“Get the magicians!”
“Yes, Princess. Which…”
“All of them!”
Twilight’s words sent the servant stumbling out of the crystal chamber, but she did not look up from her books. The air around her distorted as she wove ancient spells.
“Alchemists, more elixir!”
“It’s having no effect! The formula—”
“Add comfrey root, double portions!” Still her eyes raced across the pages, searching for something that could save Spike.
“Twilight.”
“What!” Her mind still searching through scrolls, she barely recognized her dragon’s voice until he spoke again.
“Twilight.”
This time, she realized who was talking. “Spike? It’s going to be alright. The magicians are coming, we can—” She didn’t know what they could do. “—we can do something. We can save you.”
“Twilight, I need you to know….”
“Stop! Save your breath. Please!” Another book, another spell—each one tried, failed, rejected. Another book, another spell—one of them had to work. Another book…
If only her runes had lasted. If only she hadn't failed. If only she had been stronger. Then Spike wouldn’t be suffering.
“Alchemists! New recipe!” She tore a page from her book and tossed it with her magic.
“Princess, there’s no time—”
“Make it!”
“Twilight…”
“I need to focus!” No time to speak, no time to listen. Work faster. Think faster. For Spike.
“Twi, I love you.”
“You can tell me later! Just shut up and let me save you!”
She felt the room growing hotter and hotter. The screech of the magician’s spells, the crash of alchemist’s pestles, the crackle of flames—too loud. Need to focus.
Somepony shouted. She didn't listen.
Summoned scrolls and sheaves of paper spiraled around her head, her eyes devouring them, excavating them for any spell that could save him.
“Spike, breathe deep.” If he answered, she was too busy to notice.
The heat rose even higher. Twilight mopped sweat from her face.
“Princess!” Golden Arrow’s voice. He was close to her, almost shouting into her ear.
“Silence! I’m working!”
“Princess, we must leave…”
“Guards, remove this nuisance! Now, Spike, hold on, I have an idea…”
“Princess!” An armored hoof seized her shoulder, grabbed her, dragged her away. Away from Spike.
“Release me!” Still she recited incantations, racked her mind for solutions…
“Princess, we need to get you to safety!”
“What?” For the first time since she heard Spike was dying, she looked up from her manuscripts.
Her breaths shallowed and quickened. The books stopped their circling, levitated scrolls fell to the ground one by one. Slowly, she looked away from them. She saw the fire.
She’d seen it before, in the dragons she’d studied. In the moment of death, all their magic ignited in one last inferno.
She’d seen it before, but never with Spike in the center.
Discord watched the pony, her head shaking, her mouth wrenching itself into tiny gasps and screams. He’d tried to suppress her dreams, keep her from reliving the same nightmare. But he wasn’t Luna. He hoped he’d at least dulled the pain.
No matter. She’d be feeling pain soon enough, anyway, and there were more pressing issues for Discord to attend to.
Namely, his own mind. He hated going there, hated it every time. But he had to. He knew the spell, a simple thing. He cast it.
Discord’s eyes rolled backwards into his head, looking through his skull, looking into his brain. It was a dark and scary place, full of bad thoughts he kept locked up. Even Luna feared to enter his dreams.
But his dreams were where he needed to go.
Checkerboard patterns covered every surface of the endless sphere. Below his feet, he saw pawns and kings, knights and rooks, acting out the eternal game that raged in his mind.
At least, he thought they were rooks. Those were the ones that moved diagonally, right? Discord had never learned to play chess. Now that he thought of it, chess probably didn’t involve juggling queens, either.
“Good heavens!” A pig struggled to flap its meaty wings and fly up to Discord. “Fancy you dropping in, sir! What can I do for you?”
Reginald, Caretaker of the Memories of the God of Chaos. Another figment of Discord’s imagination, of course, but a useful one.
“Reginald, take me to the Restricted Zone.”
The pig’s monocle almost fell out. “The… the Restricted Zone, sir? Where we keep the… the bad thoughts?”
Discord couldn’t help but shudder. “Yes. I need one of them.”
Reginald gulped. “Follow me, sir.”
The flight was instantaneous, or maybe it took a thousand years. Probably the thousand years; everything in Equestria took a thousand years, it seemed. Either way, time meant very little in Discord’s mind.
“Here we are, sir. The Restricted Zone.”
The Zone was a prison, a most unpleasant prison. Black towers rose from black earth and culminated in black spires from which hung black silhouettes on black gibbets. This was where the bad thoughts stayed. Discord had many bad thoughts.
“Remind me to repaint this place sometime. Maybe a cheery yellow?”
Reginald shook his head. They both knew sometime was never going to come. Sighing, he hoisted open the gate. Discord started to walk through.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Reginald?”
“It’s time, is it? For the… you know?”
“Yes.”
Discord always knew this day would come, so Reginald did, too. You never could keep secrets from your own mind.
The pig tried to collect himself and stop his quivering. Sharply, he snapped into a salute. “Sir, it’s been an honor.”
“I’ll miss you, Reginald.” With that, Discord stepped into the Restricted Zone. Before long, he heard the clip-clop of hooves and the rustle of a familiar bubblegum mane.
“Um, hello, Discord. Would you like some tea?”