From the darkness of the cave Twilight watched Rainbow Dash and Applejack grazing, and with each passing minute her insides twisted in tighter knots. She didn’t know if the Sky-Mares were still searching or what they might see from the sky, and each moment longer increased their chances of being spotted.
She consoled herself with the knowledge that at least if the two boneheads out there got themselves caught, she’d be able to stay hidden here, or teleport away to another spot she already knew was safe. Then she’d be free to—
Her thoughts were cut short by a surge of pain, and she brought a hoof to her forehead to massage the spot. The headache she’d been nursing for the past few days now seemed to have blossomed into a full-blown migraine, pulsing through her forehead and extending through her jaw and neck. It blended down into a dull ache over her entire torso, although she wasn’t sure anymore which was referred or real pain.
Almost as if to add insult to injury, her stomach grumbled loudly, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything substantial for several hours. Or maybe it was longer; she couldn’t recall exactly. She would have liked to leave the cave and graze with the others, but fear of being discovered pushed the desire back down.
At least the hunger had a quantifiable reason, unlike the pain. As best she could figure, her body ache was a by-product of rushed teleportation; the spell usually required at least a few moments mental and physical preparation, which would have tipped off the Sky-Mares to her intent.
Teleportation was also a relatively short-range, line-of-sight spell, certainly not intended for the large distance and multiple stone walls between the throne room and outer castle courtyard. Increased range and obstruction meant greater magical strain, more time in dimensional flux, quantum signal degradation, and less precise molecular reconstruction, among other things. Powerful sorcerers had been said to essentially teleport themselves out of existence trying to push the limits of the spell before fully understanding how it worked.
She also considered the possibility that her apparent head injury was at least partially to blame, according to Applejack anyway. Perhaps the Sky-Mares’ healing spell was incomplete or outdated, good enough for a millennium ago but no longer up to snuff with modern magics. That could be the cause of her splitting migraine, though it didn’t explain the ache in her ribs.
Twilight stopped and chuckled to herself; if Discord could see inside her brain at a time like this, he’d chide her for wasting time on “all that science-y mumbo-jumbo” and “logical deducing”. She should be taking rash action, throwing caution to the wind, making buffet tables and dancing balloon animals out of thin air, or something equally chaotic.
In fact, the last part wasn’t even a bad idea, now that she thought of it. Not the dancing balloon animals, but the buffet table.
Getting slowly to her hooves, she shrugged off her saddlebags and pushed them against a wall of the cave. A quick check revealed the Seeds of Discord were still tucked securely among items like her manebrush, other toiletries, and a few simple clothes. Unfortunately she had not packed any food or snacks, so a cheap imitation would have to do for now.
Pushing past the pain in her skull, she began focusing her magic. She recalled Discord’s primer on conjuring objects out of thin air, performed the mental incantation, and released the spell. A surge of agony nearly knocked her on her haunches again, but she gritted her teeth and blinked back tears until it subsided.
When the pain was back to manageable levels, she noted with satisfaction that the spell had worked as intended, materializing a small table set with various foods, some familiar and some entirely foreign to her. It was an attractive spread, although the place settings were sloppy and the dishes mismatched.
Not wanting to suffer even the moderate pain of levitating a small object, Twilight opted for the earth pony way, grabbing a stalk of celery off the table with her teeth. She chewed heartily, relishing the mild bitter taste before swallowing and setting her sights on a delicious-looking green apple.
As she enjoyed its crisp, juicy sweetness, she knew perfectly well that the conjured fruit wasn’t a long-term answer. The apple was a mere illusion with a half-life of a few hours, a solid shadow cast from the energy of another dimension; its mass would eventually decay and disappear like all magically-created objects, leaving no nutritional value or lasting satiation.
But for the moment the pseudo-matter rested convincingly enough on her empty stomach, and with each additional bite her hunger pangs gradually subsided until she felt full. A quick burst of magic dispelled the table and remaining food; thankfully that spell wasn’t very taxing and didn’t aggravate her migraine too badly. With luck, the imitation meal would be enough to keep her until she could eat something more substantial.
She managed to find a somewhat dry patch of cave floor and laid on her stomach, legs tucked. Peering out of the cave, she saw Rainbow Dash and Applejack sitting on the bank of a small brook some distance away under the trees. They were still talking, but their voices had lowered, and she could no longer distinguish any words. She tilted her head slightly and squinted, as if it might help her hear better.
Rainbow glanced back at the cave, then quickly away again. Her body language had changed somehow. Applejack looked back as well, then after a moment turned and whispered something to Rainbow.
