Bastion Goes to Fight Camp

by Wise Cracker

Put to the Test

Tensions were high all over camp that morning, Bastion could practically taste it in the air without eating any of the emotional energy around. After a few re-schedules and some kerfuffle regarding Canterlot security, the EEA had finally settled on a date. Today was the day the EEA would come by and do one of their official tests, under the watchful eye of a high-level Unicorn. Everyone at breakfast was nervous, every single Pegasus was asking their neighbours if their wings didn’t look too tight, if maybe another wriggle of the legs might help warm up, it was uncanny.

More uncanny, though, was the silence that came with the tension at Bastion’s table. Live Wire didn’t say a word during breakfast, and neither did Doldrum. The Unicorn made a point of chewing his food slowly, carefully, and breathing at a steady rhythm. Bastion noticed him looking at the clock on the wall every few seconds, too, as if to count the number of breaths per minute. Doldrum, on the other hoof, didn’t look up at all. Doldrum kept his head down as he ate, and he drank an extra glass of grapefruit juice, which Sage Cracker fetched for him without even asking.

The grown-ups didn’t pay it any heed. Sunburst and Sage kept on talking about monsters and encounters and special powers, but Bastion wasn’t sure what to make of it all.

Eventually, they got up, and Starlight and Sunburst left.

“We’ll call you when it’s your turn,” Sunburst said. “That might take a while. In the meantime, don’t get too riled up, okay? You’ll be fine. It’s just a little refresher test.”

Almost morosely, Doldrum nodded, and Live Wire hopped off the chair to go outside. Doldrum followed not long after, leaving Bastion alone with Sage Cracker as the rest of the campers filed out.

“It’ll be just you and me for the morning session,” Sage started, stretching out. “Don’t mind Assault and Battery: they don’t have the best relationship with the EEA. Neither do I, by the way. But we’ll get some good progress, you and me.”

---

With his belly full and his bunkmates off to be tested, Bastion found himself alone for his tutoring session from Sage Cracker.

The stallion stood before him, a friendly smile on his face but an intense glare in his eyes that struck Bastion as being more wizardly than usual. “So, Starlight taught you how to turn invisible, Sunburst taught you the basics of evocation. What do you think I’ll teach you?”

“Umm, Sunburst said you’d help me get the other elements of prismatic spells?”

“Okay. And what would that entail, do you think?”

Bastion drew a blank. “Umm…”

“Different question: if your parents asked you what you learned at camp so far, what would you say?” Sage asked.

“I learned some new magic.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Define ‘magic’ for me.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Define the word ‘magic.’”

“Umm, magic is… spells? Sunburst explained spells.”

“He would, but Pegasi walk on clouds and don’t need spells,” Sage explained. “Doldrum’s artifacts use magic, no spellwork involved.”

“Magic is something inside of you, then,” Bastion tried.

Sage nodded in appreciation. “Fair enough. How do you measure it?”

“I don’t think you can measure magic, exactly.”

“If you can’t measure it, how do you know you’re getting better at it? There must be some way of tracking progress, no?”

Bastion fell silent.

Sage chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not grilling you or anything. I just want you to consider for a moment: we always talk about learning magic, or doing magic. Sometimes we speak of monsters capable of stealing magic. You yourself come from a tribe that specialises in stealing love, yes?”

“Yes.”

“There you go. Most ponies wouldn’t know what that means, either, would they?” Sage remarked. “So, for the sake of clarity: when I’m talking about magic, I’m talking about altering your world as you desire through the medium of directed thought. That’s why we start with meditation practice: it’s important that you can go from magical to non-magical thinking fluently. Otherwise any random thought might cause a misfire.”

Bastion nodded.

“Now, for today, we’ll be focusing on modularity again. We’ll try to teach you to direct your thoughts into the specific changes you want, and we’ll use Sunburst’s prismatic spells as a basis. Which colour can you do already? Red, yes?”

“Uhuh.”

“Good. Demonstrate for me, please.”

Bastion closed his eyes and conjured up the rainbow orb. Another bit of concentration, and he felt the orb turn red and hot. With a flick of his horn, he shot it down the range at the middle dummy, where it immediately exploded and left a good scorch mark on the chest.

