//------------------------------// // Chapter III: Merger (Part II) // Story: Tower of Shadows // by Knight of Cerebus //------------------------------// Celestia returned to the landing with a resolution to be more careful--both around Twilight’s spare parts and around people she thought to call friend. She approached the entrance to the stairwell, musing to herself. It was true that the Solar Knights caused fear more than security in some members of the populace. Their stance on the matter was that nobody with anything to hide would have anything to fear, but to Celestia’s mind the simple reality was that everybody, up to and including her colleagues, had something to hide. She certainly did. Still, it was true that the bulk of people they locked away could have been helped in some way. It was always a hit-or-miss prospect. She’d embraced sobbing magicians of eight years old who’d mistakenly discovered dark magic and seemed like terrors to some of her colleagues. She’d also fought bitter battles against shadow magic users that she bore scars from to this day. Healing magic could only do so much. Perhaps most of all, healing magic could only smooth over the wounds on the outside. They couldn’t pull out the shadow of memory of the one person she’d needed to save more than any other. Teal eyes pierced her vision, and a barking laugh tainted her hearing. Shadows crawled over her, and recollections of black magic digging into her gut and shoulders returned to her. She squeezed her eyes shut before the memories of that day could return in full force. Even with that, she couldn’t drown out the worst memory of all--the scream of terror at the spell she’d cast. The knowledge that she of all people had done what she’d done to the person she loved most in the world. That she could have saved her, and that she forged a hideous prison for her instead. But then, it was so difficult to tell. Some of their charges were truly beyond help. And trying to learn the difference could be very dangerous, to body and soul. She hugged herself, wondering what she was doing here. Why she wanted to antagonize what was so obviously a miserable creature anyway. Just as thoughts of turning back began to surface in her mind, she caught the trail of some leylines leading from the outside to follow her path up towards the stairs. The sinister glow of dark magic was upon them, light though it might have been. Celestia reflexively cast a dispel on herself, and the light faltered for a moment. She redoubled her forward march, enough clarity returning to her to spot mental magic when it was cast upon her. She focused on the positives while the spell was still disrupted. Celestia hadn’t given up on Twilight. Zecora’s warning made her resolute. No matter how the woman tried to stop her, Celestia would not stop offering peace. Still, she had to watch her step from here on in. After all, the wards on the tower’s deepest parts had registered as deadly, and the mental magic ones had registered pre-emptively. She let out a breath, then clutched her mace more tightly. She readied herself for the next level of the tower, approaching the ascending staircase with no small feeling of trepidation. The stairs were embedded with a series of runes, some of them glowing out of sync. She used a spell to carve a line through each of them before the spell could return in full force. Still, the feeling of failure lingered around her. She turned her mind to the rest of the hall. Lamps coated in ever-lasting and cold-burning spells to the point of ridiculous excess hung from the wall. It gave the staircase a paradoxical welcoming glow to it, where the crimson glow of the runes had done quite the opposite. She also noticed hearts carved into the steps. She raised an eyebrow, but decided not to ponder further. There were also yet more books nestled in ledges on the sides. Twilight was quite the literature buff, whatever else could be said about her state of mind. At last she reached the second floor. The landing contained a door rimmed in crystals, a large grey gem sitting proudly at its top. She immediately labelled it as a trap, surprised it hadn’t triggered early. Perhaps the spell was more complex? She considered asking Twilight. Thus far, however, she’d walked into enough traps that she was happy to take it slowly this time. She scanned the outside of the doorway. It was obviously magical in nature. Some of the wards traced here, and they traced in such a way that it was clear the door was the focal point. More worryingly, at least four of them had some role in casting a spell of deep and twisted dark magic. Where the scry from before had been a harmless spell powered by corrupting forces and the stairs had been meant to repel more than harm, these were a direct physical and psychological attack on the person. She traced the shape of the ward, looking at how the spells