For the Benefit of Mr. Kite

by Corejo

IV - Examination

Examination

This wasn’t home. None of it was real.

Twilight closed her eyes to the books and the window, shut her ears to the ticking of the clock. She imagined where she had stood moments ago: darkness, canvas, the candle—even Mr. Kite and her hellish grin. Ponyville, Rarity, Rainbow Dash. She was there, they spoke to her. She had felt the world around her—heard, tasted—knew from the bottom of her heart it hadn’t been a lie.

She opened her eyes.

Nothing changed. Every book, every detail of her room was exactly as her childhood memories. The flooring moulds were engraved with prancing ponies. The left knob on her bed stand was missing. The smell of old books weighed on her nostrils, but sharp and light, unlike the heavy mustiness of the Ponyville library.

“No,” she muttered, breathless. Her heart tried and failed to block out the ticking, the infernal silence that had consumed the circus’s unending din.

Twilight leapt against the bay window beside her bed. A garden of lilacs and chrysanthemums bobbed outside, and fish swam lazy circles in a pond nestled within the flowers. Twilight shook her head. “It can’t be.”

She backed away, feeling the cushion of her mattress support her tiny weight with ease. A careless step found only air, and she tumbled over backwards onto the hardwood flooring. Everything around her was so familiar, yet so hostile. She shouldn’t be here. None of this should be here.

She shut her eyes and buried her head in her hooves as she curled into a ball. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real...

A cry for help resounded in her skull, pleading for Celestia—anyone—to save her, rid her of this nightmare. The clock boomed the quarter hour, loud and reverberating. Her heart leapt to her throat, and she to her hooves.

She dashed for the door, feeling the stubbiness of her legs through her stride, the way they wouldn’t reach as far as she desired. Her steps were uncoordinated and feeble, but she had enough strength to shoulder the door open, sending it crashing it into the outside wall. The hallway was exactly as she remembered it: white shoulder-height moulding separating the wall into two shades of beige, and a claw-footed table beneath an oval mirror across from her parents’ bedroom.

“No. This can’t be real,” she muttered breathlessly. “This can’t be…”

“Twilight? Was that you?”

Twilight felt her heart squirm in her chest. A haze overtook sight and sound, as if she were looking at the world through a dirty window. She had to catch herself from falling. That soft, demure voice, like Hearth’s Warming bells. It normally would have warmed her, filled her with a fuzzy feeling she could never describe, but hearing it so out of place—so out of time—brought her mind to a halt, and her breathing with it. Down the other arm of the hallway approached a mare of cream-white coat, and white and purple stripes of mane.

Her mind ran circles in her head, and her lips trembled as she muttered: “Mom?”

The mare frowned at her. “Twilight. What have I told you about slamming your door open? You know it leaves marks.” She walked past Twilight to inspect the wall. She sighed. “I know you’re excited that today’s your big day, but you’ve really got to stop doing this.”

She felt her heart skip a beat. Big day? There was only one big day she could think of. But it couldn’t be...

“Honey, what’s the matter?” Her mother was staring at her, concern peaking her brows. “I thought you were excited to go to school?”

School? No. Not school. She should be in Ponyville, with her friends. She should be a princess, already finished with school. Twilight could barely breathe her head was spinning so badly. She had been excited to go to school once. ‘Had been’ was correct—not here, not now. This was an illusion. It was just another one of Mr. Kite’s illusions. But it felt so real.

Mom—Velvet Sparkle—was everything she ever was. Illusions were never so exact, never so perfect. There were always flaws, no matter how much they relied on the victim’s recollection to work.

“Twilight! Velvet! You two ready?”

No… Twilight shut her eyes. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. She shook her head, refusing to gaze down the hall. She could see him regardless: short, dark mane; blue fur; cheerful smile. She pushed her magic to the tip of her horn, calling upon any and all illusion-breaking spells she knew. It struggled to channel, as if trying to escape through the eye of a needle.

“Twilight.”

No…

“Twilight, are you ready to go?”

You’re not real…

“Come on, Twilight, look at me.”