Something felt wrong, but Twilight couldn’t put a hoof on it. Although she knew it was impossible for the other mares to see into the darkness from outside, she shifted uncomfortably and an uneasy feeling began to settle over her. While Applejack and Rainbow didn’t exactly seem like conspiratorial types, their actions and demeanors were furtive at best.
Applejack had made it abundantly clear she didn’t trust Twilight any further than she could throw her. Even though that was probably pretty far in real-world terms, Twilight knew she wouldn’t be able to step hoof within a hundred paces of a post office until Applejack was out of the picture.
Rainbow’s disposition was a little bit harder to guess. She had only said a couple words to Twilight so far, but it was clear she was fiercely loyal to Applejack by default. In fact, Applejack was probably playing on that loyalty right now, poisoning Rainbow’s mind even further with words of friendship and trust.
Twilight knew if those two turned against her, she’d never succeed. As a unicorn, she normally would have the advantage of pure magic over pegasi and earth ponies, but in her weakened state she could barely hope to stand against one of them, let alone both. Better to try and interrupt them from plotting against her before it went too far.
She forced herself back to her hooves, gritting her teeth against the protest of her joints. She walked forward to the very edge of the cave, taking care to stay hidden from any large patches of sky overhead.
“Are you two almost finished?” she called, hopefully just loud enough to carry no farther than the banks of the nearby stream.
Rainbow started, her wings fluttering reflexively. Applejack looked back and scowled; “Yeah, in a minute,” she replied, then turned and whispered something to Rainbow again.
A slight gust of wind rustled the trees. Twilight swallowed, throat tightening. “No, now!” she cried softly but insistently.
Applejack stomped sharply on the rocky edge of the riverbank. “Would you park your cart, Twilight? We’re tryin’ to have a conversation here!”
The snap of hoof on stone was probably not very loud, but to Twilight’s tense nerves it could very well have been a thunderbolt cracking overhead. “Are you crazy?!” she hissed. “Keep quiet or they’ll find us!”
The sunlight filtering down through the leaves dimmed as Applejack began to respond. “Now listen here, little miss—”
Something crashed through the forest canopy, bathing the ground in brilliant sunlight. The object struck between Twilight and the other two mares with tremendous force, sending a shockwave of dirt, stone, and grass in all directions.
Twilight flinched, but instead of being thrown back, an invisible force yanked her forward. For a brief moment, all she could see was a tiny pinprick of black that warped the very light around it, sucking her toward oblivion.
The dot suddenly blinked out of existence, and Twilight hit the forest floor, bouncing and skidding until she tumbled to a rough stop. Before she could get her bearings, a deep blue glow flashed, then disappeared.
Her head was spinning, throbbing with pain. The world looked skewed and blurry, swirls of green and brown, interspersed with glares of blinding light. Sound was muffled and dull. For a moment all she could feel was the agony in her skull, but gradually she could identify the sensation of cool grass underneath her back.
She tried to find her hooves and get upright. Her body refused to cooperate, and she only succeeded in rolling lazily onto her side. Her vision was clearing though, and as the world came into focus she discerned a dark shape looming nearby. A shape that gradually began to look like a very large pony.
“What good fortune,” the Night-Mare said. “Only two could we see, yet the troublesome third hath we snared as well.”
Twilight gasped, and hurriedly tried to recall the nearby teleportation destination she had prepared previously. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she focused, performed the spell, and released her magic.
Nothing happened.
She tried again, the agony in her head becoming nearly unbearable. Again the spell inexplicably failed, not even giving a slight interdimensional tug. She puzzled at the sudden inhibition, then something drew her vision downward and she realized the earth around her was etched with circular runes and lines.
“Hey, what is this!?” A short distance away above another rune circle, Rainbow Dash struggled to fly, wings churning against some invisible pull keeping her near the ground. Her face was contorted in pain, probably from the cramp she’d been complaining about earlier.
Applejack was similarly straining to escape. The muscles in her legs rippled, hooves planted firmly to the earth. She managed a step or two outside the runes before her considerable strength failed and she was pulled back into the center, panting and sweating.
The Night-Mare chuckled at their failure. “Cease thy vain strugglings little ponies. Far older and greater than thee are the magics we possess.”
Twilight’s heart was slamming against her ribs, threatening to burst out and escape without her. “Wh-what are you going to do with us?” she asked haltingly.
“Verily, for thy attempt to destroy the sacred Tree we would fain bring swift judgement,” the Night-Mare said with a frown, “but being as thy evil was possibly misguided, it is agreed thy punishment shall be temporarily stayed until the true affections of thy heart may be learned.”
