//------------------------------//
// Chapter 8 
// Story: Darkest Before Dawn 
// by Sessalisk 
//------------------------------//


	Darkest Before Dawn


	by Sessalisk



	Chapter Eight


	














Twilight walked out of her room and into the teacher’s lounge, into a heated discussion between several of the teachers. This happened at least twice a week, about anything from grading to the best hoofball players.

“I’ve hosted one every year for the last five years,” Ms. Lida said, sounding indignant. “I’ve never had a problem before!” 

“Never at this school,” said Mr. Benoit.

Ms. Lida huffed, the pinkish-brown mare turning more pink than brown. “Are you saying I’m not experienced enough?”

“That’s not it,” said Ms. Marie, surprisingly placid. From what Twilight had seen, she seemed to be mellower in the mornings, before class started.“Talent shows always turn out badly here.”

“Well, Ingrid,” Ms. Lida said, “we have to put something on for the parents to see.”

Twilight was surprised that Ms. Lida was brave enough to talk to Ms. Marie like that. The beige mare could have exploded in a fit of rage at any time, and Ms. Lida had enough nerve to talk back to her. Twilight felt a growing respect for the fearless Language Arts teacher.

She walked across the lounge, not sure if it would be more impolite to interrupt them to say good morning, or to ignore them and just walk past. She settled with waving once.

Jazz stood there, bobbing his head slightly, possibly to music that only he could hear. He noticed Twilight then, even though none of the other teachers seemed to, and waved back. “I don’t think it has to be a talent thingy,” he said to Ms. Lida. “It can be a science and magic whatsit, or a spelling bee or one of those er... trivia contests. The kids love those.”






“We have to think of the parents too,” she said. “Those would be horribly boring for them, and besides, what could be better than letting those sweet little foals show what they’re best at?” 

Twilight opened the door out into the hallway-

“I’m sure any past mishaps-”

- and closed the door behind her.





She sat down in class, across the room from Gingersnap and Demise, the only two ponies who had already arrived. Ms. Lida was always here early every morning, but had not been today. Twilight had a hunch why this was the case.

Everypony was seated, and it was 8:35 by the time the teacher finally walked in, looking slightly flustered.

“Good news, everypony!” she chirped. “This year we’ll be doing a talent show for the spring pageant!”

“Aw...” Twilight heard Pebbly Crunch mutter beside her. “Why can’t it be a science fair?”

“Or a magic show,” Tambourine’s voice said from across the classroom.

Impatience flared in Ms. Lida’s eyes, but Twilight saw her take several deep breaths before she responded. “A talent show will be the best for showing everypony’s talents, not just for those of you that are good at science or magic.”

The teacher used her magic to open a drawer of her desk and pull out a sheet of paper. She wrote eight names onto it, tore it up into neat little strips, folded them, and placed them into an empty cardboard box.

“Every filly please come up to the front of the class and pick a name out of the box,” she said. “Whoever you pick will be your partner for the talent show.”

“Why can’t we choose partners?” asked Elsie.

“If you always work with the same ponies,” the teacher said, “you’ll never get to know your other classmates. You need to learn how to work with anypony, not just the ponies you like.”

It didn’t bother Twilight either way, but if they did this, at least she had a much smaller chance of being stuck with Ace or Rune, like she was for every other group project.

“But then why do we have to get partnered up with boys?” Elsie said again.

Huh? Suddenly Twilight realised what it meant to have only eight names dropped into the hat - especially when combined with asking only the fillies to pick.

“Yeah,” said Tsunami, a bluish-grey colt. “And why do they get to pick and not us?”

“Colts are always working with colts and fillies are always working with fillies,” Ms. Lida explained patiently. “Your partners won’t always be who you want them to be.

Sky gave a loud cough and Twilight saw Enigma roll his eyes.

“Is this for marks?” Gingersnap asked.

“You will not be graded on your performance, only your participation.”

The fillies ended up marching dutifully to the teacher’s desk to pull a name out of the box.

Gingersnap looked crestfallen as she opened her slip of paper. “Ace?” she said as she walked back to her seat. “Really. Ace?”

In response, the straw-coloured colt glared at her. “I don’t have cooties or anything. Jeeze.”

“No.” She sighed and put her head down on her desk. “Only a serious case of the stupids.”

“That is enough, Gingersnap,” the teacher said. “I will not have you calling the other students names or making them feel badly in this class.”

Twilight heard Lexicus whisper to somepony beside him, “No matter how true they are.”

“What was that you just said, Lexicus?” Ms. Lida said sharply.

He smiled, wide and insincere. “Oh nothing much. Just that the subject complement of ‘feel’ should be a predicate adjective like ‘bad’, rather than an adverb like ‘badly’, unless you mean that the ability to feel has been somehow impaired, rather than to make somepony upset.”

The teacher’s eye twitched slightly. “Yes. Thank you for that correction.”

Twilight went next, receiving Malachite as a partner. She wasn’t well-acquainted with the green colt, having maybe spoken a dozen or so words to him the entire year. The only things that she knew about him were that he came from a very affluent family and that he liked music. 

Still, she thought as she looked over at Gingersnap. It’s usually worse. She’d never done any projects with Malachite before, but hopefully she would be able to convince him to work on a magic act with her. 

When Rune went to take the name out of the box, she leaned forward and held the slip in her teeth. She walked back to her desk and, with apparent difficulty, unfolded the paper. She looked at it once, then dropped it into the trash.

“Who will your partner be?” said Ms. Lida, after about half a minute of Rune saying nothing.

The vivid-orange filly stared back impassively. “Lexicus.”

From two seats away, Twilight saw the yellow colt put a hoof to his face and groan.

“Lexicus,” the teacher snapped. “I will not have you disrespecting the other students like this.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Echelle got paired up with Demise, and Elsie with Pebbly Crunch. The blue filly found this hilarious for some reason.

When Tambourine pulled out Enigma’s name, he grumbled disappointedly. 

“Can’t balk in the face of eighty-six percent, bro.” Sky said to him.

Twilight did the math in her head. Yup, that was about right.

There were two names left in the box and only one filly left to pick, so Sky was put into the a group with the two remaining colts, Nightbreaker and Tsunami.

“You can use the rest of the class to work on your idea for the show,” Ms. Lida said to them all. This was what Twilight had been waiting for. Better to go on the offensive! Strike now, before there was any opportunity to counterattack!

She bounded over to Malachite’s side of the classroom. “Let’s do a magic act,” she said immediately.

He looked a little surprised. “Uh...” 

She pointed at her right flank. “Magic is my special talent, see?” Several books found themselves in the air, doing complicated aerial manoeuvres. “We could make a great performance with it.”

“But then...” the colt said a little timidly. “What would I do?” 

 “You can do magic too, can’t you?”

“Yeah...”

“Well then, what’s the problem?”

