//------------------------------// // X - The Mare Unmasked // Story: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite // by Corejo //------------------------------// The road leading to Ponyville felt foreign beneath Twilight Sparkle’s hooves.  She had travelled it countless times, yet still it wouldn’t evoke the sensations it had in the past.  The dirt hadn’t changed, only herself.  She was not Twilight Sparkle now, and the very ground refused to welcome her home. Beside her walked Rainbow Dash, in full view of anypony who happened to look their way.  They couldn’t afford to be seen together, but Twilight needed the extra comfort until they came within view of town.  She feared what might come if their plan failed, and the courage her friend’s proximity instilled kept her hooves moving one in front of the other. Those hooves, she hoped, would appear exactly as she had planned them to.  Brown.  Dirty.  To match the blandness of her sandy mane.  Ears up, eyes ahead, she walked.  Look happy, look like she belonged.  Blend in with the crowd of smiles and small-town charm.  Easier said than done, given her situation. She felt the weight of her saddlebags, full of ‘personal’ effects meant to throw a random search, but the heaviest item hung about her neck, hidden by Smoke Screen’s vest and the illusion layered over both.  Dabs of red and green had been painted on its back—which she had faced forward for the time being—and when the time came, need only be turned and pressed against her skin.  That time was a long ways off, however.  She shook the thought away. A glance to her friend.  Blue eyes.  White mane.  Wingless, with a coat like the grassy fields. Illusions for illusions. Twilight caught her eye, and they shared a nod.  Rainbow Dash broke off into the treeline.  She knew her role: circle around wide and enter town from the west.  She knew the necessary timing.  Twilight only hoped their assumptions were true and that their backup plans would hold if it came down to it. She followed the path at a slow stroll.  Not so much for her shoulder; Zecora’s salve was far more effective than any modern medical practices she knew.  Rather, Rainbow Dash would need the time, and she herself needed to keep it all straight in her head.  It all came down to presentation.  And with as many illusions as they had on their side, presentation meant everything. She passed the first houses into town.  A hoofful of ponies she knew went about their morning.  Cloudkicker preparing the town for an afternoon of scattered shade.  Roseluck on her way to the market square, her saddlebags overflowing with reds and pinks and whites.  Many more opened windows and called to one another while the foals played tag through the streets on what she couldn’t have considered any less than a perfect day, had the circumstances been different. Then she saw the guards. A lump settled in her stomach at the sight of their armor, glinting gold in the sun.  Her mind flashed back to the guard that Rainbow Dash had beaten senseless before her very eyes, the blood running down his face.  The guards ahead wore a sternness she seldom saw, an almost vengeful determination.   A select few wore medallions about their necks.  Ancient ornaments of crudely chiselled obsidian from the Pre-Equestrian era, when spies and real assassins were as common as the blood feuds that funded their trade.  Nowadays, the medallions were as rare as they were powerful, and were used as part of low-key surveillance operations from time to time.  The incantations to create them had been lost to time, according to her history textbooks.  If they had brought them to Ponyville, they certainly believed her to be a grave threat. She could sense magic about the guards as well.  In their eyes, she saw the faint pink glimmer of a True Sight Spell, magic meant to pierce the veils of illusory magic.  Though far less potent than their obsidian counterparts she knew to stay clear of those lacking medallions just as strictly.  At least, unless the plan took a turn that called for it. She preferred not to begin down that route, though, and so weaved a scenic path through Ponyville, relying on her peripheral vision to sight the guards and plot her course.  What should have been less than a five-minute walk neared fifteen.  She found herself where she wanted to be, Stirrup Street, which she knew to have the most number of alleyways this side of Town Square.  No reason not to put statistics in her favor. A casual stroll across the street to avoid two patrolling guards, and she ducked into an alleyway.  She melded with the bustling crowd of the marketplace, further closing the distance to the library, which quickly came into view over the heads of those around her. The crowd thinned the further she walked, until she stopped half a block from the library, where she spotted a pair of soldiers flanking the library entrance.  Though the door sat open for any who wished entry, both wore medallions and stoic expressions.  She wasn’t a welcome pony with them in the way. No matter.  She cast her gaze down the road, a little ways past the park.  She could already see Rainbow Dash crossing the river, which meant she best prepare.  A slow stroll around the back of the library to stall for time, and she kept up a smile to dispel any curious eyes.  Coming around the side of the library, she casually watched the scene unfold. Rainbow Dash walked past the guards, in clear range of their medallions.  She feigned a nervous glance at them before shooting it to the ground at her hooves.  They might as well have drawn their swords for how vindictively they followed her with their eyes, and Twilight could only shiver at the thought of how piercing they must have felt.  One of the guards stepped inside the library for a moment, then back out and both followed Rainbow Dash. Twilight sent off a prayer to Celestia for when they inevitably ‘caught’ her before ducking into the library.  Inside, she saw Fluttershy reading a book at the round table.  Or, what looked like Fluttershy. She knew instantly it wasn’t her friend by the subtle flick of an ear and momentary interest in her eye before the façade went up, her ears falling down against her skull.  Twilight had to admit Sylissyth had a knack for it, however much seeing the imposter in the act boiled the blood in her veins.  Those submissive eyebrows and ever-so-slight dip of the head would have fooled even herself had she not known beforehoof.  She swallowed a dozen spiteful things she wanted to say and drew breath. Blinding pain erupted across the side of her face, and she saw stars as the world turned sideways.  