Sage nodded in appreciation. He waved his hoof at the thing and mended the dummy. “Good form for a beginner, nice and concentrated blast, that’s the accuracy you want. Now try green acid.”

Again, Bastion closed his eyes and brought forth the ball of light, charging it with magic and adding the rainbow spectrum to it. He got the colours to swirl, and tried to make them all green. He squinted, his body shook. Without looking, he knew he was failing, but he still let loose.

It came out red, and the target dummy was scorched, not doused. He grumbled. “See? That doesn’t work, for some reason. I can do fire just fine, I can make flashbangs of any colour I want, but I can’t do a prismatic spell that isn’t red.”

Sage rubbed his chin, thinking. “Yeah, I think I know why. Try green acid again, and this time suck on this fruit for me.” Out of nowhere, Sage gave him a slice of what looked like a citrus fruit, but a green one.

Bastion did as he was told, sucking on the fruit slice. It was sour, almost unbearably so, he could feel it in his gums, his eyes, even his nose and ears were filled with the sourness.

He tried to make the prismatic sphere green again, eyes clenched shut. The gums of his teeth felt raw as he concentrated and tried to force the acidic energy into being. Green light formed behind his eyelids, and he held it to let it build up. He did it the same way as he did the red orb, like he’d been taught: intent, path, release. When he let go, he heard a ‘splash’ instead of a ‘fwoomp,’ which he took as a good sign.

“Good job.”

Bastion opened his eyes. The dummy was giving off little wisps of vapour now, not smoke. The front of it was covered in thick liquid, and in some areas the liquid looked like it was dissolving the thing, like a paper maché falling apart in the rain.

Again, without any effort beyond a wave of the hoof, Sage repaired the dummy.

I did it. I actually did it. I can do this. Bastion took the slice out of his mouth and stared at it. “Is this some kind of magical fruit?”

“Oh yes, it contains a very potent magical substance, named ‘Vita minsie.’” Sage chuckled and made the fruit disappear with a bit of magic. “No, I’m joking, of course. It doesn’t need to be magical to be useful in magic practice. It fills your mind with the concept of ‘acidic.’ That is what separates a true wizard from a dilettante: the ability to let your mind fill with what you need. The biggest problem every wizard has is the initial stage, to refine your intent. I don’t suppose you know what the suffix ‘-mancy’ means?”

“No. Is that a druid? Suffix sounds like a druid.”

“It’s a vocabulary thing. Words that end in ‘mancy’ are ways you get knowledge, usually magical knowledge. You don’t know what acid is, you do not know the experience of acid, so you have less of a grip on how to form it in your mind. Heat, clearly, you don’t have a problem with. And I can take a wild guess and say you’re probably not going to struggle much with cold, either.”

“Really? I couldn’t do that one, either.”

“Try going beyond mere colour. Form the sphere, make a white light this time, no need to muddle it with a rainbow visual. Simple white, neutral, that will suffice. Now let your thoughts focus on cold. Numbing cold, icy cold, biting cold. Don’t force it, let it happen. Pure willpower doesn’t come from tension. Once your sphere starts to change colour, you’ll know you have it.”

Bastion closed his eyes again and concentrated.

“Don’t clench up like that, you’ll only make it harder for the energy to travel.”

He exhaled, and tried to force himself to relax. As soon as he did, the sphere in his mind turned a light blue. A few more seconds of building it up, and he shot out a ball of ice. Bastion took a moment to check, but the dummy had been hit with snow, from the looks of it. The wetness was already fading, but the spell had done what he’d intended it to. “That works. Just like that,” he said with a gasp.

“Of course it works. You know cold, you are familiar with the sensation. I’m sure Live Wire will have shown you the lightning variety often enough to replicate that. Be careful you don’t let that energy form inside your body, though. You don’t have a talent for it, so you won’t do it automatically, but you can still do it on accident. Focus on the tension of a held charge, the moments before a lightning strike. If you feel your heart skipping a beat, you’re doing it right, but you don’t want it to do that too often, so release when you feel you have to. Stay with the process: white light, neutral light. Let the colour shift on its own, in response to your thoughts.”

Eyes closed, Bastion sought out the image. This one came quickly, crackling energy shooting up into his horn.

