//------------------------------// // Chapter Twenty // Story: Her Mother's Daughter // by Nadake //------------------------------// Though I find my apprentice’s actions to be abhorrent to a degree that I have yet to find words for, it would be remiss for me to fail to document here the findings recovered from the remains of her lair. The focus of her research seems to have been almost exclusively on the manipulation of the quintessence that abides within the breast of all those of the superior race. Anathemic though it was, it seems her goal was twofold. First, she sought to strip away the quintessence from those she deemed unworthy and instill their vitality into herself. The latter goal, however, seems to be one her lowly bedfellow had contrived. As is well known among these members of the Circle, those of the lesser races, the pegasi and the terrans, have some small dose of the quintessence which abides within our own species. To a greater or lesser degree, their innate power varies, but it seems to be present in all but the smallest portions of the populations, those with whom only generations without the infusion of the superior bloodlines have this power to some measurable amount. And like many of his lowliest station, my apprentice’s lover seems to have been the cause for her corruption. Had he not whispered lies upon her pillow, I much doubt such traitorous thoughts as those that lead to her abandonment of the Circle would have sprung forth, for twisted trees grow not from pristine fields. I digress, however, and return to a summery of her findings. While the first is one which has long been known to be possible, the nature of both the Faceless Ones and the Nightstalkers leaving little doubt that the magical energies which flow so purely through our kind can be stolen away, it appears her goal was not simply to modify their abilities into a spell. Instead, it appears she sought to sunder their connection to the living planet wholly, sealing off their quintessence as she drained it into herself. This would leave her in possession of their power, as well as their innate capacity and knowledge of the ancient arts, but also sever any ability the mage may have at reforming such a connection. So complete is this severance that she observed a greater than half proportion of her captured subjects suffering extreme mental distress, and several tens simply fading away as the magic Which had sustained them through disease, injury and time, slipped away from them. In her earliest experiments, it seems that she sought not to steal their magic, but followed another abhorrent tangent to her studies. She attempted to break one of the oldest, and most steadfast laws upon which the art of magic is based, its essential nature. As every member of the Circle must know, there is no way to destroy magical energies, only to take that which has been captured by a living quintessence, or that which has been locked away within a crystalline matrix, and return it into the living source of all magic, praise be to the ancient Earth-mother. Regardless of this well known law, my apprentice attempted to sunder the magic utterly. One feverish note written after several failed attempts making allusions to a goal of sundering all magic throughout the world, so that only the efforts of one's body could elevate a pony. As mad as her ramblings may have been, it is truly brilliant the ways in which she sought to circumvent this law. In the end, however, even her greatest accomplishment was only a marginal success, prompting her to simply steal away the quintessences of her subjects rather than destroy them. It is my belief that her methods, as barbaric as her experimentation was upon the members of the superior race, would serve the Circle of Stone well. Let it be our retribution upon her shade, to know that her attempt to destroy this body has instead given it the weapon needed to ensure the continuation of the Circle, as well as a means to punish the superior race and the lesser with equal ease.  Twilight Sparkle closed the heavy book gingerly, staring at the well worn leather binding. The scratched and tattered brown cover of the tome bore the remnants of an emblem that had long since faded from memory. Even on the spell-guarded leather, the sigil was blurred and all but invisible. Only the barest impression of a circle of stones remained. More than anything, they reminded Twilight of the small circles of Ritual Stones scattered across Helios. They were all perched near small hamlets and villages, and all anypony seemed to know about the odd constructions was that they amplified and focused ritual spells conducted within them. Generally assumed to be the result of the magically saturated stone, which has a high incidence of quartz, resonating with the energies gathered and manipulated during the course of the rituals themselves. While it has flaws, such as the mechanism by which the quartz impurities, which is known to be all but immune to magic, became impregnated with such a high level of magical energy, and the absence of noticeable decay of that energy should it exist, it would not only explain the empowering of ritual spells, but also explain why only ritual spells are empowered. Almost any other known amplification of magical energies would be consistent to within a negligible margin of error regardless of the nature of the spell