//------------------------------// // Chapter 11 // Story: Withdrawal // by Raugos //------------------------------// “—there, Twilight?” Twilight looked up from her bowl of mashed potatoes and found Path Winder on the other side of the table, tentatively waving a hoof to get her attention. Tacky still sat by his side, busy munching on his greens without making eye contact. She stared in fascination at the holes in Winder’s foreleg for a moment, wondering just how much sticky resin he could secrete from those at any given time. It had taken her a good half-hour of scrubbing and soapy rinsing to convince herself that she’d gotten all of it out of her coat, but even an extra hour of guiltily hogging their bathtub in the hopes of soaking out her stress could not fully eradicate the memory of being glued to the floor like a stuck fly. The victims in Canterlot had probably felt the sa—Twilight shook her head to clear her thoughts, remembering that he’d asked her something earlier. “Sorry. You were saying?” Winder gave her a nervous, fanged grin. “Well, not to say I’m uncomfortable wearing my natural form, but there’s still a teensy chance of somepony looking in through a window at this hour. I’d rather not have to explain why there’s a changeling having dinner with my brother and Twilight Sparkle in my house, you know? So, since I’m feeling much better now…” Twilight remained silent for a moment. “I guess… we can give it a try. Give me a minute.” She promptly left the table and cantered out of the dining room, past the hastily tidied living room with its newly boarded-up window, out the door and into the billowing winds. Pushing against the thick layer of powdery snow, she tried to deaden her magical sense and focused instead on how the moon lent a silvery glow to every surface it touched with its light, on how the wind snatched away her puffs of breath to carry them away between the skeletal pines. She swept a pile of snow away and hunkered down to hide from the wind, shivering as she counted down the seconds. A pulse of changeling magic pricked at the back of her mind, coming from the direction of the house, but she studiously ignored it until the last of its energy had dissipated before leaping out of the snow to hurry back in. By the time she got back to the dinner table, Winder the pegasus welcomed her to her seat with a smile as if she’d just gotten out of bed. She sat down and sipped her hot coffee as quickly as she dared, just in time to see Tacky gulp down his orange juice and set the glass beside his empty bowl. “Got homework tonight?” Winder asked. Tacky wiped his mouth. “Uh huh.” “Okay, then. You know the drill.” Tacky gave him a look. Winder shrugged. “Hey, if you want to let stuff pile up, that’s up to you. School doesn’t care if your bro’s just had a tussle with a princess.” “Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” Twilight watched in silence as Tacky trotted off to his room without so much as a glance back. For a moment, she missed the ability to get the gist of his emotions. What would it be like to live in a world where you could feel exactly how everypony else felt, all the time? It seemed incredibly useful and terrifying at the same time, to have your moods read by others as easily as an open book. “How do you live with it?” Winder looked up from his plate with stuffed cheeks. “Whaff’s thaf?” “Well, I guess you should be okay with Tacky around, but was it always like that? I mean, have you ever gone without feeding on emotions for a long time?” He swallowed, wiped his mouth with a hoof and stared at nothing as his eyes grew distant. “Yeah, it’s… not very nice. I’ll just leave it at that.” “Is it—what happens if you go without feeding for too long?” His eyes focused again as he gave her a wry grin. “Oh, it’s not dangerous, at least in the short term. We can subsist on physical food just like everyone else and just learn to deal with it. Drove me nuts a couple of times, but the older guys say that I never really got close to any serious damage.” Twilight poked at her mashed potatoes. “Serious damage?” “If we go without feeding on emotions for too long, say, about couple of months, we can get sort of messed up.” Here, he made a swirling motion with his hoof next to his head in emphasis. “Bit of depression, irritability, mood swings, aggressiveness, you know; all the fun stuff. Makes it even harder to feed because we become terrible at fitting in; magic is harder to use, and transformation’s really sluggish. If we don’t recover, we get sent back to the hive to do basic labour under very tight supervision; that’s probably all we’re good for at that point.” “That sounds awful…” Winder shrugged. “And then there’s still the long term problems.” Twilight blinked and stared at him. “Wait—those are the short term effects?” “Oh, yeah. In the real long term, love energy is specifically needed to, uh, fertilise Queenie’s eggs after they’re laid. No love means no little grubs hatching and running around. No kids means we’ll die out after some time. Then it’s all down to one queen finding enough love to start over again.” Biting her lip, she felt her gaze slowly slip downward until she could make out intricate details in the grain of the table’s woodwork. At least they have a reason. She, on the other hoof, had no real excuse for her acquired taste. Their sanity and survival depended on it, but she had no evidence that feeding on magic could be that essential to her health. After stealing a glance at him, she wondered just how much they resented ponykind for having things so easy, the same way she’d inwardly ground her teeth at her friends’ well-meaning but completely ignorant efforts to encourage her and advise her on how to deal with her condition. She remembered running a few seminars on identifying changelings after the attack, fully confident that she’d correctly and impartially judged them as parasitical opportunists eagerly waiting to prey on helpless ponies. Would the rest of her kind be as generous if her habit became public knowledge, without her social status to protect her? To think that they’ve put up with know-it-all, first-hoof ‘experts’ like me steering public opinion of their kind through the ages… The changelings still had plenty to answer for, but she and many others had failed to consider them beyond their immediate capacity to hurt ponies. After a while, Winder took in a deep breath and sighed, seemingly to fill the silence between them. “So, yeah… To answer your question: we live with it because we have to. Can’t say I’ve