“I’m not that good at it,” he said. “I’m barely passing most of my classes...”

“How about you do backup magic then?” Twilight imagined him taking care of the lesser tricks that she wouldn’t have the focus to do herself. She noticed several colts and fillies going up to the teacher’s desk for some reason, maybe to get help with their ideas.

“I dunno,” said Malachite. “I was kinda hoping we could do a song instead.”

“A song?” Twilight frowned. “I can’t play any instruments.”

“Oh no, neither can I,” he admitted. “Well, I play the viola a little, but I’m horrible at it. C-clef weirds me out.”

She looked at his cutie mark, which was some sort of pink musical symbol. Huh. 

“I was hoping we could sing.”

Twilight shook her head.

He looked disappointed. “Why not?” 

“I don’t sing,” she said, matter-of-factly. “And, besides. Singing is kind of dumb.” Secretly, there was also something unnerving about the idea of singing in front of a large group of people. 

Malachite opened his mouth and then seemed to decide against whatever he was about to say. “I guess we could do the magic idea then.”

They began to discuss what sort of tricks they would do for the show. The green colt would agree indifferently to whatever Twilight proposed, only interjecting when she suggested things outside of his ability - which was quite a lot. 

“Don’t tell me you can’t cast illusions either,” Twilight said, eyes wide. 

Malachite scrunched up his eyebrows. “I can make the room change colour?”

“Uh... I guess we could work that in somehow... for mood maybe?”

Ms. Lida stopped by at their section of the classroom. “How are things going?”

“Okay,” Twilight said. Malachite followed that up a half-second later with, “Fine.”

“Do you two have an act planned out?” the teacher asked. “Everypony else has already registered theirs.”

Twilight blinked. “We have to register?”

“Why yes. How else would we make sure that everypony is doing a different act?”

Shoot. “Is it too late to sign up for a magic show?”

Ms. Lida pursed her lips. “Four times too late.”

A smile broke out on Malachite’s face. “How about a singing act?”

There was a sudden uplift in the teacher’s demeanor. “That sounds excellent!” she said cheerily. “I’ll put you down for a song.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. “No!” she said. “You can’t! How about an on-stage science experiment?”

“Sorry,” said the mare. “That’s taken too.”

“Could I just recite pi?”

“Learn to use sig figs!” somepony shouted from across the classroom.

Ms. Lida’s mouth became a thin line. “Another group is also doing something like that.”

“I don’t want to sing,” Twilight wailed. “Anything else, please...”

“You could try playing an instrument, something easy like drums, or maybe doing lighting effects,” Malachite said. “We don’t have to do the exact same thing.”

“That’s the spirit!” the mare said, before turning to walk away. “I’m looking forward to hearing your act!”

Twilight turned to Malachite. “That wasn’t nice.” 

“I wasn’t too happy about a magic show either, but if you get to do magic effects, then don’t we both get to do what we’re best at anyway?”

She sighed. “Fine. Just don’t expect me to sing with you or anything weird like that.”

“I won’t.”

Twilight scribbled down a list of song names as Malachite proposed them, and crossed them out whenever either of them thought of a good reason.

Twilight wrote a question mark next to the song, Herdless, by Flash Step. She remembered how often it was played on the radios a few years back. “That one’s sung from the perspective of a girl,” she said. “Won’t it be kind of weird if you start going on about ‘all the fillies like me’?”

“Maybe I could change the word ‘fillies’ to ‘colts’?”

“It doesn’t have the same number of syllables,” Twilight pointed out. “‘Ponies’ does, but then there’s that line about wearing lipstick too.”

“Oh yeah.”

She drew a line through Herdless and looked at the next song she recognised with skepticism. “Shadow Heart has that really high note in it doesn’t it?”

In response, Malachite sung several perfect scales in succession, going higher and higher until everyone in the class was wincing or flattening their ears. Twilight had to admit that he had a very good voice, but some of the highest notes sounded like they could shatter glass.

“If you’re going to practice your acts now,” said Ms. Lida, “please save the louder and more rambunctious activities for outside of class.”

Twilight rubbed her ears with her hooves. “You could’ve just told me that it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Heh. Sorry.” He looked over at Twilight’s list, which had over thirty remaining names. Most of them persisted simply because she had never heard them before, and didn’t know enough to eliminate any. “I don’t know which one to choose.”

“How about this one?” Twilight said, pointing to a random song. “How does it go?”

“I can’t believe you’ve never heard it. It played on all the radio stations in Manehattan last summer.” He hummed quietly. The tune was catchy, upbeat, and Twilight found herself tapping a hoof to it. “The chorus is, ‘be chipper, chipper. Be chipper.’”

“What’s it about?” she asked.

“Somepony has a bad day and decides that he can make everything better by putting everypony he knows into a wood chipper and then jumping into it himself.”

“Somehow I don’t think we’d be allowed to do that one.”

He was quiet for a moment, then frowned. “Oh.”

Twilight didn’t want to have to spend a lot of time looking for half an hour worth of songs, and as nice as Malachite’s voice was, she didn’t really feel like listening to them all re-performed either. She shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter to me which one you pick. Maybe just flip a coin or something.”

“How?” he said. “There’re more than two songs to pick from.”

She sighed, counted the songs on the list and quickly helped him eliminate another three. Then she re-wrote the remaining songs into two columns, broke the columns into two sections each, and each section further and further down until everything was divided into 32 possible choices. “Flip the coin to pick between the two columns. Then use each successive coin flip to make the outcome more specific with the sections I broke down for you.” 

“What does successive mean?”

“Each coin flip afterwards.” Working on this talent show was going to be such a pleasure.

The green colt nodded and a bit floated out of a pocket in his saddlebags. As the flap lifted up, Twilight spotted an alarming amount of money inside. “Is it safe to carry all that around with you?”

“My bag?”

It seemed like a bad idea to draw attention to it, in case anypony else saw it as an opportunity. “Nevermind,” she said.

Twilight buried herself in a textbook and let Malachite flip his coin. After the third flip or so he stopped. “Wait,” he said. “Wouldn’t it just be easier to write all the songs down on paper and pull them out of my bag?”

She shrugged.

In the end he picked a love song that, apparently, was also popular in Manehatten. Manehattan ponies must like very different music from those in Canterlot, or maybe Twilight was just listening to all the wrong radio stations. 

They finished the class by trying to figure out what sort of effects Twilight could do for their act. There were spells that you could use to amplify your voice, or even another pony’s voice. She would have to look them up, but then they probably weren’t much more complicated than a simple light spell, given their similar nature. 

“Do you think Mr. Jazz would play the piano for us?” Malachite asked.

“He plays the piano?”

“His name is Jazz and his cutie mark is two beamed eighth notes.”

“Well, I don’t know. He might play the saxophone or something.” Twilight looked over at Malachite’s cutie mark. “I didn’t know they had a name either.”