being cast. The hypothesis that the magic is resonating and condensing the ritual’s energies would explain why only rituals, which are exclusively long and drawn out affairs, are affected. Twilight Sparkle put her face down into old book lying on the table and took several calming breaths as she tried to talk through her problem. The smell of dust and ancient ink had always helped her get over stressful situations. She was going to need a shelf. Why is it, she thought to herself with a half-exasperated snort. With all the work that I’ve put into learning every aspect of theoretical magic I can get my hooves on, why is it that I can only ever call to mind extremely interesting, and utterly useless information? Twilight lifted her head to wearily glare at her pillow, it really was a foul document, before letting her head fall with a thump. A thousand books on the practical uses of magic, and what does the ancient tome on the Circle of Stone call to mind? Meaningless, useless rituals. Hey! The soft voice broke off with an indignant huff. She had been continuing her ramble about the focusing of magical energies into quartz crystals, and proposing measures for testing the rate of magical decay within such an insulated crystalline matrix. “Well, you do take an… unorthodox tangent regardless of the topic.” Twilight muttered while her magic reached out to shroud the rather horrific old tome. As I am just an anthropomorphic representation of your own typically random thought pattern, can you blame me? And isn’t it more than a little hypocritical for you to be insinuating that I am not aware of the weight of the situation. I am basically just an externalized locus of thought with which you can discuss ideas and explore theories while leaving the majority of your conscious attention to the problem at hoof? Twilight rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile at the voices comment. Even she had to agree that it sounded very… Twilight. Her inner monologue, now rambling about the possible psychological implications of her own existence, faded into the background, and took Twilight’s lingering amusement with her. She didn’t need any deep thought to interpret what was meant by that truly disgusting passage. The book was a collection of personal accounts kept by the Circle of Stone, an ancient order of mages who, apparently, reigned over the inhabitants of the kingdom once ruled by Princess Celestia’s mother. From all accounts, and Twilight had read more than a few that turned her stomach, the Circle of Stone was part cult, part government, all unicorn, and the next best thing to pure evil. The collection had been compiled long after the Circle fell, to what Twilight wasn’t entirely sure, but even with a dozen years separating him from their ghosts, the editor of the compilation still seemed more wary of them than was entirely healthy. With their iron-hoofed rule, and barbaric punishments for anypony who broke their draconian laws, Twilight couldn’t say she could blame him for his paranoia. Gruesome as the reports were though, they ultimately confirmed what she had begun to expect. Despite several centuries of collective work, following many different branches of inquiry, not even ancient, forgotten tomes of magical lore had confirmed the idea that magic could be destroyed. It made a bizarre kind of sense, Twilight supposed. She slid the book she held back into the sealed chest the library had dropped near her table, reactivating the powerful wards protecting the contents, and those who might seek the knowledge within. A sensible precaution. The idea that magic could be destroyed was almost laughable, something which Twilight had never even considered until the current fiasco. It wasn’t just common knowledge that such a feat was impossible, it was illogical. Magic was energy, in its purest, most elemental form. Scholars had been studying every facet of magical inquiry conceivable since the scientific approach to magic had been introduced. The very fact that consistent results could be obtained lent credence to the idea that, for all its apparently sporadic nature, there were rules governing every aspect of magic. One of the most steadfast rules was that magic, like all energy, was constant. It could be focused, it could be mutated. It could be stored, channeled, converted, or trapped, but it couldn’t be destroyed. Twilight froze, the heavy lid to the chest falling heavily shut as her concentration and her magic, retreated into her mind, frantically chasing the thought. Magic could not be destroyed. It was obvious, and even her constant scouring of the library had yielded nothing. Therefore, Spike could not have destroyed the magic of the dragon’s nesting ground. She must have moved the power into something else, almost certainly a crystal. The crystalline matrix was one of the only known substances whose structure and composition were ordered in a way to allow magical energy to be pushed into them without it immediately releasing that energy in a violent fashion. Spike could have sealed the magic away and hidden the crystal in Helios. She could even have hidden it within the Heart itself. It would explain the attack that had occurred around the time of her birth. It would make sense. Seal the power away to keep it from the dragons, and then gift that sealed magic to the Princess at a later date. If the dragons