The dummy was scorched after that shot, and a few sparks of static flew off of it seconds later.

“Wow. That’s awesome. I got it! Why didn’t Sunburst explain it like this?” Bastion narrowed his eyes. “And, if it’s okay to ask, why do you never cast with your horn? Every other Unicorn does, but you wave your hooves instead. Why?”

Sage chuckled under his breath. “Sunburst isn’t a papyromancer, nor is he a chaos mage. I am both, so it comes more easily to me to, well, see magic as an external force, as an object of its own, rather than a part of me. I don’t use it that often these days, but paper magic has you visualising things on, obviously, paper. From that practice, you develop ways to focus your thoughts on words, but more importantly: tie words to concepts. Chaos magic has similar benefits: it revolves around controlling your own thoughts on a more primal level than most branches. It’s not a school like abjuration or evocation, but a set of techniques. That’s why I don’t use my horn that much: techniques of chaos magic are aided by the presence of a horn, but they do not require one. Besides, I, um… ” He gulped. “I prefer not to rely on my horn. Horns can burn out, they can be broken, they can be cut.” He shuddered. “They can be sawed off or ground down, and when that happens it’s quite difficult to keep your concentration going long enough to cast anything. Power that can be lost so easily is no power at all, and I like to keep the power I earn, you understand.”

It didn’t take Bastion long to put two and two together. Clearly Sage’s time in Alherda had involved some more invasive bullying than anything the changeling was used to from ponies. “So I could learn chaos magic, too? Doldrum could learn it?”

He snorted. “No. The horn is optional, sure, but Unicorns have a lot of other things that aren’t. An ability to think magically is the most important one, and that’s something that can take a long time to develop if you’re not born with it, or it can take a few days, there’s no way to predict it. Chaos magic is closest to, I suppose, wish magic, you might say. And we all know simply wishing for things typically doesn’t work very well. You risk hitting a wall and getting demotivated with a practice like that, at least if you lack the fundamentals. No, chaos magic has too high a skill floor for a novice, you don’t want to start out with that. The techniques I prefer only make it a little more palatable, is all. As a result, I hardly ever cast through my horn, I can shoot a spell from anywhere I like. I also don’t have any tells in combat. There’s no glow or gesture that betrays when or what I’m casting. I can toss out a spell from complete standstill, which makes countering me a lot harder.”

“But I’m guessing there’s a big weakness to it, too, right? If it’s not that popular and all?”

“Very astute. Can you guess what?”

“Umm, maybe… you can’t switch from one type of spell to the other very quickly? I think Starlight mentioned that the other day. I mean, if you’re basically wishing for something, and you’re constantly wishing for the same, then suddenly switching to wishing something else could be stressful?”

“A sound analysis indeed. Yes, my combat capabilities are somewhat limited by that. Once I get going into a rapid fire, I can’t teleport right away. And vice versa: if I’m blinking from one spot to the other, I can’t retaliate.” He leaned in closer, ominously. “So I have to pick my fights very carefully.” He chuckled and backed away. “As for your question about Sunburst? Something you’ll learn very quickly about ponies, young changeling: we all walk around with blinders. Some things right next to us, we never see.”

“You saw it, though. You knew exactly how to fix my prismatics.”

“I see lots of things others don’t, yes, it’s part of both my talent and my upbringing. Unfortunately, in return I don’t see things most ponies do. More to the point, most ponies don’t listen when I try to explain something, even when it’s important. Especially when it’s important. As such, I prefer to spare my voice for those that do listen.”

“Umm, I’m listening.”

“That much, I can see.” Sage waved his hoof at the dummies, lining them up. “You’re doing well, let’s take it to the next level.”

“What’s the next level?”

“Learning how to shoot different prismatics with your eyes open. You won’t get a chance to do it blindly in combat.”

The boy’s ears splayed back. “Oh. Right.”

---

Starlight suppressed a sigh. Today would have been a perfect opportunity to talk to Sunburst. Sage was off tutoring Bastion, the boys were playing with the rest of the campers, she finally had her wish: she and Sunburst were alone.

She really should have specified a length of time to be alone with him, in retrospect.

“So when does the guest arrive?” Starlight asked. They were both standing on one of the hills near camp, not one of the big ones but a flatter one that made for a comfortable entry point in case of visitors.

