//------------------------------// // Disciples // Story: Duskfall // by Celestial Swordsman //------------------------------// Chapter 16 After a tense ride at gunpoint in the back of a covered sky carriage, Dusk was delivered to a secure site in Canterlot. She was hastily ushered out of the carriage and into a doorway. As she walked between protective rows of security officers, she could make out the courtyard of the Royal Magic Academy. She could tell by the shade of the sky, that it was still dusk. Moreover, she could feel the sunken sun, and somewhere above it, the moon. “Luna must be alive,” she thought hopefully. “For now,” she reconsidered. Out beyond the western horizon, her sister was defeated, wounded, and hunted. Clearances were exchanged before she was allowed past the reinforced gate of the Academy’s research division. The branch started out as independent research, but over time had become the crown’s best facility for the development of its own magic, which was often weaponized. The guards pushed her into a dimly lit library, where a number of significant figures were gathered. Sci/magic analysts in white coats discussed and debated the particulars of the problem at hoof with Doctor Twilight Sparkle, one of the head researchers at the Academy. The purple unicorn wore a formal blue magician’s cloak. She balanced her attention between the two analysts and her spell books, using their data to refine the parameters of the magic required. After the destruction of Crescent Fastness, General Armor had rushed back from the front to oversee this matter personally. The other commanders would be sufficient to push through to the rest of the New Lunar Republic now that its principal line of defense had been breached. Now he listened with only some comprehension as the experts debated the merits of active versus inactive substituent for trans-conscious temporal reversal. It was not his usual type of magic. “I just don’t see how such a regeneration can be powered without animated substituents,” one scientist argued. “Now that I’ve reached deeper levels of the sub-ether, I don’t think power will be a problem,” Twilight rebutted. “What I’m worried about is control. Involving more minds, even simple minds, can disrupt a psionic spell slightly. The natural intelligence of dark magic should help to steer the process, but I was hoping to reserve that to counter the resistance of the subject.” Armor interrupted, wondering, “Why would she resist? We’re going to make her great again!” “Oh, the subject will certainly resist,” the analysts agreed. “We indexed the soul strains in the ichor and proto-matter from her body that was left behind at the palace. The substances lost are so high in particular psycho-ethical manifestations that some personality characteristics may have changed. The subject is still basically self-equivalent, but is imbalanced and may perceive things differently. Since the consciousness is not entirely identical to the original, some conflict is necessary to make a resolution.” Twilight noticed her brother growing frustrated with the obscuring jargon, so she translated roughly, “She’s confused and might not remember who she is. That would make it seem like a mental invasion.” “General, here is the target of Operation Starcatch,” the guard next to Dusk interjected. Although the conversation was of great importance to Dusk, she had only partially been paying attention to what was being said. Her mind raced to find a way to deal with two unicorns with whom she had a complicated past. The researchers and the General turned to study her lesser incarnation. Under his golden mask, the General gave her an empty stare as if his eyes were desperately hungry for more than he was seeing. The product of a noble family of Canterlot, Shining Armor was a gifted student at the military academies. A shield was his cutie mark; he had a knack for defensive magic and a strategic mind. He had risen quickly through the ranks. Celestia had first noticed Twilight Sparkle, but soon discovered her brother as well. She had been grooming the two of them for some time to suit the roles she wished for them. A few years ago, she had moved Twilight to continue her research in the country; they were easier to manipulate when they were separated than when they were together. At the previous General’s death, the experienced officers expected one of them would be appointed. Celestia, however, was looking for someone more malleable. She had watched Shining Armor’s progress, and picked him out from the other contenders in her mind. He was strong, intelligent, and best of all, he was a true believer. While the politicians and high command outwardly accepted her pretense as a goddess, they were close enough to be familiar with her limitations and her indecorous lifestyle. Celestia secretly appeared to him at night and told him he had an incredible destiny by her side that neither the other officers nor his sister would understand; then she put him back to sleep, leaving him to think it was a dream. She snuck him special looks from the stage when he came to worship at the Cathedral of the Sun. His obsession with her rose beyond that of the clergy as he drank in more of her surreptitious attention. She was pleased to see that he tried to hide this from his sister. One night, the Princess was bored and impatient. She appeared to him again, and this time told him he was a powerful being called General. She claimed she loved him, and they mated. She vanished again; the next day he was formally promoted. General Armor, as he would only be called, did excel in command, but he was not yet as ruthless as she had hoped. He continued to rendezvous with his divine succubus in the palace, but she became increasingly abusive. Already psychologically dependent on her, he quietly endured her seductive tortures. To finish her sibling projects, Celestia staged a Lunar assassination attempt in Canterlot which resulted in the death of their mother. Celestia did not allow the stallion to grieve; adding guilt to pain, she reminded him that he was her General and that he was no longer part of that family. She communicated how he was to express his feelings by having his brilliant armor nailed into his skin, never to be removed. The embossed chevrons of his rank replaced his cutie mark permanently. She grew cold to him. He found the back way into the palace blocked to him as she pursued other lovers. Then her masterpiece was complete. He conflated his personal desires with what she demanded of him. As a desperate lover, he needed to win back her favor. As a slighted warrior, he had to prove his strength. The son and the sun worshiper found no purpose but vengeance upon the murderers and heretics. All of his mind and his being became bent upon killing Luna and destroying her republic. Celestia could finally relax again, knowing that if anything could be done to undermine or threaten her sister, it was already being done. Twilight Sparkle’s gaze was much different, as was her memory of Celestia. Her face showed not surprise, but rather the demeanor of a doctor assuring a patient that they can be treated. She was professional, but her eyes betrayed her excitement and perhaps hope. If she was successful she would surely receive official recognition and her mentor’s praise. Celestia had found it expedient to keep up her benevolent public persona around her magical disciple. Having known the ruler as a kind master through her youth, Twilight trusted her own experience more than anything negative she heard about her mentor. Her cloistered academic lifestyle made it easier to maintain her illusion. After the incident with the Elements of Harmony, Celestia found her more necessary but also more harmonious. The ruler-magician was forced to learn how to keep her promising student happy from Twilight’s reports on friendship. To the empress’s chagrin, the hailed “magic of friendship” failed to produce any more results that could be used to defeat her enemies. When the useless friendships were split by the first war, Celestia transferred her to military research in Canterlot. It was about that time that Twilight’s mother was killed. Celestia allowed her to grieve her mother’s death, but not have full closure, hinting that she could attempt to communicate with the departed soul through dark magic. In time, the young magician came to realize that she would not be able to get her mother back, but she had already crossed the line. It became difficult for her to connect to her remaining friends, because she was ashamed of what she had done in the laboratory. That meant the only place left for her was to continue her studies in a military direction. The dark magic she developed was passed on to combat magicians and also served to counteract the effects of the Elements on her heart. It was an unusual sight to see them together. They were to some measure estranged. “Dusk” quickly wondered how she would speak to both of them. General Armor would not, of course, mention their twisted romance, but he would wish to hear from her as the cruel empress. Twilight’s delusion was of a reluctant ruler who did what she had to do to protect her ponies. She could simply maintain her public persona and the General would probably be complicit as usual. The real problem was that no pony there would tolerate what she really wanted to say: “Do not make me the same way again.” She had predicted that they would try to fix her with magic. She had hoped that their efforts would be limited to restoring her body or magical abilities, but she knew from their talk of “resolving” her consciousness that they aimed to reset her mind to its previous state. She could pretend that they had made a mistake, and that she was not Celestia. She could hear herself now: “I’m not Celestia, I’m just some alicorn you found while tracking her.” She could not afford to lie so poorly. Neither could she tell the truth. She could perhaps navigate a conversation with her disparate pupils, but only as long as she didn’t say anything useful. She therefore committed to her only remaining option. General approached and bid the guards leave. He towered over Dusk with his head high, and glared down disapprovingly. “Are you sure it’s her?” he demanded as if cheated. Dusk stiffened herself rather than cower away to avoid angering him further. “That’s definitely Celestia, or what’s left of her,” Twilight assured. An analyst added, “With the amount of proto-matter we recovered at the scene of the incident I’m surprised she’s not smaller.” Wary of insulting his idol of pain and pleasure, General bowed and said, “Forgive me, your Highness.” He boasted, “I’ve almost destroyed the Republic. Soon Nightmare Moon will die, and you will rule all that is rightfully yours.” Twilight considered her brother as he spoke. He glanced sideways to see her approval, but she avoided his eyes and turned to the subject. Dusk stared up at them blankly. Twilight posed a pressing question, “What happened to you? Did you see who did it?” Dusk remained silent. “Can you understand us?” Twilight continued. After a sufficient wait an analyst put in, “It’s possible that she can’t speak or hear normally.” General Armor was severely disappointed. He had waited so eagerly to tell her that this seemed a further insult. He straightened up and forced a stoic calm. He had waited years already, and would not have to wait much longer. “Come on,” Doctor Sparkle said and motioned expressively. Dusk followed obediently and all moved into an adjoining chamber. The new space was better lit, with lamps around the walls. There were fewer bookshelves; the purpose of the room lay in the center. A raised dais overlooked an elliptical basin that was hollowed out of the floor. The still water of the shallow pool surrounded another pony-sized platform. A baby dragon, as purple as his master, carried a silver pitcher across the chamber. He tipped it so that its gargoyle-mouth spout disgorged the last measure of liquid into the offering pool. He put the pitcher away and met the distinguished company back at the pool, where he waited at attention. He pushed out his chest and folded his hands, as if they had come to praise him for accomplishing some marvelous task. Twilight almost rolled her eyes; he was never so formal when they were doing research. It was better to recognize him than to deal with domestic discipline in front of the General and perhaps Celestia herself. “Thank you, Spike.” The dragon gave a slight bow before his attention finally came off of himself. He scanned the ponies a few times as if one was missing. Spike cocked his head at Dusk and asked, “That’s her?” “Yeah, we know,” Twilight replied offhand. “We will be using unconscious offerings. Fetch the morninglight incense to begin with.” Her assistant ascended a narrow staircase that circled the wall and gave access to a level of cabinets set into the wall. He brought down a lacquer dish full of golden-brown powder and set it by the rim of the offering pool. The old spell book provided full instructions, including the necessary ingredients, but only for performing the operation on a normal pony. “These are clearly insufficient amounts,” the analysts expressed. Twilight agreed, “We also need more refined substituents to restore a Princess of her caliber.” Spike retrieved various items from the stores as requested: nard, white roses, flour, gold, gems, and a few wholesome vegetables were laid around the offering pool. This continued until it was hemmed in with items pure and precious. Lastly, Spike poured in a black pitcher of fresh equine blood several times, to activate the pool. It rippled and then stilled, waiting to be alive.