“Mine’s a hemidemisemiquaver rest.” 

She stared blankly at him. “That’s not a real word.”

He frowned. “Is so.”

“Nopony in their right mind would call something a hemidemisemiquaver.”

“I didn’t name it. That’s just what it’s called,” he said. “It means it’s one sixty-fourth of the value of a semibreve rest.” 

“A what now?”

Malachite sighed. “A rest is how long you have to go before you play or sing another note, and then there are different lengths of them going from longa, all the way to quasihemidemisemiquaver.”

Twilight blinked. She had no idea music had so much strange terminology. “What’s the basic unit? What’s its measurement in real time?”

Now it was Malachite’s turn to look confused.

“Um...” she said, thinking of a way to phrase it that he would understand. “What’s the rest, or whatever, that you measure all the other rests against? And how long does it last for in seconds?”

“Oh, that would be a semibreve. I think some ponies call it a ‘whole’ as well. I don’t think you really measure them in seconds, only in beats.”

That still didn’t make complete sense. “Well then how long is a beat?”

“Uh...” Malachite fished a sheet of music out of his bag. “You see the numbers next to the clef?” He pointed at a swirly-looking symbol. “That’s actually a fraction showing how many beats there’re supposed to be in each measure.” 

They went at this for a long time, Twilight asking more and more questions about sheet music and notation, and Malachite answering them to the best of his ability. At first he seemed a little exasperated that she didn’t know any of these things, but after a while he seemed to warm up to all the questions. Twilight wondered if he was glad that somepony was actually interested in music for once.

She always had a fuzzy idea of music being some sort of vaguely-spiritual thing that ponies just did and were good at when they were talented. It was shocking to find out that, just like magic, music wasn’t just an art, but a science as well. Secretly, she wondered how Malachite could crunch all those strange numbers in his head, keep track of the song at the same time, and still be so bad at ordinary math.

Class ended before she learned nearly enough about music and the two of them agreed to meet by the track after school to practice for the show. 

Twilight had so many questions to ask.





After lunch she strolled into Notation, Reading and Casting with more enthusiasm than she’d had since the start of the year. 

“Jazz! Jazz!” she said as the gray stallion walked in.

“Whoa, hey,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Jazz! Could you play the piano for me and Malachite at the talent show?”

“Sure thing. What song did you have in mind?”

“Some song Malachite picked. I’ve never heard it before but it’s called The Ways of Love.”

Jazz blinked for a moment, then laughed. “See if you can find the sheet music. S’okay if you can’t. I’ll just improv.”

“Yay!” Twilight was lost in thought for a moment. She glanced at her teacher’s cutie mark. “What’s syncopation?”

He grinned and launched into one of his trademark “lectures”. 

“... and then when you got all the notes lined up nice and neat then you go ‘Whoooo woooo wooo... -pow!’  and then it’s all regular again. Throws off the listeners all street-smart style.”

Twilight didn’t even care that class was supposed to have started already, and that, for once, she was the one derailing the discussion. “What’s ‘whoooo woooo wooo pow’ supposed to mean?”

“You know,” he said. “How you throw them off. The pizazz. The way you mess with the rhythm. Woo! The stress that nopony’s expecting. Woo! The accent that nopony saw coming. Pow!”

She took a moment to translate that into plain speech. “How do you put stress and accents on things?”





The sun was warm on her back, and the sky didn’t show any sign of a forthcoming April shower. Twilight took out the spellbook (101 Sound Spells and How to Use Them) she’d borrowed from the library during lunch, and started studying the magic that she was supposed to use for amplification. It was a little more complicated than a light spell, but not by much. The air shimmered faintly around her horn.

Stiff air... oscillate... then times - she picked a number at random - eleven... She cleared her throat, a sound like boulders tumbling down the side of a mountain. “TESTING.” 



Her voice boomed across the track. The nearby grass rippled slightly. “Perfect!” she said in her normal voice. Well... Maybe a little quieter next time.

“Was that you?” Malachite asked as he cantered up to the place Twilight was practicing. “I could hear you from inside.”

“Yeah. Sorry. It was my first time casting it and I didn’t know how loud it would be.”

“Well the good thing about practicing outside is that you can be as loud as you want!” he said with a grin.

“Hold still,” Twilight said, putting less power into the spell than she had the first time. “Okay, say something.”

The green colt looked puzzled. “HOW’S THIS?” he said, loudly enough to easily carry across the field. “OH, WOW. NEAT!”

It was a very basic spell; Twilight had gotten it mostly right on her first try. Still, she had to keep casting it or else it would drop a few seconds after she stopped concentrating. She flipped through the book looking for some sort of workaround.

Meanwhile, Malachite started to sing. 

From class, Twilight knew that he had a good voice. She didn’t know a lot about music, but she wasn’t tone-deaf. His scales hadn’t sounded out of tune and his voice was pure and clear. They had been very technically proficient, but somewhat dull. 

This, however, was different. 

This was... alive.

Unless Malachite was shifting the pitch up a couple of - the word was octaves, Twilight remembered - this seemed like a song that was supposed to be sung by a mare. He hit a startlingly high note during the bridge before sinking back into the regular pattern of the song.

It was like something had reached out, torn out her chest and left nothing but lightness inside. She felt herself swaying to the melody and after the second iteration of the chorus, Twilight was humming along against her own will.

When he finished, Twilight’s hooves were pounding against the soft turf, making quiet whumph sounds. “That was amazing!” she said. “Where did you learn to sing like that?”

He blushed. “I had a good teacher.”

“But how do you get the notes on the paper to sound the way they do?” It was such a simple question, but it was so basic that she knew she would sound stupid if she asked. Now she didn’t care. She had to know. 

“You just do it, I think. It’s just natural the way it’s supposed to be.”

That was disappointing. “Maybe there’s something about music that has to do with how ponies brains are wired?” she guessed. 

“Uh... Maybe?”

Twilight knew that they were supposed to be practicing, but she had to suppress the urge to immediately dash to a public library for some books on music theory. “Oh yeah. Jazz said that he could play during the talent show, but then he asked for sheet music.”

“I asked him too, just now. He told me you went to him earlier.” Malachite’s class must have been the one at the end of the day. “I can take care of that.”

“Okay, I think you definitely have the singing part down pat then,” said Twilight. “I just have to find out a way to keep the amp spell going without having to focus on it all the time. Then I could work on nifty light effects and fireworks too.” She floated the book over to him. “Do you think you could cast the spell while you sing?”

The green colt looked down at the book and frowned. “I don’t think I could cast it at all.”

“Aw... Well maybe if I put an enchantment on an object...”

Across the field, Ace bounced a ball on his head with a fierce look of concentration on his face. Twilight couldn’t hear him, but it looked like he was counting. 

She could see Lexicus doing some complicated trick with a hoop, a chair and a ladder. Rune was nowhere in sight.

