Twilight Sparkle had been assigned to read twelve books over the weekend: a little light homework from her demanding teacher Princess Celestia. At least, many other ponies would find her teacher more or less demanding, what with her massive assignments of reading, writing, and studying. However, Princess Celestia's faithful student Twilight Sparkle didn't mind, but she did feel the teeniest bit overwhelmed. She had decided to keep herself cooped up in Ponyville's library, which also doubled as her house, where she could be away from the excitement of the outside world and inside the excitement of stories whose writers had long since passed from the world.
Twilight was smack-dab in the middle of her sixth book. It was a lengthy epic covering the surprising discovery of the unwelcome side effects of the original rainbow factory's rainbow recipe and how these side effects were then removed from the time-honored tradition. The previous five books had all been over five widely differing topics, and Twilight was engrossed by the vast amounts of new knowledge that lay in wait within each of these textbooks' pages. It was still fairly early in the morning of the first day of the weekend, and Twilight showed no signs of stopping any time soon. Small steps slowly sounded as a young purple dragon padded his way up the library's curved stairwell and entered the room.
A small voice matching the footsteps barely broke the quiet stillness of the library. "Twilight. Applejack just saved my life from horrible dragon-eating timberwolves."
It was Spike, her assistant and friend. Twilight came upon him when she was still a foal, and he had been by her side since the beginning. Spike's words quickly reached the purple pony's ears, they reverberated against her eardrums, but they did not register in her brain. As usual with one who reads books constantly, Twilight had attained the skill of "ignoring," and regularly put it to use during her studies. The book's colorful and historic message occupied the entirety of the pony's mind, and it prevented the audible sadness in the baby dragon's momentous words from being fully heard. They did, however, make Twilight respond on instinct, similar to how a pony would swat at a fly buzzing noisily around their ear.
"Mmhmmm."
A few more words came from the dragon, each more depressing than the last, and a few more spontaneous acknowledgments were muttered from the pony with the years of experience on blocking out the world, and now, family. Twilight didn't notice the tears welling up in the dragons eyes. She didn't see a tear wiped quickly away.
Then he was gone.
Twilight snapped the sixth book shut and instinctively grabbed for the next one in the stack. The hours passed and the pages turned to the steady internal beat of Twilight's mind. Loud steps matched by a loud voice quickly echoed up the library's curved stairwell.
"Twilight?"
"Twilight, are you there?"
An orange mare with a cowboy hat stood at the top of the stairs, looking into the room at the other mare, who was unaware of her words. "TWILIGHT!" she finally shouted after a second's hesitation. Surprisingly, Twilight was still unaware of her presence after Applejack's outburst, her shouting having no effect on Twilight's well-trained bad habit. With a sigh, she looked around the room for something to draw Twilight's attention. A perfectly straight line of inkwells caught her attention. With a mischievous grin of a filly picking on a sibling, Applejack tapped the empty inkwell out of its specific and meticulously planned spot on the table.
The clink that issued forth from the collision made it's way quickly across the small room. It plowed through Twilight's ears like a sharp blade before colliding and reverberating against her eardrums. A chain reaction took place as the sound went to three small bones in Twilight's ear. First the clink collided with the hammer, then the anvil, and finally the stirrup. The sharp sound of the clink made it's way up the stirrup before passing along to the cochlea. Thousands of cilia were punished by the sudden clink, and they quickly informed the auditory nerve of the sound. The sound suddenly brought forth an important memory from Twilight's childhood to the top of her mind. This all took place in mere milliseconds; a length of time imperceivable to any mortal creature.
It is worth noting all that Twilight did not remember, given what she did remember. She did not remember the few and foggy memories of the first couple of years of her life. Her parents' words like, "she's beautiful," and "she's wonderful," and "she will be somepony one day." She did not remember her parents beam down at their second foal and first filly with excited eyes as they wondered what experiences awaited their foal, and what memories she would someday recall. She did not remember receiving her first book at an extremely young age, an age at which most foals wouldn't be reading, nor the invitation to a fellow filly's birthday party turned down to read the newly released first book in the soon-to-be-acclaimed "Daring Doo" series. Her own birthday party later that year, attended with downcast eyes and a defeated and unwilling mind to please her parents and make them feel like she was a "sociable and respectable young filly" was not remembered. Not the arugments, many in number, which she had with her parents over the point of needing friends and friendships. None of these thoughts came to mind.
