Cave Inanilogistam

by Betless

Liber Quintus: Deverticulum

I fidget in my chair, tapping the tabletop neurotically. Ever since last night, I've been on edge...clearly, something is going on, and I just hope it isn't too bad.

Who is Morpheme? What is he? What does he want? If he gave me dream magic, why me, and why did he want to do that? I am the Princess of Friendship, is it a political thing? I can't imagine that from somecreature that looked like that. I do have a special talent for magic, but if that's all, then he could have used any number of talented unicorns, like Sunburst. No, this has something to do with me specifically. What do I have? What do I have that nopony else does? I'm an alicorn who is also a Bearer of Harmony? That might be it. Somehow I feel that's not the whole picture, though...

I pause, rubbing my forehead with a hoof, my eyes closed in agitation. Gah! None of my theorizing is helping! I'm still no closer to figuring out what in Equestria Morpeme even is, let alone what he wants or how potentially dangerous he could be.

I glance over at Spike, who is looking at me with a raised eyebrow, drumming his claws on the table. The table where my omelet is getting cold.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Spike." I sheepishly return to the table, picking up my fork. "I've got a lot on my mind right now."

"So...I gathered," Spike says, shrugging. "Must be pretty bad, though, you barely pace anymore--unless it's a matter of national security, or an emergency with the organization, or if your schedule is compromised, or if you can't figure out a spell, which is kind of rare, when you think about it. Actually, now that I think about it," he frowns, "aside from the spell thing, you do pace a lot."

I continue eating my omelet, keeping my eyes on the food. "Yeah...it's a bad habit. I've been working on it, but little insidious habits like that are harder to get rid of then full-on freakouts." I blink, and smile at Spike. "Funnily enough, wooden bookshelves."

"Huh?"

"The omelet."

"Oh! Neat. Uh...varnished?"

"Yep! Good guess."

"Smooth and with layers? I can see that. Anything on the shelves?"

"Yeah, small wooden bowling sets, chilled glasses, and a couple origami samurai hats."

"...Huh. Alright, I don't get those. Guess my cooking isn't defined by logic."

"It's too good to be defined by logic, Spike!" I giggle, patting him on the head. "Thanks again for making breakfast. Sorry I spaced out a little there."

Shrugging, Spike smiles. "Don't be. I'm sure you had reason to be spaced out. Wanna talk about it?"

I hesitate. Would telling Spike put him in danger? Morpheme seems to have some sort of control over the Dream Realm, and if Spike had any concept of him, perhaps Morpheme could find him. Well...he found me, but I'm developing dream magic, that must have been easier than just pinpointing someone unaffiliated with dreams entirely.

Wait a minute.

If the last fringes of my forgotten dreams over the past few days are any indication, Morpheme was talking to me right after I got my dream magic. It's plausible he's either the root cause or at least related to why I started developing dream magic in the first place. If so, why? What does Morpheme have to gain by my gaining dream magic? I suppose that would depend on what Morpheme actually is. I'm sure if he was a Nightmare, he'd love to have a dreamwalker on his side to spread misery, but he showed no sign of the petty, single-minded manipulation that Nightmares use. He was ridiculously honest, at least I think so...he admitted he had ulterior motives, released whatever emotional roadblock he had on me, allowed my misinterpretations, and didn't force me into any agreements or anything...Grrrr! I wish I knew...

"Equestria to Twilight," Spike called, waving a hand in front of my face, and I blink several times before my eyes focus on his concerned face. "Uh, well, if you, you don't wanna talk about it then that's fine, just," he says, nervously, "if there's anything I can do to help, please tell me."

With that, I remember. I can rely on Spike, just like I can rely on my friends. I might be putting them into danger, but if things spiral out of control they'd only be putting themselves into danger for me--after all, that's what I would do.

I smile warmly at Spike, and pat his head again. "No, I can tell you. I want your advice, anyway. But," I give a small, tentative smile, "this might be a bit of a delicate subject. For now, can this stay between us?"

Spike nods slowly, clearly relieved with my affirmation of trust. "Of course, Twilight. Here, finish your omelet, and we'll talk."