could figure out where their magic went, and who had it, they would still have to fight their way through an entire nation to retrieve the gem. Princess Celestia’s peytral! It has a large amethyst worked into the metal! But Twilight discounted her excited thought almost the moment it occurred to her. Princess Celestia would have noticed if a matrix of the magnitude necessary to wholly absorb that much magic was placed next to her heart. It couldn’t be the collar. Think. She urged herself. When has Celestia reacted oddly, like she was in the presence of enormous power even though she shouldn’t… have… “And the sun and moon are but the youthful harbingers of ancient wisdom, as you who have spoken to the eternal darkness know. Hail ancient one, and dain to impart the teachings of times long past to this foolish youth.” Princess Celestia said, bowing her head deeply to the dragon. Her mane, which was normally rustled by an invisible breeze, was now whipping about her head as though caught in some fierce gale. A common phrase used to describe the pastel rainbows gentle, undulating motion was that it was blown by the ‘solar wind’. The phrase was obviously a reference to the connection between the Princess and the orb blazing overhead during the daylight hours. Seeing the reaction of her mane in the sunlight seemed to affirm this, for whenever Princess Celestia stepped hoof into the direct sunlight, then not only would the snail-like motion of her mane increase its pace, but the sun itself seemed to react to her presence, a flare of light shining bright and warm for just a moment when she touched the light. Twilight was beginning to think otherwise though. She was a unicorn, and even as ill versed in the application and manipulation of magical energies as she was, the sheer force of the magic emanating from the scaled monster nearby was almost suffocating. Everypony knew that sunlight itself held inherent magical power, though it was a very small, specialized kind of magic. Thinking back, the Princess’s mane had also shown increased activity near any kind of magical artifact, such as any of the candles she had enchanted. It wasn’t the sunlight her mane was reacting to, Twilight realized. It was the simple presence of magical energies, even the smallest traces like that given off by sunlight and the small enhancements in the Heart. It would be impossible to test her theory without sequestering the Princess wholly away from magic, which was utterly impossible, but it was an interesting prospect. It essentially made the Princess a detector for magical power. “Light!” Twilight swore, unable to even call to mind one of the many colorful variations on the curse in her panicked state. She couldn’t believe that she had missed the connection, the two were so obvious in retrospect. Celestia’s mane had been reacting to the powerful waves of magic rolling off of the great dragon on the day Spike had arrived, before she took on her pony form. It was a relatively poorly understood topic, but she had read more than one treatise on the theory of shapeshifting. Changing somepony’s appearance, even shifting the actual structures rather than an illusion, was simple. Time consuming and very dangerous, but ultimately a matter of brute force being slammed home behind a perfectly aligned razor, all that force directed to one point. However, a problem faced by almost anypony interested in shapeshifting was the distribution of mass. If you wanted to become smaller, you only had two options. Either increase your density to account for your smaller form, or to shove any excess mass into a pocket reality until you needed to resume your native shape. Considering the size and bulk of the dragoness, Twilight felt safe in assuming that she had used the second option to change her form. And, though she hadn’t noticed it at the time, when the dragoness had become pony-sized, Princess Celestia’s mane had ceased its frenzied motion. And dragon scales are all but indestructible, and are immune to all  but the most devastating magical strikes. Likely due to a large quartz content. It isn’t unreasonable that a structure as magically inert as quartz could contain a very large store of magical energy without undergoing undue stress. Twilight paled, and whispered the words into the silent library. “She sealed the magic into herself. Spike turned herself into a living crystal. Light!” She hissed, taking off at a gallop. The Princess needed to know this, now. “What are you saying?” Princess Celestia asked, speaking slowly. They were standing in the throne room, though it seemed the Princess had been holding court with her generals rather than her nobles today. Celestia had sent away everypony when Twilight had burst through the door, telling them only that Twilight had sensitive information that couldn’t wait. Twilight had barely waited for the door to close before launching into a frantic explanation of her discovery. “I’m saying,” Twilight said, forcing herself to speak in the same calm, careful tone the other mare had adopted. “That I know what happened to the magic. Spike didn’t destroy the magic, she captured it.” “And she stored the energy within herself?” Celestia continued, brow furrowed. “Yes!” Twilight winced at the annoyance in her tone. With an effort, she throttled her emotions again, and took a steadying breath. “Sorry. Yes, she stored it