She stepped closer and leaned down, eyes narrowing.“Honestly if it were only up to me, I’d kill you now just to be done with it.”
The voice was no longer earth-shatteringly powerful; it was now quiet as a whisper and clear as glass, with no antiquated affectation. The difference sent a shiver down Twilight’s spine.
“It’d be easy too,” the Night-Mare mused, cool malice rolling off her tongue, “just a quick snap of the neck or a hoof to the skull before Her Royal Sunshine gets here, and ‘oh no!’, you fought back and had to be put down.” She tsk-tsked sarcastically. “Such a pity. But let’s table that idea for now.”
Before Twilight could reply, the Night-Mare straightened back to full height and turned to the others. “For thee Applejack, not many may claim to have successfully struck the royal body in violence. Thy earth-strength hath few equals, and we are duly impressed.”
With a raised eyebrow, Applejack glanced at Twilight and Rainbow. “Uhhh… thank you, I guess?” she replied hesitantly.
The Night-Mare nodded. “Alas, such blatant disrespect must not go unanswered.” Her horn flared, and a sharp crack split the forest air.
Applejack screamed. For a split second Twilight caught a glimpse of something long and wavy snaking through the air, glowing the same silvery blue as the Night-Mare’s magic.
The whip cracked again, and another agonized shriek echoed through the trees; it was a sound Twilight had never even imagined a pony could make.
As abruptly as it had appeared, the whip vanished. Applejack collapsed and immediately rolled over onto her side, whole body shaking as her legs curled in tightly to her stomach.
“AJ!” Rainbow shouted. She whirled toward the Night-Mare. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”
“Question not,” the Night-Mare snapped. “Thou shouldst know the decreed punishment for even attempting violence on the royal body is two-score lashes; be thankful we are of merciful disposition this day.”
Rainbow’s mouth was already open to retort, but apparently thought better and held her tongue. Twilight didn’t believe the daredevil pegasus knew exactly what a “score” was, but she obviously understood that it was much more than two.
Stunned, Twilight herself merely stared at Applejack’s quivering body. Though the ethereal whip had left no obvious marks, the powerful muscles along Applejack’s spine were twitching and spasming. The strong, tough-natured pony was sobbing unabashedly, tears gushing down her cheeks as she curled into an ever-tighter ball.
“As for thee, Rainbow Dash,” the Night-Mare continued. “Despite thy impudence in the face of royalty, thou hast broken no law. Thou art free to go, and we bid thee fly swiftly lest our anger be kindled against thee.”
There was another flash from the Night-Mare’s horn, and the circle of runes around Rainbow disappeared.
“Whoa, what?” Surprised at her sudden freedom, Rainbow looked rapidly between Twilight and the Night-Mare. Confusion and disbelief flickered across her face for a moment, finally giving way to grateful relief until she glanced back to Applejack.
Something else appeared in Rainbow’s eyes then, more than simple loyalty or determination, something Twilight could not quite define. Whatever it was, that brief moment was all it took. In a blur of color, she was at Applejack’s side. She wrapped her forelegs and wings protectively around her trembling friend, both comforting and protecting, then glared up in defiance at the Night-Mare.
“Rainbow!” Twilight gasped. “What are you doing!? Get out of here!” As heartwarming as the gesture might be, it was also uselessly naive.
“No Twilight,” Rainbow replied firmly. “I’m staying right here.”
Twilight’s gut churned; she wasn’t friends with Rainbow any longer, but she didn’t want to see her hurt or killed either. Unable to do anything except watch, she looked up at the Night-Mare and waited for the whip to fall again.
For several moments, nopony moved. The Night-Mare was silent; her eyes flashed with tranquil fury and her jaw clenched repeatedly. Rainbow continued staring, unflinching. Applejack’s sobs had faded to quiet whimpers, muffled in the grass.
Finally, the Night-Mare nodded. “Very well, Rainbow Dash,” she said, slowly and deliberately with a threatening edge. “Thou hath cast thy lot with the accused; think not that thou will be afforded any mercy from here.
“In answer to thy question, Twilight Sparkle,” she continued, turning away from Rainbow and Applejack, “we shall imprison thee and thy friends until such time as thy fate be decided.”
More fears and questions rose in Twilight’s mind, but before she was able to give voice to any of them a movement above the trees caught her eyes.
Swooping into the broken forest canopy, the Day-Mare dove through the broken branches, sunlight gleaming off her brilliant coat. She half-turned to bleed off speed, and flared to a graceful stop next to the Night-Mare. “Feórraweg ofér weald ic wæs. Gélimpan hwæt?”