He clambers back into his chair, sits for a second staring at nothing, and then glances at the ground, tapping his index claws together. "Hey...thanks, Twilight."

"No problem, Spike. You know I trust you."

He smiles. "Sure I do!"

I wolf down the rest of my omelet, and take a sip of water to clear my throat. "Alright, Spike. I think there might be some sort of dream...uh, entity, who may or may not have been responsible for my development of dream magic, and who is taking a vested interest in my continuation down the path to dreamwalker, and I have no idea what he is or what he wants."

Spike sits silently for a few moments. "Uh, what was that?"

"I think someone powerful caused me to get dream magic and I don't know why."

"Ah." Spike nods. "That's still pretty confusing, actually."

"I know, right?"

I explain my entire interaction with Morpheme to Spike, starting from the moment I noticed my dream not reacting predictably.

"And so," I say, my head resting on my hooves, "I don't know what he is, let alone why he'd give me dream magic."

"Yeah, I can see that." Spike scratches the side of his head. "And of course, you can't tell Luna because Morpheme seems pretty cagey on that front, and might skitter."

I nod. "Yeah."

Spike frowns, dragging his claw absentmindedly across the table. "...Well, from the way Morpheme talks, he's gotta be pretty old. I mean, there are ponies that are concerned with using apostrophe's correctly," here I glare at him, that change in cadence means he definitely would have put an apostrophe there, "and then there are those guys who were born when the language was being invented. Morpheme seems like that kinda guy, just going by gut feeling."

"Yeah, that makes sense, but I can't in good conscience ask Luna, and by association can't ask Celestia, and it's just really annoying...!" I put my face on the table, groaning. "I mean, I could ask Discord..."

"That's a great idea," Spike says, nodding.

I bolt upright. "Actually, you're right! That is a great idea!"

"Well, I hope you don't mind that I've been sitting here for a while now, then," Discord says, and both of us look over to see him sitting quite stiffly in one of chairs at the other table. His hands are clasped rigidly around the armrests and I can visibly see sweat dripping off his face. He gives a strained smile. "Good...morning?"

I put my hoof to my face. "Discord..."

"Yeah, not cool, man," says Spike, folding his arms. "I was just having a nice 'Twilight trusts me enough' moment, too. Bros don't eavesdrop on other bros' confidential confidant time."

I smile at Spike's use of the apostrophe correctly.

Discord slips further down in his chair. "I..."

"Actually, couldn't you have just left?" I ask, genuinely confused. "I think you could have just teleported out and neither of us could have been the wiser."

"Well, the thought did occur to me," Discord says, nodding, "but, by that time you were already explaining, and I...well, fine." He crosses his arms and glares somewhere up and to the left. "Fine! I'll tell them."

When he sees we're both staring at him, he scowls. "What? I'm allowed at least my own narrator."

We don't change our expressions. Discord sighs. "Alright already. Just wait until the story's being told from my perspective. Then you'll understand." He coughs. "Um. The reason I didn't leave. I was about to, but then I caught an earful of the name, you see."

I gasp. "You mean...you know Morpheme?"

Discord nods. "Well, to a certain extent. It was a good idea to ask me for help, even if you didn't...uh...ask...me yet." He melts into a puddle on the floor. "I'm...I'm not good at, you know...personal boundaries and whatnot, as much as it pains me to say so. I...Arghhh!" He pops up, hands on his hips. "What I'm trying to say, is, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for intruding on your...confidential confidant time."

I nod. "Apology accepted. I forgive you, Discord."

Discord blinks. "Oh, for real? Just like that?"

Spike raises a claw in a shrug. "Yeah, I agree with Twilight."

"I mean," I say, "you actually apologized. And, on your own, no less. I'm willing to forgive you if you continue to make such great strides in becoming a better draconequus."

"So it's cool with me, too," Spike says, settling down in his chair. "And, I mean we would have told you about it anyway. Don't do it again, but for now, we're cool."

