//------------------------------// // Two // Story: Lethe // by Nicroburst //------------------------------// You have transgressed o’er too many boundaries. I cannot allow you to perpetuate such crimes any longer. Chapter Two THE land surrounding the river was untamed. Despite the life-giving water flowing beside it, the countryside had been deemed unfit for farmland, and left behind by the industrious earth ponies settling the land. It had become a nature reserve, a segment of the world cut off from pony society. The river saw only a few Wardens, now and then, patrolling their domain. The choice to sequester the river was not influenced by a desire to preserve it. Rather, the river had inspired a fear in Sun itself. It was a fear of change, of the inevitable death of the present age. The river was locked away, a problem delayed and ignored. But Harmony would not remain forgotten forever. *** “Welcome, Twilight, and friend Rainbow,” Zecora said, holding the door open to allow Twilight and Rainbow inside. “Please, come in, do not go.” “Zecora,” Twilight began, as the zebra closed and locked the door behind them. “How are you?” “I’ve had better days, and worse. But if I’m not mistaken, I’m to be your nurse?” Twilight smiled. “How . . .?” “Rainbow here seems not quite right. Her stance, her stride . . . it speaks of fright.” “Hey!” Rainbow said. Zecora winked at Twilight, turning back to her cauldron, which was beginning to bubble. Approaching, Twilight peered inside, catching sight of a few vegetables—potatoes, carrots, even broccoli. It was a thick green stew, and though it looked strange, it smelled absolutely delicious. “Rainbow had an incident, yesterday. Do you know anything about mental magic? Specifically memory loss?”  “I’ve knowledge of plants and herbs, but of the mind, just a blurb.” Zecora grimaced. “If poor Rainbow is so afflicted, I’m afraid my aid will be restricted.” “But you do know the beasts of the Forest?” Zecora just nodded. Rainbow, walking around the hut and inspecting the décor, made a face as she stepped past the cauldron. “From what I can tell, Rainbow didn’t just lose her memory—something has taken it from her. We’re hoping that if we can find it, we can get her memory back,” Twilight said. Zecora paused for a moment, a frown creasing her brow, before speaking. “Though I know not of such a creature, there is another—of knowledge, a keeper,” Zecora said. Twilight lifted her eyebrow. “That one was a stretch,” Rainbow muttered, poking one of the tribal masks on the wall. “Rainbow! I’m sorry, Zecora. She’s a little . . . tense.” “Not at all, Twilight, I quite understand. And, dear Rainbow, if my aid you demand . . .” “Right, sorry. Uhh . . . please, continue.” Zecora nodded, continuing to stir her soup. The liquid rose upward as a great bubble escaped, filling the hut with its scent—that of a rather pleasant stew. Twilight’s stomach rumbled. Rainbow had gotten her up early, and in her haste pulled Twilight out of the library before she could eat. Zecora smiled. “Come, Twilight, take a seat. The food is ready, and quite a treat.” Twilight lit her horn, grabbing bowls from the cupboards to the side, eagerly trotting forward to fill them at the cauldron. Taking a seat next to Zecora, she passed a bowl to the zebra, and then beckoned to Rainbow. The pegasus approached hesitantly, reluctantly taking a seat beside Twilight. Her expression of distaste quickly cleared away when she sniffed, and for a time the hut was filled only by a warm silence, broken by the occasional slurp. The stew was thick, a hearty soup full of root vegetables and leafy greens. Twilight didn’t recognise even half the spices, and though she made a mental note to ask Zecora about them later, for the moment she was too absorbed too consider moving, or lifting her head from her bowl. Eventually, though, Zecora stood, her own bowl set aside. Twilight glanced up from her second helping, realising the zebra had been waiting for them. Rainbow had already finished three—but then, she’d always eaten quickly. “Tell me, Twilight, where exactly did this occur?” Zecora intoned. Twilight saw Rainbow’s ears flick from the corner of her eye. Apparently, she’d also caught the absence of rhyme in Zecora’s question. “On the Everfree border, in the northeast,” Twilight replied. Zecora’s eyes widened. “Truly? Luck follows you, Twilight, dear, for the one I speak of—he is near. The north-eastern river, home to the Cetus and the mighty Drac—have it for