never complained or wished for something different, but I’m pretty sure that wishful thinking and getting mad never fixed our problems. My siblings took a lot of trouble to hammer that through my thick skull.” Twilight didn’t answer. She wondered if, some years down the line, there’d be first-hoof victims of hers running around, spreading word of her insatiable hunger for power. Ponies fleeing at the sight of her. Arrows and spears pointed her way. Doors barred. Foals screaming. Friends forced to denounce her, or shunned for showing loyalty to ponykind’s newest public menace. The changeling queen laughing, immensely tickled by the irony… “Twilight, what’s wrong?” She took a gulp of lukewarm coffee. Then, after allowing the bitter taste in her mouth to linger for a while, she sighed and looked him in the eyes. “Winder, I—I have a problem.” He shifted wordlessly in his seat, as if settling down for a long story. After a couple of false starts, she finally managed to give an account of her battle with Tirek. He bristled at the mention of his name, but otherwise remained attentive throughout her tale. The crushing and yet elating weight of three alicorns’ magic swelling her reserves. The fierce, heart-pounding adrenaline of battle as they tore through mountains and split hills into valleys. The agony of having her magic drained away. Winder had yet to say a word when she told of how she had searched for a way to replicate Tirek’s magic siphon. But something flickered in his eyes when she described the emptiness gnawing within, always waiting to spur her into action when she’d let her guard down. Recognition? Suspicion? It had already disappeared, so despite her curiosity, she carried on rather than risk losing momentum. Twilight even told him of her secret project beneath Golden Oaks Library, including her cyclical violence and memory purge. That finally got his eyes to widen in surprise. Or maybe fear. Whatever the case, he quickly got it under control and went back to his attentive listener state, though she noticed that he had tightened up a little, as if to protect his vulnerable parts. “—last thing I remember is crashing into a giant pile of snow. Which turned out to be your roof.” Winder blinked. “Wow. And I thought being a changeling was an exciting life.” She snorted. “I could do with a little less excitement.” “Also, you’ve learnt how to fight from Princess Luna; you know spells for erasing memories; and you get a kick out of sucking the magic from everything around you.” He gulped. “Horse apples… I figured you were pretty powerful, but that’s a whole other level of scary.” I am. The words stopped just short of leaving her mouth. Twilight ground her teeth in the ensuing silence, drew in a deep breath and forcefully expelled it. “Yes. I am addicted to magic. And it scares me. I’ve tried so many things, but it’s so hard to stop…” Winder shuffled his hooves, apparently deep in thought. It felt strange to hear that confession in her own voice. The words echoed in her mind, until it occurred to her that she’d never verbally confessed her problem to anypony. Somepony else had always explained things away on her behalf; she’d never borne the burden of doing so herself. The words tasted bitter and her cheeks and ears burned, knowing that she’d laid it all out in the open for him to judge. Yet, it strangely left her feeling a little lighter in the chest, as if a pressure had eased off somewhere. There, I’ve said it. I can’t take it back. Unless… She looked at Winder, then at a heavy bowl on the table and his easily-within-reach and completely unprotected head. Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and grit her teeth. No. Stop having thoughts like that! “Why are you telling me this?” The question wiped away the image of a conked-out Winder drooling on the floor. She blinked to clear her head and found him giving her a steady, penetrating gaze. “I mean, I get that you want to explain why you did what you did, but it almost looks as if you’re hoping I’ll help you with that or something.” She fiddled with her empty mug. “You got that from sensing my emotions, huh?” “Nope. Your tone told me enough.” He sighed and downed the last of his drink. “If you were hoping I had some secret tip for turning off that hunger of yours, I’m afraid I’m gonna disappoint. I don’t even think they’re properly comparable. Best we can manage with emotional deprivation is toughing it out or sharing love energy when needed, and I don’t think you’re looking for either of those.” Twilight nodded. “Yeah, it was a stupid hope.” Then, she felt a wry smile forming. “But talking about it still makes me feel better. Thanks for listening.” “Glad to be of service.” With that line of discussion leading to a dead end, she turned to the other issue that had lurked at the back of her mind. She glanced in the direction of Tacky’s bedroom and said, “So, how much of his adoption story is true?” His expression sharpened immediately. “Twilight, let me start by saying that we haven’t told you any lies in that story. Tack is my legal adopted brother.” Oh no, you’re not having it that easy. “What I’ve heard so far still leaves plenty of room for… omitted details. I would know.” Winder silently held her gaze for a moment, as if attempting to read her mind or sizing her up. All the while, she noted that he had one hoof fidgeting on the table. Eventually, he said in a very measured voice, “I guess I’d be an idiot to try fighting or running again, but… what do you plan to do with the information I give you?” “I’m concerned for him. You’ve got nothing to worry about if you’ve done nothing wrong, but I can’t decide until I hear it from you.” She shrugged. “Also, talking distracts me from thinking about all that lovely magic in you.” A pulse of magic raced up and down his body, and Winder stiffened for a second or two, pupils shrinking just a tiny bit before he blinked and shook his head. “Heh, been a while since I’ve been on the receiving end of some passive-aggressive manipulation. You sure you aren’t part changeling?” “I’m positive.” “All right, we might as well get comfortable. This way.” She followed him to the living room and watched as he tossed a couple of cushions onto the thick rug before the fireplace, and followed suit when he lay down and beckoned her over. Then, as soon as she’d settled into the soft rug and the warmth radiating from the fireplace, he began his story. “Our ‘parents’ are actually my siblings. They work disguised as a couple in Vanhoover – just in banking, mind you – and they got