//------------------------------// // Chapter 6 // Story: The Failed Spell // by silverspawn //------------------------------// Had she really been feeling better earlier today? It was hard to imagine, and it seemed to lay far, far back. The crows were all gone, and hoof in hoof with their departure, Twilight's condition had gotten worse, as if the birds had somehow carried a part of the burden for her. Now, every step was a nightmare, sending a throbbing wave of pain from the tip of her hoof through her entire leg. Yesterday, a part of her may have wondered why was even this bad; despite the uncomfortable surface and the fact that she was not equipped for walking, it had still only been three days. But today, it didn’t matter. The why was powerless, a pointless thing to ask. Where were the blissful moments of unconsciousness that had guided her throughout the past day? How could she have dared whining about them feeling too short, how could she not have realized what a wonderful gift they were nonetheless? Where were the times when the pain had merely been something annoying, something which was only even a problem due to its persistency? Time was stretching out, and every moment seemed ephemeral. The past lay beneath a hazy cloud of pale red fog, a curtain of pain. For all she could tell, she was close to losing her mind... so why was it that she wasn’t fantasizing? Why was she not imagining a wide meadow of flowers, an expanse of blissful green beauty? Why wasn’t she imagining mountains lining up under the horizon, reaching high into the air, yet all over covered by grass and moss? Why wasn’t she seeing white clouds hovering above, not unlike ships sailing across the horizon? A giant orb hovering above it all, its surface made of different shades of green, and a light blue shade on every point where its outline bled into the air, perhaps covered by white if a cloud happened to be in front... What was it doing there? It was this question which she should devote her attention to. What was keeping it in the air? Twilight liked to imagine that it was large, huge, massive, big enough to fill an entire field of vision when standing below it. She had only looked at it from far away, not being aware of its true scope, the same way the sun seemed tiny when looked at it from the world. Was the orb as big as the sun? No, that was not enough, it had to be even larger. But it could not hold anything, even if it was unaffected by gravity, it could not make other things stick... Twilight shook her head. This was not working. The imagination had not served to keep out the pain, nor the hunger, nor her exhaustion. It had been useless, futile... and yet, wasn’t it there, the orb, hovering in the distance, not far off were they were heading? She redid the direction spell, and miraculously, it changed their course so that the orb was now directly in front. And it was something she had to reach... Pain. A concept she now understood entirely. Her mind had not degenerated far enough for her to become oblivious to what the orb symbolized. She was treading the narrow line between sanity and madness, and she had reached a point wherein her imagination was painting objects onto her field of vision that her mind could still analyze as such, even if they looked indistinguishable to her naked eye. The orb was the absence of pain, and it lay ahead because that’s what she hoped to reach, but she couldn’t get closer. But did pain have to be a bad thing? Was it not, unlike nausea, only perceived as bad if it was too much, if it became overwhelming? Was it not simply a strengthened version of the same thing she felt when getting in touch with any object? And if it was not inherently bad, was it not possible for her to learn not to suffer from it? Rather than attempting to shut it out, would the solution not be to embrace it, to bend herself rather than her perceptions, to the point that she could endure, maybe even enjoy it? No. It did not matter why it was harmful. It did not matter if it was only bad because there was too much of it. It was there, and it caused her to suffer, and there was no way to change it just by altering her perception. And she had to escape. Twilight was at a point where she would be willing to do anything, everything, to get rid of the pain. So why was there nothing? She was one of the most powerful magicians in existence, was there nothing she could do? She knew that there were spells against pain, but she had never learned them. She did not spend any more time dwelling on this fact, as it would not help her in reaching her goal. If she did not know a spell, she had to improvise. She was powerful enough to do it, and despite the huge risks that could result in her immediate death, it would still be worth it. Already, her mind had begun to work out the best way to go about it... But she stopped. She had been wrong in thinking that she would do anything to escape the pain. She would not. Rarity was here with her, and it was her responsibility to get her home. Risking her own life meant risking Rarity’s, and that was a risk she simply was not allowed to take, not as long as it wasn’t necessary. Twilight squeezed her eyes, and then she opened them. The green orb and the fog in front of her eyes disappeared, and her vision sharpened. Rarity was still walking beside her, and the pain that each step send through her body was something she would have