She did not remember attending the Summer Sun Celebration for the first time. The early waking, the hurried breakfast of hot oats and fruit, the yawning that spread contagiously from one pony to the next as they hustled into a carriage. She did not remember the regal sound of the trumpets or the joyous screams of the ponies enjoying the nauseating carnival rides. The first bite of her first candied apple tickled her tongue with its sweetly sour taste. The chorus of trumpets pulled her atrention away from the tasty delight as Twilight looked for the source of the noise. She did not remember giggling as she escaped her parents' protective hold to dash through the ebb and flow of the sea of packed ponies as she nudged her way to the front of the crowd. There, the unchanging Sun Goddess, her future teacher, stood gracefully at the top of the stage. Raising the sun and showing off her grace and power. Twilight had no memory of her jaw dropping in awe of the event, the magic, and the warmth on her face. She did not remember the spark of inspiration born that sunny morn.
She did not remember when the arguments about friends became less and less; when they finally fizzled into nonexistence. Her parents gave up trying, knowing that she had reached a point in her life where she could make up her own mind on how to live out the rest of it. She was glad for it. She did not remember the many hours poured into the many volumes filled with beginner's lessons on levitation, illumination, and conjuration. Twilight did not remember the seed of her magical knowledge and ability start its slow bloom to beauty.
She did not remember the many memories kindled with her older brother, Shining Armor, nor the kites soaring high in the sky, nor the brush of a warm summer's breeze that made it possible to do so. Memories of being awoken by thoughts of darkness, evil, and worry that are normal for a foal in the early hours of the morning. Memories of running to her understanding brother with his jokes and stories. His calming thoughts, hopes, and aspirations. She did not remember his warm eyes and warm smile that looked down upon her with love and affection.
She did not remember the salty trickles that slowly steamed from her eyes when he so suddenly left her behind to join the Royal Guard. The many sleepless nights that followed, head buried in wet pillow, spent cursing his absence. She did not remember turning to her books for all of her comfort, reading them day and night to quell the increase of tears that continued to flow. The many gray-filled days never remembered.
Nor did Twilight remember her parent's coming home from work earlier than usual as they checked the mail with eager and anxious smiles. She did not remember them coming to her, a letter with the royal seal hidden carefully from their daughter's view. Twilight didn't remember eyeing them suspiciously and excitedly, wondering what secret they weren't telling. The sudden and surprising letter of invitation given over into her small hooves to Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. A school located on the castle grounds. The same castle grounds of the Royal Guard. The same castle grounds as her brother. She did not remember the outpouring of tears that were not caused by the usual sadness, nor her stuttering, thanking, and crying. The pitter-patter of tiny hooves racing up the stairs to her roon to write her first of many letters to a brother long since gone, but now not quite so far out of reach. The sound of a hastily scratching quill against parchment, informing Shining Armor of her new found place in society. She wrote of her new found hopes, and dreams, and aspirations. She did not remember his timely response of congratulation and tidings of good luck hastily scrawled back. Thoughts of rereading both letters, one so regal and professional, and the other so messy and close to her heart. She hugged them both tight into her chest as she drifted off into a long dream of friends, company, and peace.
She did not remember the sudden shock and awe the morning after her initial excitement faded. The realization that she would soon be mentored by her idol, Princess Celestia, as well as her most faithful advisers. The realization that she would be required to take an entrance exam. She did not remember scurrying to the bookstore sooner than even the earliest shoppers to find and buy as many important looking textbooks as her fairly substantial amount of saved allowance could buy. Books on astronomy and astrology, sociology and psychology, geology, and the detailed inner-workings of magic. The late nights spent gazing into the depths and beauty of space, finding all the known constellations of the universe described in Astro's Astronomy Almanac of All Things Astrological. Her eyes slowly drooping, her head steadily falling into the the book as she dreamed up patterns in the constellations known to no one but herself. She did not remember wishing for someone to share them with when she awoke.