She hit the floor, the impact stealing the air from her lungs.  A heavy hoof pressed down on her throat before she could draw breath.  Her vision blotted, but not enough to miss the iron ring slipping over her horn, its magical properties cinching off her flow of magic. She struggled to turn her head upward, where a guard—a unicorn sergeant, judging by the silver trim of his armor—stared back almost contemplatively, a True Sight Spell glowing bright in his eyes. “There’s a window just over my shoulder,” he said, his aura shutting the door to trap her inside.  “We know how to lure ponies, too.” Twilight instinctively looked to the window in question.  Though having a guard stationed inside had crossed her mind, she had assumed he would have taken a closer bodyguard role rather than sitting just inside the door, and more than a little heat rose to her cheeks at how blatantly she had forgotten to check the window before passing it by. Well, looked like stage two was starting early. The sergeant’s horn glowed silver, magic snaking out and around Twilight’s hooves and undoing the strap of her saddlebag to dump its contents on the floor.  A wallet full of bits, a bag of oats, and a few quills and inkwells.  He scanned the array, snorting after a moment, then stared at her.  “On your hooves,” he said, stepping off her throat. She coughed at the sudden release, sucking in a lungful of air she almost thought she’d never enjoy again, rolling onto her stomach.  Rising proved a struggle with the chaining spell clasped tight about her fetlocks, its tethers pulling taut like rubber bands the farther she spread them. Rudimentary magic.  Strong for sure, but not unbreakable, and the ring on her horn was only an afterthought to her—a flick of the wrist when the time came.  Two mistakes she had full intention of capitalizing on. “Move.”  He placed a hoof on her chest to push her out the door, but Twilight resisted him at the sound of little claws padding in from the kitchen.   “Here you go, Fluttershy” came Spike’s voice.  “Another cup of tea, just for—”  He stopped in his tracks the moment he saw them.  His eyes locked onto Twilight, and all the happiness drained from his face.  His legs trembled, and the tea cup dropped from his claws, shattering on the floor.  Fluttershy squeaked. Twilight saw it in his eyes, the terror all consuming.  His wide draconic eyes saw through the illusion like a glass pane, and she could practically behold Smoke Screen’s image reflecting off them.  “T-t-t-Twilight…” “Spike?” Twilight heard her voice call from behind him.  The instance reminded her of an echo chamber, her words so pitch perfect in her ears.  It made Twilight’s blood boil.  “Is everything okay?” “Princess Twilight,” the sergeant said, setting his hoof back on the floor, “we found her.” Mirror Image poked her Twilight head out the kitchen door, skepticism tense on her face.  A short pause as she took in Twilight’s illusory form, and she slowly came abreast of Spike, placing a cautious, defensive hoof in front of him, eyes locked on Twilight’s, wings halfway open as if ready to leap into the air should she make a sudden move.   “Is… Is that really her?”  Her eyes flicked to the ring about Twilight’s horn. “It is, Your Highness.” “Th-thank you, sir.”  She gave him a quick, worried bow before snapping her eyes back to Twilight.  “It seems that Celestia was right to use all these... preventative measures.”  She lit her horn, and Twilight felt the illusion of brown coat and sandy mane melt away, locks of green falling about her withers.  “I honestly didn’t think she would come back to try anything.”  She looked away, shuddering. “I didn’t come back to hurt you,” Twilight said.  She kept her eyes level with those of herself before her.  Somehow, talking to her own image evoked her words easier, brought them forth methodically, sincerity never straying from her eyes. “I came back to talk to you,” she said.  “I wanted…” She looked down, tensing her jaw ever so slightly.  “I wanted to apologize.” Mirror Image opened her mouth, a scowl beginning to form, but something held back what she wanted to say, and so she only stared.  Spike huffed, not bothering to hide his own scowl. Twilight continued, “I’ve been a rotten pony for far longer than I care to admit.  I had plotted my scheme for a long time, and it’s only after everything fell apart that I see my mistakes.”  She focused on Mirror’s hooves.  She took a breath to settle the thought of apologizing for a crime she didn’t commit.  No matter its necessity to their plan, she couldn’t shake the wrongness of it. “I just,” she continued.  “Want to set things right.” Mirror Image stared at her, confused.  Twilight could see on her face a million thoughts whirling in her brain—reactions and their consequences.  Surely she knew it to be a feint, but her choices piled up with no clear option, evidenced by her glance to Fluttershy, then to Spike. The glance doubled as credit to Spike’s ignorance.  As Zecora had said, he believed the nightmare to be over and was more than happy on her visit the day before.  Though Mirror Image could dismiss the guards to speak freely, she couldn’t do so with Spike.  With the way he clutched to her leg, contempt bright in his eyes, he wasn’t going to leave her side for an instant. His unbreakable love held Twilight’s plan fast, forced Mirror to remain in character for just a little longer.  And she did so with a smile.  Small, but there. “I’d be more than happy to set things right,” Mirror said, almost strained, like this victory wasn’t going the way she had imagined it in her head.  She held her composure, though, and had she been an actor in a play, Twilight would have applauded thunderously.  “But it’s… hard, knowing what you did, what you tried to do to me.” “What you did to me!” Spike yelled. “Um, us…” the fake Fluttershy added. Mirror gave each of them a glance, one possibly meant to affect an air of apology, that she could have possibly forgotten the hells they had endured.  “And it’s even harder knowing what you did to my friends.  How anypony could do something that-that… evil.”  She let anger rise to her face in the form of a frown.  “If you’re here for forgiveness, I’ve learned it best to do so and move on with my life.  But if you’re here for acquittal, I don’t… I don’t feel comfortable making that call.” Twilight lowered her gaze.  Move on with her life... Easy words to say from the other end of the sword.  She felt the muscles tense in her legs.  A terse nod.  “I understand you…” Behind her, through the door, she heard the muffled grunts and curses of a struggle, and all heads turned except Twilight’s.  