pack the magical battery with as much power as I was able to. It was meant to store twenty at minimum, but I never got the chance to finish it before I stuck myself in this loop. So, ten vis and my usual capacity is what I have to work with.
I reach out and instead grab it in my telekinesis, siphoning it as quickly as I dare to restore at least the surface level of my wellspring. It takes about half a minute, but once I’m confident I can cast freely I reseal the box, piling everything back into the drawer and heaving it back into place. I pull the amulet over my head and resist the urge to yelp as it zaps my chest, trying to equalize my empty wellspring with its’ overcharged pool of mana.
The strongbox will rearm, as will the ward on my door, no need to waste time resetting them. I dart out of my quarters, closing the door behind me and expertly weaving through the castle halls, taking a very particular route and pausing at seemingly-random intervals to avoid prying eyes.
Two minutes even.
I’m in front of the throne room now, and I hide away in one of the alcoves housing an ornate set of ceremonial armor. In the next ten seconds her advisor will be here, barge into the throne room, and declare me missing. Another fifteen after that the pair of them will exit the chamber through a secret passage behind her throne and head to my casting chamber via the back halls, leaving the main chamber empty.
Ten seconds later the old pony shows up right on cue, barging past the singular guard on post.
“Princess Celestia, an explosion was heard from Magister Star Swirl’s quarter! The guard can find neither hoof nor tail of him!” He yells. There’s a brief moment of silence while the colt stands in the doorway, then he suddenly bolts into the room as she likely beacons him in before I hear the grinding of stone on stone from inside the chamber.
Two minutes, twenty-six seconds.
I step out from the alcove and charge my horn preemptively with a Melroe’s Memory Modification, rounding the corner to the main hall and approaching the lone guard. He turns his head to me and opens his mouth in surprise.
“Magist-“ I interrupt him by letting the spell loose. A thin azure line strikes the earth pony at the bridge of his nose, snaking up from the point of contact until it stretches beneath his helmet and spreads across his forehead. I feel the connection establish my will to his mind, and his eyes cross over each other as he stands thoughtless, awaiting my re-instruction.
“Magister Star Swirl is missing. You have not seen him.” I insist firmly. He doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even signal that he hears me. All part of the spell.
I cut the connection. Before his eyes have a chance to refocus, I shift my focus to a new spell, weaving it with a practiced efficacy and casting it over the clueless guard. There’s a faint blue tinge that blooms over his coat within half a second, stretching and distorting the air around him before it blinks out of existence, along with the guard.
He’ll be back in thirty seconds, just before a castle patrol rounds the corner from the west wing hall. From his perspective nothing will have happened, as if his eyes glazed over for but a moment and he zoned out in a moment of confusion. It would be easier to kill him and be done with it, though he’s done nothing wrong but pledge his allegiance to the wrong pony. On the off chance this life sticks, I don’t want to have punished an innocent pony.
Two minutes, fifty-eight seconds.
I quickly slink past the now-unguarded doorway, sealing it quickly behind me and being careful to leave no trace of myself behind. A stray strand of my mane on the floor is all it would take.
Three minutes, four seconds.
I hear the hurried steps of regal horseshoes on stone to my left as Celestia travels through the hidden tunnels between the walls, completely oblivious that I’m nary ten feet away. A part of me wants to see what happens if I catch her by surprise here, blast her through the wall- Another life. Another time.
Three minutes, six seconds.
I light my horn, weaving the same custom spell I cast on the guard on myself. The difference is that instead of the small sliver of power I used to propel him forward half a minute, I open my wellspring fully, allowing the spell to siphon at my very life force as my already-dry reserves of magic are tapped nearly instantly. The pain of my mana network being eviscerated is excruciating, but I bear it.
On top of the amulet around my neck, I draw from the ambient mana permeating the air, draining equally from the dozens of alicorn-tier spell relays overlapping the walls, ceiling, and floor of the chamber. This very spot where I’m standing, this throne room, is without a doubt the most heavily concentrated pool of processed and pre-woven spellcraft amalgamated in one location. There’s at least half a M-Vis here, maybe a tenth of that is siphon-able without raising any alarm spells.
