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// Dusk and the Days Before [History Overwritten] 
// Story: Split Second 
// by wille179 
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	Snowflakes fell around her, painting the world white.  The brisk November air playfully nipped at Twilight’s nose. Frosty breath swirled out of her grinning mouth.
“Thanks, Rarity,” Twilight said. “I really needed to get out of the library.”
“Any time, darling,” her friend replied. If it weren’t for her hat and the mane upon which it sat, it would have been hard to see the white unicorn against the similarly white background. And yet Rarity elegantly stood out from her surroundings, as she always did. “We could all see that you were stressed. I always find my head clears after a short stroll through town.”
Twilight smiled. “Again, thanks, Rarity.”
“Twilight, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s gotten you so stressed lately?” Rarity inquired. While she was genuinely concerned for her friend, a tiny and quickly buried part of Rarity wondered if there were any tidbits of gossip in there.
Twilight momentarily debated with herself about how much to reveal, and then decided to take the Applejack approach. “I’m sure those magazines you read have mentioned the arrests up in Canterlot, right?”
“Oh yes, it’s all they ever talk about these days. A scandal here, a scandal there. Why, I can hardly believe my eyes,” Rarity exclaimed.
Twilight’s hoof crunched through a particularly icy patch. She looked ahead and moved the pair of them to a slightly safer part of the path. “I got a tip from Sparkle about some government corruption. I passed it on to Princess Celestia, and she decided to investigate, just to be safe.”
“I take it these arrests are from that investigation?” Rarity guessed.
Twilight snorted. “These are just the tip of the iceberg. If what the Princess told me is true, we could be looking at a complete overhaul of the government. It doesn’t seem like it at first, but we’re decades behind where we should be economically and technologically. Remember hearing about the Labyrinthia’s industrial revolution? We should have already started our own. And our laws. Did you know that stoning is still a valid punishment? Not what we did to Discord, but as a form of execution.”
“That’s ghastly!” Rarity said, before pulling out her couch from nowhere and fainting. When Twilight finally revived her, the white unicorn quickly apologized for that. “How did we not notice for so long?”
“We’ve been stagnating for a while, I guess,” Twilight said. “It was too slow. There was a griffin expression for that. ‘Put a frog in boiling water, and he’ll jump out. Put a frog in cold water and set it over a fire, and he won’t notice until it’s too late.’ I think we’re the second frog.
“And while the police are catching fraudulent politicians, the Royal Guard is searching for a criminal group that just doesn’t seem to exist here,” Twilight said.
Rarity replied, “Doesn’t exist? Then how did they think to look for it?”
“Sparkle again. She found it in her timeline, and I’m starting to think that something changed between our timelines that stopped ours from existing.”
“How strange,” Rarity commented. “What do you- Twilight!” Whatever Rarity was going to ask was lost as she noticed her friend doubled over.
Twilight screamed like she was on fire. The sensation had come so suddenly and without warning. Her legs buckled, causing her to flop down on her side.
Rarity managed to catch Twilight’s head before it hit the ground. But as she watched her friend choke and writhe, she could only do one thing. “HELP! SOMEPONY CALL A DOCTOR! HELP!”
Twilight’s horn began glowing with golden-white energy, shooting off sparks at random. Her limbs convulsed, seeming to bend and stretch in ways that Rarity didn’t think were possible. The light coming off her friend would have been beautiful if it weren’t accompanied by Twilight’s grunts and groans.
And then, as suddenly as it had come, the episode was over. Twilight, despite her heavy breathing and snow-covered body, seemed no worse for wear as she slowly pulled herself up from the ground. “Well, that was annoying.”
“Twilight! Oh Dear Celestia! Are you alright? I thought you were dying!” Rarity sobbed.
Twilight blinked. “Oh. No, I’m fine. I actually feel really good. That, um, didn’t hurt at all. Actually, it probably would have been better if it had hurt.”
“But you were writhing in agony!”
Twilight looked away, embarrassed. “That wasn’t agony. That was about as far from agony as you can get.”
“What do you- Oh?” Rarity’s cheeks, already rosy from the cold, went a shade pinker. Then, when Twilight turned back to look at her, she again went, “Oh.”