A hoof drew her chin up, and she couldn’t help but obey the soft, firm voice. She opened her eyes, and towering over her, just as she had seen in her mind’s eye, was Dad.

“Don’t tire yourself out, kiddo.” He smiled. “Save some of that for the exam.” He ruffled her mane, then turned to Mom. “Ready?”

Mom nodded. “Mhm.”

“Alright, let’s get goin’,” Dad said. “Don’t wanna be late.” He turned back down the hallway, Mom beside him.

Twilight couldn’t find the strength to lift her legs. She felt hollow, a shell of what she used to be. Her magic was weak, her legs short, and her mind on the verge of breaking. She shook her head again. It was an illusion. She knew it deep in her heart, beneath the fear and worry of what her eyes saw and her ears heard, beyond the perfect details and seamless nuances. It had to be fake.

But Dad never called her “kiddo” outside of home. It was his secret pet name for her. Nopony could have known about it except her and her family. And no illusion was proactive enough to draw that deeply from her psyche—not without her mind consciously wandering there. It would take an illusionist beyond even Far Sight, mentor of Star Swirl himself, to form a spell that complex.

It is time, Twilight Sparkle. Time to wake up.

Wake up from what? To what? Reality had been taken from her, not given back. The lies surrounded her now, not then. But how they held such lucid detail brought her mind to a halt.

How to describe it? Everything seemed brighter, clearer; the little things she noticed—the scratch on the baseboard beneath the mirror, the two creaky boards just outside her parent’s room as her father walked over them—more pronounced. Were her senses always this in tune as a foal?

Her life had been so vivid, so real. It couldn’t have been a dream. And yet here she stood beside what could only be her parents in the flesh.

Every spell had a catch. Where she would find it—if this was indeed an illusion—she didn’t know. However, no matter where it would be or how much she yearned to find it, fighting the illusion wouldn’t help. Searching for answers or slip-ups would only strengthen it; as connected to the mind as illusions were designed to be, thinking of flaws mended any that could be found. Against every desire to break away and hunt them down, waiting for one to fall into her lap posed her best bet. She closed her eyes. Breathe in, hoof to chest. Breathe out, hoof outstretched. Everything would be okay, one way or another.

≈≈≈×≈≈≈

Canterlot Castle was both much larger and smaller than Twilight was used to. Though it had fewer towers, they seemed to reach further into the heavens now that she was again just a filly. The astronomy wing hadn’t yet been expanded to include the deep-space telescope, nor had the Guard’s barracks been moved to the front quad to make room for three additional embassies; none of those would happen for another three years, according to her reality.

Canterlot Castle’s main gate, an archway of solid gold that could humble even the wealthiest of ponies, stood taller than memory served. The blossoming flower at its crest glowed as if with its own light beneath the morning sun. Despite the circumstances, Twilight couldn’t help but gape in awe.

She and her parents, as she suddenly noticed, were not alone. Within the main gates were at least a dozen other foals and their parents, herded by a royal guard. Her father briefly put his hoof on her shoulder, guiding her toward the group.

The hoof was everything it should have been: strong yet soft, commanding but with more an air of usherance than directive. She knew who it belonged to, would have even if blindfolded, but she couldn’t keep herself from tensing under its touch; no matter how much she was told to believe by every sense in her body, she couldn’t accept him as Night Light, her father. It was right in so many ways, but the fact—the hope—that it was somehow an illusion burned brighter than all the rest.

She knew they were being led to the Star Swirl Auditorium, in the eastern wing of the academy. It was a far walk from where they were. The memory of how fraught she had been this moment years ago struck her. It was all the same. Everything was. Which made no sense, since she had never been here before except in her reality. Statistically, the chance for even a small hoofful of coincidences was slim to none, much less those for an exact match of everything around her. That fact alone kept her calm for the moment. But if all else failed and this truly was real…

Twilight shook her head. She shouldn’t be thinking such things. But still. If they were, it would only be a matter of reliving the past. It wasn’t a terrible worst case scenario. For now, though, her focus had to be on proving this was an illusion.