to endure, it was as simple as that. Lifting her head, she let out a breath full of unspoken feelings and misery, and she continued to press forward. Determinism was no cure to pain, and neither was a lack of options. Her fever dream, not self-inflicted, but tolerated and unfought, was over, failing its promise of mitigation. Her moment of weakness was behind her, the decision had been made, the right route had been chosen. The test had been passed, and she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that even her future self would never betray her, and stick to her decision. But the pain was still there. Her thoughts, her internal conflict, her temporary resistance, her decisions, her discoveries, none of it helped. They could not ease the pain, because the pain was not connected to them, an external thing, something she could only observe, but never change. The thought right now did not help, and she might aswell not have it. There was no reason to think, to distract, to explore, to explain, to observe. There was no reason to do anything except walking. And if nothing mattered, then why did she bother? Should she simply do the easiest thing? But what was the easiest thing? Was the easiest thing to mull over her situation, again and again, just for her mind to be occupied? Trying to think about something nice would be a struggle, unnecessary, futile. She had no interest in doing it, no reason to bother. She would not bother. But it was not the easiest thing. The easiest thing would be to stop thinking entirely... let it all end... She redid the direction spell and adjusted her course. She didn't need to think to walk ahead. She did not know how long it had been, but at some point, it became too much. She had decided to be reasonable, not to risk her life, but she had not decided to stay strong. And so she stopped walking, and then she screamed, and somehow, that really did seem to take a tiny bit of the pain away. And so she did it again. Pulling as much air into her lungs as she could, she closed her eyes and screamed, loud, loud, into the air. Then she hung her head, looked at Rarity, and felt tears dwelling up inside her. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I hope I didn’t...” She left the sentence unfinished, and after a few moments, she closed her eyes again. “I can’t go further, Rarity. I’m sorry.” It did not take long, and Twilight could feel the warm touch of hooves, the promise of rest, of shelter. She drowned herself in Rarity’s embrace, bathing in the heavenly alleviation of pain and exhaustion, weeping silently into the white fur. “Rarity... tell me you’re not feeling as bad as I am. Please, tell me it’s only gotten this bad for one of us.” “I’m better than earlier today,” Rarity answered, and an enormous weight was taken off Twilight’s heart, so much that it almost brought a smile to her lips. “I’m sorry that it’s gotten so much worse for you, dear. I would love to take some of it onto myself, if I could.” “Don’t... dare...” “Would you like me to sing you a lullaby?” It was not something she had expected, but she nodded without hesitation. “I think I need you to give me something to drink first, then. I’m afraid my voice has suffered quite a bit.” Twilight nodded again, recasting the spell that summoned a bowl to drink from, all the while lying in Rarity’s arms. Rarity emptied it three times, then she nodded. Clearing her throat, she began to test her voice, at first with a lone note that seemed to hang in the air long after it had been sung. Twilight could see her opening and closing her mouths several times, as if she wasn’t sure which song to choose. But then, she began to sing, and it took this moment for Twilight realize that she had never really heard her voice before. Not like this. The world is dark the night has fallen all of your thoughts now laid to sleep The world is dark the sun descended all of your fears can rest a while The world is dark the snow has fallen all of your dreams buried in white The world is dark the world is dark the veil; the curtain; and the blanket oh Luna yours, the realm of night The fourth verse had a melody entirely different from the previous three, and the moment when Rarity’s voice drifted through the final lines send a shiver all over Twilight’s neck; a feeling unlike anything she had experienced ever since the spell. “I wanted to choose something happier instead, but... it didn’t feel right. I do hope you don’t mind.” “Thank you,” Twilight whispered. “I wish you weren’t here, but... I am glad that you are. I’m so... so glad. Nopony else would... mean as much to me.” The words came as a shock to her when she spoke them, as she knew them to be true. Never before had she chosen one of her friends above the other, and neither had she intended to do so here. Yet she didn’t feel guilty, it was simply the way she felt. And she thought to know why it was, too; what else could it be but Rarity's must essential trait? Her desire to give to everyone around her was something Twilight shared, but something at which she had failed so miserably. Now, she saw in Rarity what she had failed to be herself. “Do you want to sleep?” Twilight shook her head. “I am not tired. Just exhausted. I just... I want you to hold me...” Rarity said nothing, but she didn’t give Twilight free, and Twilight closed her eyes again... maybe she would weep some more, if tears were going to come...