About twenty feet away, Sky was tied up with ropes and was being dragged around by Tsunami. She was laughing like a maniac while Nightbreaker shouted at them, “You need to take this seriously Sky! And you, Tsunami! More ants in your hooves! More ants!” Light flickered around his horn and for a moment it looked like there were pianos and donkeys being dragged by Tsunami too. 

All this made it a little hard to concentrate. 

Twilight told Malachite that they were probably done for the day, since she needed to get more research anyway. The two went back inside.





Sunset was getting to be later and later every day, and sunrise earlier and earlier. The nights were getting so short that Twilight could sometimes stay awake until the sun rose and complete an entire night’s lesson.

Although it was dark, it was still easy enough to make out the amusement in Princess Celestia’s eyes. “I hear one of your teachers is putting on a talent show for the spring pageant.”

“Yeah. Somepony already signed up to do magic,” Twilight said. “I’m stuck singing a song.”

“And you don’t like singing?”

“I don’t know... I like listening to music and learning about it, but actually doing it is another thing.”

“Perhaps you just need to get past your own reservations, Twilight Sparkle,” said the Princess. “There are many things you can learn when you step outside of your comfort zone.”

“I guess,” Twilight said. “I don’t know how much more I can learn from singing out loud than I can from just reading the books, though.”

Princess Celestia nodded. “Would you not say that practicing magic is different from reading about spells in a spellbook? Does it confer the same mastery to simply absorb knowledge without putting it into use?”

“I can kind of see your point,” said Twilight. She wanted to change the subject quickly before the Princess suggested that they perform some sort of song and dance routine right now for the sake of learning. “I’ve been working on this spell to amplify sound for the show, but I’m having trouble on getting it to ‘stick’. I have to put my full attention on it if I want it to keep it going.”

“Oh?”

Twilight’s horn let of a low and steady glow as she cast the spell on herself. “LIKE THIS!” she said.

The Princess flared her wings and reared. The upright posture and spread wings made her look intimidatingly huge, but the expression on her face was of pure surprise. Twilight had no idea that she startled so easily.

“Where did you learn that spell?” asked the Princess, as she landed back on all four hooves.

“A book called, 101 Sound Spells and How to Use Them. Canterlot edition.”

The Princess folded her wings. “Ah. Perhaps I can lend a bit of a hoof with the spell, then. I am... well-versed in its use.” 

They forewent the meditation and self-realisation that had dominated lessons for the last six weeks. Twilight would never say it, but even the tedious old control exercises had been better. They were boring and exhausting, but at least it had been clear that she was making progress, albeit slowly.

This whole inner peace thing was a little too philosophical for Twilight. It seemed like she wouldn’t know she’d succeeded at what she was trying to do until it happened, at which point she would look back upon all her strife and suffering and realise what an unenlightened foal she’d been... or something like that. 

Still, tonight was going to be about magic. It would be the real kind where you made things happen to the world, Twilight thought, not the other kind, which involved quietly sitting still and hoping that things were happening inside yourself.

“Sound and flux have much in common,” the Princess said to her. “If you can see flux for what it is, changing its flow is much easier. It’s not so much a matter of bending the sound to your will as it is giving it the shortest and easiest path.”

“Huh?”

Princess Celestia flicked her horn and several glyphs outlined themselves in blazing white against the night sky. 



Twilight read them carefully and recognised them as a rough approximation of the amplification spell she had just used. Not exactly the same, but close enough - like changing the letters “ph” into an “f”, or a hard “c” into a “k”

Without saying anything, the Princess crossed out some of the key symbols and redrew different ones in their place. She even added an additional glyph. Twilight squinted at the new spell, trying to get a sense of its flow. A couple of the glyphs looked like ones she knew from class, but more complicated, having strange flourishes and curves to them.

“That one,” said the Princess as she pointed to one of the odd-looking symbols, “means to redirect.”

“Isn’t there another glyph for redirection?” Twilight asked, as she traced it out with her own magic. When she looked at it, it looked like it could be a distant cousin of the one Princess Celestia had just shown her.

“Yes. That is the modern variant of it. It carries some of the same meaning, but not all. Over time, the definition and depiction of it changed, and thus the meaning as well.”

“Why?”

“Magical notation is bit like a map or an account of a historic event. It is the shape of the thing, but not the thing itself,” the Princess said.

Twilight wasn’t sure she understood. “You mean there are different levels of detail? Like how you can say, ‘the two armies fought’, or you can describe their uniforms and the tactics they used.”

“Not exactly,” said Princess Celestia, “although that is close. It is more that what is kept is a subjective knowledge that is important to ponies. The thing that lies underneath is so full of complexity, and things that many would view as unimportant or irrelevant. Why would the pattern on a wasp’s wing or the smell of the sea matter on a day when an entire army was massacred?” The Princess head sagged and her ears flattened. “There is no such thing as an objective viewpoint. What ponies take away from such things is more of a colourful abstraction than a reality.”
 
Twilight thought back to what she had learned about music. Musical notation had so much care put into specifying every possible nuance on the final sound, how long silences were supposed to be, every variation of a note’s pitch, and there were at least twenty different words for exactly how fast or slow any part of the music needed to be played. Still, surely it couldn’t account for all the countless subtleties that make up a song sung by a flesh-and-blood pony. “I think I understand,” she said. She pointed back up to the redirection glyph the Princess had drawn. “That means something slightly different from this one.” Her own glyph was already fading, but it was still possible to make it out as she pointed to it. “But they both work because even though the meaning is different, they rely on the same fundamental principals.”

“Close enough.” Light danced on the Princess’ horn, and the symbol grew larger. “The original means to change the path of energy by finding an easier path for it to follow.” The glyph shrank and the one that Twilight had drawn began to glow more brightly. “I believe you are already familiar with this one.”

Twilight nodded. The modern glyph specified making a path rather than finding one. 

“This one here,” the Princess said, pointing to the extra symbol that she’d added, “is to reinforce the pathway, to give the spell longevity rather than immediacy.”

“Ohhh...” It had been so obvious that she’d overlooked it. 

Princess Celestia went on to describe the function of all of the old glyphs that Twilight hadn’t recognised at the start. Twilight rubbed her chin with a hoof as she looked at the full spell. It seemed like it would need more “oomph” to cast than the one in the book, but running out of power had never really been a problem for her. 

It had taken just over an hour to get the amplification spell worked out. Even with the relatively-short spring nights, they still had at least a good ten hours left. 

Twilight sighed. She closed her eyes and began to meditate. Clear my mind, yadda yadda.

There was a jolt of magic and the pounding of her own heart. I’m inside my room, reading a book. She took a deep breath. One, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen... Twilight forced the coursing magic out of her horn. Eighty-nine, one hundred forty-four, two hundred thirty-three... 