But how to logically disprove her surroundings? Factors such as when and where certain things happened that couldn’t be effected by an illusion crossed themselves off on a mental list. Her parents were already too well established; they were too obvious. Random ponies couldn’t be proven against, as she didn’t know them well enough. Oh, what had she learned in Advanced Metaphysical Manipulations that could apply to this?

Wait. She stopped walking. No, that couldn’t work. Her logic had to come from a source outside the possible illusion, before the events of this day in her other reality—something Kite couldn’t retroactively change.

“Twilight?”

Her father was staring at her. Smiling, she brushed away her thoughts in order to prepare herself for the exam. She had time to break the illusion. Her entrance exam only came once. Or twice, as it seemed. And she needed a safety net for the worst case scenario. So on she followed.

≈≈≈×≈≈≈

Star Swirl Auditorium was much taller than Twilight had become accustomed to. The ceiling, though no more than two feet higher in this body, seemed to stretch upward for miles. They and the bannered green walls practically radiated with the sunlight streaming through the towering windows. The desks where the four proctors Twilight had tried so hard to forget about sat in freshly painted seats. They didn’t look any happier than last time, either. And she knew being last on the list wouldn’t help the strain she could already see on their faces. If anything, she would have to again rely on Rainbow Dash’s sonic rainboom to see her through.

As she remembered, none of the foals before her would pass the exam. They stepped up as they were called and were almost as quickly dismissed. The line grew short in a matter of minutes.

She heard the name of the filly before hers called, and her pulse spiked. Though she knew the rainboom would be there for her, she couldn’t help the nervousness tingling in her belly. What if she was sent off too early? What if she failed anyways? A slight change in performance could alter the outcome entirely.

“Twilight Sparkle.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Here she was again, stepping out into the middle of the auditorium to earn her place as Celestia’s personal student. One more time. Just like before. Rainbow Dash’s rainboom will happen, and the rest will be history.

The proctors stared at her, their patience far gone after all the other hopeful students. A cart carrying a dragon egg was rolled out toward her, and she felt a tug at her heart. Spike’s egg. Her faithful assistant.

She thought of him, of all the years they had spent together—she hard at work studying, he right by her side. Her number-one assistant. She could see him in the library, a shadow dragging him toward the door as he screamed her name, tied up and wasting away in a dungeon.

“Well, Miss Sparkle?” asked one of the proctors. Another coughed loudly.

Twilight glared at the mare before turning it to the egg. She had to get out of here. Spike needed her. The real Spike needed her. She closed her eyes and summoned her magic.

There was the creak of a desk chair. Twilight turned to see who had interrupted, but could only gawk as her brain turned to mush.

Princess Celestia sat beside the proctors, brightening the room like a ray of sunlight. She looked directly at Twilight. “Don’t mind me, my little pony. Please, continue.”

The years she had spent with Princess Celestia drinking in every drop of her wisdom like it was the only sustenance in the world, all the lessons she had learned at her side, the moments of Celestia’s pride at her success—there was no trace of them in her face, no mark or tinge of emotion behind her benevolent smile. Twilight was just another filly to her. And she couldn’t help the sudden kniving pain in her heart.

Focus.

The egg was her only chance of maintaining her safety net. She could worry about how Celestia felt later.

A part of her mind rested in confidence that she knew the spell required to hatch her fake Spike. It was elementary magic, after all. The thought that she might not be able to perform it in her filly body was unsettling. The confident part of her mind she kept open to feel about her for the hum of other magics, and to observe herself from within.

It was weird feeling herself draw upon her power. Normally, it flowed freely and without thought, like the blood in her veins. Consciously feeling herself struggle with the arcane bottleneck natural to all young unicorns was both awkward and embarrassing. How incapable she had been. Was.

The egg hadn’t budged. It sat staring at her on its bed of straw, as if the fake Spike inside enjoyed her suffering. She gritted her teeth.

Any day now, Rainbow Dash.