your guide, and truth you will not lack.” “You speak of . . . the Drac?” Twilight guessed. She’d never heard of such a beast, though she knew of the Cetus—a river serpent, akin to the one that had helped her and her friends reach the castle on the night of Moon’s Rise; the night Nightmare Moon had returned. “Yes, Twilight, of him beware. True intent is hidden behind words fair. On this and this alone you may rely—a Seer’s word is his bond, and he may never lie. Naught else in our realm has cause to know his heart.” A Seer? Oh, Celestia, yes! “Huh,” Rainbow said. “Wow.” “A Seer . . .” Twilight said, mind still spinning through the possibilities. “I’ve never . . . I mean, Princess Celestia implied they were . . . but still, a Seer!” “So this . . . Drac creature,” Rainbow said, staring intently at Zecora. “He’ll know about my condition. He’ll know how to fix me.” Zecora frowned. “I would not name you broken, Rainbow. But what you seek, the Drac will know.” Rainbow paused, and then shook her head. “Okay, great. Twilight?” “We really should be going, Zecora. Thanks for the stew,” Twilight said, rising. Rainbow began to make her way to the door, but Twilight hesitated. Glancing up at Zecora, she furrowed her brow. “Is there anything else I should know?” Zecora shook her head mutely, moving to the door and holding it open. Rainbow stepped outside, with Twilight following her out into the Forest. “I’ll visit soon, Zecora. If nothing else, I need that recipe!” Twilight said. She almost shivered, the cold air of the Forest catching her off-guard after the warmth of Zecora’s hut. She could still feel the stew, sitting in her belly. It exuded heat, fought back the Forest’s quiet chill. “Of course, my friend, this is no end. Rainbow, though . . . may not be easy to mend,” Zecora replied. Rainbow snorted from a good ten paces down the path. Twilight, with a final farewell wave, hurried to catch up. “Slow down,” she called. “I’ll just be teleporting us there.” “Oh,” Rainbow said, coming to a halt. “Of course.” “We should think about this first, anyway,” Twilight continued. “What’s to think about? We’re just asking questions.” “He’s a Seer. That means he can see the future—so he already knows we’re coming. He already knows what we’re going to ask.” “Twilight, we need his help. None of this matters before that.” “I . . . you’re right. I just want you to slow down, Rainbow, and be careful. This could be dangerous.” Rainbow stood still, waiting. She didn’t open her mouth again. With a small sigh, and a shake of her head, Twilight charged the teleportation, taking them both to the river bank next to where she’d found Rainbow standing, just yesterday.   *** Twilight stepped forward nervously, moving slowly under the canopy. The late afternoon sun filtered through the leaves, casting a checkered pattern of dim light over their environment. Ahead of her, Rainbow was unusually quiet herself, flying just over the ground to avoid the rustle Twilight couldn’t help but make. The only other noise was the roar of the river, turbulent beside them. They were searching for this Drac. Zecora’s answers had been vague at best, and Twilight certainly felt some strange apprehension at the idea of shattering the stillness calling out for him. Something as simple as that suddenly became so much harder in the Everfree Forest. No matter how many times she ventured through its dark, tangled web, Twilight could never quite suppress the shiver down her spine. Despite her confidence, her history and abilities, there was something about the unknown that gave her pause. Twilight wasn’t as attuned to the slight shifts in nature as Applejack, and Fluttershy, but even she felt the Forest’s presence. It was malevolent in a way that made the rest of Equestria feel sheltered. She couldn’t pin down the source of her unease, but she felt it all around her. It was in the shrill cries of birds, moving through the treetops, and silent steps of the animals lurking at their base. It was in the oppressive gloom, diluting and trapping the sunlight. Besides, the Drac was a Seer. He already knew when, and where, they’d find him. It was only a matter of time before he appeared—unless he’d decided to avoid them entirely. Get a grip, Twilight! Rainbow needs this—you need this. A Seer, oh, Celestia, think of what he could know. What I could learn . . . Rainbow first, she silently rebuked herself. No use getting swept away before we find her help. Of course, of course, but afterwards . . . afterwards, we could return. The magic of clairvoyance alone, Twilight! “Hey there, you okay?” Rainbow asked. Twilight blinked, shaking her head. The pegasus had flown down, coming to a rest in front of her. “Yes, of course,” she snapped. “I’m fine.” “Whoa, Twilight, there’s no need to bite my head off.” Twilight turned away with a sigh. “Sorry. I’m . . . a little strung out, I guess.” “What’s going on?” Rainbow asked. Twilight resumed her slow walk, with Rainbow falling into step beside her. She didn’t say anything for a long while. “I don’t know,” Twilight eventually sighed. “It’s probably nothing.” “Okay,” Rainbow said, though she continued to walk next to Twilight instead of taking back to the air. Twilight shivered, pressing herself close against Rainbow’s body, and though the pegasus started at the touch, she didn’t back away. For a time, there was only the noise they made, stepping on the bed of leaves and twigs that covered the forest floor, and a stillness that held around them. Slowly, beyond the edges of her awareness, the forest receded—the ambient background static of life fading to be replaced by a torrential roar. Twilight didn’t think about it, didn’t even notice the change. She was caught up in her thoughts, lost in her worry and the warmth of Rainbow at her side. But as the roar grew, it slowly penetrated that bubble, the silence that had wrapped around her. They had been following the river for some time now, walking along a ridge several feet back from the bank, and the further they moved into the forest, the angrier the currents grew. On the outskirts, it had been calm; a tranquil blanket over its domain. Here, though, the water boiled, frothing and foaming as it whipped around corners and danced through eddies. The torrent was ceaseless, and unending. “Rainbow,” Twilight said abruptly. The name hung in the air between them, disturbed the precious balance. Rainbow sprang back from it, startled. Twilight’s side suddenly felt cold. But then the pegasus grinned, hanging her head, and the moment passed. “Sorry,” Twilight said. “I just wanted to stop for a second.” “More thinking?” Rainbow asked, raising an eyebrow. “No, actually, I was just thirsty,” Twilight said. Rainbow nodded, glancing away. Twilight approached the water’s edge. From what she could see, the shallows of the river extended for several metres before giving way to deeper waters. Pausing, she glanced back at Rainbow. The pegasus had remained further up on the bank. The second she stepped into the water, though, something struck her. The water itself locked around her hoof, holding her down against her instinctive attempt to retreat. Twilight let out a soft cry, stumbling, as water leapt up her foreleg, twirling and twisting around like a vine. “Twilight!” Rainbow cried, leaping into the air above her. Reaching down, she grabbed Twilight under the shoulders, straining to lift her from the water’s grasp. But even as it held her down, thin whips of liquid lashed themselves around her waist. Rainbow let out a gasp of effort, her wing-beats falling faster and faster. With a herculean effort, Twilight felt herself rise an inch, then two. Some bands of water stretched until, finally, they burst, shining droplets falling back to the river. Then a small wave formed beside her, rushing up and over Twilight, and encasing her in its hard liquid shell. She squirmed, but the water flexed, moving with her. Rainbow pulled free just as it rushed over Twilight’s shoulders, returning to a hover in front of her. “Twilight! What’s going on?” she screamed in desperation, frantically staring at Twilight. The water lapped at her neck now, a full body suit that locked her in place. Twilight was unable to glance away from Rainbow’s contorted face. She was red with effort, hooves held helpless out in front of her. Her shock finally receding, Twilight lit her horn, telekinesis wrapping around the watery armour covering her and holding back its advance. Twilight forced herself to take several deep breaths, calming herself down. Panic wouldn’t help her here. Concentrating, she closed her eyes, charging her familiar teleportation spell. With a flash, Twilight reappeared on the bank of the river, out of the water’s reach. She wavered, there, nearly collapsing, until Rainbow crashed into her side, throwing her unequivocally to the ground. “C-calm down, Rainbow!” Twilight said, trying to clamber out from under the pegasus. Rainbow had buried her face in Twilight’s