A moment later, the library door opened, and she made sure to flatten her ears back as she looked over her shoulder, worry etched on her face. In trudged a behemoth of a guardspony, his body at an angle to just scrape the gold plating of his shoulderguards through the doorframe, one of the two door guards following him in and shutting the door.  Between his teeth he effortlessly gripped the scruff of Rainbow Dash’s collar, her flailing hooves bouncing helplessly off his breastplate.  Though, one look at him and Twilight figured her strikes would have been just as ineffective had he not been wearing it. He dropped Rainbow Dash flat on her stomach, the heavy thud drawing a wince from Twilight.  His hard eyes would have seemed like stones had it not been for the soft ghostly pink within them.  “Here’s the other one, sir,” he said to the sergeant.  “We cornered her in the alley.  Stone Wall’s on his way to the commander as we speak.”  He turned to Mirror Image, giving a small bow.  “Your Highness.” Mirror Image returned the bow.  The sergeant replied first, stepping forward. “Good work, Bulwark.  You, too, Ironclad.”  He aimed his horn at Rainbow Dash, a flash of light melting away her illusion like butter to the chitinous sheen of Mirror’s hex beneath, another casing her hooves and wings in the same spell he had placed on Twilight.  He stepped back, a small bow yielding the floor to Mirror Image. She wore a dark frown.  “So you were here to ask for forgiveness, yet you still tried sneaking into my home instead of being open about your intentions?” Twilight averted her eyes.  “I—” “Save it, Kite.  I think I’ve heard enough of your lies.  You come into our town, set up your circus of illusions, and then proceed to torment my friends and me.  And for what?  Why?” Twilight let out a quiet grunt, feeling her ears press down against her skull, eyes to the floor.  She knew the answers, ironically.  Knew exactly why Mirror Image had done what she did.  She could have played the part to a tee, but that could only damage their plan that so far hadn’t teetered off its hair-thin tightrope.  Silence filled the room with her answer. A scornful gaze grew on Mirror’s face as the seconds passed.  It reached almost to disdain before she forced a sigh out her nose.  “Fine.  I… I don’t know what to say anymore,” she added, casting her smouldering gaze aside. “By your orders, Princess,” the sergeant said.  “Should we escort her off the premises?” “I…”  She cast a sidelong glance at Twilight, pain and worry etched across her face.  “No, not yet, sir.”  The glance became resolute.  “I want her to hear this.  Spike, take a letter.” He grabbed the nearest quill and paper from the far shelf and, glaring at Twilight, stood poised to write.   Mirror cleared her throat to speak.  “Dear, Princess Celestia.  Today—” There was a knock at the door.  Everypony stood silent in the seconds after, all but Twilight gazing at it in hard curiosity.  Mirror exchanged glances with the sergeant, then nodded.  He turned to the private, who moved to open it. Zecora stood on the threshold, saddlebags about her barrel, medicine staff rested in the crook of her neck, bringing with her a bright smile to light up a room that very much needed it.  But she paused, curiosity turning it into an ‘o.’  “Pardon me, for my abruptness; I did not mean to interrupt this...”  Her mouth hung loose, unsure words beneath unsure eyes that flicked to Mirror Image.  “Surely what I have to say can wait for you another day.”  She bowed and turned to leave. Twilight’s heart almost leapt out of her throat.  Where was she going?  Was she crazy?  That wasn’t— “No, wait, Zecora,” Mirror said, earning a curious eye from the zebra.  “I could actually use your help.” “I am needed, did you say?”  She stepped inside, shutting the door.  “How can I help you this fine day?” Twilight smiled inside.  She didn’t know whether to hit or hug her for such a gamble.  Whatever worked, worked, she guessed. Mirror Image opened her mouth, glancing at Twilight.  “Zecora, this is Kite… the mare who…” “Ah,” Zecora said.  “This is her, the trickster mare, who brought to town the carney fair?”  She cast an appraising glance at Twilight as she swung around to stand between her and Mirror, and the brightness in her eye made Twilight shudder.  Even knowing she sided with her, such a look could steal the wind from any pony's sails.  She cast her eyes down, trying not to stare at the elegant reds and greens curling up the base of Zecora’s staff. “Yes.  She came back asking for forgiveness, but the way she tried to sneak in says otherwise.” Zecora hmm’d, putting a hoof up to her chin.  “So you believe her words a lie—another trick she meant to ply?” “What else could it be?” Zecora tilted her head, chuckling, eyes never straying from Twilight.  “So tell me if I get the gist: you seek my counsel on this twist?” Mirror afforded her a burdened smile.  “You’re one of the wisest ponies I know, and I don’t… I don’t think I’m able to make a fair judgement.” A shiver ran down Twilight’s spine at how closely Mirror’s words, down to the last inflection, rang exactly as they would had they come from her own lips.  She herself had never been in this situation, but even had their roles been reversed, she had no guide for it, no procedure set in her mind for any sort of dispensation of justice.  Princess Celestia remained the judge of that, and it was toward her she ultimately felt her conscience lean, despite Zecora’s arrival.  That, hopefully, would prove to be Mirror’s downfall. “You’re just as wise, your statement proves,” Zecora said, “for acting without vengeful hooves.”  She smiled at Mirror.  “The worry brewing in your breast; my dear, it’s natural, I attest.  A sign of strength and conscience clear, of justice that all should revere.” Mirror reflected a portion of Zecora’s smile, though downcast.  “I appreciate you thinking I’m somepony who can think clearly, but I don’t understand why you would think I’m capable of deciding something as important as this—somepony else’s future.  Who’s to say what I think will be best is any better than you or Fluttershy?”  She pointed to the fake Fluttershy still sitting at the table. “Clairvoyance is a trait to trust.  For any leader, it’s a must.  So do not feel it lacking thus.  There is no need to raise a fuss.” Mirror looked to the floor, her eyes searching the wood grain for an answer.  A deep sigh.  “I guess you’re right.”  Her eyes fell upon Spike and the letter in his claws still awaiting her dictation.  “Spike, you can put that away.”   She set her gaze upon Twilight.  “So… after all that you’ve done.  After all the pain you’ve caused me and my friends.  