intersected. Something in her mind registered a defense against the dark arts class from long ago. She knew this spell, and she knew what it did to its victims. They were shown despair, and physically petrified. It would force them to live their darkest sorrows. But how did it activate, and why had Twilight laid it down so obviously and so reservedly? The focal points running along it appeared to be more invested in boosting the signal strength than in being traps themselves. Maybe the books had a more subtle trap, or the lamps? She scanned them, but found nothing but more of the same background magic that absolutely infested the tower. She took a deep breath. She’d have to do this quickly, and she’d only have the one anti-magic spell prepared otherwise. But she would try. First, though, she needed answers. Twilight wasn’t proving especially cooperative. Still, it was hard to attribute motivation to her without springing the trap. She decided charity might prove more favourable than accusation. “It was considerate of you to give me the option of leaving this far into your home.” A set of glowing amethyst pupils formed in the flame of one of the lamps. “If you were here on better terms, it wouldn’t be active at all.” Bingo. Celestia grinned. “Like Zecora, you mean?” She said, her polite smile unchanging. “It’s rude to snoop, you know.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “But yes. Like Zecora. If you’d been someone else, things could have been...different. Maybe.” The pupils flickered for a moment, losing themselves in a recollection. “Either way, they’re not. The past is the past, and neither you nor I can change it.” Celestia looked at the set of eyes staring at her with a quiet empathy. She opened her mouth to speak, but Twilight cut her off. “My brother and I used to idolize your lot, you know. Not that it’s any of your business that I even have a brother, but there it is. Before I became what I was, I wanted to be a scholar. I wanted to do something with my life, you know. I saw this woman on parade make the sunlight shine through the windows of all our neighbourhood, and I thought to myself, I’m not very magical, and I’m not very strong or athletic. But I’m smart, and maybe I can learn more about how to make the world a better place. Maybe knowledge alone can make the world better.” The wistful glance turned to a bitter glare, her eyes flashing to the helmet in Celestia’s arms. “What a beautiful lie that was. I can’t imagine what I’d think if I’d seen you like this back then. If I’d learned about all the people you’d forced into the rat holes of society because they didn’t fit into your sun’s shining rays. That some day, I’d get to choose between living under a bridge or in a jail cell.” “Then don’t choose. Let me give you another option.” Celestia braced herself. She looked at the helmet, and then at her mace. She sucked in some air, then let it out slowly, preparing herself for what she would have to do next. “My job is to keep the peace, not drag out a conflict that hasn’t even started.” She dropped her mace, letting it land on the steps with a heavy thud. “It’s time I started acting like it.” Then she pulled off her helmet. “My name is Celestia. I’m not an implement of jailors. I’m a human being. I know you’ve been wronged. And I know that we’ve been among the ones who wronged you. All I can do from here is take a step in the right direction.” She looked at the helmet in her hand, then set it at her hip. She looked down at her mace, letting it lie where it was. Good riddance to the pointless hunk of metal. “I’m going to set these aside because I don’t want to use them. I can only hope you won’t make me.” Twilight looked aside for a moment. Celestia tried a different approach. “You have things here, Twilight. Things that matter to you. You kept those letters for a reason. You made a home here for a reason. And you aren’t bound to what you’re labelled as, despite what you’ve told yourself. You keep plants, you read books on slumber parties, you’re thinking of getting an owl. Or maybe you already have one. Either way, are you really willing to give all that up just to get away from me?” She paused, then noticed the solemnity in her voice. She softened. “Do you really think I want to take what little you have from you?” “I think you want me to trust you. I think that makes your job easier.” Twilight said the words half-heartedly. Her age showed--her heart was on her sleeve, despite how savvy she tried to portray herself as. “My job is to keep the peace. If dark magic only hurt yourself, you know that I wouldn’t be here. You could have lost yourself in the endless pleasures of dream magic or become addicted to your herbs, and I wouldn’t have had to step in. But you didn’t. And I think you know that these spells are wrong, even if you won’t admit it to me.” Twilight’s face was a portrait of regrets. Of a life never