Twilight cocked her head to the side. “Rarity?”
“Darling, there are ribbons of gold swirling in your eyes. They’re… rather mesmerizing… oh my…” Rarity trailed off, simply staring at Twilight’s eyes.
Twilight looked away. Then, gathering her strength, she hoisted herself fully off the snowy ground.
Rarity blinked, eyes refocusing. “Twilight, Darling, how are you taller than me? I could have sworn you were shorter a moment ago.”
Twilight looked down at herself, and then back at Rarity. Sure enough, Twilight had grown by three quarters of a hoof length, going from slightly shorter than Rarity to significantly taller. “Interesting. I need a mirror.”
“Here you go, Darling!” Rarity exclaimed. When she produced a compact, Twilight didn’t question where it came from. Instead, the lavender unicorn flipped it open and took a good look at herself.
The changes were small, but noticeable regardless. Her horn was longer and more pointed, her face was slightly softer in shape, and her eyes had a swirl of gold in them that seemed to move whenever she looked away for even a fraction of a second. Twilight looked over the rest of her body. Her legs had taken most of the growth, making her appear proportionally slimmer; the dock of her tail had grown longer, pushing the start of her tail’s skirt away from her body; the hair of her fetlocks had grown out; and there was a noticeable groove in the front of each of her hooves.
All in all, her rather unexpected transformation had given her an old-fashioned, natural sort of beauty. But it was when Twilight took stock of her magic that she noticed where the real transformation had been. It felt dense and invigorated, and her well of magic was deeper than ever before. She knew immediately what had happened.
“I wonder what Sparkle did to herself this time?” Twilight folded up the compact mirror, not wanting to look at her face any more. It was the face of light corruption, something she hadn’t expected to happen to her for at least another decade. Yes, it looked nice, but it was corruption and not her own face. She wondered how much longer she’d have before her face was unrecognizable, even to herself; at this rate, probably no more than a decade or two.
“Twilight?”
“Rarity, let me tell you why you should never mess with strange magic.”





Sparkrovitar stretched luxuriously. He could feel the power, both physical and magical, flowing through both of his bodies, and it felt good. He experimentally flexed every muscle he could, feeling how they pulled on his bones. This was what he lived for; power, to help him achieve his goals, and pleasure, to make the journey all the more enjoyable.
He pulled off the now blackened necklace of pony bones from Sparkle’s neck. Sparkrovitar was disgusted that he’d needed them for the ritual in the first place, but since Dusk vampires had already killed the pony they’d belonged to for other reasons, the hybrid didn’t see why he shouldn’t get some use out of them. It wasn’t like the dead stallion would need them anymore.
The physical changes were surprising, but not wholly unexpected. He’d been using a lot of dark magic lately; it was no wonder that the physical corruption was catching up to him. Sparkrovitar took a moment to look over his bodies.
The ridge of spikes going down Sparkle’s back was new. Apparently, the spinous processes had grown and protruded through his pony back. It didn’t hurt or impede his movement, but it still looked odd. Sparkle was taller, too, which meant he’d have to either find a transfiguration specialist to adjust the size of the prosthetic, or have the original maker adjust it. There was a strange ridge of boney bumps on Sparkle’s head, though it was mostly hidden by her mane. Finally, her face looked harder and fiercer, something that Sparkrovitar found he enjoyed.
Thorn had changed, too. His base form had grown, increasing the minimum size to which he could shrink it. The spines on the dragon’s back had sharpened and lengthened, as had his tail blade. The skin, tendons, and muscles around the dragon’s mouth had also changed, allowing him to open his mouth wider than before. And across both bodies, their muscles had grown denser and their bones stronger.
All in all, Sparkrovitar liked the changes. He nodded to himself – something he could literally do with two bodies – and decided that he’d go without glamours and see how the ponies of Dusk reacted to him. After all, the entire reason he’d done the rituals that had unintentionally given him this look was for them, if not in the way they were thinking.
The spy smirked. In five days, Dusk would attack Canterlot, and in five days, Dusk would curse his very existence, if the Red Platoon didn’t get them first. He hoped that Luna had been very thorough with the counter-curse, and had gotten the LSC as well. 