What do you have to say for yourself?” A million things sprang to the tip of Twilight’s tongue, vile words she would have believed unfathomable had they not been directed at the very mare before her.  Holding them in, feigning no recourse, tensed her jaw. The silence brought a scowl to Mirror’s face.  “Nothing?  Not even another fake apology?”  A shadow of pain fell over her, wings hanging at her sides.  “I… I hoped there would be at least something I could have done to help you learn what friendship can be.”  She looked down, and the guards took it as their cue to apprehend them.  The first hoof to grab Twilight by the shoulder shot her heart into her throat and her eyes toward Zecora. The recognition was instantaneous, and she held a hoof up to the guards.  “Not all’s as lost as you might think.  No creature steps beyond that brink.”  She stepped forward, circling around to face Mirror with forehoof raised.  “Somewhere inside her heart is pure.  Just dig a little, pray, endure.” Mirror raised an eyebrow.  “What do you mean by that?” She gave her a knowing smile.  “Within all ponies lies some good: the true mare that’s misunderstood.  Just give a chance for all to see the true mare that she ought to be.” “And how might we do that?” “That answer can be found right here—” she raised the painted point of her medicine staff at Mirror, her smile turning coy, “—where red and green meet Smoke and Mirror.” Mirror’s eyes shot wide as the words sunk in.  She staggered away, but not out of reach of the staff, which Zecora drove into her chest.  White light, far more blinding than the one Twilight had seen in Zecora’s hut, flooded the room with its purity, everypony but Zecora shielding their eyes.  Twilight heard from another mouth her own blood-curdling scream drown out the world, its clarity sending a paralyzing shiver down her spine and her ears flat against her skull.  In the momentary loss of sense, something heavy crashed into her. She felt the unforgiving hardness of the library floor drive the wind from her lungs and a fumbling of hooves.  A pair of teeth gripped about the ring on her horn, and only by their rigorous planning did she know it to be Rainbow Dash. She slipped it off in one quick motion, and Twilight already had a shield spell waiting at the base of her horn.  It formed a dome of pink, made brighter by the white engulfing the room, the screams muffled as if behind thick glass. A hesitant glance to Rainbow Dash met only grim, determined eyes.  She pulled the necklace from beneath her vest and held it trembling before herself, preparing for the screams she would share. She pressed it to her heart, and the world vanished beneath a blanket of fire.  From her hindquarters forward she felt knives slice through skin and sinew before peeling them away, drawn not peacefully into a labyrinth of reds and greens painted across her body but into the tiny specks dabbed on the back of the necklace.  The screams began anew as her bones cracked and ground themselves down to those of her smaller self.  Every hair on her body pulled itself out one by one to regrow purple, tears streaming down her face in defiance of the inexorable. The world faded back into reality, and Twilight found enough sense within her mind to feel the twitch of a wing and the floor against her back, and realize the screams she had been hearing were truly her own.  The pink light of her shield dome dominated her vision, its rectangular fractals blinking out of existence as its power came to an end. She rose to her hooves, feeling the weight of her true body and her wings folding at her sides.  A flick of the horn dispelled the glow binding her hooves and those of Rainbow Dash, who immediately squared up with Sylissyth, staring apprehensively back with its Fluttershy eyes.  Determination set Twilight’s upon the mare Zecora had pinned to the wall by staffpoint. Mirror Image no longer looked like Twilight Sparkle, and moreso did Twilight come to realize just how different she truly looked beneath the tangles of magic.  Gone was her purple coat, driven not to dove white but to tarnished silver.  A bobbed mane of newly fallen snow framed an elegant horn and what would have been an equally elegant smile had it not been twisted in rancor, a hardness even her honeydrop eyes couldn’t soften. Twilight flared her wings.  She sensed the guards behind her looking on in confusion, the magics built at the tip of the sergeant’s horn ready to fly at any sudden movements.  She let his apprehension be, his True Sight spell surely giving him reason to abide for the moment. “Your magic,” Mirror said, rising from a gritted whisper.  “How!?” Zecora slid her staffpoint up to Mirror’s throat and shoved her against the wall.  Twilight ignored her question.  “This is it, Mirror.  No more hexes.  No more games.” Mirror snorted.  “A game?” she spat in a low, gravelly tone far removed from her sister’s saccharine sway.  “You think this is a game, Twilight Sparkle?  I don’t play games with foals.” Twilight afforded herself a scowl at the remark.  Even when the tables had turned so completely she held onto her spite.  “Mirror, it’s over.  Tell me why you did all this.” “Why do you think I did it?”  Her words came out subdued, but her eyes belied the volumes she could have echoed off the walls had Zecora not stiffly reminded her of the staff against her throat.  “Because you took everything from me.  You took her from me.” “Her?  You mean Princess Celestia?” The only response Mirror gave was a grunt and gritting of teeth. “You claim to love Celestia, and I know she loved you, too, just as she loves everypony in Equestria.  But that also means she loved Smoke Screen—” “Don’t you say that name!”  The rancor in her eyes billowed outward, her breath gurgling in defiance of the staff.  “Don’t you dare say it again.” Twilight settled her feathers, realizing the outburst had startled her more than it first appeared.  She let her gaze sit silent upon Mirror for a moment before speaking.  “Celestia loved her as a student.  As much as she loved you, I’m sure.”  Mirror snorted, but Twilight continued.  “But you didn’t see her yesterday like I did, the heartache you’ve caused her by impersonating your sister for so long.  Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Mirror held onto her glare as if losing it meant death.  She said nothing in the silence; and  Twilight couldn’t find the words she wanted to say next, so she instead asked a question that had harped on her mind since fleeing Canterlot. “Mirror…” Twilight almost whispered.  “What did you do to her?” The room held its collective breath in the uncomfortable silence, and the hardness of Mirror’s eyes became stoic resolve. “The same thing I’m going to do to you.” Her horn flared red to wash the room in an inferno that sought every nook and cranny.  Twilight had only the time to erect a sheet of ice in front of herself, and before she could counter saw through its warped surface a ball of light that blasted it into frozen shrapnel. The shards cut through her skin like paper and uprooted her, sending her tumbling over backward, wings flailing to find some semblance of control.  The floor met her hard, its impact bringing stars to her eyes in the moments she struggled to find footing and an awareness of her surroundings.  She squinched an eye to fend off a runnel of blood. Around her, the others wailed in terror, their voices a discordant song lifted high to drown out her thoughts, eyes and hooves focused on things beyond sight.  The wild fervor in their eyes shimmered of nightmares brought on by the inferno—a mixture of fire and hallucination magic.  Thuds in time with her racing heartbeat resounded from the door behind her, muffled shouts of guards outside unable to breach the blood-red sheen sealing the windows and doors.  The sounds throbbed in Twilight’s skull, the weight of the world bearing down as the effort of rising caught up with her. Already Mirror charged up another spell.  A lance of energy fluoresced teal and silver beside her before screaming through the air, straight for Twilight’s heart.  She had only a moment to conjure a shield—this time, a heavy sheet of light designed for impact.  It shattered the spear into a million fragments that whistled helter skelter about the room. The convergence of magic left a glittering haze to settle to the floor like fog, swirled and eddied as Sylissyth leaped for a spellbound Rainbow Dash, a flash of white peeling away its Fluttershy skin to bared fangs and glossy black shell.  The crunch of jaws clamping down around her withers sent an icicle down Twilight’s spine. “Rainbow!” Twilight cried, drowned out by her scream and the whistle of another spell.  She curled her wing in front of her face, unable to draw any magic to her horn quickly enough, and braced for the searing heat she already felt burning her feathers to ash. A gout of fire real as the hearth washed overtop her wingbone to singe her mane, and she grit her teeth to stifle the pain and conjure a spell of her own.  She folded away her wing as she snapped her horn forward, unleashing a purple beam that set the air ringing as if she had unsheathed a sword. Mirror deflected it with a shell of silver energy, the beam blasting away a bookshelf not a length away from Zecora, who sat with her back pressed against it, swinging her staff at the empty air, chanting frantic verses of her native tongue.  Mirror smirked, stepping forward through the glittering haze swirling about her fetlocks, away from Rainbow Dash and Sylissyth rolling around on the floor, wings buffeting and hooves flailing blindly.  The glow atop Mirror’s horn stilled any thoughts of helping her friend. “The true genius does not tell her prey what is not yet due, nor let slip her desires without it forwarding her goal,” Mirror said, a thin slit of teeth showing behind her smile.  She turned a bright eye toward her, a giggle bubbling over the chaos.  “Do you remember those words, Twilight Sparkle?  I’d like to add that neither does a genius reveal her true power.  Always she keeps something in reser—”   She yelped as a dictionary struck her across the face.  She had the mind to erect a barrier between herself and Twilight as she turned toward Spike, who stood at the far end of the room, another book in his claws ready to be thrown. “You leave her alone!”  He glared at her as a gladiator would a foal, his courage never wavering despite her snarl. “You little…”  She lit her horn with a white-hot energy that lifted her mane from her withers. Twilight’s eyes went wide, sensing the power swirling through the aether, a death blow building like a tidal wave.  She charged a power of her own at the base of her horn, aiming it at the space between Mirror and Spike to let loose a bolt of lightning and intercept the flare rushing for Spike. The air fizzled like hot grease as spells collided, but the oblique angle of contact diffused the effect of her spell.  Spike lifted his book like a shield in the milliseconds before impact, and the explosion that blasted him backward into the bookshelf brought Twilight’s heartbeat to a grinding halt. “Spike!” Before she could take a step toward him, Mirror’s barricade dissolved into dust to make way for a fireball.  Twilight had the reflex to drive forth a spear of magic that blinked it out of existence. The heat distortion made Mirror’s smile flicker from where she stood in the middle of the room.  Finally with a lull in the conflict, Twilight had a moment to think.  Her eyes darted to the cascade of books that had spilled over Spike and across the room.  The pangs of fear almost sent her to the floor, but she forced herself to keep her head.   Zecora remained glued to the wall, staff swinging wildly—in no immediate danger.  Same with the guards, who fought against shadows and invisible demons clouding their minds. Hisses mixed with grunts and cries of pain.  In the far corner Rainbow Dash still struggled against both illusion and changeling, blood freely smearing her coat and the scattered books and parchment.  Superficial for the most part judging by the strength she still possessed, but blood was blood, and she only had so much of it. Triage.  Prioritize.  Her heart went out to Spike, but her focus remained on Rainbow Dash.  She set her hooves, eyes locked onto Mirror. She brought an illusion-breaking spell to the forefront of her mind, held it at the base of her horn, locked and loaded but hidden from view.  Mirror undoubtedly knew how to counter it. “That’s not going to work,” Mirror said, almost chirped.  Her smile grew wider to reveal a row of teeth that almost looked like fangs.  “Your spell… I can feel it from here.” Bluffing or not, Twilight felt her muscles tense in worry.  If she indeed anticipated the spell, then she would need some way of bypassing her counter. Feign the cast, mix her magic.  Just like last time.  She took a step toward Zecora, jerking her head toward her, and pushing the stream through to the tip of her horn.   Mirror took the bait.  She snapped a red glow at Zecora to encase her in a bubble as Twilight reeled her magic back and forced a teleportation spell to her horn.  The world stretched impossibly distant at her center of vision, compressing outward near the edges to suck her through a higher dimension.  