lived and of worlds closed before they could ever be explored. Celestia made one last plea, hoping she might at last see reason. “Your brother made it to the guard, didn’t he? That ward spell from before, the one surrounding the castle. The base spell looks very simple. Those shields, that colour scheme, they’re visual additions. Is that a tribute to him?” Twilight bit her lip, glaring away from Celestia. “On the way here, I read your file. One of my colleagues was barred from the case. Was that him? Shining Armor? I could--” “Shut up!” The flames in the lamps roared to life, and the entire tower shook. “You don’t know him! And you don’t know me.” Twilight’s entire face lost its energy. Then bitterness kicked in, as if she was reliving a cycle she’d undergone many times before. “What were you going to say: ‘I can bring him back to you, if you’ll only cooperate? I’ll be your friend where nobody else ever has?’ I can only take so many lies at once, y’know. No matter how many fantasies of a better world you put in front of me, this is what I have.” She scowled. “Leave this tower or stay, more of you will come. No matter what you promise, there will always be people like you in this world. Do your worst. I’ll be waiting.” “Twilight, wait--” Celestia was cut off by the simultaneous snuffing of the lamps within the hallway. She lit her armor once more, eyes narrowing upon the crystal at the center of the door. Simply smashing it would cause a similar reaction to the chaos wrought downstairs. Fortunately, this particular spell was dependent upon several supporting spells. Therefore, she wouldn’t have to power through the crystal with brute force. Instead, she’d simple starve it. She looked around at the wards beside her. Patience, she thought to herself. She grabbed her mace, fastening it to her belt and sitting down on the steps. I didn’t really think it would be that easy, did I? She took a moment to close her eyes, focusing her body and soul. Whatever Twilight had decided, Celestia had still deduced the mystery around the door. She still knew more about Twilight’s mind, and about her fragility. The paladin let out a breath, peace rushing over her. She touched her fingertips to the ward, letting the power flow through them. Power radiated from the center of her forehead in waves of sound, heat and light, creating a golden glow and a buzzing noise that filled up the air surrounding. The “third eye”, as it was called. She concentrated, narrowing the power into a gentle beam. She applied some force to the coiled strands of energy, arching some of her own magic from where it was focused around the crown of her head to the fingertips that were interacting with Twilight’s spell. Gradually--so as not to break the connection all at once--she began rerouting power sources from the ward to her own armor using the faint disruptions on her fingers. The actual moment of dispel was a short, small, erratic spark. It was keeping the entire spell from shattering or triggering that was the difficult part. With every power funnel, Celestia had to gradually disrupt the flow, smoothing down until at last the crystal at the top began to show wavering energy of its own. The crystal began radiating dark violet light, warping under the heat it was rapidly losing and failing under its own loss of energy. All at once, the entire structure crumbled into grains of fine quartz, leaving the doorway’s top without its crown jewel. Celestia opened the door hesitantly. Inside she found what the “landscape alteration” wards had led to. There was, paradoxically, a moonlit forest growing in the center of the second floor. It was as if a section of the Everfree Forest had been transplanted into the tower itself. Tall, dark trees hide the outlines of ruins and darkness. The sounds of crickets and frogs permeated the air. Perhaps most peculiarly, there seemed to be less magic in this room than in the rest of the library. Besides the conditions that nurtured the trees and created the artificial night, nothing seemed to be magical in nature here. Plants, animals, fungi. All that sprung up here had done so of its own accord. The ruins, of course, had been moved in. Was Twilight nostalgic for the outside world? Whatever the case, the room did not have much to offer her, and the modification runes grew more intense further up ahead. She pressed forward. The woods were even gloomier than their original template. Gelatinous fungi in the colours of bodily fluids, tangled messes of ferns and thorn bushes, rotten logs and lumpy mounds of dirt all dotted the landscape. The only noise was the short, sharp, nervous peeping and whistling of the amphibians and insects desperately trying to attract mates amidst the terror of lurking predators. Cheerful sparrows and chickadees were nowhere to be seen--instead, the skies were filled with bats. The only thing missing from this portrait