“Thæs thrie fand ic.” the Night-Mare replied cooly. “Tha ánhorn ónhearm so thu wýscan, gieta on éorthewealcend min prýto gésadian ic. Fer wengefleógestre, toleas héo wýlful ic, giéta abidán wid fréonde céosan héo.”
The Day-Mare frowned slightly. “Ondón scéolde thu widútan mé,” she said, looking down at Applejack and Rainbow. The latter glared back up in silence, still holding Applejack protectively. “Gieta, swa hit be. Stryngháldan bríngan hie wýlla ic. Gán, loc wid spél mácian ræde.”
Night-Mare paused. She stared at the Day-Mare, as if deciding whether to speak. After a moment, she turned to Twilight, eyes filled with cold anger and hatred beyond compare.
It was a gaze that caught Twilight’s breath in her throat and nearly stopped her heart.
The moment passed, then the Night-Mare spread her wings, almost silently taking to the sky. In seconds, she disappeared beyond the trees.
Twilight released her breath. Her foreleg was trembling and her mind raced with confusion; as much as the Night-Mare’s hateful stare had been for Twilight, the dark alicorn had stared at her light counterpart with every ounce of that same hatred, if not more.
With a sigh, the Day-Mare strode toward Rainbow and Applejack. “Bædlic hyrthad héo be?” Her voice was soft and low, unlike the powerful tone she had used earlier.
Rainbow seemed taken aback at the kindness in the voice, and glanced at Twilight quizzically. Twilight shrugged in response; the two ancient princesses and their language were as much a mystery to her as anypony.
“Uhh, I… don’t understand what you just said,” Rainbow replied hesitantly.
“Swær be æppeljákke wúndu?” The Day-Mare gestured toward Applejack.
“I think she might be asking if Applejack is hurt…?” Twilight suggested hesitantly. Although she could not discern any specifics, the language was probably an ancient precursor to modern Discordian and some of the words were beginning to sound distantly familiar.
“I don’t really know,” Rainbow responded to Twilight, voice tinged with worry. “She’s still shaking, but I can’t see any marks on her.”
A golden glow suddenly appeared around Rainbow, pulling her into the air and off Applejack’s curled body. “Hey! Put me down!” she shouted indignantly, writhing against the magical energy. “Leave her alone or you’ll regret it!”
Apparently the Day-Mare was tired of waiting for the language barrier to come down. Holding Rainbow aloft a short distance away, her golden magic danced over Applejack’s back and torso as if searching for something.
It didn’t take long, and after a moment the Day-Mare stepped back. “Wúndu nan hábban, giéta micél hyrtol be héo. Hwænne wé becúman stryngháldan, hóo giefán frófor wýlla ic.”
The glow around Rainbow disappeared, dropping her to the ground. Immediately she rushed back to Applejack’s side and assumed a protective stance.
New magic gathered around the Day-Mare’s horn, and Twilight could feel a familiar tingle in the air. She opened her mouth to protest, but the world stretched in that odd way, and she felt the spell pull her away from the clearing. For a split second trees, sky, earth, and stone whipped past. Her ears popped, and suddenly she was wrapped in darkness, with cool, smooth stone beneath her hooves.
After a moment she realized the side effects of being forcibly teleported over a long distance were strangely absent. Her whole body still ached, but no more than before. Without the nausea and mental fog, it took only seconds to reorient herself as her eyes adjusted.
She was in a small, grey cell similar to the ones she’d passed in the dungeon-basement of the old castle. The three walls and barred iron door were unremarkable, but the floor was etched with a larger version of the same runes the Night-Mare had used in the forest, stretching from wall-to-wall. In the darkness, she could now see the runes were dimly luminescent, glowing the same deep blue she’d seen previously in the castle halls.
Across the hall from her, Applejack was lying in another identical cell. Above the barred doorway, a single greenish-white light gem glowed. Based on the amount of light and the pattern of shadows, there was probably another similar gem above Twilight’s own cell.
Rainbow was nowhere to be seen, but the Day-Mare stood in the hallway, facing away from Twilight. She was focusing her golden-hued magic, which danced briefly over Applejack’s back and head before ceasing.
“What are you doing to her?!”
The shout made Twilight jump, and her heart briefly redoubled its panicked pounding.
”You better not be hurting her again!”
The voice had come from somewhere to the left, and Twilight realized Rainbow had been placed in the adjacent cell, hidden from sight by the thick stone walls. Almost immediately she pushed the startled anxiety back with a scowl. “Rainbow, if you don’t stop yelling I’m going to disappear the snout right off your face!”