Of course, in five days, he’d also lose a magic research lab several times better than his own, and the funds and resources needed to conduct the experiments he had. It didn’t bother him terribly, though. Sparkrovitar figured that his skill had improved far enough that he could do even more extensive enhancements to Shining Armor when the time came, all without endangering him at all.
Maybe when the battle was over, the princesses would let him loot the base. Maybe they’d even confiscate some of the money from the bank accounts of the fallen, and then give him a nice, fat check for his service to the country on top of what he’d wrung out of Dusk already.
The smile that was quickly becoming a permanent feature on Sparkrovitar’s faces widened as he exited the lab and ran into Kätzchen. Just before he split back into Sparkle and Thorn, he said, “Hello, Cat. You’re just the pony I was looking for.”
The small, gold-colored earth pony looked up, and then up some more. “Hello, Frau Sparkle. You look different. Did you change zee schtyle of your hair?”
“Not exactly,” she replied playfully. “I actually have a favor I wanted to ask you, and I’ll give you a whole cup of blood wine if you do it.”
His eyes looked like they’d pop out of his head, they went so wide. “A whole cup? Frau Sparkle, you are zee greatescht! Vatever it is, I vill do it!”
“It’s nothing too difficult, especially for a messenger,” Sparkle said. “I want you to give a message to one of my ex-family members. Tell her…” Sparkle said the message and told him who to take it too. “Got it?”
“Absolutely, Frau Sparkle!” The colt-sized vampire grinned evilly. “Zat is a vonderful message. I von’t leave until sche underschtands klearly!” Kätzchen replied. When Sparkle nodded in approval, the lanky, short vampire saluted. In the space of a blink, he vanished.
“Energetic colt, isn’t he?” Sparkle commented.
Thorn nodded. “Do you think it will work?” he then asked. Behind him, his bladed tail swished excitedly.
“No idea,” Sparkle replied with a shrug. “I’d like to hope so. It would save us a lot of trouble in the future if it does.”
“And we could always force it if plan A doesn’t work,” Thorn added.
“That is true.”





Ursa “Mama Bear” Major was a reasonably tall mare. Certainly not as large as some of the stallions she led, but she was clearly no Shetland, either. Walking up to the necromancer and finding that she now equaled her in height caught Mama Bear slightly off guard, almost as much the new spikes on Sparkle’s spine.
It didn’t catch her off guard enough for her to visibly react, though. The leader of Dusk trotted up alongside Sparkle as the necromancer made her way through the empty hallway to the common areas of the base, a book levitating in her dark aura. “Good afternoon, Necromancer,” she greeted cheerfully. “What a delightfully fearsome look you have.”
Sparkle cast a quick glance up. “Afternoon,” she greeted back. The dark mage’s eyes snapped back to her open tome.
Ursa’s smile faded. “You know, it pains me to see a pony not respecting their superiors. It reflects poorly on both the character of the subordinate and the authority of the leader.”
This time Sparkle’s eyes looked up for good. The book in her grasp snapped shut. “Sorry, ma’am.”
“Now, now. I’m sure it was a simple mistake. One could easily overstep their bounds; it’s nothing to be ashamed of,” the leader replied sweetly.
“I’m not sure I follow, ma’am,” Sparkle said truthfully. She’d thought that the leader was talking about her trying to read, but apparently not.
“I think you do,” Ursa Major replied. “Kätzchen is one of my personal assistants, and I would ask that you not order him around.”
Sparkle blinked, and then smiled, giving the leader a view of teeth that were too sharp to be normal. “I didn’t order him around. I just asked a favor, and promised him a gift if he did it.”
Mama Bear’s features softened a bit. “I see. Might I ask what you traded?”
“A message for some blood wine. That’s not too different than what you pay him with, now is it?” Sparkle replied, mimicking the sweet tone Ursa tended to use.
Ursa nodded and smiled, showing off her fangs. “I suppose not. Thank you for alleviating my concerns.”
“My pleasure,” Sparkle responded. She took a few limping steps forwards and reopened her leather-bound book.
As Sparkle resumed her trek to the common areas where she could sit and read while her magic regenerated from the day’s work, Ursa Major followed close behind. The leader walked up next to the necromancer and tried to read the latter’s tome; it was actually gibberish, written in no alphabet that Ursa recognized. And worse, the letters were actively shifting.