of the night was an...owl. Oh. So this was where Twilight was keeping it, if it was indeed caught yet. Celestia scanned around. Her ransom plan from before floated in her mind’s eye. But could she really capture and threaten a creature? Twilight already distrusted her enough as it was. She put the thought out of her mind. She needed to find the door. Made for the owl or not, the modifications to the terrain also did an excellent job of disguising where exactly the next stairway went. Her light spell would cause an uproar in the forest, and the trees would likely contain the glow, anyway. She needed to find a way to the door. The leylines of the castle could lead anywhere--one might be supplying water for the tree, another might be controlling the internal day cycle, still another might lead her right back downstairs. She bit her lip. In the midst of all the silence, she didn’t notice the owl land beside her. “Hoo.” It said decisively. She turned to it, appreciating it for what it was. A great-horned owl was a majestic thing at any time, and this was no different. Feathers preened to give it an imperious look, powerful wings resting placidly at its sides, potent talons set against the branch like a knight’s greatsword. She looked into the luminous, infinite eyes of the spectacular creature. Perhaps it could show her the way? It was certainly looking at her expectantly. More accurately, looking at the hand not holding the mace. “Hoo.” She raised an eyebrow, slipping into deadpan. “No, I don’t have any mice for you.” “Hoo.” The creature hopped closer to the free hand. She opened it, revealing the empty palm to the owl. It bit back its disappointment well, leaping off the branch it had chosen and propelling itself into the night with the silence of an eon passing. Celestia could not say she shared its patience. She sighed at the sight of its departing tail. “Back to square one.” She continued thinking and continued moving, but she also found herself thinking on the environment now. She was missing something. Something important. The owl, the trees, the plants. Maybe it was the light of the moon and stars? She checked. Lit by magic, and hardly a perfect replica. Useless for navigation. And still, the nagging sensation in the back of her mind remained. She turned back to walking. Her eye chased wards, maintenance spells and environmental enchantments in dizzying patterns and arrays laid out through all the undergrowth. She only counted herself lucky in that she hadn’t encountered any leylines for dark magic ye--and that was when the penny dropped. The owl. It wasn’t tainted with dark magic. It was perfectly healthy. In point of fact, none of the forest life gave off the stink of it. None of it was under its influence. Twilight had kept her dangerous side away from her pet. And that meant that where she picked up its trail, it would lead right to her. Celestia returned to the path with renewed purpose, eyes following magic strands only long enough to tell what they were and weren’t. She needed one of those tell-tale signs of corruption. She needed to see that dark taint, that feel that sensation of impending harm that her brain would reflexively manifest the moment she encountered the twisted workings of the magical world. And that was when she saw it. A type of magic she hadn’t seen in over a decade. A type of magic she’d prayed she’d never see again. But there it was, staring out at her just the same as the black day she’d first known about it. A shimmering set of teal lines crept through a section of the undergrowth. A twisted type of dream magic. What had the creature called it? Lunacy, a part of her mind she’d long since buried answered her. Celestia’s breath stopped. She needed backup. She needed more time to prepare. She needed to get Twilight, the owl, and anybody else out of this tower as quickly as she could. She needed to burn it to the ground, then seal the ashes under the soil for a thousand years of solitude. But the needs of Ponyville--of Zecora, of Fluttershy...of Twilight--were greater than her own need. And their need was for her to keep them safe. Even if it meant facing what Celestia knew was no doubt lurking beyond that door. She only prayed Twilight hadn’t been so stupid as to release the Nightmare from her bonds. She walked forward, hands clenched firmly on her mace. For only the second time in her life, she was glad she carried it with her. Her footsteps were shakier. Her breathing came in short, sharp breaths. The lines shimmered with alien light, leading her through the ruins. Did Twilight’s notes hint at what exactly was going on? She could only hope so. She tore through her satchel, looking for anything she could find on the Nightmare Moon, eldest and greatest of the horrors of dream magic, and what exactly Twilight had done with her in their time together. She paced through them patiently, light from