Rainbow’s tirade cut off in surprise. After a moment, she replied apprehensively; “You can do that?”
“There’s always a first time for everything,” Twilight grumbled.
“She shall not be harmed, Rainbow Dash.” From the corridor to the right, the Night-Mare strode into view. “She hath been sufficiently chastised until such time as we shall judge her guilt in other matters.”
“Guilt?” Rainbow replied indignantly. “What’s she done to be guilty for?”
“She hath conspired with Twilight Sparkle, the Tree of Harmony to destroy.”
Twilight gasped as she realized the misunderstanding. “No, that’s not true!” she protested, stepping forward. “Applejack was only trying —”
The Night-Mare whirled on her. “SILENCE, THOU PUPPET OF CHAOS!” she shouted, making everypony in the dungeon startle and jump. “Seek not to deceive our judgment with thy treasonous tongue!”
Quailing before the earth-shattering verbal onslaught, Twilight stumbled back to the farthest corner of her cell, ears ringing. Her migraine returned in full force and tears leaked from her eyes as she bit her lip against the pain.
After a moment of silence, the Day-Mare spoke, almost inaudibly. “Móna, spécan thu syndrig mæg ic?”
The Night-Mare turned and glared briefly at her sister, then quickly stepped out of sight.
As hoofsteps receded a short distance down the dungeon corridor, the Day-Mare stepped to Rainbow’s cell. For a moment she seemed to ponder, before leaning down toward Rainbow. “Slæpan,” she said slowly, and pointed to the motionless Applejack.
“Uh…” Rainbow didn’t give any indication she understood in the slightest.
“Slæpan. Ræstan héo,” the Day-Mare said, more insistently. Then she closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side, imitating a light snore.
“Oh!” Twilight could hear the excited understanding in Rainbow’s voice. “She’s sleeping!”
“Gise! ‘Sleeping’ héo. Ræstán héo móste, bæcúman sóna wýllan wé.” The Day-Mare was wearing a bemused grin at her successful communication. “Sleeping...” she said to herself, as she turned from the cell and followed the Night-Mare. “wýrd hu micél óndyde wéarte thæt…”
Their hoofsteps faded, and somewhere in the distance a heavy door closed and latched. Silence fell over the dungeon as the echo faded, leaving Twilight and Rainbow Dash alone in the dim, pale-green light.
After a few moments, Rainbow spoke. “So… why do you think she put Applejack to sleep?”
Twilight shrugged reflexively although she knew Rainbow couldn’t see her. “I wish I knew.” she said shakily, rubbing her ears and wiping the tears from her cheeks. Thankfully the ringing was subsiding and the pain in her head was gradually fading.
She couldn’t understand why her actions warranted such malice from the Night-Mare. Granted, she had probably violated some ancient laws by trying to destroy the Tree of Harmony, but while the Night-Mare was vindictive and harsh, the Day-Mare seemed mildly perturbed at worst, even somewhat sympathetic. The two alicorns were turning out to be complete opposites in more than just color.
“What do you think they’re gonna do to us?”
“I really don’t know.” Twilight got back to her hooves and walked to the door of her cell. The bars of the cell door were iron, spaced closely enough that she could only push her snout through. The door was locked with a binding spell instead of any key or mechanical means. She could probably break the spell under normal circumstances, but a quick probe confirmed she still couldn’t even conjure a basic light spell.
“What did she mean with you and AJ destroying the ‘Tree of Harmony’ or whatever it was?”
Twilight groaned and sat on her haunches, resting her aching forehead against the cool iron bars. “It’s complicated.” she mumbled.
“Implying I can’t follow along?” Rainbow’s voice had an air of indignant challenge.
Even though she couldn’t actually Rainbow past the own cell wall, Twilight scowled sideways through the bars. “I didn’t say that,” she replied, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice, “but since you asked: the Tree of Harmony is that crystal tree I was studying in the caves near here. Its power counteracts Chaos, which is why I was so interested to study it.”
“What does that have to do with us?”
“As I spent time with the five of you, I found a connection between your friendships, and the magic from the Tree of Harmony,” Twilight continued. “When I finally suspected what it was, I reported to Discord. He sent me back to destroy the Tree so it wouldn’t be able to spread Harmony and trap anyone else.” She sighed. “As you can probably guess, I failed.”
“So…” Rainbow paused for a moment. “If the Tree’s magic is connected to our friendship… then what would happen if you destroyed it?”