Discord blinks a few times, then tilts his head. "Does it really count as 'on my own' if my narrator was forcing the matter?" he says to himself, then shakes his head. "Well, thank you nonetheless, both of you, I appreciate the stance."

"So," I say, trying to put that behind us, "you know Morpheme?"

He nods. "Yes, as a matter of fact...well," he frowns, "I suppose I don't know him as much as know of him, but Morpheme is one of the Oneiroi, the great dream spirits." Scratching his goatee, he continues, "Actually, it's probably good that you didn't tell Luna about him, she doesn't see eye-to-eye with their philosophies, and probably would have left immediately to track him down, and quite possibly attack immediately, which," he shrugs, "would lead to a host of other problems."

Grimacing, I nod. "That makes me feel a lot better about it. But, philosophies?" I prompt. "Like what?"

"Well, they tend to be much more lenient with Nightmares, for one. In fact, many of them actively encourage Nightmares to spread."

I frown. "That doesn't sound good. What's the other side of the coin?"

"Ah, so you saw what I implied." Discord stands up and walks over to one of the walls, beginning to draw on it with a piece of chalk. "Yes, the Oneiroi believe that allowing Nightmares free rein, to speak, allows creatures to become more emotionally developed, and better individuals thereof." He finishes his drawing, consisting of a bunch of symbols like the one Morpheme had as an eye, looking at Nightmares who in turn were reaching towards figures of ponies, a griffon, and a dragon.

"Of course, with all obstacles, there will be the few who break under the stress," Discord says, and one of the figures of the ponies sits down with hooves to their head, and one of the Nightmares surrounds them. "And that, I suppose, is where Luna disagrees."

I nod, slowly. "I can see that...Luna thinks everycreature deserves to be free from suffering, and that's what her job in the Dream Realm is, isn't it?"

Discord pauses for a moment, tapping the chalk against his tooth. "I...suppose that's as good a way of putting it as any," he finally says, snapping his fingers and making all the chalk disappear. "Incidentally, that's one reason why I hated Celestia and Luna when I first met them over a thousand years ago."

I narrow my eyes, interested. "What does that mean?"

"Simply that both of them wish to create a world with the least amount of suffering possible," he says, nodding. "When I was younger--in a manner of speaking--I had my own worldviews. I still do, I just don't...enforce them nearly as stringently. As much as I professed to be the Spirit of Chaos, there were some rules I assumed to be true." He sits back down with a sigh. "The inevitabilities, to be specific."

Suddenly, he looks up, and waves his hand. "But I'm getting off topic. I'll give you a notepad with my thoughts on the matter later, since you enjoy reading so much." I put a hoof to my mouth to make sure it's still closed, and no drool is coming out. Thankfully, I am reassured. "Suffice to say," Discord says, "Morpheme is one of those beings so old not even I know that much about him. He's been perfectly content, at least it seems so, to leave Luna to do her own thing, and neither of us have seen hide nor hair of him in, quite frankly, eons. It is strange to hear he's finally taking a more active role, however. Not necessarily concerning by definition, but certainly worth keeping an eye on."

I think about this for a minute. From what Discord has said, it seems Morpheme isn't really an evil, although he certainly seems much more neutral of a force than many thousand-year-old beings I know. One thing I know for sure, though, is that Morpheme showing an interest in me means that something I have is worth emerging from obscurity for. What that means exactly, I don't know, but I can tentatively assume if his plans keep going without change, big things will be shaken up.

"So," I say, breaking the silence, "I should definitely try and figure out what he wants."

Discord nods. "That would definitely be advisable. If possible, I'd like to talk to him as well. I feel like that might give us some more answers."

Something tickles the back of my mind...a memory, forgotten, is coming back.

"Beware...the one who speaks nonsense."

I blink, looking between Spike and Discord. Spike, who's been quiet for a while, looks at me in slight confusion, while Discord looks like he's been hit by a train.

"Hey, Twilight?" Spike says, scratching his cheek. "I don't speak Old Ponish."

"Huh?" I look at Discord. "But...I didn't?"

Discord shakes his head. "Twilight...did you hear that from him? You might think you said, 'Beware the one who speaks nonsense,' but to me, I heard, 'Cave inanilogistam.'"