To Sparkle, however, the letters were perfectly comprehendible. The Dread Necroptica itself could prevent those it deemed unworthy from reading it. That, however, had no bearing on the book’s ability to read its readers. The book was designed to pull information out of its reader’s head and, if it didn’t already have that information, the book would add it.
The text spelling itself out in front of Sparkle’s eyes was titled “Ranged Direct Possession.” Sparkle eagerly read the passage, cheering silently that she was able to use her enemy’s own knowledge against her, even as that very enemy stood next to her. Then Sparkle notice something scrawled in the margins that hadn’t been there a second ago.



The creator of this spell has been slated for execution by Lady Death herself for failure to pay bargained souls. She has been deemed unworthy of this book.



The tome snapped shut. “Mama Bear,” Sparkle began, “I thought you ought to know something about my kind. Most Necromancers have tried to summon Lady Death and bargain with her. She’s been known to grant blessings in exchange for the right price.”
“Really?” the Dusk Leader said. “I didn’t know that.”
Sparkle said, “Yes, but I’ve never called her. I wouldn’t ever. I did meet her, though. Twice, actually. Did you know she was in Canterlot when Discord was free? I tried to bargain with her to get the soul of a bookstore owner back. She just laughed at me and ate the soul anyway.”
Ursa’s step faltered ever so slightly. “How did you escape?”
“I didn’t; Death let me go. And I found out something interesting. This book,” – she held it up – “was created in part by Lady Death herself.”
“You!” Ursa found herself blurting out before she could stop herself.
“Me what?”
Ursa cringed. “Dusty Books supplied me with tomes for my own studies,” she replied. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to get my hooves on even one of those books. May I see it?”
“I didn’t know you were interested.” Sparkle grinned smugly. “Sure. I’ve already read six of the seven books front-to-back.” She levitated the tome to Mama Bear. When the leader took the book, the aura around Sparkle’s horn didn’t fade completely, and the corresponding aura moved to hover around Ursa’s skull.
Ursa opened the book to a blank page. She flipped to another.
Blank.
She flipped again.
Blank.
Blank.
Blank.
Her eyes were as wide as saucers. “Were… where is everything? It’s all blank!” She flipped the page once more.




UNWORTHY!




The book fell to the floor with a thud. “No… Why… why am I not worthy?” There was a faraway look in her eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. “No,” she said again, though resolutely this time. “I will show her that I am worthy.”
“Show Lady Death that you're worthy? I highly doubt that she’s the kind of mare you could convince once she’s made up her mind. She’s the mistress of the infernal pits; do you think she really has mercy?” Sparkle questioned.
Ursa was suddenly right in Sparkle’s Face. The scarlet eyes of a vampire looked into the crimson eyes of a necromancer. “SHE SHOWED YOU MERCY! YOU SURVIVED!”
It was Sparkle’s turn to be very uncomfortable. “What?”
“When those cultists tried to sacrifice you to Lady Death, she spared you and killed them all!” the leader exclaimed. It was true; Sparkle and the other original sacrifices had all survived. Unless she had been one of the sacrifices, Mama Bear should have been dead. And considering what the mare was saying, that was highly unlikely.
Sparkle frowned deeply. “If they all died, as you said, how could you know that?”
Ursa Major clammed up, but her silence was telling. “Never mind. I know. And I now know why you are unworthy,” Sparkle said.
“I won’t be unworthy for much longer,” Ursa replied.  “What better way to show her my worth than a war, hm? We all want power in the end. Maybe this way she’ll take us seriously, now.”
“I’m not fighting,” Sparkle declared. “You have my support, but I will not be out in the streets, killing innocents. And I want nothing to do with the Grim Reaper. If you want to bargain with her, that’s your deal; leave me out of it.”
The cream colored mare stomped her hoof. “You’re going to wish you were out there, Sparkle.”
Sparkle didn’t reply. Instead, she turned and walked away, taking her book with her. ‘I’m going to be out there, alright,’ she thought. ‘You’re going to wish I wasn’t, Death cultist.’