“Well, I hoped it would break the hold Harmony has over you,” Twilight replied. Fatigue, pain, and general frustration had chipped away at whatever tact she might have cared to express. “You’ve been blinded by its lies, thinking that it would bring you happiness.”
“Lemme get this straight… you’re saying we’ve just been brainwashed by a magic tree? That’s the only reason we’re friends?”
“Precisely.” Twilight stood back up and began wandering aimlessly around the cell. “In reality, your friendships are an illusion, a crutch that makes you dependent on the emotional whims of others instead of accepting your fate and trusting Chaos.”
She paused, but Rainbow remained silent. After a moment without a response, she decided to press a little further. “See, that’s the insidious thing about Harmony,” she continued, “it fills you with all these good feelings, but in the end it’s just smoke and mirrors. Harmony can’t stand up to Chaos, and—”
“Argh, enough!” Rainbow’s hooves slammed into the shared wall hard enough to shake dust off the stonework and make Applejack shift restlessly in her sleep. “I don’t care about ‘chaos this’ and ‘chaos that’. We were doing just fine until you came along!”
The interruption made Twilight sputter. “I just— well, I was only trying to help y—”
“Help us!?” Rainbow’s wings fluttered audibly. “You weren’t just abandoning our friendship, you were going to destroy it! Were you ever really our friend? Or was it all fake?”
A small lump rose in Twilight’s throat at the memory of sobbing violently while she penned five identical letters by candlelight. “I was… misguided. The pull of harmony is powerful—” She shook her head to clear the sudden prick of conscience. “But that doesn’t matter; your friendships aren’t real.”
“Who gave you the right to decide what’s real and what’s not!?” Rainbow snapped, voice suddenly strained. “It was real for us! It was real for—” The rising tirade cut off abruptly.
A few seconds passed. Her own emotions back under control, Twilight stepped to the bars of her cell. “Well, Rainbow?” she prodded, prepared to debate in earnest.
“Ugh, you just don’t get it,” came the reply, quieter now.
“Don’t get what?”
“Just shut up,” Rainbow said brusquely. “Shut up and leave me alone.”
For a moment Twilight thought of pressing the issue, but a little voice in her head reminded her that she still needed help to survive this predicament. While she could probably browbeat Rainbow into submission intellectually and philosophically, doing so would likely create an enemy instead of an ally.
Besides, something in Rainbow’s voice had triggered a sense of restraint. Twilight couldn’t put a hoof on it, but somehow she felt less inclined to begin brutally deconstructing Rainbow’s blind worship of Harmony.
After a few minutes of pointless meandering, she settled for examining the runes and magic bindings on her cell. While the runes inhibited any kind of active spellcasting, she could still observe and passively interact with the magical energies to a limited extent, and began probing and observing the spells where possible.
It was a slow process. Rune magic was a lost art at best; the runes themselves yielded no hints as to their origin or capabilities, and the few surviving books on the subject were filled with more mysticism than fact. About the only thing they agreed on was that a properly constructed rune circle could maintain complex spells for days, weeks, or even years if the practitioner was powerful enough.
Some experimentation revealed that the magical fields were alive with activity, and she quickly realized part of the rune-magic seemed to function as some sort of lock, made up of swirling eddies and waves interacting and reacting in complex feedback loops. With the right combination or key, the lock could be picked, breaking the spell.
In theory she could try every possible combination, although it would probably be shorter to sit and wait for the spell to degrade and expire on its own. Still, it was better than doing nothing, and she quickly got to work.
After nearly two hours experimenting, Twilight sat on her haunches among various rudimentary rock-scratched diagrams and begrudgingly concluded it was effectively impossible to escape without being released. She’d tried hundreds of combinations and nearly exhausted her own knowledge and magic, but the Night-Mare had deftly closed every possible weakness in the spell.
Another cramp made her double over and clutch at her midsection. Hunger pangs had been gradually creeping up on her for the last half-hour, made doubly worse because magically-conjured food had degraded sooner than she expected.
She must have groaned out loud, because Rainbow Dash moved across her own cell toward the bars. “Twilight? You okay?” The question was almost obligatory, but there was still some concern in Rainbow’s voice.
“I’m hungry,” Twilight admitted. “I haven’t eaten anything for hours.”
“Can’t say you didn’t have the chance.”
The barb stung more than it should have. Twilight was already berating herself for not grazing with the others, and having Rainbow point it out was like salt on the wound.
“I know, I know,” she grumbled. “For your information, I wasn’t exactly planning on getting caught again, but some of us just couldn’t stay put.” She passive-aggressively emphasized the latter phrase.
