Dear Princess Twilight
We, the Intertime Board of Magical Distortion, do formally invite you to the annual (mostly) Non-Linear Ball. Attached you will find your invitation, and Intertimepiece. Please arrive no sooner that the 8th hour, and 2 years in your past, at the Castle of the Two Sisters.
Housekeeping shall be conducted as follows, to save time:
- The second ticket is not for a guest of your choice, rather, you must send the letter to yourself, and the second invitation is merely the version we made, and then sent to you, so that you could send it to yourself. So that you could send it to yourself.
- Should you misuse the Intertimepiece in any way, do be warned that the Board can, and will, erase you from existence entirely
- By concentration on the times provided, the Intertimepiece shall be activated. It can also be used to encounter rotating non-time by a mask, achieved for this device from travellers while your Ball may at the quarter-turn that you left and the presence is once.
- Amenities are provided
Cordially,
The Intertime Board of Magical Distortion
Spike sneezed again; he hadn’t stopped since the letter had arrived. Twilight reread the note for the umpteenth time, and still puzzled at the overall meaning, and the strange writing at the bottom. It had arrived in a thick, rough paper envelope that was stretched taut by the presence of the letter, two identical gold-foiled slips of decorated marble slats that served as tickets, and a distinct circular object that rested on top of the peculiar pile.
After replacing the letter in the envelope, Twilight, filled with the same curious nature a foal lives and breathes, removed the disc from the paper sheath surrounding it. Quite small yet proportionally thick, it looked as though it was designed to fit within the boundaries of a horseshoe. Twilight pressed it against her rear hoof, balancing rather precariously on two diagonally separated legs.
It fit almost perfectly, and as she pressed it, she learned that it depressed slightly, on a spring system that made a click after she pushed it a certain amount. The two halves separated by the mechanism spun independently, and Twilight guessed that turning them would operate some feature of the device, based on the quarter-turn mentioned in the obscure letter.
That particular point was particularly obfuscating, as if accidentally or deliberately scrambled. Twilight supposed that if the letter really did time-travel, then perhaps the timing of when the words appear on the page became jumbled up in transit. Or perhaps the sender had intentionally mixed up the words to make Twilight curious.
Spike groaned, prompting Twilight’s concern.
“Are you all right?”
“I will be. Just don’t go sending any letters for a few days.”
Twilight laughed.
“I’ll ask Derpy to deliver them instead.”
The castle air was thick with magic, Twilight had to wade through it as she used her horn to teleport Spike into his bed upstairs. She could sense it with the alicorn magic that surged through her, reflected off the faceted walls. A powerful magic had recently occurred, and this knowledge helped set Twilight’s mind at rest to the idea that the letter had indeed been sent from another time.
The Ball, purportedly established by the enigmatic Intertime Board of Magical Distortion, was inviting, and even though a little confusing, very exciting also. And for whatever purpose, it did seem as though it had been planned with the most precise accuracy. For those reasons, Twilight was convinced that the Board, at least in some capacity, was real, even though its motives remained murky.
Now the real question became whether or not she would attend. While the attraction of meeting powerful sorcerers from all across time was immensely appealing, the opposite end of the spectrum was also desirable to Twilight. Staying out of anything she didn’t fully understand would spare her blundering into an impossible or dangerous situation. A tug-of-war began to take control of Twilight’s actions.
There was a very real chance that this Ball had nefarious purpose. The sender of the letter obviously was not particularly well-versed in the dragon message spell, evidenced by the greenish hue of Spike’s face and his constant sneezing, and this could be an indicator of a sinister plot. Even the disordered words could be just a lure to trap her into a much grander and more malicious scheme.
This, however, wasn’t the paramount reason against Twilight attending. The summer sun celebrations had passed this year, meaning they also would have two years ago. In turn, this meant that Twilight would be living in Ponyville at the time when she travelled back. The possibility of them meeting was very high, and the risks were far higher.
Against her inner desire to meet other time travellers, Twilight placed the disk back into the envelope. She folded it up and went back to her chore for that day. That happened to be re-sorting all the castle’s many, many books.
“Twilight, just leave me here,” whispered White Iron, her metal frame wedged firmly between the two huge concrete slabs. Her actuators whined in exasperation, and the diesel engine roared like a tiger, but to no avail. Encrusted deep within her metal shell, White Iron gave Twilight a look of total despair.
All around her, dancers swirled and twisted, some passing mere whiskers away from the traumatic scene playing out right before them. Dressed elegantly, and stepping in perfect key with unheard music, the partners leapt and graced across the floor of the castle forecourt. Fixations froze on their cold faces, happiness, delight, ecstasy and adoration for the silent tune and their partners. They gave the impression of hopeful ghosts.
“I will not leave you here to die,” Twilight firmly spoke, drawing out a small, thin smile from the pony within the battlesuit.
“You don’t get a choice, Twi. I’m not fixed in time like you are.”
“No, you don’t get a choice. I will save you.”
Twilight extended a hoof into her dusty saddlebag, debris shaking loose from the folds in the fabric. She pulled out her pristine envelope, and withdrew her own second ticket. Then, careful not to disturb the wreckage around her, she took White Iron’s envelope from the floor beside her, and placed the second ticket next to the lonely one inside the crumpled paper wrapping. The mare wearing the armoured battlesuit cried in helpless desperation as her body began to slowly disappear in sharp segments, hallmarked by crackles of grey.
“Twilight, don’t! Just save yourself.”
“How can I when you have so much to look forward to in your life? Your rotation is almost over, Claus is waiting for you.”
Tears welled up in White Iron’s eyes as Twilight’s words sunk in. They were true, all of them, but Twilight would be sending her life into infinite oblivion by making that sacrifice.
“No, no.” The memory of Claus, the forethought of Claus was too much. She refused to think at all. This was the end for her, White Iron could feel it, even as her heart became lost to time forever, disappearing in a carapace of grey, scaly abyss. Before she could say another word, Twilight released a wave of magic, causing White Iron’s invitation to vanish in a ball of eldritch flame and ethereal fire. A multicoloured wave of red, yellow and orange leapt from the scroll, towering high above Twilight’s kneeling body, and illuminating the trapped frame of White Iron in brilliant colour.
Suddenly, their roles were reversed, not physically but magically. Twilight clutched at her chest as the deep feeling of endless emptiness welled in her, pooling in ponds of nothingness. As the magic began to engulf her body, as she lost sensation to her ankles, then to her knees, the dancers turned slowly, all at once. They faced her now, but still they said nothing, even as swirls of orange flame continued to lick at the sky above Twilight.