coat, shoulders trembling. Twilight’s eyes widened “Hey . . . hey now, come on, Rainbow. I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s all fine,” she said, tone softening. “I thought . . . I thought,” Rainbow choked out, raising her face to look at Twilight. Her coat was soaked with spray, sweat, and tears, her mane slicked back flat against her neck and red rims bordering her wide eyes “I know,” Twilight said, throwing her hooves around Rainbow and clutching her in a fierce hug. Rainbow just held her, clung to her as if Twilight was her last link to the world. “Ah, now, isn’t this touching?” a low voice rumbled from behind them. Twilight and Rainbow sprang apart, each spinning to bring their focus on the owner of that voice. He rose from the river languidly, with an ease and economy of movement that suggested a great, stretching yawn, rising from deep within his chest. Water ran down his body, refracting the light that rose from his shimmering blue scales to create an aura of light around his torso, quickly fading as the water fell back into the river. He towered over them, easily ten feet high, at first reminding Twilight of the Cetus, with a long, sinuous body. But this was no serpent, confined to lakes and rivers; this was a dragon, with leathery wings spread over his narrow back and thin arms at his side. Long, webbed talons extended from each paw, glittering wickedly in the light, and vivid yellow eyes, each as big as a full-grown pony, and carved into fanged slits, focused intently on Twilight, and Rainbow beside her. “You’re the Drac,” Twilight murmured. Beside her, Rainbow stepped forward, in front of Twilight, glaring at him. He . . . what, staged that? No, no, more of a demonstration. Such control over the water—it wasn’t supposed to put me in danger, just to wake me up. Oh, Celestia, what is he? “What was that?! You could have killed her,” Rainbow cried, pointing a hoof at the Drac. “What were you thinking?!” “Sparkle was never in any danger,” the Drac said, singularly unimpressed by Rainbow’s defiance. “I trust that I have your attention?” “Quite,” Twilight snapped, stepping forward, beside Rainbow. “Excellent,” the Drac said, showing his teeth. Twilight judged it not quite a grin; carrying on those long, sharp teeth an implicit threat. “But before pleasure, business. I believe you have questions to ask of me, Rainbow.” Twilight reached forward, placing a hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder and giving her an encouraging nod when she looked around. Rainbow gulped, and then looked up at the Drac, squaring herself against its profile. “Yes . . . yes, I . . . I need to know what happened. Yesterday, by the river,” Rainbow said, her voice trailing off. The Drac snorted. “You mean my river, little pony,” he stated flatly. “You’ll have to do better than that. Or was all the bravado simply that—empty?” Rainbow ground her teeth, lines of tension rising through her body. Twilight winced, feeling her friends’ distress at the mention of who she’d been. “That’s the problem, you fiend” she hissed. “I don’t know!” “There is a price for everything, little pony.” Rainbow’s eyes blazed. “Name it.” “Three questions, in exchange for that of a single answer.” “How storybook of you,” Twilight said. The Drac regarded them haughtily. Rainbow stepped forward almost instantly. “I accept.” “No, Rainbow, don’t,” Twilight said, reaching out to hold her back. “Slow down. You haven’t thought it through.” “What’s to think about?” Rainbow hissed, turning to Twilight. “Three questions to find out what’s wrong with me. All it wants is an answer.” “It’s too easy,” Twilight said, speaking in the same hushed whisper. “That doesn’t matter, Twilight,” Rainbow said. “Trust me on this, okay?” Twilight pressed her eyes closed. Rainbow’s face, so eager, upturned as if in plaintive cry, tore at her. When had it become so important, to make her disregard those instincts, screaming at her. Or was it simply the promise of knowledge in the Drac’s answers, and in his question? “Okay,” Twilight said. “Okay, Rainbow. I trust you.” Rainbow nodded, a small smile quirking the corners of her lips up. Turning away, she fixed her gaze on the dragon awaiting her. “Well?” “I accept.” “I know. Ask your questions, little pony.” Rainbow took a deep breath. “What took my memory from me?” The Drac smiled that threatening smile, tongue just showing between the glistening white. “Lethe stole your memory away, little pony.” “Where is Lethe?” Rainbow