“Should be any second now,” Sunburst replied.

Right in front of them, a swirling vortex of arcane energy opened. It stabilised into a portal, from which there strode a slender but intense-looking Unicorn stallion. He was grey with a black mane and tail, his body almost entirely covered by a red cape. He tapped a golden medallion around his neck, and the portal closed.

“Chancellor Neighsay,” Sunburst greeted, surprise in his voice. “Thought you’d be sending a delegate, to be honest. Still, good to see you again, how is Canterlot?”

“Hello, Sunburst,” the stallion greeted. “Canterlot stands firm, as it always has. How goes the tutoring?”

“It’s going well. We’ve seen some good progress from all the foals so far.”

“And our troublemakers?”

Sunburst stopped. Starlight’s ears twitched. “Troublemakers?” she asked.

Neighsay looked her over, and she almost swore he cast a detection spell for good measure. “One Live Wire and one Doldrum, Madam. I believe you refer to them as Assault and Battery. How are they doing?”

“Well, Live Wire’s learned some metamagic, so has Doldrum,” Sunburst said. “Live Wire can do a dash now, and Starlight’s gotten him some basic conjuration lessons, too, haven’t you?”

“Yu-err, I mean, yes. He can summon water now, and he’s up to solids already, but small fry first. As for Doldrum, I thoughtmaybe giving him some training in using wand sheaths might help. You know, as a stepping stone skill.”

Neighsay’s brows raised ever so slightly. “Ah. I suppose that would make it easier for him to transition towards armour, yes. Still maintaining their high level, then, that’s good. I apologise, Starlight, was it? I thought I recognised your face from somewhere, but I don’t think we’ve officially met yet. You are not from Canterlot, are you?”

Uh oh. “No, I’m not. I’m Starlight Glimmer, an old friend of Sunburst’s.”

“From Sire’s Hollow, I presume, then.” His nostrils flared with annoyance when she nodded. “I can’t say I’m familiar with your name, either, I’m afraid. But you must have some skill to be teaching conjuration to a boy like Live Wire. Where did you get your training?”

“Mostly in Alherda Foals’ Hospital.”

Again, Neighsay’s nostrils flared. “You’ll have to be more specific than that. Patient or orderly?”

“Orderly. Wizard-in-residence, though they skirted the rules a little bit, so I don’t know if it really counts.”

“Hmm. We shall have to see your results, then. Speaking of results, where is Sage Cracker?”

“Solo tutoring Bastion, our new changeling addition.”

Neighsay froze. “You let the changeling consort with Assault and Battery?”

“Yeah, it was Sage’s idea.”

The stallion groaned. “I didn’t doubt for a second it was. Has he been behaving himself? No unfortunate incidents?”

“No, he gets along fine with our two other colts,” Starlight replied. “A little bit of friction with, umm, Assault, as you call him, but nothing major. They respect each other.”

“I wasn’t referring to the changeling.”

“Sage is his usual self,” Sunburst replied. “Toned down a little bit compared to usual, I suppose.”

Starlight looked confusedly at her friend.

“It is a long and dreary history, Starlight Glimmer,” Neighsay explained. “One I hope you do not become too intimately familiar with in the coming days. Suffice it to say Sage Cracker has had his run-ins with myself and the governmental body I represent. But enough about that, what level are the children on, on average?”

“They can all put up a good fight, they’re well within the margins of the EEA. Well, most of them. Tree Hugger has two Pegasi who are a little too timid, they’ve got some flight problems because of that, and one Unicorn who’s got the jitters, nothing serious. Bulk Biceps has three Earth ponies he’s working on getting some more general strength and stamina, and one Unicorn with balance issues, so he’s working on purely core strength there. Everyone else, pretty standard group.”

“Alright, then.”

“What’s on the itinerary for today’s test?” Sunburst asked.

“A standard Junior Royal Guard drill shall suffice: an obstacle course.”

“Oh,” Starlight said. “We didn’t set up any obstacle course.”

For the first time since his arrival, Starlight saw Neighsay smile. He tapped his amulet. “You did not tell her about me, Sunburst? I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted.”

“We just need a wide enough open space,” Sunburst said to her. “You’ll see.”