Reality rubberbanded to a crack of arcane lightning just behind Mirror, and Twilight rebounded the illusion-breaking spell, encasing Rainbow Dash in a sheath of white. She whirled around, defensive shell going up instinctively just as a torrent of lightning cascaded overtop and burned chaotic patterns up the walls.  Another spell to protect Rainbow Dash from another illusion and Twilight flapped her wings, the remnants of magic aglow on her horn shattering the barrier into little fragments to be carried on an amplified wind like broken glass. Mirror lowered her shoulder, a shimmering dome of light grinding the shards into sand as they passed through it.  Twilight seized the moment to launch herself into the air and charged another illusion-breaking spell for the guards by the front window.  Her burned wing struggled to lift her, but the other compensated with a whirlwind of ash and paper. Twilight felt the reservoir deep within her surge, the unending flow of magic rise from her bosom to her horn and blast away the lies clouding the minds of those around her.  Her horn flashed white like the foam of a cresting tide. Out the corner of her eye, something else flashed.  It sliced apart the very air, its keenness shriller than a banshee’s wail.  Twilight jerked aside to dodge the silver blade as it slit a groove along her chest and embedded itself in the wall behind her.  She screamed from the pain, the magic leeching from the enchanted wound shattering any remaining ability to hover.  Crashing to the floor stole the wind from her lungs, and she stared up with gasping mouth at the wild grin plastered to Mirror’s face. “No more games, Twilight Sparkle.”  Her voice grated the ear like nails on a chalkboard, all sweetness lost to the bloodlust flooding her eyes.  “I will take your magic,” —the grin widened— “and then I will take your life.” She heard the scratching of wood, and she rolled over to see the blade pulling loose from the wall, its hilt shining like an eye fixated upon her.  Her mind froze at the sight—at the terror of what it had wrought last she saw it—body struggling backward out of instinct.  Her hoof fell upon the dictionary Spike had thrown, and she moved autonomously, hooves grasping and thrusting it out like a shield as the knife broke free to seek her again. The knife thudded into the book, its keen edge piercing through, not inches from her heart, the enchantment drooling fluorescent green on her chest.  She found the strength to wield her magic, and she took hold of the book, pushing back with mind and body. Her heartbeat played a symphony in her ears as she stared solely at the oozing, dripping blade.  The enchantment mixed with the blood-red magic seeping from her wound, gorged on it, sucked its luminescence away like light into a black hole. She felt the effects already, the power within fading.  Like a leaky pipe she felt the pressure moving toward her horn grow weak.  The pain had subsided, but a fatigue settled in, one she knew wouldn’t outlast the magic bearing down upon her. Mirror laughed as she strutted up alongside Twilight.  “Twilight Sparkle...”  Her voice had become saccharine again.  She cast a smile down at Twilight, who struggled for breath, sweat beading on her brow.  “Twilight Sparkle, the worm beneath my hoof.”  Her honeydrop eyes shone deeper than the richest amber, seemed to beg for a rebuttal. Twilight didn’t respond.  She poured all her focus into her horn and hooves, bracing the stiletto out of reach of her heart.  The struggle further worked open the wound, and she felt her magic waning as it ran down her side to pool on the floor.  The blade pushed harder the longer she struggled, Mirror’s smile in the corner of her eye growing all the more pronounced. “Do you know what the inside of a coffin looks like, Twilight Sparkle?”  She giggled, slow, savored.  “My sister does.  She learned after I ripped from her every ounce of magic she claimed I couldn’t best, could never hope to… mirror.  Oh, but mirror her I did.  And watching her stare into her own eyes as I drove the blade through her heart was only the first reflection she saw.  Shutting the coffin lid gave her six more to stare at.”  A soft intake of breath, eyes closed.  “I only wish I could have seen the look on her face in those last hours of her life.” The memory washed away from her face as if she slowly woke from a wonderful dream, her eyes sweeping about the room until they focused again on Twilight.  “But I had a role to play.  I had to be Princess Celestia’s prized pupil, the one she deserved and that wouldn’t take her dedication for granted.   “And you, Twilight Sparkle.  Because you refuse to play along.  Because you refuse to be a good girl and leave your magic in the past where it belongs.  Because you refuse to lie down and accept your fate like my sister.”  She narrowed her eyes.  “I am forced to make you join her.” Mirror leaned in, her smile twisting into a sadistic grin that drained the color from Twilight’s cheeks.  She put a hoof on the the dictionary.  “Now... squirm.” Twilight stifled a yelp as Mirror pressed down to cripple her already crumbling strength.  Breaths came in ragged gasps, the strain in her hooves building to a fire that threatened to sear away her flesh from the inside.   “Come, Twilight Sparkle!  Let me see you squirm!  Let me see you suffer while I can still enjoy it!  I want to watch the light leave your eyes!”  Her voice crescendoed to boom off the walls and in Twilight’s skull.  “Look at me, Twilight Sparkle!  Look at me so that I know you hear my words!  Celestia is mine!” The knifepoint drew closer to her chest, seemed to absorb all the light in the room until its fluorescent green became a glowing beacon in the void.  Sound drained away to naught but her breathing and the tremors of her heart as the blade touched her skin, colder than the highest reaches of the atmosphere.  She heard Rainbow Dash scream her name somewhere beyond the endless expanse, muffled beneath countless layers of magic.  A sickly-green miasma rolled in from the darkness to choke her lungs with sulfur and ash.   She threw open her mouth, soundless despite her screams as the schlickt of the knife curdled her innards and stole away the warmth of magic.  Her eyes bleared at the pain, but she saw all the clearer the honeydrop eyes that smiled beside her, drinking in her suffering like fangs burrowed into her neck.  Their presence slithered into her head.  Cold, slimy.  She felt it press against the back of her eyes as the knife drove deeper to drain the wellspring within, and the more it pressed, the more she felt it smile inside her. Squirm... It whispered between her ears, a thousand voices overlapping with that singular word.  