Twilight strained her neck, clenched her jaw, shut her eyes, everything in her power to force out her magic. She could feel it wobble at the tip of her horn, hear it fizzle and sputter. A sharp pain stabbed her in the lungs, and she gasped for breath. It felt like all the power had been sucked out of her.

“I think we’ve seen enough,” the proctor said, levitating a pocket watch to her eyes.

“W-wait!” Twilight shouted. “Just a little bit more!” She held her breath as the mare stared her down. The mare blinked. Celestia watched, unphased by the outburst, still smiling as if watching her own child perform. Just a little longer. Come on, Rainbow Dash. Twilight looked out the window, biting her lip, before thrusting her horn at the egg like a spear. She gritted her teeth till they hurt, squinched her eyes till they blotted, willed her mind till her head pounded, wrung herself of every drop of energy. Come on!

Her lungs started to twinge, and the world became unbalanced. Don’t let go. Don’t give in. The twinge became pain, then fire. She gasped, everything snapping to in an instant. The egg remained still, hadn’t even the faintest traces of magic lingering about it.

A stallion entered to pull the cart away, and the proctors stood, marking their final notes on their clipboards.

The mare gave Twilight a final glance, saying, “I believe now we have indeed seen enough, Miss Sparkle. Good day to you,” before following her peers out the door.

Princess Celestia was the last to rise. She seemed taller than Twilight remembered, towered over the desk where she had sat. She looked down at Twilight, a smile on her face—that loving yet unknowing smile. “Perhaps another time, young one,” she said, and followed the proctors.

Twilight could only stare as she left, her jaw hanging by a thread. Disbelief curled its cold tendrils around her. Something about the world phased out, as if she were sitting inside a glass jar staring out. It took her several moments to realize her mother had sidled up next to her and wrapped a hoof around her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Twilight,” she cooed. “We’ll look into a different school for you. Don’t worry yourself, okay?”

But… Twilight looked out the window at the clear blue skies. “Rainbow Dash…” she whispered. “Why?”

“Come on, honey. Let’s go.”

“No!” Twilight jerked away from Mom’s grasp. “Princess!” She took off for the hallway with all the speed she could muster. Mom called out to her, but the words were lost in the torrent of Twilight’s mind.

This couldn’t be happening. What she had said couldn’t be true. She had simply misunderstood.

“If only she had the talent,” came Celestia’s voice just outside the door. “She was so eager to try.”

“Eagerness doesn’t count for as much as you say, Princess.”

Twilight stopped dead, the room suddenly cold as ice. She knew that voice. It was soft, honeyed—slow on the upstart, but every bit intentional—and it floated on the sudden silence like a feather upon the breeze. Twilight didn’t need to step across the threshold to see the speaker’s face—calculating midnight-blue eyes, grass-green mane—but when she did, it merged with the one in her mind like double vision. Rather than her ensemble of purple and lace, she wore a simple, dark-blue shirt, and the curls of her mane swept back.

“Ah, but isn’t ambition what got you—”

Princess Celestia and Mr. Kite turned at the sound of her hoofsteps. All were silent for what felt like an eternity.

“Is this the one?” Mr. Kite asked, her eyes never straying from Twilight.

“Yes.”

Another long pause. “I see, Princess. So there were no potential students this semester?” There was an intensity to her eyes. They seemed harder, as if cut from stone, drawing Twilight into them.

“That seems to be the case.” Celestia sounded uncharacteristically flippant, as if unaware Twilight was standing in front of her.

Mr. Kite hummed. “A shame. And I thought at least one would have been good enough. Perhaps next year.” She turned away.

The break in eye contact shattered whatever power had held Twilight in place. A boiling heat whiplashed in her chest. Every memory of her life poured themselves into her consciousness—every day spent with her friends a vivid image among thousands that had been stripped from her life. They flooded through her and carried her on their swell toward Mr. Kite, screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Give them back!”

Surprise flickered in Mr. Kite’s eyes when she rounded back on her heels, but it was minute, only in passing. She didn’t lift a hoof to stop the beating Twilight was about to deliver, nor did her horn light with magic to protect her fake, unknowing stare.