---

They descended the hill about halfway, and Neighsay sat down, before cupping his medallion in his hooves. A bright, golden light erupted from it, followed by hard green shapes.

“Illusory terrain,” Neighsay intoned. “Conjure implements. Triple tribal test.” He made a casting motion around the trinket. “Record. Process. Produce.”

The golden energy hit the ground, and snaked over it in a rectangular pattern before rising up to form a box. Then it was split in three, and the green energy distributed itself evenly between the sections.

In one, the green took the form of dirt that coated the soil, as well as a set of five plows. In another, it took the form of a set of giant fans and rings floating in the air. In the last, it took the form of a set of clay pigeon launchers.

Starlight’s jaw dropped. “Wow. That’s impressive. Illusory terrain the size of three hoofball fields, enough light constructs to supply an army… Does that all come from your amulet or is part of it just you?”

“I am a mix of conjuration and evocation wizard by trade, so the skill required to operate these things is mine, but the power comes from my medallion, yes.” He rubbed over the thing, lost in thought. “This is more than a mere trinket. It’s more than merely a powerful artifact, even. It contains knowledge, and the means to preserve that knowledge, as well as test it. What you see before you is a pre-prepared installation, to be deployed when needed. In ancient times, such an artifact would allow masters to train pupils beyond the limits of a tower, or when on the run from the more covetous kingdoms.”

“That’s an archmage’s amulet, the kind warlocks would fight over,” Starlight said. “Is that Midnight Castle design or the Phoenix Feather variant?”

Neighsay gave her a dignified nod of respect. “Your knowledge of history seems to be in order, at least. It is neither: this is a Ponos Bank design.”

Starlight let out an impressed whistle. “Ponos river amulet? That’s an antique, then, a museum piece. I thought they were all lost when the old continent froze over?”

“Oh, they were. The design is ancient, but the fabrication is recent: this particular trinket was fashioned shortly after our tribes arrived in Equestria. It is, appropriately enough, as old as our proud nation itself. So, let’s see how the little ones fare against it, shall we?”

Sunburst sent out a flare, and in short order the first group of campers where brought before the illusion. Little Earth ponies got hitched to the plows, Pegasi readied themselves at the starting line, and Unicorns stood ready to fire.

Starlight squinted, and noticed that the little foals were waving their hooves in front of some sort of floating paper.

“Are they… are they filling out a form?” she asked.

“Of course,” Neighsay replied. “The test needs to be recorded, does it not? If the result cannot be tied to a pony, why bother taking it?”

“Of course,” she said. “Gotta know which children are better than the others, right?”

“Exactly. Now, if that’s all in order: begin!”

At the starting signal, all three groups began their test. Five Earth ponies raced to drag their plows through the fake ground, five Pegasi flew through hoops against the gust of the fans, and five Unicorns took potshots at clay pigeons.

Once they were done, Sunburst sent out another flare, and the next group came, and then the next, and another, and another.

Pretty soon they were out of Unicorns, and Earth ponies. It only took a minor effort from Neighsay to get more Pegasus tracks into his evaluation box, and once they were out and done, he looked down at his amulet.

“The medallion will pass a final judgement, but at first glance that all seems in order,” he said. “No one too far under the acceptable margins. So, Live Wire and Doldrum, fetch them, please.”

“Uh, what’s going on?” Starlight asked, whispering to Sunburst. “Sage mentioned this guy once, but he didn’t really share any details. Why is our bunk being singled out?”

“Neighsay has a bit of a previous interest in our boys.”

“Excuse me?”

Sunburst rolled his eyes. “Like we said on day one, they got into trouble back home. They still get into trouble back home, actually. Their teachers didn’t really know what to do, so they kept appealing to a higher authority, who also didn’t know what to do. Doldrum and Live Wire’s cases both went up and up the chain of command, and...”

“Now Chancellor Neighsay is the one evaluating them.”

“Yup.”

“The head of Equestrian Education Association. Who wears an archmage amulet like it’s a bow tie. That guy’s going to tell two small children how well they’re doing?”

Sunburst nodded, if reluctantly. “To be fair, they’ve been getting better.”

Bulk Biceps came walking to the box with the boys flanking him. Even from that distance, Starlight could hear him yelling encouragement at them, hyping them up so they’d do well.