the idea from one of their colleagues when they mentioned something about not being able to have foals anymore. “I was in high school at that time, hoping to get lucky with a special somepony along the way, but nothing worked out for long, so they got me to move over here and prepare a home somewhere out of the way. Long story short, I found this place, got a job as a ranger, and then they did all the paperwork and brought Tacky in.” Twilight frowned. “Did he know right from the start?” Winder snorted. “Heck, no. Only stupid or really inexperienced changelings try to build up relationships in full chitin. As far as Tacky knew, he was the luckiest colt in the world to get two parents and an older brother. We were never hungry again, and we even had enough to bring back to the hive every few months when my siblings could make the trip. We managed to keep it that way for nearly three years.” She could hear the windows rattling and the muted howling of the wind outside, and she instinctively huddled closer to the fire and pressed herself into the thick rug. Upon seeing her shivering, Winder raised a wing in tacit invitation. “No thanks, I’m okay.” Twilight motioned with a hoof for him to carry on. “Then how did he find out?” Winder chuckled. “He’s smart, like you. He noticed things here and there. Scraps of chitin after I moulted, bit of resin here and there, when I got lazy and fixed stuff with my own, uh, resin. Caught me sleeping upside-down once when I wanted some alone time.” Winder chuckled. “Little guy started getting funny looks in school, apparently because he let slip about my habits that no sane pony should have. I got a real nasty surprise when he brought a doctor home; dude was convinced I had symptoms of some terrible disease. I managed to shake him off, but after that scare I panicked and begged Tacky not to blab about stuff like that in school anymore.” “And he just agreed?” “Hah! If only. Little grub was in that phase when he wouldn’t stop asking questions.” He covered his face with both hooves and dragged them downwards, groaning in emphasis. “Oh my gosh, between his pestering and the chance that he’d let something slip in school, I was losing so much sleep. I eventually showed him my real form just to end it.” Twilight leaned forward. “And?” “He was… surprisingly okay with that.” A grin split Winder’s face. “Even thought it was pretty cool.” “Oh.” “What’s wrong?” She averted her eyes and stared at the woolly material beneath her hooves. “Nothing. It’s just that… I don’t think I’ll be as lucky with my friends.” Slowly, she lifted her head and gazed at him, as if she could find answers in his eyes. “I’m afraid to go home. Have you ever felt anything like that?” A moment of silence passed between them before he nodded. “Yeah, I’ve had to leave a few places behind. Got a few former buddies here and there who’d turn me in to the authorities if I ever put those faces on again.” Twilight considered asking whether he’d done anything to warrant such treatment, but decided against it just before opening her mouth. Whatever he’d done, it probably wouldn’t be worse than her own mistakes. “Thinking of making things right?” he asked. Oh, sure. That’ll be a piece of cake. Outwardly, she sighed and rested her muzzle on her foreleg to stare at the flames as they slowly but relentlessly consumed the firewood. “I don’t even know how I’m supposed to do that.” “Going back would be a good start. I’m pretty sure that you’d at least get a chance to explain before anypony thinks of dumping you in a cell.” The largest chunk still had some semblance of the log it used to be, despite the glowing cracks on its surface and tufts of whitish-grey powder at the edges. Given time, even it would turn to ash, but for now, it lay solid and unmoving in the middle of the crackling flames whilst lesser pieces fell apart. She nodded. “I guess you’re right.” Winder said nothing more, and Twilight felt content to leave it that way. So she simply lay next to him on the rug, whiling away the night as they basked in the warmth of the fireplace. Eventually, though, the fire did grow weaker, and she felt the chill creeping back around her. Just then, a sleepy-eyed Winder said, “So, what happens now?” Twilight rose to all fours, groaning as her aching muscles protested. A massive yawn parted her jaws. “Bed sounds amazing.” “Uh, yeah, that too. But I was thinking about what’s supposed to happen in the long run. You’ve just found a changeling who’s the legal guardian of an orphaned colt in the middle of the woods, and…” His words trailed off as he gazed at her. She blinked hard to steady the room, but it seemed intent on tilting and swaying all the harder. Yawning again, she drawled, “I’ll think about what I’m going to do about it in the morning. I really, really want to hit the hay right now. If you get any ideas and try to cocoon me in my sleep…” “Oh no, not to worry; I’m not suicidal.” He grinned nervously and stifled a yawn of his own. “If anything, I’m the one who should be worried. You’re the one who can alter memories and blast mountains to bits.” “I thought changelings had some degree of mind magic, too. I know what happened to my brother at the wedding.” A thought suddenly occurred to her, and she narrowed her eyes, making him tense up a little. “Everything’s been going rather well since… what happened out there. How do I know you haven’t done something to me?” She shook her head to rid herself of the wave of sleepiness attempting to wash over her, then rose and plodded slowly over to him, growling, “Are you feeding on my emotions right now?” Winder hastily scooted backwards and raised both fore hooves and wings in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, take it easy! I can’t mess with your head like that. Only a few freakishly talented guys besides Queenie can actually can do it—” Here, his stiff posture wilted. “Which is exactly what someone with mind-controlling powers would say to throw you off their trail…” The nervous grin returned. “Heh. You know, I don’t think there’s anything I can say to prove that I can’t do it.” Another yawn assaulted Twilight, and she suddenly wondered why she’d gotten so upset in the first place. After a chuckle at the way his pupils had shrunken to pinpricks, she shrugged and said, “That’s… fair enough, I think. I’ve got no proof that I can’t or won’t rip out your memories, either, so I guess we’ll just have to trust each other.” He nodded rapidly. “Yeah, I can do that. That sounds great.” Twilight found the guest room nicely made up – Winder