She felt the presence worm its way through her skull and down to her chest.  It held her lungs fast, refused her the will to breathe as it did her eyes from rolling back. The presence reached further in, like a hand slipping on a glove, each leg a finger Mirror’s magic sought to fill and clench tight.  Twilight felt the presence like a swarm of ants crawling along the underside of her skin all the way to her hooves.  Her muscles trembled as two wills fought for control, an inferno all too real igniting up and down her body as eternities passed without breath. The maddening whispers grew louder, directional.  Through squinched eyes she saw in the darkness the honeydrop eyes lording over her, a smile slitting open the darkness beneath.  The rest of kite’s face pressed through the miasma as if through sheer fabric.  She stood overtop her, head bent low to hers, as the library bled back into reality, choked to the rafters with the effluvium wisping from Mirror’s nostrils.  Her smile cracked a little wider. Do not be afraid of death, Twilight Sparkle... Mirror’s horn glowed a shade brighter, and a white light swept down her body to wash her silver coat purple.  Wings spread wide to encompass Twilight’s vision of herself staring down at her, Mirror’s twisted smile cutting through her soul. Be afraid of dying. The floor vibrated ever so slightly, and a pony-sized rectangle glowed about her on the floor, overpowering the light of the room.  It burned hotter than a frying pan against her back in the wake of the blade’s eternal chill, and her panicking brain knew it as alteration magic long before she felt herself sinking. Though Mirror had stated her intentions, Twilight couldn’t morally fathom the four reflections slowly rising about her, staring back dumbfounded.  The deepest reaches of her mind screamed for action, that what she saw was real and terrible.  That terror brought her gaze up to Mirror, to her Twilight eyes and their glinting satisfaction. She saw within them her own reflection, her reality playing out from another perspective.  But beyond the infinite whirlpools of Mirror’s eyes she saw her friends.  Their happy smiles, the joy she felt knowing and being with them—the joy they shared. Farther they drifted away behind those eyes the more she sank into the wood of the library floor, their smiles fading to frowns.  Rainbow Dash.  Fluttershy.  They flashed before her eyes, terror stricken, bound in chains, far below, voiceless screams calling out into the nothingness, left to rot for knowing too much. Another Twilight stood with the rest, one her heart knew without hesitation was not her.  It led them away, further into the darkened recesses opening wide to leave her true reflection alone and mewling. No… she heard it plead in the back of her mind, the voice, broken and choked, barely recognizable as a pony’s.  It travelled beyond the blackness, no echo returning, it too refusing her even the smallest of respites to her solitude. She reached out a hoof toward the darkness, and through the impossible distances saw her own as if through a dirty window.  She blinked, and she again lay in the library, hoof outstretched, staring up at Mirror, whose forehead beaded with sweat. “No…”  Twilight said.  She reached down grasping at the book against her chest, blinking away a trail of tears that had run down the sides of her face. Mirror gritted her teeth, the noxious fumes ceasing to flow from her nostrils, her magic redirecting into a telekinesis spell Twilight felt chaining itself about her.  Blunter and weaker than the black magic that had slithered through her moments before.  She could feel the desperation, the last dregs of Mirror’s magic, in the way the spell buckled against raw strength, weak as she was.  Mirror’s growing snarl drew forth power from a deeper wellspring within Twilight that no dagger could ever drain.   Love. Love of the friends Mirror’s final illusion had threatened with death and dungeon.  Ponies she would fight for—die for—endure no pain too great to protect.  And her cries as she wrested the blade free of her chest solidified her determination. A gurgling gasp spanned a moment of nothingness as the library briefly unfocused, and the returning clarity sounded the call to arms in her head.  She grasped at the ledge beneath Mirror to pull herself up. Mirror shoved a hoof in her face, forcing her back down as her snarl returned to a grin raised to the sky.  “You will lie in this hole, and you will embrace death as I have lived it.” Twilight braced herself with her other hoof, pushing back with her head, gritting her teeth to the pain grinding into her temple.  The air chilled her sweat-slicked back as she raised herself higher, turning an eye up at the Twilight sneering down at her.  She struck at Mirror’s foreleg to better force herself up, but Mirror held firm, leaning her body weight onto her hoof, tilting it so its tip dug in like a knife blade. Twilight cried out, falling back, but hooked her hoof around Mirror’s other foreleg balancing her on the edge.  It slipped out from beneath her, and Twilight saw Mirror’s wide and frightened eyes as she fell forward to collapse on top of her. A minute gasp punctuated a sharp, heavy pain digging into Twilight’s chest, and the world came to a standstill. Mirror lay atop Twilight, her face close enough to feel the broken gasps of frost ebb across her face, wide, paralyzed eyes smaller than pinpricks staring unfocused into her own.  Her body felt colder than death, shivering as if it had never known the warmth of life. Reality settled in, Twilight’s senses finding their place beneath the frozen mare, and she too froze, knowing the pain in her chest for what it was—the enchanted blade’s hilt—staring at the mare who pawed so helplessly at the book shoved against her chest. Mirror trembled, whimpering as her eyes slowly swivelled down to comprehend the reality befallen her.  Her breathing intensified, her whimpers crescendoing into sobs that became an ear-splitting scream. She pushed herself out of the casket in a heap, hyperventilating, futilely grasping at the dictionary to pry away the knife.  But it held fast, ever thirsty, and Twilight could only watch in horror as the shimmer of magic went out from her eyes.  Mirror’s forehooves twitched, and she curled herself into a ball, sobbing, face hidden behind her hooves. Syllisyth reached out toward her, letting loose a desperate cry cut short by Rainbow Dash’s hoof to its gut. Those around them stirred, the illusions placed upon them lifted, and the door slammed open, the guards outside leaping in. “Princess Twilight!”  