demanded her voice cracking. “Lethe lies below the old castle, in the ruins of the Old World, and at the culmination of my river. Follow it to your destination.” Lethe . . . The Old World . . . I’ve never heard of them before. Rainbow trembled, though from excitement or fear or simple nervous energy Twilight could not tell. When she spoke, her voice came out in a croak, a whisper that Twilight had difficulty hearing. “C-can I recover myself?” “Nopony ever has, Rainbow,” the Drac said, and though his deep voice rumbled with the strength of mountains, Twilight thought she could hear the faintest note of softening in his response. “But should you succeed, you will do so by letting go.” Then he grinned, splitting his maw open to reveal innumerable teeth, and a cold, blue fire, burning deep within his throat. “Who woke you, yesterday morning, Rainbow Dash?” the Drac asked, his voice rolling across the glade. “T-“ Rainbow shook her head, rainbow mane tracing a graceless arc in the air. She cleared her throat, and lifted her gaze, to stare at the beast head on. “Twilight Sparkle,” she said, defiantly. “Thank you,” the Drac said. “Sparkle, might I request your presence? I fear your friend has dismissed you, for the time being.” “What?!” Rainbow said. “She is your answer, little pony, given fairly and honestly, as were mine.” “You can’t expect me to . . . No, that’s not fair. I won’t.” She raised her chin, spreading her legs wide and extending her wings into the air beside her, falling into a defiant pose. “Do you renege on our deal? I must warn you, I do not suffer such treachery lightly.” Twilight stepped forward, glaring at the creature. How dare it think her some pawn? How dare it make deals over her life?! “Rainbow can’t give me away. I am no thing, to be bartered over,” she spat. The Drac rolled his eyes. “She has only relinquished her hold on you, Sparkle. You, of course, retain free will.” “I’m not giving Twilight up!” “How long?” Twilight asked. Rainbow glanced at her, parted lips and wide eyes conveying a sudden horror. “The night, only. You may rejoin her in the morning.” “And if I refuse?” A gust of wind sent a shiver of cold racing through Twilight, striking the icy water that still clung to her coat and pressing it against her skin. “Then we will part ways, and poor Rainbow will never again recall the freedom she once felt, nor the import of her days past.” Twilight nodded. She didn’t have a choice—not if what the Drac had said was true. But there was something more, there, something pulling at her, though she could not pin it down. Like a need, to know the mysteries that this creature held, to share in his knowledge and power. She had always been curious, but this . . . this was something stronger. “Rainbow . . .“ Twilight said. The pegasus locked her gaze with Twilight’s. “I am not losing you,” she said fiercely. Twilight felt a ripple of shock at the sight. Rainbow stood before her, soaked from her tussle with the water, dwarfed by the creature behind her, defying its will. Trading her entire life away, to spare Twilight from . . . what, exactly? Just the one night? It stole her breath away. Twilight smiled. “You won’t,” she said, simply. “Twi’ . . . Are you sure?” Rainbow said, slumping. Her wings retreated, folding themselves against her back as her head dropped. She’d been willing to forego everything. “I can’t . . . I can’t lose you.” “I trusted you, Dash. Trust me,” Twilight said. She stepped forward, past Rainbow, to face the Drac. She had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. They glittered, betraying no hint of his thoughts. But in those depths she saw the whole world, laid out before her. It stretched through time immemorial, across lands beyond Equestria, beyond even the few legends remaining of the what came before. She nodded, once, without breaking his gaze. “Come, Sparkle,” the Drac said, turning away. And despite Rainbow clutching at her, despite the apprehension hovering in her gut; fear not for herself, but for Rainbow, so suddenly stranded out here, she was . . . excited. She’d rejoin Rainbow in the morning, and sink all her effort into helping her recover herself from this Lethe. Until then, though, she could focus on the Drac. Why had he wanted to speak with her? This was a creature that could know anything, everything in the entire world, at a whim. What could she possibly offer? Twilight began to move forward. Rainbow let out a soft cry, springing from where she stood