“Yeah, I guess that’s fair…” Rainbow’s hoof scuffed across the stone floor as she trailed off. “Hey, how’s the magical escape attempt going?” she asked, changing the subject.
Twilight glanced at the dividing wall with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. “How did you know?”
“You’ve been talking to yourself, duh.”
Although she didn’t recall doing so, Twilight could admit that did sound like her. “Fair enough. It’s going pretty poorly, to be honest,” she said, idly reviewing her rock-scratched notes. “I’ve tried everything I can think of, but I can’t seem to crack this rune circle. It’s like a lock without a key, if that makes sense. The combination seems to be set by an evolving waveform with multiple harmonic sub-frequencies, and each one is tied to a self-modifying—”
Rainbow pretended to stifle a very loud yawn.
At first, Twilight’s instinct was to bristle at the interruption, but the feeling dissipated as the absurdity of explaining the spell in such detail became apparent. “I suppose that doesn’t really matter, huh?”
“You pretty much lost me after the key part,” Rainbow replied.
An involuntary chuckle escaped Twilight’s throat and Rainbow laughed softly. For a brief moment, the unexpected levity seemed to make the situation a little more bearable, but awkward silence quickly fell over the dungeon again.
For Twilight the laughter triggered memories of several weeks ago, when such a joke might have prompted a self-depreciating “country bumpkin” parody from Applejack, or a gut-busting non-sequitur from Pinkie Pie. She recalled shivering in the town hall with Rarity while passing out blankets to other freezing ponies, helping Fluttershy and Zecora tend to sick fillies at the cottage, the ineffable relief and gratitude when Rainbow Dash saved her from the timberwolves in the old castle.
Her mind stopped on the last one. The memory overlapped the events of two hours previous, when Rainbow had similarly ignored her own freedom to protect Applejack from the Night-Mare. She remembered the indefinable look in Rainbow’s eyes; that fierce, undying devotion that somehow superseded even loyalty.
But what caused her heart to skip a beat, what made her breath catch in her throat, was realizing she’d seen that same look before, when Rainbow had selflessly saved her from certain painful death at the teeth of the timberwolves.
She swallowed forcefully and tried to ignore the memory, but her mind wouldn’t let it go. She mulled the images around again and again, trying to make sense of it, and yet she could not help but come up short.
“Rainbow?” she asked, stepping nearer to the bars of the cell.
“…Yeah?”
Twilight took a deep breath. “What happened out there in the forest?”
“What do you mean?” Rainbow sounded confused but curious.
“When the Night-Mare let you go,” Twilight explained. “Why… why did you stay? Why didn’t you run?”
Thick silence shrouded the two cells as the question hung in the air. Twilight waited with bated breath.
“…I don’t know,” Rainbow said, her voice thin. “It just… felt like the right thing to do.”
“No, there’s more to it than that,” Twilight pressed. “I saw something in you, something I’ve only ever seen once before when you saved me from the timberwolves. It was more than just loyalty, Rainbow, and I need to know what it was.”
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard Rainbow’s breathing grow shaky. For what seemed like forever, the only sound was the occasional shuffle of hooves. Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. “I guess—”
Somewhere down the hall, a latch clicked and Rainbow’s words died in her throat. Twilight’s ears perked as the distant door creaked open.
In the neighboring cell, Rainbow’s hooves scrambled forward. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” Twilight replied, peeking through the bars as far as she could. A white horn appeared from the hallway to the right, and she stepped back away from the bars. “It’s the Day-Mare; she’s coming back.”
Quickly striding into view, The Day-Mare stopped abreast of Twilight’s cell. Inexplicably, the Night-Mare was nowhere to be seen.
For a few moments she stood silently, glancing back and forth between Twilight and Rainbow. Even in the dim green light, her pearlescent coat was practically glowing, somehow brightening the whole hall. Her expression was stoic, but her eyes seemed to betray concern or uncertainty.
Finally her gaze settled on Twilight, and she spoke. “Spæc micel habbán ic wid min sweóstor.” she said, “Gieta ræcán to fríd wé oncúnnan. Und to thu cúman ic, sécan triéwd.”
Twilight’s heart quickened as her brain jumped from possibility to possibility, each more frightening than the last. “I’m sorry,” she said, praying the words were not her death sentence. “I can’t understand you.” For good measure, she shrugged apologetically and tried to act as meek as possible.
The Day-Mare shook her head and sighed. “Ongód thés. Sumóther weg móste do wé.” She motioned with her hoof, seeming to beckon Twilight toward her.