her palm illuminating the words and keeping back any forest creatures that might otherwise antagonize her. Every detail mattered. Every bit of information could mean another life saved. Whatever Nightmare was planning, its scope would be absurd and its concern for the lives of those around it would be based entirely upon how useful to her they were. There were pages here that led her to see more than one disturbing trend, and, with it, more than one solution to her problems. But the one there was one plan she was attracted to more than any other formulating in her head. A plan to end this without bloodshed or suffering. To end this the way she’d intended to from the start. She only hoped she was right. It was a long, painful process marching towards the door. Thoughts on what would happen raced around Celestia’s head. This might be the mission that finally killed her. She couldn’t guarantee Twilight’s safety. And, if she let her emotions take her, it might be the start of a new age of tyranny in the land around Ponyville--or worse. Even victory would be as sour as it had been the very first time, as full of shame and failure as it had ever been. Celestia at last opened the door. True to what the notes had said, the room containing the Nightmare was surprisingly simple. Barely more than a supply closet with some scattered herbs and spare metals, save for a plain table and a set of books that had been arranged carefully so that their open faces were in direct view of the centerpiece of the room from one angle or another. Said centerpiece, however, was anything but ordinary. It was as hideous and hateful as the day Celestia had used it. Glass stained a venomous red struggled to contain an unearthly teal glow, only held together by a frame of wrought iron charmed with dozens of magical seals interwoven over the span of a month by some of the Solar Knights’ best mages. Even that metal had warped and distorted twists and spikes growing out of it from where the soul within had made unsuccessful escape attempts. Celestia drew closer, sure the Nightmare inside was watching her. She looked it over once more. Its age was showing. But she was certain it was in there. So she gave it a prompt to speak. A chance to fan its ego. She prompted it. “A decade of solitude. Of nothingness. Until a lonely, curious girl with enough knowledge to see through the camouflage spells layered upon the vial had plucked it from the ground and taken it to her study. A girl desperate enough to believe its lies.” Sure enough, the spirit inside began to shimmer, the light at the heart of the tiny prison shining brighter with every word. “But we both know what the truth is. And we both know what you want from her. And what you’re going to do with her when you’re finished. Don’t we, sister?” Black smoke spilled out from the vial, a series of dark chuckles telling her everything she needed to know. A face appeared in the midst of the column of gas, a wicked sneer plastered upon its mouth. “Hello again, sister. How fitting it is that you of all the guardians were sent. I’d call it Fate, if I believed in such things. But perhaps it would be better called poetic justice. Either way, I’m glad that after ten long years, it’s you who will be the one to fall in order to serve my rise!” Lightning filled the air, bolts darting all around the tiny study. Celestia was only grateful that the bolts appeared to be just for effect--it meant the Nightmare had little power outside the cell yet. “And how do you plan that, sister?” Celestia kept her emotions in check, making sure her face was blank and unreadable. The specter of black magic’s face grew darker. “I’d love to indulge you on the details--truly, you know that I would. But my apprentice is ever so keen to learn for herself. Why don’t you ask her?” The Nightmare’s face twisted into a sadistic grin, her eyes glowing with venomous joy. Celestia followed her gaze to the frame of the door, only to be treated to a sorry sight. There, framed in the moonlight of the artificial forest, stood a woman barely past twenty in a flowing dress patterned like the evening sky. Her entire body crackled with power, floating like a siren over the very ground Celestia walked on. Her eyes were framed in teal energy blazing across her brows. Her face was screwed up in concentration, more anger than menace or malice. Still, that the single finger she was pointing at Celestia contained more power than Celestia had in all her armor more than made up for her lack of malice. “Paladin, you’re out of second chances.” She dug her heels in, barriers of lavender energy forming at her back and feet. Her entire forehead erupted into blue flames, the roar of raw magic’s release echoing all around the room. Electricity crackled from her fingertips and in her pupils, marked by a lavender glow. Her eyes filled with determination. “It’s time to take you down.”