I stare at him. "What? I'm sure I said it in Ponish, not Old Ponish."

"On second thought, Twilight," Discord says, "Morpheme might not want to see me. I think it's best if we hold off on me talking to him. I can't think of anycreature more fitting of that moniker than myself."

"Well...that's a fair point," I say, frowning. "But why would Morpheme warn me to beware of you, specifically?"

Discord shrugs. "Heavens if I know, the spirit's always loved to speak in cryptic riddles that are painfully obvious when revealed."

"Hold up," Spike says, raising his hand. "Why did Twilight speak in Old Ponish and somehow, not realize?"

I rub my eyes. "Yeah, actually, that's a little strange. Got any idea, Discord?"

"All I can think of," Discord says, slumping in his chair tiredly, "is that Morpheme already has some kind of influence on you. A side effect of purely spiritual beings is that they aren't really..." he scrunches up his face, twirling his talon in a loop. "They aren't really constrained by space the same way we are. It's quite possible he left something behind in your mind, which is already somewhat cause for concern."

"Yeah, that's not the greatest sounding thing," Spike agrees. "Sneaky. I don't like it."

"Sneaky is right, not to mention highly morally dubious, but of course beings as old as we are don't tend to take notice of such minor things as morals," Discord says, perfectly seriously.

I frown. "We'd have to find a way to confirm beyond a doubt he did, somehow, but if it is true, what reasoning could he possibly have? We don't even know his agenda with me, let alone any extraneous motives."

"But to do that, we need answers," Discord says, frustrated, and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth, his elbows on the chair rests.

The room is silent, all three of us mulling over our separate thoughts.

"So," Spike says, raising an index claw, "long story short, Twilight needs answers from Morpheme. Morpheme probably...left a fragment of himself or something on Twilight affecting her. Morpheme shouldn't talk to Luna, and doesn't want to talk to you," he points to Discord, "and it's not like Twilight can talk to him without fear of bias, 'cause of the possible fragment." He folds his arms. "So my idea is, we have to get Morpheme to talk to Twilight as well as someone else. That's not Luna or Discord. I mean, I doubt Morpheme wants to talk to anyone other than Twilight, but there might be a chance if somecreature tags along."

Discord looks off into space, and nods slowly. "Yes...I can see that. Morpheme is a rational creature by nature, he will understand your reasoning. Whether he'll use the opportunity to extend his influence to the other party, however, is something I can't predict...we'd have to have a countermeasure ready."

I put a hoof to my chin. "That might just work! That way, if we have a countermeasure, we can ask Morpheme anything, and the other party will be able to hear everything without fear of interference. The only thing I can think of that might be an issue..."

"Is Luna stumbling in and behaving a bit roughly," Discord finishes. "It would be advisable to keep her busy when we attempt this. Of course," he huffs, "this is all assuming Morpheme will even show himself to anyone apart from you. Rational does not mean willing."

"Then how about I talk to him by myself and explain what we have planned?" I say. "If he agrees, that's already a good sign, and if he refuses, that's a big red flag."

"Yes, but that's also risky," Discord says. "If his intentions are less than honest, upon learning our plan, he might choose to perform something that nullifies it, or even go so far as to foalnap you or something along those lines."

"But Discord," I say, stomping a hoof on the table, "presume goodwill! I'd like to take it in good confidence that Morpheme will behave himself."

"You wouldn't be the Princess of Friendship otherwise," says Discord. "But then again, you really can't tell with those creatures older than the hills. Some immortal you know well might be doing something ill-advised but well-meaning, like bringing back four villains simultaneously and potentially bringing about the end of Equestria, nobody can tell!"

"That was...oddly specific," Spike says, eyeing Discord.

"Well, it's not happening now, let me tell you that," Discord says, rolling his eyes. "There's just too much to deal with right now."

Spike still gives Discord a wary look, but then turns to me. "Twilight, I actually agree with Discord on this one. I'd rather you be safe then sorry, at least with this situation."

I frown, but then sigh. "If that's what both of you think, then we can think of another way. Things will get complicated, though."