She had been calm at the start, but she felt herself relaxing. The magic drained away slowly.

“Two minutes,” the Princess said, “a definite improvement.”

“Huh?” Twilight didn’t say anything about what she was thinking about to achieve her “inner peace”. For some reason it seemed unlikely that the Princess would approve.

“I realise this process can be frustratingly vague, but know that you are getting much better at this, Twilight Sparkle.”

She almost confessed then and there.





It was lunchtime on Monday. Twilight had insisted they meet outside.

“Check it out.” Twilight’s horn glowed and illusion fireworks began blasting into the sky. “AND I CAN USE THE AMPLIFICATION SPELL AT THE SAME TIME.”

“Neat!” Malachite said, looking and sounding a little underwhelmed.

“I learned long-forgotten ancient magics to do this amp spell!” Twilight said. “I had to ask the Princess and everything!”

“Uhh... Cool! Congratulations!”

Twilight sighed. “Okay. Might as well go back inside then, I guess.” Malachite turned around and suddenly something struck her. She grinned evilly as her horn glowed.





“Malachite,” said Mr. Benoit, “Do you know what would be the circumference?”

“MAYBE... WHAT? WHY IS MY VOICE SO LOUD?...” 

Everypony started giggling, but the earth pony looked more confused than anything. Next to him, Few Colt frowned a little, but said nothing.

Malachite twisted and turned in his seat, looking around the classroom. “TWILIGHT!”

She burst into laughter. “I -snerk- sorry! I thought you would’ve -hehehe- caught on by now!” Her horn glowed. “It’s for the talent show,” she explained to the teachers.

Few Colt raised an eyebrow but Mr. Benoit just nodded. “You must undo the spell,” he said. “It is disruptive.”

Twilight reached out for the reinforced knots and channels of power that she’d left around her classmate. She casually tugged at them with her own energy, feeling the pathways dissipate. “Yes, Sir,” she said, stifling a giggle.





A few days later, Malachite was a little wary after the prank Twilight had pulled, as harmless as it had been. But reservations aside, they needed to get in at least one proper practice before the show. There were still a couple hours of daylight left, and they had to make the most of it.

“You have to promise to cancel the spell afterwards,” the green colt insisted. “I don’t want to spend all day like a shouting thing that... shouts.”

Colts... she thought with a mental roll of her eyes. It was just a joke. “Yeah. I promise.” Twinkling light danced on her horn as she wove a network of magic in her mind. “There. Let me know when you want it dispelled.” She didn’t say it, but any proper unicorn should have easily been able to do that him or herself. It wasn’t like she took any precautions to prevent tampering.

“OKAY.”

Twilight had only done this once before, but she decided to give it a shot anyway. The sunlight dimmed around them, and it was questionable whether there was a sun at all. It was as if they were indoors. 

Across the field, several of the other kids complained loudly at the sudden darkness, and Twilight forced the field of her spell to pull in around her. Outside of the field, everything was shadowy and distorted, colours becoming muted greys. She panted with exertion by the time she had her spell at an appropriate size. “Jeeze. I’m glad the auditorium’s gonna be a lot darker than this.” For some reason, blocking out light with magic was a whole lot harder than making it.

Malachite didn’t say anything to that, but he closed his eyes and began to sing. Although his voice was loud and carried well, Twilight could hear snickering and shouting outside of their practice area. Light did strange things on the borders of her spell, but it was clear that sound travelled just fine. Closer inspection revealed that the laughing pony was Sky. She was rehearsing with Tsunami again, and this time it looked like they might be buried in sand. “Stop breaking character!” Nightbreaker yelled at her. “If you crack up during the show you’ll ruin everything!”

Twilight did her best to ignore them, and made a small firework illusion inside their dark little dome. She was glad for the darkness spell, since otherwise it would be too bright to properly see. Talented illusionists could make anypony see anything in any visibility conditions, but she had serious doubts whether she’d ever be that good herself. It wasn’t that the magic was very difficult, because it wasn’t. The tricky part was the sheer level of artistry and attention to detail that was involved in maintaining an elaborate field illusion. It took a kind of skill Twilight wasn’t sure she had.

“I can’t tell where I’ve begun,” sang Malachite.

Twilight thought back to what the Princess said about having a lot to learn from leaving her comfort zone. She swallowed and took a deep breath, “Or where you end...”

Malachite raised his eyebrows at her sudden decision to join in, but to his credit, kept singing anyway. He didn’t miss a beat.

Twilight felt graceless, singing beside the colt, but kept doing it anyway. She wasn’t sure if she was learning anything yet, other than how to be really embarrassed. Maybe being embarrassed was the key to unlocking some kind of powerful magic?

“I thought you weren’t going to sing,” Malachite said to her after the song was done.

She sighed. “I thought so too.”




Titters rose from the crowd. There were mares and stallions, younger fillies and colts. They were almost all unicorns, but there were a few pegasus and earth ponies too. Twilight and a number of her classmates peeked at the stage from behind the curtains. The audience was invisible from where she stood, but she could hear them and she could view the act just fine.

Lexicus walked out onto front stage, wearing a red coat and a black top hat. He carried a length of what looked - and smelled - like black licorice tied to a stick. Twilight could see Rune walking out from the other side of the stage, and for some reason, she had black stripes painted all over her. 




She looked at Lexicus apathetically. “Roar.”

The yellow colt whipped his black licorice at her and levitated the hoop into the air. “H’ya! H’ya!”

Ah... She’s supposed to be a tiger.

There was a faint shimmer in the air indicating that there was some sort of illusion going on as well. Twilight was looking at it from the wrong angle, though, and all she saw was what was really there.

There was a dragging sound as Rune grabbed the wooden chair in her teeth and pulled it over to the floating ring. She climbed on top of it, stepped lazily through the hoop and stared at the audience. “Roar.”

Lexicus put a hoof to his face and groaned. He sent the hoop rolling and snapped his licorice whip at her. “H’ya!”

“Roar.” The black and orange filly walked into the hoop’s path. It rolled into her and bounced off her flanks.

“You were supposed to go through it, Rune!”

“Sorry.” She used her mouth to swing the hoop over her head, and walked through it awkwardly. “I mean, roar.” She reared halfheartedly and then began advancing on Lexicus. “Angry roar,” she said. 

The colt responded by smacking himself in the forehead with a forehoof. He floated the chair towards himself and began waving it in the air. “Back, foul beast!” The licorice cracked in the air. “H’ya! H’ya!” The hoop he’d used caught on fire - real fire, not illusion fire. Twilight could feel the heat of it on her face - and it began whirling in the air in complex and difficult-looking patterns. Everypony gasped. 

Ms. Lida came out on to the stage at that moment. “Put that out this instant!” She smacked the flaming hoop to the ground and began stomping on it.

“It’s perfectly safe as long as it doesn’t touch anything!” said Lexicus. “But if you let it fall before it’s gone out, the fire might spread!”