must’ve tidied it during her unplanned nap that afternoon – and nearly toppled over when the bed seemed to call out to her with its plumped pillows and smooth blanket. She moaned as she slid between the smooth fabric and curled up tight, allowing her body heat to accumulate in her cosy little space. Something seemed to be missing, though. She rolled over to get a view of the bedside table, groaning as the action put pressure on her wounds and overstressed muscles, and felt a small pang when she noticed the absence of Tacky’s stuffed dragon. After a wistful sigh, Twilight allowed herself to sink beneath the waves of sleep, listening to the muffled howling of wind and snow outside. * * * * * “We’re terribly sorry, Twilight, but after that little debacle in your old home, we’ve been forced to – how shall I put it? – limit our association with you in the public’s eye,” said Rarity from above. Each of her friends had a window to themselves, high up on the face of the crystal castle. Every one of them looked as if they would much rather speak to somepony else. She felt like a dirty insect that had somehow wandered onto a table in one of Canterlot’s finest restaurants. “What?” Twilight leaped into the air, to surge up to the windows and speak to her friends face to face, but a whole blockade of royal guards swarmed in and blocked her way. No matter how she twisted and turned, darting here and there, she could not outmanoeuvre that many well-trained pegasi. “What’s wrong with you? Let me through!” she yelled. The guards didn’t answer. Grinding her teeth, Twilight tried to bulldoze her way through them, but they simply huddled closer together, and their collective might proved more than equal to her alicorn strength. They shoved her back, and one saw fit to slam the butt of his spear into her ribs. Thoroughly winded from the blow, she retreated to her original position and settled back on the ground, glowering at the stone-faced guards as they lined up around the crystal palace to bar her way. “Don’t pay them no mind, Twilight,” Applejack called out. “They’re just here to keep Ponyville safe. Extra precautions and all that.” “From what?” Twilight shouted back. “Why would Ponyville need that?” Rainbow Dash tilted her head. “Really? Did you really need to ask that?” Fluttershy said something as well, but the distance between them snatched away her words. Still, Twilight managed to read her lips and gesturing well enough to guess that she wanted her to turn around or something. She did so, and gasped when she saw the forest of plunder vines draped over Ponyville. Every building had snarls of vines and thorns bursting out of the ground and wrapping themselves tightly around cracked walls, with individual strands snaking into doors and windows. Some vines were as thick as tree trunks, with thorns the size of spears that impaled anything in their way. “I…” “Everypony’s left town except us, Twilight,” a sullen voice said out from behind. “And it’s kind of your fault for growing that party-pooping plant underground. It got everywhere.” “I didn’t mean it!” Twilight pleaded, whirling around to find a flat-maned Pinkie standing right behind her. “How was I supposed to stop something I didn’t know existed? Even then, I—I’m pretty sure that I took precautions. I never wanted to do anything that might put the whole town in danger. It was an accident!” “Twi, this is way beyond the ‘accident’ classification of an event, even for you,” Spike called out from the castle. “You can’t expect us to just forget about it.” “I know,” Twilight whispered as she hung her head. “I’m sorry. I really am.” “Prove it. Fix it,” the royal guards chorused with low, stony voices. She looked up and quavered at the sight of a hundred steely-blue eyes boring straight through her. Never in her lifetime would she have expected to find herself on this side of Celestia’s peacekeeping force. Gulping, she turned to glance at the ruins of Ponyville. Had the vines noticed her presence? She didn’t remember seeing that many pointy ends facing eagerly in her direction the same way normal plants turned their shoots to face the sun. “I—I’ll try.” She took a few steps towards the guards. “But first, can I see my friends before I—” A cacophony of screeching steel answered her as the guards drew their blades. Twilight halted, stunned by the display of force, and slowly turned back to face the vines, tail tucked between her legs. Each step forward filled her with dread, increasing the tension until she felt like her limbs could snap at any moment. The plunder vines slithered towards her like thorny snakes. Sweat poured down her neck. She remembered them whipping out of the darkness, trapping her and choking the life out of her. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t move. Her hooves gradually slowed until they outright refused to move, and all the while, the void within rumbled in anticipation of the meal ahead. “No, no. I can’t do this. Please don’t make me go back there…” she whimpered. But her friends did not answer. Neither did the guards. She looked back and found only shadows and mist that obscured everything from view, except the vines. They creaked and squelched as they drew closer, and Twilight could do nothing but wait for her inevitable doom. Her pulse quickened as the seconds turned into minutes, but nothing attacked her. The thumping kept growing louder until she could hear nothing else. Shivers went up and down her spine like spiders, raising the hairs on her back. She wanted to explode into action, to run somewhere and hide, but her body no longer seemed interested in responding to her commands. She could only wait like a trapped animal. Waiting. Shivering. Crying. Surrounded by black, writhing vines. * * * * * Twilight peeled her eyelids open and snapped them back in place when the light blinded her. After giving her eyes a moment to adjust to the brightness, she slowly opened them and sighed in relief at the sight of the wooden beams overhead. Winder’s house, and not the soulless, grey sky above a vine-infested Ponyville. Finally. I thought it would never end... The sun had removed most of the night’s chill in the air, so she quickly shrugged off the thick blanket, only to wince when it peeled away from her wounds. A few blotches of dried blood remained on the sheets, and she made a mental note to apologise to Winder about those. Thankfully, the extent of her discomfort only went skin deep. She had no dizziness or other head-related ailment, her stomach felt fine, if a bit empty, and the void