Oh, boys. She suppressed a chuckle.

Live Wire stepped into the box. He went right into the middle of it, well in view of the adults. All the children of the camp had already cleared off, but whether that was because they were asked to or if they weren’t taking any risk of electrocution, Starlight couldn’t tell.

The only colt watching was Doldrum.

A dragonfly made of green light appeared out of the ground and swooped at Live Wire with the speed of a crossbow bolt. He rolled out of the way and zapped the thing once it was clear.

Two more came up, faster this time. He blew them out with a twinned thunderbolt.

“Hmm, twinning his cantrips now, good. Husbanding his power better, that’s promising,” Neighsay said.

Three more came for the boy, then four, then five, on and on, wave after wave he deflected and destroyed.

When he got up to ten, he conjured up a thundercloud to do the blasting for him. That lasted another five rounds.

“Conjuration, I see now,” Neighsay said, nodding in appreciation. “You used a thundercloud as a stepping stone. Very shrewd of you, Starlight, I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

Around the twenty-mark, the colt was starting to sweat.

Starlight almost said something, but then he threw up a ball of lightning, which quickly dropped back onto his horn. The thunderwave that resulted slammed every light construct back and dissipated them in one blow.

“Not bad, not bad,” Neighsay said. “His control is certainly better than last time. He has more variety, and the cleverness to know when to use it. That’s very good progress overall, he’s getting more efficient with his bursts of power.” A black screen appeared next to him, one with a wavy pattern in green. “His heart is still a little erratic, though, has been since the start.”

“Well, we did want him to be safe while he mastered his magic,” Sunburst said. “But he learned that dash the other day, and, well, you know boys and new tricks.”

“He overdid it a little bit.” Neighsay smiled. “As any healthy young colt would, testing his boundaries. It seems as though he is coping with the aftermath well enough now.”

One final dragonfly, a tiny little thing, jumped up behind Live Wire. It was met with a zap that surprised both it and the boy.

Starlight’s heart wept for him.

A misfire. He still can’t switch it off.

The Chancellor snorted. “But I wouldn’t rescind those restraining orders before year’s end, still. As much as I appreciate the progress, he can do far more damage now before his heart gives out. Doldrum is last, send him in.”

The Pegasus flew past his bunkmate and into the box, landing lightly and easily.

“What kind of test did you have in mind for him? He doesn’t have his weapons on him.”

“Weapon skills are tested separately, Miss Starlight. If a pony is armed, they can be disarmed, after all. Power that can be taken away so easily is no power at all.” Neighsay made a circular gesture over his amulet and intoned another incantation. “Case file Doldrum, Pegasus. Simulate Royal Guard scenario 1410, full power.”

“Wait, 1410? That’s the swamp. You’re putting him in the swamp again?” Sunburst asked.

“Umm, what’s scenario 1410?” Starlight asked. The box had already taken its commands, filling with gas and obscuring most of the view, except for the three ponies with a higher vantage point.

“1410 is part of the reason Doldrum is, well, the way he is now,” Sunburst said. “It’s his trauma.”

“I’d hardly call him traumatised at this point,” Neighsay replied. “I want to see how his self-control has progressed. If you have a better means of evaluating that, Sunburst, I’m all ears.”

Starlight felt the presence ahead before she heard it. Even from that far away, she felt an irritation in her lungs.

The figure that approached Doldrum in the box was more realistic than the other illusions. It was bipedal, and looked like a thin-limbed devil made of branches, which were then covered with green mossy plates of armour. In one of its hands, it carried a curved blade, nicked and dented.

“A water devil.” Starlight coughed. “You’re making him fight a water devil? With their enchantment up? Can he even breathe when it’s that close?”

“Barely, but that didn’t stop him the first time,” Neighsay remarked. “Begin!”

Doldrum ducked out of the way of the first swing of the blade, it hit the ground with enough force to spray up dirt and grass. A second swipe went for his legs, he evaded it with a single flap of his wings, straight up.

Starlight’s chest hurt, and looking next to her she could see Sunburst was having trouble breathing as well. Even if it was only a simulation, at such a long distance, the breath-stealing magic felt very real.