Rune stood there for a while, looking like she wasn’t sure what to do. She fell over on her side. “Dying roar.”

Lexicus sighed. “Why me...” 

Slightly singed and looking furious, Ms. Lida ushered them both out Twilight’s end of the stage. The teacher’s eyes promised that they would both be in for a stern talking-to, as soon as the show was over.

All the parents applauded politely, and the curtains closed. Gingersnap and Ace trotted out onto the stage. Neither of them were dressed up, and the only prop they had was a black and white ball.

The curtains opened and Ace began bouncing the ball on top of his head. “One.” The ball bounced. “Two.” It bounced again. “Three. Four. Five...” 

Gingersnap ignored him. “The square root of three is one point seven three two zero...”

Twilight blinked. They were doing two completely different acts at the same time. After about twenty minutes, Ace was on his 850th bounce, and Gingersnap was on who knows what digit. Backstage, Demise and Malachite had fallen asleep.

For some reason, Ace hadn’t fumbled at all during that entire time. He didn’t even look tired. Nor had Gingersnap messed up once during her recitation. A couple of times Twilight had closed her eyes and detected a faint trace of magic from the stage. It was hard to tell what the magic was from, but her guess was that it wasn’t the lights...

Ms. Lida paced, and when she wasn’t pacing, she was tapping her hooves. She walked up to the side of the stage and peeked her head out just enough so that Ace and Gingersnap would be able to hear her. “We have to get to the other acts too,” she hissed at them. 

“Eight hundred fifty three...” Ace turned his head to look at Ms. Lida as the ball was coming down, and it rolled off the side of his head and on to the ground. “Aw.” 

Gingersnap grinned nastily at him and continued to recite. “Five six one...”

“How do you guys know she’s not just making it up!” Ace said to seemingly nopony in particular.

Elsie had an entire notebook worth of papers in front of her and she was scribbling on them furiously. The pages were entirely covered with numbers. Tsunami was looking over her shoulder and nodding occasionally. Ace couldn’t see any of this since it was at the back of the stage, but Elsie called out to him anyway. “She’s not! It’s all correct!” 

Ace pouted. “Well then how do you know she’s not just doing the math in her head?”

Gingersnap stopped reciting. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me! You’re cheating!”

“Um...” Twilight said quietly. “That might even be more impressive...”

Nopony seemed to hear her, though. There was a whumph sound as Gingersnap tackled Ace to the ground. “I never cheat! You take that back!”

Ms. Lida had to pull them apart and drag them backstage. She sat them in chairs on the opposite sides of the room and ordered them not to talk. Lexicus and Rune had already received the same sort of punishment. Facing the wall, Lexicus sighed heavily.

Malachite marched out on the opposite side of the stage. Twilight crawled out from behind the curtain after she was sure everypony’s attention was on him, and hoped that she wouldn’t mess up.

She scanned the crowd for her parents, who were waving at her and grinning. “That’s our girl!” shouted Dad.

Twilight did her best to smile back. She traced out the pattern of the spell in her mind. Her horn flickered briefly and, suddenly, the amplification spell was working. She made sure to cast it on herself this time as well as her partner. 

Jazz sat below the stage, at a piano, and he looked at them expectantly. Malachite nodded once and the melancholy opening to The Ways of Love drifted up from below. 

The green colt took a deep breath. “Tonight, I lie and dream of you

“Now and here,

“Are you dreaming of me too.”

Several audience members gasped. Malachite really did have an amazing voice. Twilight let the amp spell run itself and focused on the soft and intimate lighting this sort of song seemed to call for. The lights dimmed except around center stage where Malachite was.

“Our troubles disappear,

“Can’t tell where I’ve begun

“Or where you end

“Our bodies feel like one,”

Twilight saw her parents eyes grow wide. Several audience members were coughing for some reason. Maybe they expected her to sing too? She began to feel self-conscious about the whole thing, but not wanting to disappoint, she joined in for the chorus. This is a learning experience, she told herself. “I’ve never felt so alive,” she sang. It was a little intimidating singing beside Malachite when her voice was so rough and amateurish in comparison.

“Except with you inside me!” Malachite hit the high note perfectly. 

Twilight did not. She had to squeeze out that note and it was little more than a croak. She let off a toned-down display of illusion fireworks above their heads and continued into the next verse with vigor. Several ponies oohed and ahhed. 

“You fill me with completeness,” she and Malachite sang together.

Her mother and father were staring at them blankly. There was a fit of coughing from some of the members of the audience. 

Oh no... Too much smoke? Wait. Illusions don’t have real smoke.

Ms. Lida cut their act short. “I believe that’s enough, you two,” she said, undoing most of Twilight’s influence upon the lights. The stage became bright and well-lit once more.

“That’s no fair! We just got started!” Malachite said. “The last act was over twenty minutes!” His voice was still loud from the amplification spell and echoed across the auditorium.

“Yeah!” somepony from the audience shouted, “I wanna hear the whole thing!”

“We’re running out of time, and there are a lot of acts to go through,” said Ms. Lida. The tone in her voice made it clear that this was not up for discussion. Her horn flared and the curtains fell closed.

The teacher half-carried-half-dragged Twilight and Malachite backstage, the latter protesting every step of the way. Echelle and Demise walked out from behind the curtain to take their place, but somehow, Twilight had a feeling that she wouldn’t get to see their act at all. Sky was on her side, laughing like a maniac.

Ms Lida took them aside out into the hallway. “I want to know where you learned that song and who taught it to you.”

“Malachite suggested it,” Twilight said, sensing that she was in trouble. “I learned it from him.”

The colt glared at her, probably angry that she was shunting all the blame to him. “Nopony taught it to me,” he said. “I heard it on the radio in Manehattan a couple of years ago. It’s a good song.”

“No, it is not a good song, and I never want to hear you singing that again. Do I make myself clear?”

Twilight frowned. “I don’t get it,” she said. “There was nothing wrong with the song. There was no swearing, nopony died, nopony got thrown into a woodchipper...”

“Yeah!” said Malachite.

The teacher opened and closed her mouth, looking like she had no idea what to say. This just confirmed Twilight’s suspicions; Ms. Lida was just an old prune who hated modern music. She must have assumed they were going to sing classic ballads or opera and had gotten mad when it turned out to be something from the radio.

“It is a bad song, and it has messages only for grown up mares and stallions,” Ms. Lida said. “Children like yourself should not be singing it.”

“I heard fillies singing it all the time when I was in Manehattan!” Malachite said.

“Manehattan is a wretched hive of riffraff and immorality,” the teacher said plainly. “Don’t use the ponies there as your role models.”

Oh! Twilight realised. She doesn’t hate all modern music, just Manehattan music!

“No it’s not! My grandpa was from there and he died last fall,” he said.

“She said immorality,” Twilight pointed out. “Not immortality.”