seemed relatively inert for the time being. Throwing off the blanket had also revealed the identity of a soft lump close by. Gorbash lay on his side, still warm to the touch and fortunately not covered in any of her blood. She blinked, wondering just how he’d gotten beneath the covers with her in the night. A quick glance at the clock gave her some pointers, though. Nearly half past ten. Tacky had probably snuck in and deposited the stuffed dragon to keep her company again, sometime in the night or maybe earlier in the morning. Aww, he’s such a sweet colt. She carefully placed Gorbash on the bedside table and hopped off the bed. A few more muscles ached than in the previous night; nothing unexpected given her exertion yesterday. She stretched as much as she could bear, enjoying the sensation of her joints popping and loosening up. Still feeling a little dirty after that dream, Twilight made her way to the washbasin by the dresser and doused her face with water. She repeated the process several times, imagining the dream’s grime and dust dripping bit by bit off her face in the mirror. If Future Twilight from next Tuesday had looked like a war veteran, then she would qualify as a survivor of the end of civilisation. Rarity would probably faint at the sight of her freshly scabbed lacerations, and Rainbow would probably toss in some comment about her edgy coolness increasing by several orders of magnitude. Her eyes had bags beneath them, and maybe she had just imagined it, but for a moment they almost appeared wraith-like, stretched over a deep well of weariness. She had occasionally seen that look in Celestia’s eyes when she allowed her regal composure to slip off, and a little more often in Luna’s. She no longer looked like the bookish mare that Celestia had nudged into Ponyville. “What happened to you?” she whispered, peering as if effort would enable her to find some image of her old self in there. Or, at least, the more recent Twilight who had seen fit to feed her insatiable hunger for magic on a chaos-bred organism behind the backs of her friends, and then not have the decency to even endure the shame of doing so by wiping her own memories of the deed. Repeatedly. Why? Why did you do it? What thought process could have possibly led you to the conclusion that it was going to end in anything other than disaster? If she squinted just right, the Twilight in the mirror had her old manecut, complete with an utter lack of physical injuries. “Don’t judge me,” said her reflection. Twilight blinked, then kneaded both ears and shook her head just in case. Her reflection glared back at her and continued, “You know what it feels like. You would’ve done the same.” She shook her head. “You don’t know that. I wouldn’t—” “Don’t know what? That, after ages of having that emptiness pulling you inside out, you wouldn’t undertake a little experiment to see if there was a way to maintain a steady harvest to keep it under control? Or, after finding somepony else’s hard work, conveniently placed in your old home, decide not to make use of it?” Her reflection snorted. “It always happened; again and again. We are the same pony. You have no right to—” Gritting her teeth, Twilight stomped a hoof on the floor. “But now I’m the one stuck cleaning up after your mess – the one that you didn’t even dare to own up to! You made an error in calculation somewhere, and decided that the best way forward was to repeat it using the same equation over and over again? Starswirl would be spinning in his grave if he knew his biggest fan had the experimental technique of a schoolfilly!” Her reflection shrank back, stunned. A tremor ran through her and tears welled up in her eyes, but her jaw and brows remained hard-set as she glared in silence. Twilight’s heart faltered at sheer resentment there, and she wished she could take back her words, if only to stop the smouldering rage in those eyes from shattering the glass and tearing right through her. Twilight took a step back, ready to bolt, but then Winder’s words came back to her. “I’m pretty sure that wishful thinking and getting mad never fixed our problems.” Luna’s voice echoed in her mind, too. “I needed her forgiveness to move beyond my mistakes and not constantly grieve over the past.” She dangled a hind hoof in the air for a moment, then sighed and brought it forward instead. She stopped inches away from the mirror and hung her head. “You’re right,” she murmured. “I can’t judge you; I was just about ready to pass the ball to the next Twilight when it was my turn. I guess we have to thank Luna for breaking the cycle.” She sniffled and looked up to find the mare in the mirror wiping her eyes with a hoof. The fire had gone out of her pupils, replaced with weary resignation that seemed to weigh her down until her ears, wings and tail drooped. Her reflection opened her mouth to say something, but only a choked noise came out. She swallowed and sniffled before trying again with a cracked voice. “But I—yeah, I’m sorry for refusing to learn from what I did. Oh, that was such a stupid mistake…” Twilight reached out, but her hoof only met solid glass. “It’s okay. I’ve done my share of stupid stuff, too. I… I forgive you. I can’t ever bring you back, but I can learn from you. I won’t make the same mistake.” Her reflection didn’t answer. She waited for a while, but after a couple of minutes had passed, it got pretty clear that the conversation had ended. She towelled herself dry, and a mirthless chuckle escaped her as she thought about the absurdity of the exchange. She’d apparently just conversed with her past self without the aid of time travel magic. Then again, did that really count as her past self? If everypony’s personality consisted of the sum of their experience and memories, then the Twilight in the mirror should actually count as a different pony. Their paths had diverged significantly, and she had no way of knowing if their thought processes were exactly alike anymore. Heck, for all she knew, there could be a whole host of other ‘secrets’ that her old self had stashed away, contacts still thinking her a ‘collector’ of magical items, just waiting for her to rediscover. Wait. If memories make who we are, and my spell involved permanently ripping them away, does that count as… oh no. Am I killing a Twilight every time that happens? That’s just— Twilight saw the warning signs in her accelerated heartbeat and respiration, so she quickly rattled out that thought with a thump to her head and took deep, calming breaths. After that, she resolutely trotted