to reach out and grab her. “Twi’,” Rainbow whispered in disbelief. “I can’t . . . I can’t do this without you!” “Yes, you can, Rainbow” Twilight said, turning and wrapping Rainbow in a tight hug. “Sparkle!” the Drac called. He had sunk halfway into the river, turning his back on the two ponies. “It’s time to go.” “I’ll meet you back here, in the morning,” Twilight said, pulling away. Twilight stepped away, entering the water. It did not attack her, instead, the water parted at her touch, exposing the muddy silt underneath for her to walk on. Trying to follow, Rainbow lifted her hoof, but stopped mid-step, encountering some kind of barrier. It rose from the edge of the river, preventing Rainbow from following Twilight out over the water. Rainbow backed away from the barrier, rising into the air, then hurtled towards it, ducking her head and striking it with a shoulder. She hit nothing but air, and yet she came to a halt all the same, sliding down some invisible wall. Twilight winced, hearing the impact as a loud thud. “Not yet, Chaser,” the Drac whispered, beckoning to Twilight. “Your word binds you still.” Rainbow lay slumped on the edge of the river, unmoving apart from slight shudders running through her shoulders. She seemed to be crying, with one hoof futilely pressed against the air. But Twilight was drawn away. The Drac waited impatiently behind her, waited for her to wrench herself away from her prostrate friend. He would not tolerate any further delay, and even if she reneged on her unspoken promise, she had no faith in her ability to escape him. Not when he knew what she would do before she did it. Shouldn’t she be comforting Rainbow? Some vague part of her seemed torn, screaming at her with the imperative to go to her friend. It seemed to be at a vast distance, though, shrouded, and locked away. She still had a choice . . . but it was no choice at all. Twilight turned away, following the Drac upriver. And while her heart seemed to ache for her friend, she couldn’t quite suppress the bounce in her step, nor prevent the edges of her mouth from twisting upwards in a maddening grin. The Drac beckoned to her, baited her with the promise of knowledge, and she followed. The Drac sank further below the surface as he moved, until just his head was visible above the water. He looked almost like a crocodile, moving silently, effortlessly, despite the current. Twilight stuck close to the bank, where the water was shallow. Twilight’s enthusiasm didn’t last long, however. As the Drac continued without sign of change, no indication that their destination was approaching, Twilight’s stride began to falter. She was accustomed to spending her days in the library, reading. First searching for hours through the forest, and now this lonely trek—it was slowly tiring her. By the time the Drac halted, the sun was beginning to set. Rising from the water, he turned to face Twilight, who came to a stumbling stop beside him. She couldn’t begin to imagine the wealth of knowledge a Seer would possess. It was beyond her wildest dreams, a desire so unreachable she’d long ago learnt to ignore its pull. Curiosity, the drive to learn that she had nurtured through her years in Celestia’s school, drew her thoughts to all the niggling questions unanswered in her life; about magic, Harmony and the underlying structures of the world. A Seer couldn’t give her the answers she sought any more than her tutors could. Even Celestia had proven to be largely ignorant of the strictures Twilight perceived around her. What was magic, that intangible force channelled through a horn to achieve incredible effects? How did a pegasus’ small wingspan manage to move such an incredible volume of air? What was the source of the earth pony’s communion with Nature? They were not biologically different to the other races, and yet they possessed endurance beyond their peers. Small inconsistencies, passed over by the average pony, the observant unicorn noticed, compiled and investigated, until they had turned into a physical itch. The Drac was another step towards those answers. Twilight’s time with Starswirl’s work had taught her the basics of time manipulation, but it was still an incredibly complex art. A true master, a Seer, could expand her understanding beyond Starswirl’s spells, and through inference reveal a great deal more. Just the thought sent shivers down her spine, anticipation and excitement running through her body. The thought was marred, however, by that