Malachite had a very confused look on his face.

“It means the ponies are bad and mean.”

“Hey! My grandpa wasn’t mean either!”

The teacher sighed. “I apologise. I didn’t mean to insult the memory of your grandfather,” she said. There was sincerity in her voice. “I don’t know what goes on when you’re in Manehattan, and honestly I don’t really want to know. When you’re in Canterlot, however, you should be doing things that are appropriate for Canterlot.”

“Okay,” Malachite said. There was a pause. “Does that mean I can’t have those really big thin crust pizzas anymore? They’re sooo good.”

“Those are fine.”





Twilight and Malachite made it back in time for the final two acts. From Elsie’s description, they hadn’t missed much other than some awful dancing on Echelle and Demise’s part.

Nightbreaker’s horn glowed and his voice carried across the auditorium. “Fillies and gentlecolts! Prepare yourself for the grand showing of Un Cheval Andalou!”

Twilight could see the illusion properly even from the sides, where it wasn’t meant to be seen. It was clear that the black colt had a prodigious mastery of the spell, and that he had worked on their act meticulously.

Sky and Tsunami were buried in sand up to their forelegs. Then, suddenly, they were walking together on a beach. Sky was wearing some sort of blouse-thing with a scarf, and Tsunami had a stripey shirt on. The way they were walking, leaning neck to neck, it almost seemed like they liked each other. 

Almost. 

The orange filly stuck out her tongue at him once they’d walked the full length of the stage. Apparently she didn’t like the close contact so much.

 Tsunami lifted up a box that had a black and white habit inside, and Tsunami showed Sky a watch on his foreleg.

I don’t get it. Is this supposed to be a play? Why aren’t they talking?

The illusion changed and there was sudden intake of breath from Twilight. Nightbreaker had planned out at least two elaborate illusions. Tsunami and Sky were inside an apartment and Sky’s tail disappeared from her rump. Twilight looked over at Tsunami and saw a purple tail hanging from where his mouth should be. 

What on earth is going on?

There was a moth on the door that had a skull pattern on its thorax, and Sky made a big show of looking at it and examining the little skull on its back. 

The filly went offstage and came back on without her blouse or scarf. Tsunami batted at her with a hoof, and fell over. He glowed slightly as Sky carried him offstage. 

Nightbreaker used this as an opportunity to change the scene again. 

How many illusions did he make?

The apartment shimmered and became a different, larger room, and Tsunami came out tugging on a rope tied around two grand pianos. Inside the pianos, and under their lids, Twilight could see... dead... donkeys? 



What? 

Sky was bound with the same ropes, and was being dragged behind the pianos themselves. 

This is so random, Twilight thought. They’re not even trying to make sense anymore. She couldn’t really enjoy the... play, or whatever this was for the story, but the technique and visuals involved were extremely impressive.

The illusions had been seamless and somewhat-believable up till now, but things were starting to get silly. There was no way a colt like Tsunami could physically drag two pianos, two donkeys and another filly.

Sky’s horn flashed and the ropes undid themselves. She started running around the stage, and as she did, the apartment morphed into a beach. Her tail became a sea cucumber. Tsunami was just standing there, staring at a hoof that was full of crickets.

“Ewww!” Twilight said, but somepony shushed her.

In anticipation of another scene change, Sky moved to the side of the stage and Tsunami darted to the side of the platform farthest from Twilight. He went behind the curtain, and she could hear him rummaging and rustling. 

Meanwhile, the beach shimmered and became a street. Tsunami ran out from the curtains, looking extremely unhappy and wearing the black and white habit from before. Twilight didn’t blame him; it was clearly an outfit made for a girl. The grey-blue colt pushed a scooter around the “street” while Sky pretended to look shocked.

Tsunami’s horn lit up as a chair flew to the stage from behind the curtains, and Sky sat down nervously on its wooden seat. Twilight couldn’t help but notice that the colt looked a little queasy too. The beach turned into a room again. Tsunami pulled out a straight razor from a pocket of his habit, and using his magic, he sharpened it slowly, drawing out each pull against the strop. He looked out of an illusion window at a made-up cloud sliding past a false moon. Sky closed one eye and held the other wide; she was trembling a little. Twilight saw Tsunami bite his lip and look away as, slowly, horrifyingly, the blade descended upon her open eye...

Oh no no no...

Twilight couldn’t see them, but she could hear parents gasping and crying out.

“Stop!” screeched Ms. Lida. “Stop!” Her horn flashed and the curtains tumbled out from the sides, concealing the entire stage.

Tsunami let out a relieved sigh but Sky just crossed her forelegs and huffed. “I told you they wouldn’t let us do it,” she said.

“Were you going to cut her eye open?” the teacher demanded.

“It was an artistic reenactment of her fight with Belaq,” said Nightbreaker. “Of course.”

“What made you think it was a good idea to gouge another student’s eye out on stage!”

“Don’t be such a philistine,” the black colt replied. “It was artistic and in good taste.”

Sky smirked. “And totally bad... bu... rro too!”

Ms. Lida scowled at Sky’s subverted swear word. “You are forbidden from completing this performance,” she said. “Ever.” The teacher glared at them for good measure. “I will have a word with you backstage.”

“Lame,” said Sky.

The curtain opened once more, and Enigma and Tambourine marched into the spotlight. The brown filly’s horn glowed, making books bob in the air, arranging themselves into a tightly-woven spiral pattern. Enigma leapt from book to book, climbing on what was essentially a shifting staircase of literature. When he reached the top, he jumped off his fifteen-foot tower, and there was a collective gasp. The air sparkled and distorted around him, and Twilight recognised the signs of an illusion spell. Briefly, she glimpsed a pair of wings on Enigma’s back as a book swung down and caught him before he hit the stage. 

The applause was thunderous. 

Aw... Why couldn’t we do a magic show? Twilight thought as somepony drew the curtains.

The final act belonged to Elsie and Pebbly Crunch. The magenta colt wheeled out a large paper-mache contraption on to the stage. Twilight thought that a making a baking soda and vinegar volcano was kind of a lame idea for a talent, but Elsie and Pebbly Crunch assured everypony that this would be the best volcano ever. They’d even insisted on being the closing act, claiming that nopony would be able to follow up their performance.

Elsie’s cantered onto the stage with confidence. An enormous jug of vinegar hovered overhead. “Lexicus definitely doesn’t have us beat this time,” she said to Pebbly Crunch, quietly enough so that only the ponies on, or near the stage could hear. 

“‘Kay. You can pull the curtain now,” Pebbly Crunch said, and the front of the stage opened up to the audience.

Elsie grinned at the parents watching. “For our performance, we present the Biggest. Volcano. Ever!” 

Twilight could practically hear the capital letters and punctuation in her speech.

The entire jug of vinegar tipped, pouring into a hole on the side of the volcano. Elsie quickly screwed a cap onto the opening. There was a low rumbling sound. 

She pulled a book of matches out of a pocket and lit something in the back of their contraption and the whole thing hissed faintly.

Uh oh. 

Both Elsie and Pebbly Crunch ran, diving behind the back of the stage. The volcano began smoking and bubbling, froth pouring out of seams and flaws in the paper. Twilight’s eyes widened and she ran as fast and as far as she could.

There was tiny bang and then a much louder gurgling kaboom. After the sound of splattering, Twilight could hear adults groaning and muttering. She peeked out from behind the... damp? curtains. The entire stage was covered with orange goo, and so were most of the ponies all the way up to third row.

“Woohoo! That was brilliant!” Elsie said, smacking a forehoof against one of Pebbly Crunch’s. 

His grin was from nearly ear to ear. “Way better than practice!”

“Did... the two of you make a bomb?” Lexicus asked from his “time-out” chair.

“Duh!” said Elsie. “How else were we going to get it to explode with ooze like that?”

The look on Lexicus’ face was pure envy. “I should’ve thought of that.”

Pebbly Crunch’s grin somehow grew even wider. “Not everypony can be crazy geniuses like us, amiright?” 

Ms. Lida stomped over to the three of them. “You,” she said to Lexicus, “are not supposed to be talking to anypony.” She glared down at Pebbly Crunch and Elsie, “And you two are getting detention for a month.”

“What!” said Elsie. “We didn’t do anything but make the Biggest Volcano Ever.”

“Yeah! No fair.”

“You should not have been playing with matches and you definitely should not have made a bomb!”

Elsie glowered. “We told you everything that was going into the volcano! If you had a problem with us using ammonium nitrate then you should’ve said so!”

Twilight’s eyes widened in disbelief. They made fertiliser bombs?! Oh for saltpeter’s sake! Everypony could’ve died!

Ms. Lida gave no response but a glare.

“Fine,” said Elsie. “Be the stick in everypony’s mud.”

“Make that two months’ detention.”

Pebbly Crunch’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “What!”

Elsie grumbled but didn’t say anything else.

After the volcano act, the stage was far too slippery for anypony to walk safely on it, and a good chunk of the seats (and parents) were drenched, so they took the show outside.

Ms. Lida was reluctant to hoof out any awards, given what an unmitigated disaster most of the acts had been. In fact, she decided not to make an appearance for the last part of the show at all. Mr. Yorsets took her place as the sponsor.

Twilight and her classmates lined up in front of the slightly-orange parents, and bowed.

“The award for most original performance goes to...” the blue stallion said, “Nightbreaker, Tsunami and Azure Sky!” Three medals floated in the air, shimmering yellow, and lowed themselves around their necks. 

Although the grass and dirt muffled their hoofbeats, parents and students applauded to the best of their ability.

“The funniest performance award goes to -” Mr Yorsets fished two medals out of his box. “Echelle and Demise’s dance-comedy routine!”

“I told you we shouldn’t have tried to dance on two legs,” Demise whispered to the grey filly.

All of a sudden, Twilight was very sorry that she’d missed their act. 

“The ponies who gave the most magical performance were...  Enigma and Tambourine!” Mr. Yorsets stomped his forehooves on the ground. “Come on and give these two a round of applause!”

Everypony else got participation medals. When Pebbly Crunch got his, he looked rather insulted.

Elsie mirrored his reaction. “Participation?” She crushed the cheap tin into a little metal ball and flicked it over her shoulder. “You spend a week learning how to make bombs out of fertiliser pellets and you get participation.”

Next to her, Gingersnap looked down at her medal in disgust. She glared at Ace. “This is all your fault, you know.”

“My fault!” he said. “You’re the one who tackled me.”

“Well you didn’t have to keep accusing me of cheating when I was clearly not!”

Twilight ignored their bickering and turned to Malachite. “At least our parents enjoyed it, right? Or at least they have to pretend they liked it so they don’t hurt our feelings,” she said, smiling a little at her own joke. 

He sighed. “I just wish we got to do the whole song.”

Twilight looked around for Ms. Lida and saw no sign of her. “Tonight, I lie and dream of you...”

Malachite grinned and belted out the next line, “Now and here,”

“Are you dreaming of me too.” They sang that one together.

Twilight’s parents walked up to them just then, interrupting their singing.

“That was a very... interesting song choice,” Mom said.

Dad looked down at the grass. “Er... Yeah,” he said. “How did you learn that song?”

“I taught it to her!” Malachite told him. “Safe to say, she’s not the only one who learned something. I discovered so much when we were learning The Ways of Love. It was always just passion and feeling, for me, but there’s so much technique I still have to explore, and even though we never got to finish, that’s what Twilight taught me.”

There was a look of horror on her father’s face, and a look of confusion on her mother’s.

Dad pulled her aside and darted a nervous glance back at the puzzled-looking colt. “I don’t think it’s a good idea if you get too close to that pony,” he whispered in her ear. “I don’t think his intentions are entirely honourable.”

Twilight furrowed her brows. “He’s going to cheat off my tests?” There had been ponies like that before in her old school. They would be nice to her just so they could sit beside her during exams and peek at her answers - and exams were coming up in just a couple of months.

He coughed. “Among other things...”

Homework too?! A look of outrage crossed Twilight’s face. “That’s awful! I just thought he was in it for the music.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, nevermind,” she said. “I think I know where this is going.” She turned to Malachite. “I think I’m going to go now,” she said stiffly.

“Uh... okay. My mom probbly wants to see me anyway.” He turned and walked toward the crowd.

“Did you want to go for ice cream?” Twilight’s mother said. “I don’t think we’ve gotten a full Saturday with you since school started.”

“Sure! I’m just going to grab my coat.”

She walked up the stairs to her room and saw a pinkish-brown mare slumped on the staffroom couch. She couldn’t see the mare’s face, but just from her posture, she looked absolutely miserable. The teacher faced away from the door, massaged her temples and took occasional swigs from a steaming mug of coffee. Every once in a while she’d sigh. 

Twilight walked over to her quietly and lifted the participation medal off herself, sliding it over Ms. Lida’s neck. “You tried,” she said, as she got ready for a waffle cone and some rocky road.




(A big thank you goes to plen-omie, Kuroi, and Mystic, who have been helping me edit.)


AN: I did not create and do not own the original Un Chien Andalou.

Sessalisk:
Clockwise from the upper left:

Jazz, Benoit Misiurewicz, Peu de la Pouliche (Few Colt), Solidarity (Ms. Lida), Twilight Sparkle, Lonsdalite, Ingrid Marie.

This document was initially posted on Google Docs. There are a couple of formatting issues due to FIMFiction's font size restrictions and stuff. The original story can be viewed here: 

http://www.equestriadaily.com/2011/11/story-darkest-before-dawn.html