Caught by indecision, Twilight hesitated and quickly weighed the options in her head. On the one hoof, she knew the history of the two princesses, and didn’t feel she could trust them to be anything but brutal despots, bending all to their will in blind pursuit of control via Harmony. Agreeing to whatever the Day-Mare wanted might be the last decision of her life.
On the other, resisting thus far had been fruitless, and she could see no possible way to escape unless the alicorns allowed it. Twilight knew she was less than nothing in the face of such awesome power, yet for some reason the Day-Mare was asking for cooperation instead of using compulsion. Perhaps this was a trick, but she could think of no reason to expect one.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she stepped forward. The few steps from the center of the cell to the bars seemed interminably long, but in a moment she was standing within touching distance of the Day-Mare.
“Uh, Twilight? What’s happening?” Rainbow’s voice was tinged with apprehension.
Twilight didn’t answer. The Day-Mare had locked eyes with her. Large, bright eyes with brilliant purple irises only a few shades lighter than her own. Eyes filled with wisdom and power, but also kindness like she’d never seen.
“Uncúdfelung mæg be thés,” the Day-Mare said softly. She lowered her head, horn beginning to glow softly at the point. “Ure gémynd scearu, swá cnawan thóht mæg wé.”
Inexplicably, almost as if she were in a trance, Twilight felt herself agreeing with the foreign words. Somewhere far away she could hear Rainbow calling, insisting she answer, but she ignored the voice. This was, somehow, far more important. Her head tilted gently forward, and her eyes half-closed, relaxing as she leaned toward the Day-Mare until their horns touched.
Twilight’s mind erupted violently in a surge of sensations; color, sound, smell. Images flashed at her. Places, words, faces, feelings. Not her own, another’s. Too fast, too much. She tried to scream, but it only came out muffled and thin. Different and alien, the torrent of consciousness threatened to drown her.
Almost immediately, she felt a presence take hold. It was strong, a steady rock in the river of thoughts, and Twilight clung to it like a foal to her mother. It began guiding her, wading through the noise. With each subtle pull or push, the whirling thoughts and feelings became softer and clearer.
She could perceive the memories now, if that’s what they were. Standing in green fields with blue skies, white clouds drifting lazily overhead. Catching herself in a mirror, haggard and bloody, twigs in her purple hair. A deep blue alicorn laughing at her then galloping away, her own white hooves pursuing playfully. Journal pages of uneven words, damp and splotchy.
Her brain reeled again, and the presence nearby took firmer hold of her. She couldn’t hear a voice, but it felt as if…
Words swirled in her head, some foreign, some familiar. Maybe she could learn some of them? She reached, trying to remember what it was like to speak, to hear and understand.
“W-why?” she asked. Or perhaps she thought it; she couldn’t hear herself speak.
“Help… see… know…”
“See… what? Know?”
More memories. Fields rushing past windows, patchwork and technicolor. Love, hope. Smaller ponies, smiling up at her. Discord. Darkness pushing back the light. Pink mane and a concerned smile. A kaleidoscope of chaos. Crystal branches and gem leaves. Pain and cold. A bag of black seeds. Empty insides where her heart should be. Frozen in time, waiting for it all to end.
The presence shifted again, and she saw her kingdom. Saw it rise, saw it fall, felt the horror as all sanity crumbled below her hooves. Her will faltered, unable to cope with the piecemeal dismemberment of all she loved. She pulled away in terror, straining against the distant blackness, for release—
Twilight saw the stone floor flying up to meet her a split second before she smashed into it. Her mind reeled as physical sensation flooded back into consciousness. She lay prone for several moments trying to readjust, then shook her head and forced her eyes to see straight again.
Looking up, she saw the Day-Mare sitting slumped but awake against the bars of Applejack’s cell. One foreleg twitched and her white chest heaved in great gasping breaths.
Gradually a voice faded in from somewhere nearby, calling her name “—ilight, are you okay? Say something!”
“...Ugh.” Twilight tapped a hoof against her head, trying to clear the fog. “I’m okay… I think.”
“What happened?” Rainbow’s voice seemed on the verge of cracking from anxiety.
“I’m not sure.” Sitting up, Twilight refocused her eyes manually again, and saw the Day-Mare now staring at her intently. “I think Celestia tried to read my mind.”
“...Who?”
“Celestia.” She pointed, again momentarily forgetting Rainbow couldn’t see. “She touched my horn and—” Twilight’s jaw dropped, brain finally catching up to what her mouth was saying.
From across the hall the alicorn princess smiled. “A pleasure it is to meet thee, Twilight Sparkle,” she said, still a little breathless. “I perceive there is much that we must speak about.”