"As long as you're safe, Twilight." Spike pats me on the shoulder.

"You heard the man," says Discord. "Well, who's going with her, then?"

I turn to Spike, who smiles, but Discord says, "I think they'll be talking in Old Ponish. You'd want somecreature who can understand it enough to speak." Spike pouts.

I scratch my chin. "The only ponies I know that can speak Old Ponish are Starswirl and Sunburst."

Discord spreads his hands out. "Well, there you go. Weigh your options, make a choice, we'll meet up again, all four of us. Any objections?"

Spike and I shake our heads. "I'll make doubly sure not to mention this to Morpheme if I see him again," I say.

"That's probably a good idea," Spike says, his cheek in his claw.

Discord nods. "Good, then that's settled. Sorry to conclude our merry little conspiracy for the time being, but it's almost nine and I have a garden party with Fluttershy to get to. I'm sure the otters will be devastated if I'm late, let alone Fluttershy."

I smile. "I understand. Please, don't let us stop you from being on time."

He waves, and makes to snap his fingers. "Oh," he starts. "Actually, before I go, I thought of something."

Snapping his fingers with purpose, a small, thin box appears in front of me. "I figured what better way of exploring the range of your dream magic synesthesia than this?" I take the lid off, and lift the corner of the protective paper. Smiling, I look back up. "Thanks, Discord! You're right, these gourmet variety chocolates are perfect."

He smiles. "The confections covered in curls contain chocolate cherries. Ciao!" Winking, he snaps away.

I chuckle. "Quaint. And quite convenient, completely."

Spike looks at me funny. "Those first two started with 'q.'"

"...It's assonance as much as it is alliteration, Spike."

He sighs. "I guess I can't argue with that."

I pick out a nice chocolate cherry, and go in for the bite, but Spike suddenly pipes up.

"Wait, why the otters?"

---

---

Meditation, when used properly, clears the mind and allows the senses to expand. Magic flows through oneself, unordered, unstructured. It washes over you like water over a smooth river stone. Should you change the shape of your mind, the magic changes its flow, very much like a liquid would. The ancients of the East knew this well, which is why tai chi came to be--a method of communing both with the natural world of magic...and oneself.

At the current moment, I was focusing quite solidly on the latter.

Heavens knew I didn't need to practice magic, no...my normal exercises are more than enough to keep my mind honed. Clearly, as demonstrated so thoroughly with the return of Stygian, the problem lies with my social skills. Namely, being a good friend.

My unparalleled magical feats and intelligence, while impressive, made me prideful. I became elitist, and looked down on those who I thought were less than I, forgetting my own humble origins. I began to think that I could do no wrong.

Then Stygian...fell. Into darkness. For the first time in a long time, I began to doubt myself, and, since my vices had twisted my perception, that doubt turned on others, becoming anger, disapproval, condescension. Not once did I think of looking within myself.

I would like to think I was not too far gone, for I was still willing to seal myself away in Limbo for eternity to stop the Pony of Shadows, but my motivations were clearly self-serving. I wanted to be a martyr. I would have to die eventually, unless I became an Alicorn, which was looking more and more hopeless as time progressed. Even though I surpassed the Princesses in both power and skill, my wings refused to come. If I would die eventually, I would rather seal myself away in a dream of timeless black and white, an eternal moment--and be remembered in history as a hero and a legend.

Noble intentions are often accelerated by selfish ones.

Then, after what felt like no time at all stretched into the longest wait imaginable, I opened my eyes, and looked at the real world again. I was out of Limbo, and suddenly the future I had planned was cast into doubt once more. I was certain that sealing myself and the Pillars would be the last thing I ever did, and was unprepared when it was not.

I am...deeply ashamed of the way I treated the others, especially young Twilight. She looked at me with nothing but respect and admiration, the very things I martyred myself for--yet I was jealous. The spell I was unable to finish was completed, by a mage so young, and it granted her alicornhood? I admit when I first learned this I was furious. How ironic, then, that it was precisely because of my own misunderstanding of friendship that I never finished the spell.