inside herself. Dragon scales are known to have a very high quartz content, that’s a large part of why most magic simply bounces off of them.” “Then how could she have stored the magic within herself?” “She saturated her scales, pushing more power into them than they could repel. It must have taken… a very, very long time, but she eventually sealed away all of the magic in the wastes, or at least enough that the rest collapsed in on itself. I’d have to know a lot more than I do about what was happening at the time to tell you, but what’s important is that the majority of the magic, at least, is still in her.” “But why not use a gemstone? They are much better at absorbing and utilizing magical power.” Celestia pressed on, though her tone seemed odd to Twilight. Celestia was certainly puzzled, but she didn’t sound as though she doubted Twilight’s conclusion. “I…” Twilight winced. “I don’t know. Perhaps as a safeguard? If too much power is stored in a crystal, it can shatter, and release that energy.  If something broke a crystal containing that much power, I think that we wouldn’t have to worry about replacing a few buildings.” “I suppose, though it seems odd that it would suddenly care about casualties.” Celestia conceded, venom dripping from her words. Twilight scowled. “Stop talking about Spike like she’s an animal.” Twilight snapped, her words as crisp and cool as midnight snow. As she went on, the frosty edge to her words thawed slightly, but didn’t melt. “Everypony is upset, Princess. Everypony in Helios is probably scared out of their minds right now, or chomping at the bit to go out and fight the dragons. Do you remember when I asked you why you put up with the nobles on the Council, even though I could see that you despised them.” “I remember.” Celestia spoke softly, and her shoulders slumped as her righteous indignation flagged slightly. Though her eyes still glinted like lavender-hued marble. They weren’t as narrowed as they had been a moment before. For a moment, a smile quirked the alicorn’s lips. “You had only just started taking notes at Council meetings the month before. You were furious at how they behaved, how obviously selfish some of them were.” Twilight felt the ghost of Celestia’s smile graced her own lips. “I asked you why you put up with them, with their greed and their disrespect. Do you still remember your answer?” Celestia paused for a moment, before nodding slowly. The anger began to drain out of her eyes as she spoke, the inferno slowly being banked. “Yes, I do. I told you that even if sometimes I wanted to bring the whole Heart down on their heads at times, I needed them. I couldn’t govern all of Helios on my own.” Twilight nodded, and spoke very softly. “And you said that you had to attend the council to make sure nopony caused too much trouble. That you couldn’t trust anypony there to always do what they thought right.” Twilight’s eyes narrowed in reproach, and to Celestia’s surprise, she flushed with chagrin. For all of her seven centuries of life and almost unimaginable power, something in her former maid’s behavior made the ancient princess feel like a filly who had been caught fibbing. “You said that they needed you, but that you needed them. That they reminded you that you weren’t perfect, and that they fought for the needs of their citizens.” Celestia winced as Twilight’s voice trailed off, knowing that the unicorn wanted her to finish the rest. “And that they needed me to keep them in line, and unite them. That they needed a leader, somepony who can look at their problems without becoming…” “Without becoming emotionally involved. Back then, you said your job on the council was to be fair, and objective, and to keep everypony in line.” Amethyst eyes flashed bright with emotion. “And Helios needs their Princess, their leader now, more than ever. You can’t afford to let your anger cloud your judgment.” Celestia looked away, and for the first time in Twilight’s memory, the Princess of the Sun looked truly ashamed. Lavender eyes closed tightly, and Twilight could see Celestia’s muscles tense until they trembled. After several long moments, she relaxed, head still lowered. “You are right, Twilight.” Celestia said, words soft. “I shouldn’t be allowing my anger with Spike influence my actions, nor my words. And you are right, the ponies of Helios do need a leader, somepony to look up to and to tell them that they will be safe.” Celestia looked up, fires of a different sort flaring to life behind her eyes, burning away the last remnants of her shame. This wasn’t a raging goddess, this was The Luminous One, the Champion of the Sun. Or, a soft voice whispered in the confines of Twilight’s mind. Perhaps this is her oldest name. Celestia, the Radiant Guardian. The voice paused for a moment, and Twilight felt her lips quirk up in a smile. What silly names you have, my Princess. Then I give you another, Celestia, the Golden Judge. Her next thought wiped the smile from her lips, and the little mare sighed. “Princess?” She called, sending a brief prayer to any beings who might be listening. Celestia was certainly not going to like this. “Yes?” “I’ve had a thought, and I believe I know how we can find out what happened, for sure.” “How?” Celestia asked, eager hope bright in her expression. “Well,” Twilight hesitated, before wincing and forcing the rest out. “I think we need to talk to Spike.”