away from the mirror and out the door without a glance back. Great. My first existential crisis, and now I can apparently hold conversations with my reflections, too. Discord would be so proud. Did that count as a sign of impending insanity on par with his? Even so, if this attitude proved essential to dealing with her problem, then maybe she could afford to be a little loopy. Did all long-lived ponies end up that way? It certainly would help explain Celestia’s occasional prankster streak and little smiles that seemed utterly lacking in context or cause, as if she had understood the world’s most obscure joke; or Luna’s partiality to the Royal Canterlot Voice coupled with a fondness for swinging weapons around in the training yard. Whatever. I don’t care anymore. She trotted out of the room, deliberately putting some spring into her steps. She’d had enough of feeling down and miserable all day. Winder sat hunched over the dining table, nursing a cup of what smelled like strong tea as he stared out the window. A solid ray of sunlight shone in through the glass, and she could hear birds chirping outside. His sandwich lay forlornly on a plate with just one bite taken out of it. “Morning, Winder,” she greeted. “Uh huh. Yeah, morning.” He blinked hard, as if attempting to dislodge something from his eyes. “Sleep well?” Thorny tendrils surrounded her in the dark, but she shook off the thought and threw it right to the back of her mind. Then, she gave him a wry smile and said, “Well enough, everything considered.” “Glad you did. Wish I could say the same.” He tried to suppress a yawn, and failed rather spectacularly. At her raised eyebrow, he sighed and added, “I was worried that I’d wake up today with no memory of Tacky. Or worse, that he wouldn’t recognise me, and then you’d both chase me out of my own house and leave me alone in the wilderness.” “I think I can relate to that,” she whispered. “Eh?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Just a bad dream I had.” Winder looked at her for a moment before nodding and pointing a hoof towards the kitchen. “Okay, then. Pantry’s over there; go help yourself to whatever you like. I think I left the coffee pot on the counter, but if you prefer some juice, it’s in the cold box.” Twilight smiled her thanks and collected her breakfast without further ado. She came back to the table a while later, her tray laden with bread, cheese, chunks of turnip and a mug of warm coffee. Winder didn’t seem to have made much progress with his meal in her absence; it really bothered her to see him so downcast after he’d displayed so much cheer yesterday. She sat next to him and waited for an opening, but he did not acknowledge her presence and continued to look out the window. When a polite cough failed to get his attention, she edged close enough that their forelegs on the table touched, and he started before turning to her in surprise. “I just want to let you know that I’m sorry for dropping in and disrupting everything like that.” “It’s okay. Besides, I think you already apologised last night. Like, several times already.” Twilight tilted her head. “Did I? It’s all a bit hazy. Anyway, it’s best I apologise now when I’m more clear-headed.” He smiled, though she could tell that he had to put a little effort into it. “In that case, apology accepted.” That didn’t help much with the growing awkwardness, though. Winder had clearly worked himself into a funk, and Twilight believed she knew the reason, so she decided to dive right in before they both got too uncomfortable to talk about anything. “Look, I know you’re worried about what’s going to happen to both of you.” She drew a deep breath and sighed. “I spent a long time after the invasion developing ways to detect and expose hidden changelings, but after what I’ve seen here and felt with your form of magic, I’m starting to think that there’s got to be a better way.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “So long as you take good care of Tacky and make sure he gets a proper education, I promise not to expose you to the authorities.” Winder’s ears perked up and his eyes brightened, but his tone remained cautious. “Really? As in, for the foreseeable future and all that?” Twilight resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Well, I mean, so long as you don’t give me a real reason to call the guards. Like if you started kidnapping ponies or something.” She frowned, then added, “If you haven’t actually done it before, that is.” “Umm…” Winder suddenly seemed very fascinated by his hooves. Shifting a little to maintain eye contact, she prodded him and said, “Are those ponies still captives?” He shook his head. “Not anymore. We let them go after getting information for disguises. Too risky to hide them in town, too risky to move them out.” Twilight studied him for signs of deceit, but found nothing she could pin as incriminating in his facial tics and body language. He’d said everything with a straight face and sincerity in his voice, and close proximity to an alicorn who’d recently sapped his magic could easily explain his slightly tense posture. But without official training in interrogative techniques, she had little else at her disposal to verify his story. She sighed. “I don’t suppose there’s much point in asking whether you’re being honest, but I’m going to do it anyway. Tell me: is the Path Winder I see here, with all his quirks and personality – is that who you are, or some character you’re playing at the moment?” Winder took a little too long considering the question, so she added, “I’m asking because I think I remember you changing tack several times last night. It’s like you were becoming a different pony every couple of minutes.” “Really, that bad? But—” He threw up his hooves in defeat. “Hey, I was under some major stress, okay? I had a really hard time deciding whether I should play it all cool, submissive, sympathetic, smart or dumb for the princess who could squash me flat if I said the wrong thing. You were giving off all kinds of mixed signals.” Twilight shrugged and swallowed her mouthful of bread and cheese before saying, “I guess I was stressed out, too, after teleporting from miles away and crashing straight through a solid roof.” He gave a small chuckle. “Fair point. Okay, serious answer: Path Winder is not an imitation. He’s one pony I can be. At other times, I’ve been Leaf Arrow, Sunny Myrtle and Turtlevine. They’re all me. Kind of like how the Twilight who kicked my flank into next week and tried to eat up all my magic last night was also