I watched in horror as Twilight, without hesitation, dove headlong into the Pony of Shadow's twisting corruption, all to save one pony who might have a chance to survive. She was followed, by a friend, another one she had saved from her own evils. Together, they managed to free Stygian from the tendrils of darkness, and in disbelief and confusion, we sealed the shadows in Limbo--by themselves.

I had thought of Stygian as a traitor, a blackened, irredeemable villain, but then I saw him, thin, gaunt, trembling. His eyes looked so scared, so relieved. And the worst part was, I was as scared as he was. Scared, because I had sentenced him to an eternal, endless, excruciating suffering. Scared, because I hadn't even given that unpony decision a second thought. And, scared, because I had started to realize that, yes, I could make mistakes--and had made far too many unforgivable ones.

I vowed to never make the mistake of losing myself again, and to attempt to atone for my wrongdoing, even if it was not carried out in the end. I retreated to the mountains to sequester myself, and become more in tune with my emotions and thoughts. Know thyself, it is said. But, I knew they could tell. I told the Pillars about my plan, and they understood the deeper meaning. I was afraid of myself, and afraid of them. I didn't trust myself to act in the right anymore...and I was still selfish.

Days went by, I sent letters by dragonfire. I kept a chain of letters going with every one of my friends. Months passed, and I had built a small cottage next to a cliffside. Snows fell, Hearth's Warming came and went. My friends were worried about me, and made the occasional visit, but respected my wishes. Stygian did show up one early spring morning with a bottle of wine, and aside from a little awkwardness at first, we both had a lovely time chatting and catching up with each other. That was good. I could tell he'd forgiven me already, although he told me quite a few times for good measure. I had heard he'd become something of a break-out fantasy fiction writer, but some of the anecdotes he related were new to me, and well appreciated. I got the book the next week, by mail-order. It was very well written, and despite the rather down-and-out subject matters, was surprisingly pleasing to read. I made sure to mention that to him in my next letter.

But as time went by, I found myself enjoying the routine more and more. I knew every tree and stone, I could tell apart the individual birds as they flew. Life was simple, and although I had to work hard to live here, I was content with its difficulty. I was visited by a friend or two roughly once every two weeks, and I felt better about myself and my relationships than I ever did before. Of course, I kept a rotating library inside of a room in the cliff face, and studied. Specifically, I began studying Twilight's finished spell, the one that gave her wings. Simple, yet powerful. I was impressed. Inspired, I began researching other friendship-based spells...and had started to work out a bit of the--albeit nebulous--theory, although more tests would be needed.

Which catches us up to the present. I meditate, looking within myself and identifying what thoughts lead me where. Little signs that warn when vice creeps near. Perfection is unattainable, of course, but we can try.

At a small twittering, I raise my head, smiling. "What is it, Alfonso?" The little chipping sparrow hops down off the branch and flutters down to rest on my hat, his favorite perch. He gives out a small, resolute chirp. "You rascal, I keep telling you to get off of there..." I say, but as I shake my head, I'm smiling.

Just then, a waft of green smoke darts into the clearing, startling Alfonso back into the woods. I wave him goodbye, then turn to catch the scroll as it drops into my hoof. It's a seal with a six-pointed star, Twilight must have sent me a letter sooner than expected! I unroll the paper, reading it, a small smile on my face.

That smile quickly disappears.

I glance back at my cottage, then run for a paper, hammer, and nails. I scratch 'NOT HOME, IN PONYVILLE, DON'T KNOW WHEN I'LL RETURN' and hastily nail top and bottom to the door. Locking it carefully, I speed to the library, picking up a few books in my magic and stuffing them into a saddlebag. As I exit, I cast the sealing spell, and soon the library door is indistinguishable from the cliff wall, and as sturdy.

I decide not to write a reply to her letter, seeing as I should be there in person momentarily. After a pause, I breathe out a long, long breath. Steeling myself, I close my eyes and light up my horn. I've been to Ponyville before, so this spell will be easier, but a long-distance teleport takes a lot of power.

I hope I'll be there in time.

---

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