One rushed to her side while the other helped Rainbow Dash pin Syllisyth to the floor. Twilight felt the guard’s body pressing her away from Mirror quicker than she could call him off.  “We’re here Ma’am.  We’ll take it from here.”  Over her shoulder.  “Sergeant, she’s bleeding!” The unicorn guard had already intervened for the door guard, having snagged Sylissyth in his aura and held it firmly against the wall.  He looked back at them.  He nodded at Rainbow Dash.  “So’s this one.  Ironclad,” he said to the private shaking his head clear of the illusions.  “Get the medical unit in here now!” “Sir!” the guard replied, rushing outside, where many curious faces peered in.  The sergeant slammed the door shut behind him with a flick of his horn. “Ma’am,” the guard beside Twilight said.  “Everything’s—”  Twilight brushed past him toward Rainbow Dash.   So much blood.  Soaking her coat, drenching her feathers.  Sweet Celestia… The smile painted on her face as she sat up made Twilight all the more fearful. “Rainbow,” Twilight said, frazzled, her hoof reaching out to hold her at any spot not slicked down.  “Are you alright?” The chuckle Rainbow Dash gave sent shivers down Twilight’s spine.  “Me?  Yeah, I’m fine.  Just a couple bites is all.  You’re the one that looks messed up.”  Her eyes followed the blood stains running down her coat, a hint of pride turning up the corner of her mouth. The sight made Twilight’s stomach churn, and she could hardly force her words.  “But you’re…”   Rainbow Dash laughed.  “You think this is bad?  You should see him.”  She smirked up at the changeling held against the wall by the sergeant’s magic.  It thrashed against its magical tethers, chitin fractured and dented, a foreleg bent in a direction it was never meant to go.  “That’ll teach you to mess with us!” Rainbow Dash yelled. Twilight sighed relief.  She was certainly fine if she could make remarks like that.  That left Zecora, who sat leaning against the bookshelf rubbing her head, and— “Spike!” Twilight rushed for the pile of books at the far end of the room.  She threw herself atop it without hesitation, tossing, shoving books aside.  He was in here.  He was still alive.  Her breathing became more frantic the further down she went.  He had to be. She froze at the sight of a little claw sticking out of the pile.  Twilight gingerly reached for it, almost recoiling when she touched it.  She threw aside the topmost book, and he lay beneath, eyes closed, jaw lax.  She put her hoof to his neck. She felt his pulse.  Faint, but there. The door opened behind her, and in crowded a hoofful of ponies hauling boxes of first-aid equipment.  A pair of unicorns bee-lined for her, their eyes and voices all over her like a swarm of parasprites.   Twilight waved them away.  “I’m fine, I’m fine!  Help Spike!”  They did as commanded, their attention centering on the little dragon they took to with penlights and diagnostic magic. Rainbow Dash’s voice cracked over the general fuss, something about not needing help and getting their hooves off of her.  It was hard to concentrate on anything but Spike.  She again saw him standing there, book raised, ready to fight, ready to defend her with his life.  How reckless he had been, how easily he could have been swept aside for good.  It was getting hard to breathe. A hoof wrapped itself around her shoulder, soft, gentle.  Zecora’s eyes smiled forlornly at her when she turned, and she could only manage raising a hoof to the one over her shoulder and snuggle her head into it. “A hard-fought battle you have won.”  A soft chuckle.  “Similar to Dolich’s son.  I’m sorry I could do no more than break the spell and hug the floor...” “You did more than your fair share, Zecora.”  She looked her in the eyes, smiling as genuinely as her rattled mind could.  “Thank you.” “As I said last night to you: the creed I live is tried and true.”  She looked over her shoulder.  “But now that we have won the fight, what is to come of Mr. Kite?” Twilight followed her gaze to Mirror sobbing silently on the floor, clutching at her heart and the dull redness oozing from it.  She felt the lack of magic within herself and knew her pain.  Though she herself had been the victim in this ordeal, she knew by experience—and no small bit of Zebra lore—what her role had become in all of it.   She strode toward Mirror, stopping just outside hoof reach.  The way she flinched signalled her awareness, but she made no attempt to look up, keeping her face hidden behind a hoof.  A few words worked up to Twilight’s tongue, vindictive phrases meant to salt the wound she had so deserved.  Her mouth opened of its own accord, but she held them back.  Such hurtful things were unbecoming of the paragon of friendship fate had destined her to be, she knew.  And if she were to have any hope of assuaging Mirror’s hatred, she had to start with herself. She stepped up beside the sergeant, who still held Sylissyth prisoner against the wall.  Without a word, she wrapped her aura about his, feeling both his eyes snap to her and his will recede.  She brought the screaming, drooling changeling down from the wall and set it before her, its rage dissolving into confusion. She let go, and the whole room tensed. “Princess!” the sergeant said. Twilight held up a hoof to him, and nopony made a sound.  She simply stared into Sylissyth’s millions of eyes, seeing the soft but steadfastness of herself looking back.  She gave a glance to Mirror, then back to Sylissyth. Its eyes stretched with hers and snapped to.  Head hunched, a hesitant hoof raised, it then dashed for Mirror, lying down beside her.  It placed a delicate hoof over her shoulder and chirruped into her ear, rocking gently back and forth.  The sight was enough to lessen the tension of the last two days, a reminder of what was truly important in the world. “May I ask why?” the sergeant said. Twilight smiled.  “Mirror has suffered a long time under her own emotions, and she’s done a lot of terrible things.  But, somewhere in it all…”  Twilight nodded at Sylissyth.  “She found friendship.  Nopony deserves to have that taken away from them.” Out the corner of her eye, she saw the medical team carrying Spike out on a stretcher.  “I trust you can manage the rest without me, Sergeant?”  She started after them without waiting for a response. She caught them at the door.  Hoof holding claw, the door opened to raucous commotion and curious eyes watching them pass by.  But her mind faded them into silence.  The only thing in the world that mattered at that moment lay beside her, and she wasn’t going to leave him for an instant.