The thing moved unnaturally, suddenly accelerating from complete standstill. Doldrum was pushed back on the defensive, Starlight could see the quiver in his ears, the tears in his eyes as he coughed.

“Are you sure this is necessary? It seems a bit harsh,” she said.

The water devil snapped at him, reaching for his throat before anypony really knew what was happening.

Then came the smashing.

Starlight turned her head just in time to see the colt shatter the arm reaching for him. With one attack deflected, he flew up and slammed a hind hoof into the thing’s helmet, denting it. When he landed, he swooped the thing off its feet and jumped up to pummel the illusion in the face.

Armour cracked. Bones shattered.

But more than that, lungs wheezed.

He can’t breathe. He’s fighting, but he can’t breathe. He’s moving on pure adrenaline.

Never mind Live Wire’s heart problems, if Doldrum keeps this up his heart’ll just explode!

“Terminate test,” Neighsay said to amulet. “Process data.”

The field vanished, the mist cleared. Doldrum kept on punching the ground even as the demon armour faded into nothingness. When it was gone, he pounded the grass. His right hoof thumped and thumped, always in the same place. When the grass was gone, he mashed into the ground. His right shoulder started to twitch at the base, fledgling muscles pushed to their breaking point.

Starlight rushed forward. “Calm down! It’s okay, it’s over, the test is over.”

There was a moment where he looked at her.

His eyes were not empty, she would later realise, but part of her wished they were. There was willpower in those eyes, willpower fed by pain, and unencumbered by notions of mercy or even empathy. It was an animalistic need to survive behind those eyes, one set to kill.

I know that look.

It was only a moment, and in that moment she barely threw up a shield before he punched at her.

It shook, it shuddered, but it held.

Doldrum stood, ears splayed, hoof out in striking position. His breath still came in ragged. He blinked, and that killer look in his eyes faded. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

“It’s okay,” Starlight said. “You’re right to be upset. That was a harsh test, and coming down from that kind of thing is tricky, for anypony. No harm done. I had my shield up. No harm done, okay? You didn’t hurt me.”

He looked away. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

Neighsay grumbled, coming closer to inspect the damage to the soil. “No real change there, I see. Still a hair trigger right after a fight.” He rolled his eyes.

“He didn’t hit me, though. He only tapped my shield, that wasn’t a full strike.”

“I noticed. Striking power is far above average, on dangerous levels, even. Reflexes and speed are maintained much more consistently now, none of the highs and lows it used to be. Slightly longer time frame, too, if my count isn’t off.” He shot a glance at Doldrum. “Your skills are progressing admirably. I’ll make sure the dealer in Sire’s Hollow stocks up on the next few artificer tomes you’ll want. You’re quite close to the level of making strength belts and speed bracers now. Remarkable for your age, but not exceptional within historical context.” Neighsay shook his head. “Ability to operate under respiratory stress remains higher than average. Hair trigger is still a problem, but at least your self-control is improving.” He nodded to the boy, before looking at Sunburst. “See that it continues to do so, please. I have more important matters to concern myself with than to have to deal with two problem children.”

“Will do,” Sunburst said.

“Thank you. It’s good to know proper masters still exist in Equestria, even with your unfortunate circumstances.”

Starlight’s ears perked. “His whatnow?”

“I’ll come by in a few days with a full report.” Neighsay tapped the amulet, and another portal opened. “As convenient as this trinket is, it still requires time to process and print. Oh, and Sunburst?”

“Yes?”

“Try not to leave Doldrum and Bastion alone unsupervised, please? We don’t know how their magic interacts.”

With that, Neighsay was through the portal, back in Canterlot or wherever his business might take him.

Sunburst sighed. “Well, that was unpleasant.”

Doldrum was still wheezing, panting, clutching his chest with a look of agony on his face.

Starlight looked at him, mentally checking for any signs of deeper injury. “Is… is that how you got your cutie mark, Doldrum? That’s the fight you were talking about? You fought a water devil?”

He nodded.

“Okay.” Starlight sat down in front of him. “I’d ask you to tell me what happened, but I’m guessing it went a little like it did just now, huh?”

Again, he nodded.

“And you feel bad about that. Because you’re scared you might hurt someone? Because you don’t feel alive unless you feel like killing something?”

Another nod, without a word.