you; you just didn’t change your name between then and now. I—why are you smiling?” That’s interesting, but the past Twilights would probably beg to differ, if they still existed. Outwardly, she straightened out her expression and said, “Nothing. I just don’t think that’s exactly right. I lost control last night, but at least I wasn’t doing it on purpose. Changelings, on the other hoof, are still completely in control if they take somepony’s face to lie and cheat love out of somepony else.” “Well, yeah. Can’t argue with that.” Winder averted his eyes. “We do what we can to survive, same as you.” He then looked back at her and offered a smile. “But since it’s so important to you, I can say that I’ve been Winder for so long that I usually prefer being him over changeling-me, now. He’s more polite and funny than Rind, anyway.” She frowned. “Rind? Is that your real name?” “Oops. This is the part where I’m supposed to knock you out, but I think I already know how well that’s going to go for me.” He tapped his hooves together nervously and grinned. “Mind if you keep that to yourself? Giving your real name to ponies is generally not cool amongst changelings. I’d rather not have to explain that to my elders.” Gosh, why is he kind of cute when he’s afraid of me? She suppressed a giggle and said, “I guess Tacky’s really lucky after all.” “So…” Winder’s voice rose with optimism. “You’re not going to turn us in or anything?” “If it helps avoid another Canterlot invasion or us kicking you out of your homes for no good reason, then I’d like to learn more about you and changelings in general.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “Maybe one day you guys could go out in public and nopony would kick up a fuss.” He blinked. “Wow. Won’t that be the day. You really are the Princess of Friendship.” “I have my work cut out for me.” Twilight glanced at the crumbs on her plate. “Oh, and I’ll also have to cover your expenses for looking after me…” “Nah, don’t worry about that.” He waved a hoof and grinned. “If you can really manage what you’re planning to do, you’re welcome to crash into my house, in dire need of intensive care, anytime for the rest of your life.” “Well, okay. If you’re sure.” Twilight still made a mental note to find some way to show her appreciation anyway. Maybe a present or two for him and Tacky. The conversation seemed to have greatly improved Winder’s appetite, and after watching him plough through his meal with renewed gusto, she surprised herself by trotting back to the kitchen for a second helping. They ate together in companionable silence, and she could almost see herself back home with Spike, having breakfast in preparation for a long day of research. The sun pouring in from the window also reminded her of simpler times. I can’t stay here, she realised with a pang. * * * * * They gladly spent the remainder of the day simply recovering from their ordeal. Twilight took delight in the opportunity to bombard Winder with questions on just about every aspect of changelings as they lounged in the living room, enjoying the sun’s rays. For the most part, he seemed to have no qualms about answering her questions save for certain details that he claimed he didn’t have the right to give away. At least, not yet. Twilight decided to ease up after a couple of hours because he’d started showing signs of discomfort with the subject. Instead, she told him of her tentative plans before finally settling on reading through a couple of his guidebooks on the local terrain and wildlife. She took another power nap in the afternoon, and was just floating in the hazy realm between sleep and wakefulness when a piercing cry harpooned her right in the ears and dragged her out of its soothing waters. “What? What do you mean she has to go?” Twilight’s wings reflexively snapped open, flinging her upwards and sending pain shooting right into her brain as the battered appendages bore her full weight for a couple of seconds. She yelped and fell back onto her rump, twisting her head left and right in search for an assailant. When no threat presented itself, she rubbed her gungy eyes to clear them up and found herself staring at the two heads poking through the half-open door to the bedroom. The bigger pony peered down at his sibling and said in an undertone, “Dude, I told you not to yell! What are you supposed to say, now?” “Sorry, bro.” Winder frowned. “Ahem.” Tacky winced and locked eyes with Twilight, ears flat. “Sorry, Twilight. Didn’t mean to wake you.” Well, that’s one way to get him talking again. She winced when her stomach churned and fought to keep down its contents. The room spun slowly, but she managed to ignore the sinking emptiness in her chest well enough to manage a smile and say, “That’s all right, Tacky.” She then glanced at the clock and shook her head. “It’s about time I got up, anyway; can’t remember the last time I slept so much.” “Doing you good, I think,” Winder quipped. “Feeling better?” Magic trickled up and down the full length of his body, just beneath the skin as he said those words. Twilight suspected that he hadn’t done it on purpose; her hunger had probably just sharpened her magical sense to the point of penetrating the masking effect of his disguise, but that didn’t make it any easier to ignore. Luckily, Tacky hadn’t triggered any of her cravings. After taking a couple of breaths to steady herself, she kept her eyes on the floor and said evenly, “Yeah, better. But I’m going through some withdrawal right now and your magic feels really good.” He took the hint quickly enough. “Both of us, or just me?” “Just you.” “Right.” He clapped Tacky on the shoulder. “Cheer her up, ‘kay? I’ll be in the basement or something until her Highness feels better. Yell if you need anything.” His departure had an unanticipated side effect, though. Neither of the ponies left in the room had his aptitude for injecting small talk into the situation to keep the awkward silence away. She bit her lip as Tacky shuffled his hooves whilst standing in the doorway, neither saying a word. The room hadn’t stopped spinning, so Twilight crawled back onto the bed and patted the vacant space beside her. Tacky accepted the invitation and hopped to her side, bouncing a little on the springy mattress. But before she could say anything, he spotted his stuffed dragon and discreetly sidled around her to retrieve it before settling back in place to cuddle it as if nothing had happened. Twilight had to work the smile out of her system before she could recover enough solemnity to begin. “Look—I’m