singular image, of Rainbow, defeated, on the bank. Dash . . . She looked so lost, lying there on the bank. She must be worried sick about me, and I just left her. What kind of friend does that, Twilight? “You really aren’t scared, are you?” the Drac asked. “No, not really,” Twilight replied. “I’ve seen more than my share of exotic things.” “Yes, I suppose you have.” The Drac had led Twilight to a bend in the river. Water had begun to erode the bank as it was channelled around the corner, eating into the ground to create an islet. Twilight clambered onto it at the Drac’s gesture, lying down on her stomach to face him. “How much do you know, Sparkle?” the Drac asked. “Very little. That is, after all, why we sought you.” “Why did you assume that I would help?” The Drac asked. Something in his manner seemed off. He was speaking slowly, carefully, holding eye contact with her. He was . . . troubled. Twilight shook her head. “What other choice did we have? You’re a Seer. You know virtually everything, or could should you need to. There certainly wasn’t anywhere else we could go for help.” “I cannot See the future, Sparkle, not as you understand it. Foresight is more limited than your classical definition. I’d have thought a fellow Sage better informed.” The Drac watched her closely, gauging her reaction. “I’m no Sage,” Twilight snorted. “I’m not even a full Magus yet.” “You are a Sage, whether you admit to it or not. Perhaps you truly don’t know.” The Drac settled back, relaxing. “Why did you bring me here?” Twilight asked. “I’ve been watching you, Sparkle, for some time now,” the Drac said. “I watched you look over my kin, and raise him as a pony. I can understand this, but I cannot accept it.” Spike! He is talking about Spike?! “When you leave the forest, you will bring him here. We will talk, after which he will return with you,” The Drac stated flatly. “This will happen once a week until he reaches maturity.” “You want Spike. You took me from Rainbow for Spike!” “Yes, Sparkle. I have been waiting for one such as him. He is a tabula rasa, a blank slate. He must learn what it means to be a dragon.” “We tried that, once. He didn’t like it.” “Pah. Those were not dragons, not in truth. They know nothing of blood and fire.” “And why would I agree to this?” “In return, I will render you what aid I can with the pegasus’ amnesia—without which you will fail.” The Drac grinned. “And I will teach you what it means to be a Sage.” Zecora said he cannot lie. I have to—whatever it takes. If I can help Rainbow . . . could that justify what I did to her? But it is Spike’s choice, and I cannot make it for him. I have no right to force this on him . . . just as I have no right to deny him the opportunity. As she thought, mind racing through the arguments, the wind picked up again. It sped along the river, throwing spray across both her and the Drac. She gasped slightly as the water hit her, sinking cold into her side. Her mind settled, decided. Rainbow needed the help, and she would not turn down its offer. Twilight narrowed her eyes. “ Very well, Drac, I have heard your terms. These are mine. Contingent on my ward’s acquiescence, I retain guardianship, and all associated powers. I sit in on these lessons, to ascertain their content and my ward’s safety, and I retain final right of veto, although its use, at any time, leaves me in debt equal to what aid you provide now.” “Acceptable terms, Sparkle. We have a deal.” The Drac's eyes gleamed as he regarded her. “Now, then. Have you ever attempted the impossible? Something so utterly, unthinkably stupid any rational mind would never have considered it—and done it anyway?” “I turned my parents into pot plants, and grew Spike from an infant into a forty-foot giant,” Twilight said quietly. “I was eight years old.” The Drac nodded. “The ability to exceed yourself, to transcend what should be your limits. You see it all the time—the weather-pony breaking the sound barrier to save a life, the librarian saving her town from an Ursa Minor, even in love so great as to triumph over the sun. “I cannot tell you how to reclaim Rainbow’s memories, no more than I can tell you what you are. But I can show you.” Twilight smiled eagerly. “Then show me.” The Drac nodded, once, then lunged at her, suddenly, shockingly, his mouth wide open. Twilight briefly caught sight of the innumerable teeth, glinting in the remnants of sunlight, before she reflexively hurled herself backwards, screaming at the top of her lungs.