Twilight leapt, hooves outstretched, teeth barred, ready to sink to the bone. But her body went suddenly rigid.

An unknown haze tinged the world a deep violet, and magic hummed in her ears. “Twilight! What has gotten into you!?” Mom’s hoofsteps were loud on the marble floor, adding their own punctuation to the scolding. The magic about Twilight lessened, and she struggled to pull her legs and neck free. “I am so sorry, Your Highness. I don’t know what has gotten into her.”

Twilight felt herself floating away. She wrestled with the magic carrying her aloft, grunting, drooling her fury, her eyes locked with Kite’s. “What have I done to deserve this!?”

“Twilight!”

Mom’s voice, raised as it was, would normally have made her shrink away, but the rage in her heart boiled over. “What did I ever do to you!?”

“Twilight, that’s—”

Mr. Kite raised a hoof. She cocked her head with an expression that any other pony would have taken as genuine curiosity. Her steps forward were slow, her eyes devoid of all emotion save intrigue.

“What did you do to my friends?” Twilight seethed when Mr. Kite stopped just out of hoof’s reach.

Kite blinked, as if to punctuate the silence before her answer. “What friends?”

Twilight could feel her breaths getting heavier, her legs tensing, the hair on her nape rising. “You know who—in Ponyville.”

Mr. Kite raised an eyebrow. “Ponyville?” she repeated, before looking to Princess Celestia.

Celestia looked equally confused, though genuinely so. She shook out her wings to set them more comfortably. “Ponyville, my dear little pony? Do you perhaps mean Brayville?”

“No!” Twilight struggled against the magic, reaching for the bridge of Kite’s nose, just out of reach. “She heard what I said: Ponyville. Applejack! Rarity! Pinkie Pie! Fluttershy! Rainbow Dash! Spike!” Her voice elevated with every name. “What did you do to my friends!?”

It was Celestia’s turn to walk forward. The single, sorrowful eye uncovered by her flowing mane bespoke the tone of her voice: “My dear little pony, there is no such place.”

The halls seemed to ring with her voice, replay the words like an unending echo. She and Mr. Kite began shrinking away, drawing further from the hooves Twilight held outstretched.

The door frame passed around her, hiding them from sight, shrinking with every passing second as she was floated further away.

“Princess…”

The girls crowded around in a group hug, swaddling her in love and laughter. The warmth of their bodies against her own in the middle of Sugarcube Corner that day the Crusaders asked their story, made them realize the connection they shared since before they had even met.

“Princess.”

The surge of friendship they instilled in her, the mere thought of them, rolled over her like a warm wave over a ditch to fill every distant crevice of her body, but quickly receded.

It washed away into nothingness, left her frozen without succor, until she saw only the great golden gates of Canterlot Castle slowly floating away. She reached out a hoof.

“Princess!”

[Author’s Note: Thanks to Belligerent Sock for his continued work in making this fic awesome.]

[Onward and Upward!]

Comments

[The Guardian and Friends]

I CAME AS SOON AS I HEARD A BEATLES REFERENCE WAS HERE

[Hap]

I am continually wondering where this will go.

[Seirhune]

I am left wondering if it is going to be a parade of horrible things which will eventually have a horrible end that leaves me wondering exactly what happened.

I do not use the term 'horrible' to mean poorly written. Just so that's clear. Just horrible in the horror of the situation bit.

[Corejo]

4920336
I'll take that as I've won the first half of the battle.
4920437
Wonder to your heart's content.

[Hap]

I'm also surprised there isn't more discussion and theorizing in the comments.

[Twilight Shine]

Uuugghhhgga!!! That cliff hanger!!

[kolapez]

Bro what the hay is going on?

[Black Hoof]

This is an interesting and promising story there.
Would this happen to be inspired from the "Carnival Cat" ?
I noticed similarities.

[Corejo]

4923106
None whatsoever. The popular belief is that it's inspired by Something Wicked This Way Comes, by Ray Bradbury, or The Greatest Show Unearthed by Creature Feature, but I had actually never heard of any of the above until those similarities were mentioned.