sorry, but I really can’t stay here. It’s not because I don’t like it here; it’s nice, but I have… unfinished business that I need to deal with back home. Friends to apologise to. For some bad things I’ve done.” “Like last night?” She nodded. “Yeah. Like that.” “Did you really mean to hurt anypony?” “Yes and no.” She paused, groping for the right words. “Have you ever gotten so scared that you didn’t own up to something you know was wrong? I let someone else get hurt for my mistakes and still got mad when everypony else tried to help me make things right.” She shuddered at the memory of Celestia slamming Discord into the ground. Tacky nodded slowly. “That’s why I have to go back. I have to say I’m sorry.” A moment passed before he looked up at her and said, “Do you want a hug? Most times Big Bro gives me one after saying I’m sorry.” She blinked. “But I haven’t actually apologised yet.” “You did to us. ‘Sides, I won’t be there when you say sorry to your friends.” “How do you even know I will?” “I can tell,” he replied without missing a beat. Wish I had that much faith in me… “So…” Slowly, Twilight allowed herself to smile. “Sure. I’ll take that hug.” Despite his best intentions, her wings didn’t feel up to the task of surviving a hug, so she spread them and kept them well out of harm’s way as Tacky embraced her. But he was just so cute with the way he brought Gorbash into the hug as well that she didn’t have to pretend to hug him back, wondering if he’d ever gotten a hug from his real mother before circumstances left him in the orphanage. She did have to hide a wince as he put pressure on some of her lacerations and bruises, though. Gosh, does love hurt, sometimes. When they broke apart, he gave her his best imitation of the dreaded CMC pout. “You sure you couldn’t stay a little longer?” Twilight raised an eyebrow and glanced out the window, where she could see the last of the sun’s rays disappearing beneath the horizon. She then turned back to smile at him. “Well, I don’t plan to bumble around in the dark, so you won’t have to worry about that until tomorrow. But what do you find so interesting about me, anyway?” “You’re Princess Twilight!” he said with a big grin. “That doesn’t answer my question.” He appeared to mull it over. “Well, my teacher says that you’re an amazing pony because you teach some of the colts and fillies in Ponyville. You’re the Princess of Friendship and you’re buddies with the coolest mares in Equestria!” “Oh?” She wondered if his teachers had contact with Cheerilee or somepony else who could’ve told them about Twilight Time. At least, that’s what she thought he was referring to. “That’s nice, but I still don’t get why you want to spend so much time with me.” “Wait here.” Tacky set Gorbash on the bed, hopped off and dashed out of sight. As the pounding of his hooves faded away, Twilight frowned as she recalled some of the less savoury details of Twilight Time with the school’s colts and fillies. A sinking feeling unrelated to her hunger took hold, and she hoped that she hadn’t inadvertently sparked some sycophantic tendencies in the colt as she’d done to some of the kids in Ponyville. Some of the fillies had developed a habit of cultivating false friendships in exchange for popularity. What was he getting? A camera? Something for her to sign? A pair of scissors for some of her hair? Please, let it not be for bragging rights in school… She schooled her expression back to neutrality when he came prancing back in with his schoolbag, mentally preparing herself to let him down gently if he showed any sign of unhealthy obsession. “What’s that?” she asked as he dug out a sizable volume. A book to sign, maybe? Guess it could be worse. He hefted it onto the bed and flipped it open. “You’re really good at math, right?” Twilight stared at the equations for a moment before burst out laughing. And wincing, too, because it still hurt her ribs. And to think I’d gotten myself so worked up… “What’s so funny?” “Oh, nothing.” Sighing in relief, she levitated the book closer and quickly glanced through his homework, nodding with approval at the sight of so many scribbles of eager but not-quite-there attempts to answer the questions. “I’ll guide you, but that’s it. I’m not actually going to do the work for you, okay?” He nodded, pencil at the ready. “Le’sh go!” Time flowed more easily as she dove into the familiarity of academia, enjoying the opportunity to cover something so refreshingly simple. It brought back memories of Shining sitting with her under the stars on the balcony as he helped with her homework, and later on when she’d done the same for Spike. The series of numbers and symbols gradually formed a river that helped her to drown out the pangs of longing and emptiness from the void, and she barely noticed her physical discomfort as Tacky piled on with the questions. Nothing quite compared to the joy she felt when Tacky’s puzzled frown turned into a triumphant grin as he scribbled down the correct answer. Sometime later, Winder poked his head in. “Hey, dinner’s ready.” “Mm hmm.” “Noted.” Silence for a moment, then… “Uh, guys?” Twilight and Tacky simultaneously looked up from their work. Winder’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow, that’s creepy.” He then scratched the back of his head before putting on a sterner face. “Okay, dinner’s on the table, so put the books down and let’s eat. Can’t have either of you starving on my watch.” Reluctantly, Twilight flipped the book shut and slipped it back into the schoolbag. She then looked at the clock and gasped. “Oh. That’s awfully late.” She grinned sheepishly when her stomach rumbled and added, “Sorry. We got a little carried away.” “Well, if it helps him deal with maths and you with magic, then all for a good cause, I guess. Feeling even better, now?” His eyes were focused on her forehead, and it took her a moment to realise that she’d been using magic for quite some time already. In very small amounts, but magic nonetheless, and she’d not felt any serious nausea or dizziness. She could only nod, a little stunned by the realisation. He smiled and waved them over with a wing. “Good on you. Come on, then. Food’s getting cold.” Tacky didn’t need telling again, and neither did Twilight. Things may be looking up again, she dared to think. She’d had that thought before and knew well what happened after that, but that might as well have been in a different life, for a different Twilight. This time, she intended to make it last. If not forever, then at least for longer than her last attempt.