The reason for casting my spell here is three-fold. Firstly, it acts as an additional power source for my delay spell. Even at my best, I couldn’t hope to bring myself far enough into the future without additional power.
Secondly, the anti-scrying wards placed around the chamber will mask the high-tier spellcraft and the volume of mana I’m converging on myself from other sensitive casters, and more importantly from Celestia.
Lastly… This is where she would likely return, if not Celestia’s balcony.
Three minutes, nine seconds.
“Wait for me, Lunatic.” I mutter. There’s a rare pang of something in my chest as I mutter pointlessly to myself. Something akin to sadness, or maybe remorse? I don’t have time to linger on it, I’m quickly draining all the ambient power the relays have built up over the years. I need to be careful to not draw from their live circulation, or they may destabilize and tip Celestia off that they’ve been siphoned.
The spell’s as ready as it gets. I plant my hooves firmly into the carpet beneath my hooves and look up at the two thrones sitting mockingly upon the dais. Even after years, Luna’s throne is still here. As if to torment me, to remind us all of the fate that awaits those that defy and question that witch.
Three minutes, ten seconds.
- - - -
“You think you can destroy the Elements of Harmony just like that?” A voice rings out, echoing and ringing throughout the entire castle. Or, more accurately, the ruins of the castle. I’ve skipped a few dozen years before. The castle is always abandoned by then, though never so decrepit, never so neglected.
I look up at the thrones to see two large, empty seats coated with foliage and rubble. Two large tapestries I don’t recall being there hang from the ceiling, torn and ragged depictions of both the sun and moon swaying in a breeze let in through a massive hole in the ceiling and several more from missing walls.
“Well you’re wrong! Because the spirits of the Elements of Harmony are right… Here!” The voice rings out again. My ears swivel to the northeast wing, towards the old Vault. Before I have time to think about it, my hooves have left from under me and are booking it there.
Did I guess right? Is she here, is she fighting somepony? Is she in any condition to fight after escaping her imprisonment, or has she been biding her time, more powerful than ever? I round the first corner from the Throne Room. Instead of the familiar spiral staircase to the second and third floors, I’m met with a pile of boulders and roots that have made their home here.
“Dammit…!” I hiss, rearing my head and searching for another way up. There’s nothing for it, I need to use the southeastern stairwell that connects to the Royal wing, then cut north from there.
“But you still don’t have the sixth element, the spark didn’t work!”
Everything shuts down. I feel a shiver run through every muscle in my body. The dark fog that’s been blanketing everything I’ve thought for the past century of my subjectively immortal life loop falls away for the first time. There’s no suffocating feeling of hopelessness, of despair- I was right. She’s here, she’s free; A thousand years in the future, my love is free.
“-the sixth element! The element of… Magic!” The first voice rings out confidently. There’s a beaming white light that shoots out and illuminates the night in all directions from somewhere above me, and a roaring wind picks up along with it. I feel the castle itself begin to quake, and a multi-hued aurora of lights begin to spill out across the forest through the destroyed walls and windows.
“Luna! LUNA!!” I yell louder than I’ve ever yelled in my life. The scream breathes life back into my tired and aching psyche, and fills my weary body with a shot of adrenaline.
My vision returns along with my higher-functioning reasoning, and I realize that so far in the future the wards and protective seals have long since crumbled into dust. There is nothing to prevent me from teleporting directly to her; So I do.
I rip a part of my soul from my core as an offering to my horn, and it greedily consumes the energy in order to power the spell. It’s sloppy spellcraft, and the dicey power supply leaves me on top of the staircase leading into the vast room. I remember it being filled with gold and ivory, though now it’s been stripped down to bare stone.
My attention, however, is on the seven mares in the room. I see six of them with their backs to me, a radiant swirl of colors powering up, ready to strike my beloved down. Looking past them, I see her. The real her. Luna, without constraint. Fangs bared, with a wild passionate fury in her eyes as she stares down whatever massive power these mares possess. She doesn’t cower. She doesn’t run.