“And did that fight happen before or after you started working with artifact magic?”

“After,” he finally replied, wiping his nose. “I was just starting to get stronger, making my body harder.”

He certainly did a good job at that. After the exertion of that fight, his muscles looked swollen from the effort. He didn’t have the sculpted look of an athlete now, but he looked like he’d been poured from molten metal, a telltale sign of magic-enhanced physique. And that shoulder was already starting to recover, she recognised the vague aura of Pegasus magic around it.

“Who else knows about this?”

“My family. My teachers. My friends.”

She waited, before asking, “Does it hurt?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But we could fix-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he insisted.

Live Wire’s ears twitched. “Umm, Miss Starlight, you might wanna...”

“But if you’d just explain it maybe we could-”

“I said: I don’t want to talk about it!”

The shout was louder than anything that had come out of that boy’s mouth so far. His eyes shifted back to that intense, almost murderous look.

It definitely looked familiar to Starlight now.

He’s hurting. He’s hurting deep.

She didn’t have time to ponder it, as Doldrum walked right past her, wings out. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to explain it, I don’t want ponies to try and fix me. Just leave me alone, please?”

Sunburst gestured with his horn towards the lake. “You’re excused, Doldrum. Head back to the cabin at your own pace, rest up. Lie down for a while if you have to. When you’ve calmed down again, we’ve got a little section of the lake all to ourselves today for swimming lessons. You can head down whenever you feel like it, make sure you bring your goggles and flippers, just don’t go off the grounds.”

“I won’t.” With a slow flap, he took off and headed towards the bunk.

“Should I go with him?” Live Wire asked.

“No. It’s better to leave him alone for a bit. You get to the lake.” Sunburst cringed when he saw the glare Starlight was shooting his way. “I think the grown-ups need to discuss a few things.”

---

Bastion had taken a few tries, but he managed to switch his prismatics fluidly now. He could cast with his eyes open, twin an orb, detonate one from behind a target, even hit one while it was careening towards him.

“There we go, that wasn’t so hard after all, was it? Just needed to figure out the trick for it,” Sage said, putting the dummy upright.

“Yup. This’ll be great. I can’t wait to try this out back home sometime. I can start a fire when we’re camping, put out a fire safely, I can scare off a Craggadile with that acid…”

“Don’t go looking for trouble, though,” Sage warned. “Or start to tunnel vision. Prismatic spells are mostly a stepping stone, they’re a step in between mastery, not mastery itself.”

Sage’s horn twinkled.

“Oh, that’s Sunburst sending a message.” He gestured with a hoof, and out popped a scroll. He took it in his magic and quickly browsed over the contents. “Starlight wants to discuss something. Alright, I suppose we can call it here. Head back to the bunk and get out your swimming gear. We’ve got part of the lake today. You know how to swim, right?”

“Umm, kinda? Not very well, though. Not in this form, I mean.”

“We’ll work on that, then. You brought your swimming goggles?”

“Goggles, a snorkel, and I think I packed flippers.” Bastion tapped his head. “Not sure where, though.”

“Well, don’t take too long. Meet back at the lake and we’ll see about getting your wings wet proper, maybe do some rescue exercises while we’re at it, you’ll like that.”

“Yes, sir.” Bastion saluted the stallion excitedly and hurried to the bunk.

He turned, and found Sage Cracker had disappeared. No teleportation sound, no pop, nothing.

“I really need to ask him how he does that sometime,” Bastion said to himself.

---

Sage came trotting by to the pair of Unicorns. “Okay, what’s the problem?”

Sunburst winced. “Starlight has some questions about Doldrum’s… condition.”

“You finally saw him fight barehooved, huh? Yeah, that’s nasty,” Sage joked. “That colt can end you at three paces.” His expression turned grave. “He didn’t attack anyone, did he?”

“Me,” Starlight said. “Almost. He hit my shield.”

Sage turned to Sunburst. His jaw dropped a little bit, a look of genuine regret on his face. “Oh. I’m very sorry to hear that, I thought he was getting better at controlling himself.”

“He is,” Sunburst said. “Even Neighsay thinks he’s gotten better.”

Starlight bit her lip. “That’s not the point. You knew about this, both of you. You knew and you didn’t tell me.”

“So did you. