//------------------------------// // Chapter 1: Transformations // Story: Tia's Reign of Terror // by Knight of Cerebus //------------------------------// “Perfect!” Twilight’s insectile wings fluttered, the glow of the horn sitting atop her head starting to fade. She buzzed toward the mirror in a rush of excitement, curiosity overwhelming her. She only had time to make note of the fact that she had indeed turned herself into a parasprite before a burning hunger overtook her. However, her horn was still with her, and she pulled the plug on the experiment before she could begin the omnivorous rampage that the species was so known for. With a pulse of magic, she grew in size, her body expanding out into a fluffy, cuddly pony’s form once more. Once she had gathered her bearings, she levitated her quill towards a list of races of Equestria and ticked the box labelled “parasprites”. “Next!” The unicorn closed her eyes, focusing on the magical signature she remembered from Gilda’s ill fated visit to Ponyville. She let the spell overwhelm her, griffon magic flowing from the tips of her forearms and wings into her barrel and withers. Her hooves became claws and paws, her wings grew wide and sharp-tipped and her mouth became a feathery beak. Twilight noted that her temperament was mostly unchanged, something she had not found to be the case when transforming to mules or minotaurs but had found to be so in Saddle Arabians and zebra. Her horn, still following her across each transformation, gathered the feathery pen in her magic and levitated the writing implement towards the checklist recording her experiment results. She quickly scrawled a checkmark a box labelled “no” under a column labelled “mood changes”, following this up with an answer of “yes” to the column “successful transformation”. Upon review, she noted with satisfaction that her list showed that there had yet to be a “no” for that particular column. With nothing but success showing up on the page, her thoughts turned to her plans for the future and her motives for casting the spell she did. The thought of the look on her friend’s face when she saw a spell letting her transform into those tiny ponies she was so dedicated to helping overwhelmed Twilight with excitement. “Fluttershy is going to love this!” Twilight exclaimed to herself. “I only hope it works for everypony else as well as it worked for me. I’d hate for Fluttershy to miss a chance to fly with the breezies just because I didn’t make the spell work for her. Maybe I should get a second opinion...” Twilight scratched a hoof to her chin, weighing her options. Experience with Pinkie’s surprise birthday party suggested that letting her friends in on the secret would be a very poor idea for all ponies involved, while Spikes natural draconic immunity to magic made him a poor candidate. A letter to the Crystal Empire would make Spike suspicious, meaning Cadance and Shining were out of the picture. She needed somepony capable of secrecy, somepony she talked to frequently enough that suspicion would not be aroused. She needed somepony who was far removed enough from the situation that their involvement would not potentially tip Fluttershy off and capable enough in magic that they could cast the spell themselves. Her thoughts turned to her mentor. Hesitant though she was to pressure The Princess for anything, Twilight was also eager to get feedback for her work and maybe even improvements. Moreover, The Princess matched all of her criteria. And, of course, the thought of earning Celestia’s good will always made Twilight simmer with the private joy that only the appreciation of a loved one could bring her. More than that, the kind of joy that only impressing Celestia could bring her. There was something about that peaceful smile growing just a bit brighter, a bit more real that always—She cut the thoughts off before she could drift off into fantasy, reminding herself of her plans for Fluttershy and the need for work to be done. Her lingering desire for a good friend’s approval—and absolutely nothing more, she reminded herself—was the push she needed. To Celestia the letter would go. She withdrew a fresh sheet of paper from her bedside cabinet, happily settling upon her star-studded bedsheets with an energetic flop. Since her ascension and Celestia’s confession that she thought of her as more than a student, Twilight had been working on suppressing the joy that Celestia’s smiles brought to her lest she embarass them both. In private, however, she was happy to let it out as the free, open expression of precisely what she felt for that awe-inspiring mage, loving ruler and close companion that she held so dear. The letter practically wrote itself, following down the pathway of dozens of others like it. The words “Dear Princess Celestia” were practically second nature to her, and her description of the new spell flew from her pen to the page with a familiar fervor. She paused only at the request. As always, she was loathe to ask The Princess for anything. Her quill tip tapped at her chin, a rhythmic motion that did nothing to bring forth the courage needed for this moment. It was not that Twilight wanted to curry favour or gain further approval—Celestia’s approval was something she earned, not something she wanted to try to manipulate and wheedle for. It was not, either, that Twilight felt it was beneath her place to ask Celestia for anything, because while she certainly felt she was Celestia’s inferior, Celestia had made it abundantly clear that the feeling was not at all mutual. Rather, it was because she lov—because she was deeply attached to—because she respected Celestia so deeply that she knew what asking her a favour would actually entail. The mare was a hopeless workaholic, a fact that her friends and family were all too painfully familiar with. Luna and Twilight in particular experienced this trait (flaw, perhaps?) by virtue of the lion’s share of paperwork and court time that Celestia took from them. Luna, of course, took the brunt of it and was more irked by it than Twilight herself, but for her part it meant Twilight was loathe to add to this stash of work. Court, decrees, meetings, taxes and treaties defined Celestia’s life, and the thought of cutting into her rare moments of personal time was a bane to Twilight. Which, of course, proved that she was not, contrary to the beliefs of palace staff and gossipy local fashionistas, suffering from a puppy dog crush. She knew Celestia and her very real flaws far too well for her to be in love with some figment of her imagination. This particularly random thought was enough to snap Twilight out of her stupor. “Where did that come from?” She looked down at the letter, which was still frustratingly incomplete. She sighed, pinching her forehead between her two forehooves. “Maybe I just...I need to convince her it’s not urgent and she should leave it to a convenient time. If I don't, the minute she finds it in her study she'll drop everything to help out. And just saying I don't want her to push herself to look after it won’t help, either. She’ll only think I’m trying to deflect ‘my true importance’ again.” The scholarly princess made a few half-hearted attempts. “Lastly, I have a minor request.”, “Finally, I was hoping you might give the spell a try when you have a free moment”, “Please, don’t feel pressured to do this, but—” Just as frustration threatened to overwhelm her, she managed at last to find a phrase. “I hope that you might take some time to practice the spell at your leisure. Friendly advice is always appreciated.” She looked down at her work. “Perfect! She won’t try it right away if I make it just something to try between friends.” At last, she signed off the page with a usual “your devoted friend, Twilight Sparkle.” and rolled the letter into the one of the scrolls she used so religiously. She approached the heart-studded stairwell, knowing her assistant would be sleeping at this time of the day with almost absolute certainty. “Spike! Spiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike!” She called down the flight, waving her letter in her magical grasp. A loud groan greeted her, which served as Twilight’s confirmation that her postulation had been fully correct. The steps echoed with the trudging of a freshly awakened dragon. At last, the drake reached the top, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and holding his mouth open in a yawn. Twilight noticed ink stains on his hands and immediately knew what the cause of his late nights had been this time. “I told you comics would ruin your sleep cycle, Spike.” Twilight scolded, earning her a glare from the grouchy little dragon. “That’s why you’re so tired all the time. It wouldn’t be so bad if you read them during the day, but you need your sleep. It stunts your growth.” Spike looked like he was about to retort with nothing but sarcasm, so Twilight interjected with “And if your growth is stunted, you won’t be the handsome drake you’ve always wanted to stand by Rarity’s side.” She knew that would get his attention, and sure enough he snapped out of his sleep-addled stupor immediately. “It would?!” Spike gasped in horror. “Yep!” Twilight happily confirmed. “And with your life cycle, it might be years of Rarity dating other stallions before she sees any shot with you if you don’t try sleeping at the right times. They do call it beauty sleep, after all.” “So why don’t you sleep at the right times, then?” Twilight giggled. “I’m the homeliest unicorn anypony’s ever seen and we both know it.” Spike raised an eyebrow. “Umm...Twi? You know you’re not a unicorn, right?” Twilight blushed. “Oh, that.” She snuck a glance to her wings. “Right. I’m still not pretty. No need to try when I have so much work to do anyway!” She waved her scroll meaningfully, and Spike’s eyes widened. “You want me to send that?” “Please and thank you! And after that we can talk about what fixing your sleeping habits will do for your chances with the mares.” Twilight trotted up the stairs to her vanity, seating herself beside the mirror and scarcely used makeup. Spike set the scroll ablaze without another thought, joining Twilight on the second floor of her bedroom with due haste. He attempted to examine himself in the mirror from his current height. When that failed, Twilight boosted him to the surface of the drawers that overlaid the vanity with a push of her magic, allowing him to use the mirror as a full-body looking glass. He squinted at himself, looking hard at the body he currently held. He pinched his belly scales between two claws, revealing an alarming amount of baby fat. This caused the little dragon to slump. “Guess it could use a little work, huh?” Twilight poked her head into the mirror frame’s field of view, scrutinizing the image before her. “Exercise.” She prescribed. Spike groaned in agony. “And less chocolate.” “Guess that’s that plan flopped, then. So what’s this about growing and beauty sleep? If I grow, I won’t have to worry about exercise anyway, right?” Twilight sighed, rolling her eyes. “Until you reach adulthood, that is.” “Right, and once I’m married I can let myself go and eat all the sweets and chocolate I want and still have an awesome wife like Mrs. Cake did with Mr. Cake!!” Spike proclaimed. “See, Twilight.” He tapped his head proudly. “I got it all figured out.” “Spike, that’s not very nice…” Twilight protested. “What, you don’t think Rarity would want a good sta—err, dragon over a handsome one?” Spike looked confused. Twilight did not dignify the proclamation—and its blatant disregard for evidence to the contrary—with a response, instead focusing on Spike’s willingness to fix his sleep schedule. “Right, well, if we’re gonna even get you to the ‘growing skinnier and bigger’ stage we’re gonna need to fix your sleep schedule.” Twilight said. “And I think those comics are the thing wrong with it. If you want to read before bed, you can’t choose anything exciting like advanced linear algebra. You have to go for something more peaceful, like fables or ancient tragedies.” Twilight noticed her number one assistant was looking less than impressed at her reading list, so she switched gears. “Fairy tales and foal novels might be more your style.” She said more quietly, a blush pooling around her cheeks. Spike scratched his chin, glancing around the room. “So what are you reading right now, then, Einstallion?” Twilight flushed. “I’m reading up on races of Equestria. I have some ideas on some spells I want to cast, and to do it I need to know more about the ponies who live in our world and the creatures besides them. But I was thinking we might try something like The Boxcar Fillies or The Two Sisters and The Dragon and—” “That...actually sounds pretty cool.” Spike said, hopping down from the top of the vanity to investigate the books around Twilight’s bed. “An ancient history of races of Equestria.” “You really think that sounds cool?” Twilight said, her face scrunching into a brilliant smile. “Yeah, why not? I mean, I know your books don’t say much about them, but I still wanna know what they had to say about dra—” “YAY!” Twilight squealed from behind him, pouncing into the air like a predator finding unexpected prey below her. “Oh, Spike, this is going to be so great!” Twilight swooped from her vanity to the centre of her bedroom, sweeping her books up from the floor and telekinetically sorting them into a pile by her bedside. Spike was tripped by one skimming past his legs, so she added him to the cloud of magic and wheeled him over to set him down at the head of the bed. Not skipping a beat, she added to Spike’s rising feeling of having made a terrible mistake by diving off the landing to scoop books from the level below. Her wings allowed her to make her clumsy way back to her bed with yet more books, and at last she flopped down beside Spike. “So where do you want to start, oh number one assistant?” Spike, not expecting the question, actually had to pause for thought. He eventually turned to the alicorn beside him with a tilt of his head. “I was thinking maybe with something about how we interacted with the world around us." Spike flexed his scales from emphasis. "Y’know, stories about the wars we fought and stuff.” Spike made a jabbing motion, as if he had a spear. “Boys will be boys.” Twilight said more to herself than to Spike. She opened up the book Spike had been looking at, opening it to the index with a push of well-practiced magic. “Let’s look for war…” She said, tucking a wing around Spike and pulling him toward her chest. Spike buried himself into the fur, enjoying a rare chance at contact with the pony who had hatched him so many years ago. He once again found himself musing that this might not be so bad, but one thing still nagged at him. “Uh, Twilight, you know it’s still daytime, yeah?” Twilight checked the window outside. “Wha? OH!” She shut the book in her surprise, scootching across the bed to get a better look. “I guess it is a little early for bedtime reading. How about we do something fun while we wait?” Spike crossed his arms, giving Twilight a suspicious glance. “Like, real-fun or Twilight-fun?” Twilight giggled at this. “How about you beat me at Ponopoly a couple of times?” “It’s not my fault you don’t know how to hoard…” Spike blushed, looking away and smiling. “I’ll go get the board.” Twilight smiled. As she made her way to the stairs, she couldn’t help but wonder how Celestia was finding the spell. She decided to focus on Spike, trusting that with her expertise in magic Celestia would be able to sort the spell in due time with little issue. ／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼ “The minotaurs and equines, while competitors for food supplies, have lived in mutual harmony ever since the Thesian War of 2300 BNMM.” Twilight read out proudly, the dragon beside her lounging on a pillow next to her. Six losses in Ponopoly later, the two of them had gathered atop Twilight’s bed to read by the light of the setting sun. “Our next species, however, was not nearly so peaceful or so fortunate.” Spike made a grunt, his eyes flickering to the image of the pony in plate armour charging a lance at a battle axe-wielding minotaur with only moderate interest. Twilight sighed at the sight. “Spike, you were the one who wanted to read about the races of Equestria, not me.” Spike stretched, pawing idly at a Daring Do Tales comic he had hidden under the bed covers. He had been considering breaking down and reading it ever since the passage on griffons had turned out to be a bust. “Yeah, but these books only say things about ponies and other races. I want to know more about other races and dragons.” Twilight opened her mouth, eyes widening. She broke off the look of surprise with a brief nod. “Of course, Spike! You should have just said something to begin with.” “I tried to.” He deadpanned, folding his arms across his chest and looking off to one side. “It’s hard to get a word in edgewise when one of us is zooming around the room looking for every single book related to something I had mentioned like two seconds ago.” Twilight blushed. “...Oh. Well, okay then. Yes, I should have listened better. Sorry.” “Yeah, yeah, I forgive you.” Spike nodded, managing to prop himself up on his front arms. “I guess I probably coulda said something before we started reading, anyway. So what are you gonna do about the whole ‘no dragons mentioned’ thing? I don’t really feel up to another grand tour through the library’s History of Equestria section.” “That’s what a glossary is for, Spike.” Twilight giggled. “Let me just look up ‘dragons’ and…” Twilight’s eyes widened. “Oh wow. Something about ‘dragon-terror bird mutualism’. What’s a terror bird?” “What do you mean, ‘what’s a terror bird’?” Spike looked at her skeptically. “What?” “You really don’t know?” Spike raised an eyebrow. “What is it, then?” Twilight looked at him with the pleading look of a scientist caught with a gap in her knowledge. “I dunno.” Spike shrugged. “But I thought you knew about like every race in Equestria anyway. Didn’t Princess Celestia give you that big book on the history of diplomacy you read for like five days straight when you went alicorn?” “So why don’t I know about it…” Twilight nodded. Spike was absolutely correct. “Only one way to find out.” Twilight flipped through the book to the page mentioned. Greeting her there was an image taken out of those horror movies she was forever having to pull Spike out of when he tried sneaking into them. An exhausted mare had her back against a tree, hooves rearing, eyes wide and mouth agape in pure terror. Dirt and bruises crusted her body, and her coat was flowing with unkempt fur from her tangled mat of a mane to her unshorn fetlocks. Menacing her was a creature out of some kind of surrealist nightmare. Legs as tall as a pony’s entire body and coated in jagged scales propped up a massive creature easily two and a half times the size of the pony below it. Somehow, as if it were a sick idea of a joke, the monster was a bird, with a crest of spiked feathers that would not have looked out of place on one of Fluttershy’s bluejays. But this was not simply a peaceful, seed-crushing songbird. Like some sort of mockery of common sense the bird had elongated arms in place of wings. The scaly, feather-dotted limbs ended in hands armed with bladed claws as long as Twilight’s nose, and were stretched out to grasp as if they were some sort of dark parallel to a monkey’s. The feet of the lengthy legs had talons edged with cruel hooks, one of which was blocking the retreat of the screaming pony. And where the beak of a bird of Fluttershy’s would be armed to crush fruits and insects, the elongated blade wielded by the horror on the page was clearly meant for crushing bones. “What in the…?” Twilight trailed off, transfixed by the image of the scene unfolding. Spike peered over her shoulder, similarly stunned. “That right there. That is messed up.” Spiked poked a claw at the image. Twilight read more carefully. Twilight began reading1, though Spike knew from experience that when it came to her dry textbooks it was oft best to just tune her out. Instead, he focused on how dragons could be related to giant monsters, theories, anxieties and suspicions echoing through his head. “Spike, they’re talking about the evolution of the first unicorns!” Twilight’s excitement managed to break Spike from his thoughts. “Does it say anything about dragons?” Spike pressed. Twilight traced down the page. “On occasion dragons and terror birds were known to nest together in a mutualistic relationship, with the dragons warming terror bird eggs and the terror birds guarding and raising the dragon eggs when the reptiles fell into one of their famous slumbers, or rearing the young if the parents were otherwise incapable. These practices would later be adopted by equines after the extinction of terror birds as part of the Smokey Mountain Treaty. An example of one such egg adopted from indisposed parents and protected by equines can be found in the form of—” Twilight swallowed. The words “Princess Celestia’s pupil and her dragon hatchling” stared up at her. Spike, of course, was waiting on the words printed in the text before them. Twilight faced a dilemma. She could not lie. While she was able to keep projects under wrap quite happily, as Rarity, Fluttershy and their secrets about Fluttershy’s model career demonstrated, she was abominable at keeping personal secrets quiet. So, naturally, the moment Spike asked—“Uh, in the form of what, exactly?”—she was going to be stuck with her back against a wall. She cracked an overwide smile at this, flipping the pages of the book as quickly as possible. “Uhhhhhh, lemme just check the sources really quickly. I don’t trust what’s presented here as factually accurate.” “Oooo...kay?” Spike raised an eyebrow. “But you’re doing that thing you always do when you don’t want me to know something either way.” “What thing?” Twilight’s pupils shot from one side of her eyes to the other in their dance to avoid Spike’s own gaze. “Your wings are twitchy, your hooves are shifty and you aren’t looking me in the eyes. You’re hiding something fro—” Spike’s line of reasoning was cut off by a ball of gas rising from his stomach to his throat. He clutched his belly in discomfort, tilting his mouth away from Twilight and her precious books in knowledge of what was about to come. Fire jettisoned from his mouth in a heavy belch, the stench of brimstone filling the air around them. A scroll materialized in the air above, bonking Twilight on its way to the bedsheets. Twilight snatched it up in a heartbeat, using the distraction to duck away from having to answer some very awkward questions the book would no doubt bring up otherwise. With a flourish of magic, she pulled open the scroll and scanned down the page. “Is it from Princess Celestia?” Spike looked ready to press his questions about Twilight’s terrible attempts at holding secrecy, but Twilight’s growing look of concern was enough to silence him. “No, it’s...Princess Luna?” The two of them shared a look. Spike managed to wriggle up into Twilight’s lap in order to better get a look at the page in front of him. Unfortunately for him, Twilight held it above eye level, her eyes growing wider and wider as they trailed down the page. While the writing itself was no different from a letter sent by Twilight’s beloved mentor, Twilight soon discovered the content was different in both tone and proclamation, and much more alarming than most letters from Celestia. Twilight bolted from the bed once she’d finished reading. She gathered up some hasty supplies in the form of books on magic and notes from around the room, humming to herself in panic. Spike opened his mouth to question Twilight, but before he could get in a single word she had vanished in a blink of salmon magic. Left with nothing but the letter to explain what was going on, the dragon grabbed the scroll and made a second attempt at reading it. Princess Twilight Sparkle, your help is immediately requested at Castle Canterlot. Gather any aid you may have for fighting anti-magic and writings on transformations. My sister has made a dire mistake, and your expertise on the subject may be her only saving grace. Princess Luna. Footnotes: 1“While no longer relevant to the cultures found across Equestria, the ancient race known as the terror birds is notable in part for its role in shaping Equestrian history. Infamous amongst historians of the equine tribes, these highly specialized predators evolved to hunt fast-moving granivores, and especially ungulates of the horse and pony family, starting in the Eocene Epoch. The most modern example of the terror birds, Titanis xenosapius, was a ruthless, intelligent and organized predator that formed primitive hunter-gatherer societies. These species formed a long-standing and frantic evolutionary arms race with ponies that the equines of Equestria can still trace many elements of the modern heritage to. The tendency for ponies to scatter into uneven lines, for instance, was a deterring tactic expressly adopted for evading these plains-based predators. Some ponies were selected for long, potent horns that could tap into the magical leylines of the world and sense the presence of these predators long before arriva—