She did not remember one dusty old volume's startling tale of the origins of Nightmare Moon and her outlandish and alien scheme of an eternal night. The darkness, the suffering. The thought of being alone. The longing for a brother not a room away, but a letter and half a city further. The wishing for her faraway brother to come home instantly so he could laugh and joke of long summer hours spent playing, running, laughing. So he could weave tales told around a hearth fire's warmth on a cold winter night, snuggled up close in a cozy embrace. She did not remember tearing herself away from these fantasies, nor instead moving on to her next self-assigned lesson and the one after it. She did not remember the fear dissipating as the vast amounts of knowledge that lay within the textbooks' pages shoved the thoughts of darkness, evil, and worry away deeper into her mind.
She did not remember a pink alicorn moving into the neighborhood sometime that year. Her parents' surprised yet elegant bows, curtsies, and thanks were directed at this newcomer when she came by and greeted herself as Princess Cadance. Her warm laugh so similar to that of her brother's issued as the young alicorn insisted on being treated like a neighbor, not a princess. Her surprise that followed upon seeing Twilight hiding behind her mother's legs. Her wide smile. A warm, friendly, wide smile. Cadance's voice trilling lightly like a bird's when she opened her mouth. "Hey there! Your name's Twilight Sparkle, right? How would you like me to spend some time with you? I could be your foalsitter!" A shy yet somehow bold smile, a hoof held out in greeting. "Oh, sorry, I guess I haven't introduced myself. I'm Cadance!"
Twilight did not remember forgetting about her entrance exam fast approaching. Her books started to, for the first time in their lifetime with Twilight, gather a thin layer dust. Instead, her time was with Cadance, laughing and joking throughout the remaining summer hours spent playing, running, jumping, dancing. The night's hours spent falling asleep nestled close to her foalsitter. Her sister. Part of her family. She did not remember the few remaining weeks trickle away as the studying, reading, and experimenting with spells grew less and less.
She did not remember the time better spent with Cadance. She did not remember the letters written to Shining Armor. She did not remember her books, lessons, or dreams. She did not remember her parents and their support and advice, even when she thought she didn't need it. She didn't remember any of these events.
This is what she remembered. Worry. Anxiety. Fear. A night spent awake before the big day without any comfort. A final night before her life would be changed, hopefully for the better.
Awaking. Aching. Feeling sick to her stomach. Worrying. Parents bubbling with a nervous energy as they praise their young daughter's talent. They tell her not to worry. "You can make it in. You've read and you've studied. You've experimented and learned. You can do this, we believe in you."
Being ushered quickly into a large classroom. Four tall green walls, one adorned with a large blackboard. Thirty desks in their specific and meticulously planned spot in the room, with four inquisitive and serious professors sitting in the back, herself standing in the front feeling naked to the eyes of the world. She stares in awe and fright toward the professors at the thought of taking an exam. What will it be? Will it be written, oral, or possibly actual magic? Squeaking wheels, a dragon egg on a cart. Magic, of... some sort. Parents with their best smiles, silently cheering her on as they themselves stare dumbfounded at the cart. Anxiety. A... come-to-life-spell? A nervous laugh issuing from Twilight's own throat, the glaring and unblinking eyes of the Professors. Pencils scratching roughly against paper: Denied. Denied. Denied. Denied. Anxiety. Oh please... Maybe... I should just crack it open? The sweat drips down her face, and she seizes up. No. No. That would never work. One mare utters the words "Well, Mrs. Sparkle?" in a bored tone. All eyes are on Twilight. Fear. She feels fear. She feels the fear of failure. Emptiness. Being alone.
The sound of the inkwell's clink was already fading from Twilight's mind; the memory starting to fade along with it. But there was still time. A loud boom resounds across the valleys and mountains outside and fades as a thought is born from within her self conscious.
Her parents arguing with her over friends. Years passing by. Time spent in books. Time spent learning, knowing, but not feeling. Dull and gray. Just like a dusty old book. Shining Armor protecting her. Reading to her. Spending time with her. Then gone. Time spent in books. Time spent experimenting, crying, worrying. A feeling of sadness and lifelessness. Cadance looking after her. Playing and dancing with her. Spending time with her. Twilight, spending time with her... friends.
A power stronger than any felt before by the young pony wells up within and overflows around the edges of her mind. A flash of light fades leaving a clink, a crack, and a bursting of egg shell. A small purple dragon stretches and yawns as the shattered bits of egg shell hit the floor, one after the other, fading into reality. Clink, clink, clink.