“LUNA!” I yell again, but it’s drowned out completely by the roaring winds. I can barely hear myself over the sound. A blinding pulse of light erupts and carries me backwards down several stairs; I try to teleport myself, to envelop myself in a kinetic field, but I’m bone dry, along with my amulet. My head throbs like someone hit me repeatedly with a hammer, and I settle backwards onto the staircase where I lay stunned for a few moments before rising unsteadily to my hooves. I see the bright white light shining above begin to fade away into the orange-red of daybreak, and I quickly scramble up to the top.
“-we were meant to rule together, little sister.” The cold, confident voice of Celestia floods the room. As I step over the threshold, I see the six mares from before on the ground, all staring across the room at her and Luna- but… That’s not Luna.
“Sister?!” “Huh?” “What’n the-” They all echo to each other, as if they’ve never heard of the Princess of the Night in their lives. I feel my coat bristle as it occurs to me why that would be the case. Typical Celestia.
“Will you accept my friendship?” The tyrant stands tall over Luna. Pressuring her, subconsciously bullying her into submission by asserting a false authority layered over a fabricated sense of familial love. I know it would be futile, but I want to blast that pretender’s grin off her-
“I’m so sorry!”
… Luna, why are you…?
“I missed you so much, big sister!” The now-cowering and tiny shadow of her former self rushes up to Celestia… And hugs her.
No. No, this isn’t Luna. Luna would never- She would never abandon herself, her pride, her ideals like this.
I feel the dark cloud in my head return, and a sinking feeling in my stomach tells me that this is no illusion. Some way, somehow, Celestia coaxed these mares into wielding the Elements of Harmony for her, that’s what that swirling energy was. She tricked these mares into dismantling Luna from the inside out, crippling her and somehow brainwashing her into submission.
“Hey! You know what this calls for?” The pink one suddenly pipes up, reaching just past my line of sight and producing… A bucking cannon? She points it right at Luna, and moves to slam her hoof down onto a strange fuseless firing mechanism. “A PAR-“
“NO!” I scream, watching her hoof in slow motion as it falls through the air. My wellspring’s still empty, my soul’s been eviscerated using it as the fuel for spells beyond my capacity, and my body’s on its’ last vestiges of strength, but I won’t let her kill Luna. I’ll give everything if I have to. I’ll kill her first.
I summon a Euthanatos spell, and I focus on the pink firing squad of one. It’s the most energy-efficient method of instantaneous death I know. When my wellspring comes up dry, and my mana network has nothing to offer, I use the most precious life energy I have left- My mind. A ponies’ brain is the most energy-consuming part of the body by a long shot. It’s not a particularly good conductor or relay of mana, but it’s dense with energy which, in a pinch, can serve as just enough to power a mid-tier spell.
The pink hoof falls through the air for another half second, but just before she makes contact with the device she stops. Everypony else in the room turns to stare at me with a wide range of emotions on their face. Five of the six mares seem confused or shocked, Celestia’s eyes are wide in something resembling fear- Oh, I wish I could relish that- and Luna’s are… Unreadable.
I try to hone in on it, trying to meet her gaze from across the vast room, but my vision crosses over itself every half-second. I feel my hooves begin to buckle under me as my body is unable to continue its’ core functions, utterly drained of not only mana, but of energy. I fall to the ground, but through the haze of my dying eyes I see a pink silhouette begin to slowly list to the side, teetering slightly back and forth, before collapsing into a heap at the base of the cannon.
“Pinkie Pie!” “Pinkie!” “What happened?” “Is she okay?” “What was that, who is that?!”
“Twilight Sparkle, take your friends and flee. Now.”
“But, pri-“
Before brain death occurs and sends me back to square one, a grin spreads across my lips. One last thought, a new development to consider. A new angle to play from.
’…Twilight Sparkle.’
- -
“From the failure whence I came, here I lay unabashed..."
Let’s do that again. I’ll pop out a couple years early this time and start gathering information. With any luck, I can make it to Luna before they do next time.
Life 101.
Goal: Twilight Sparkle.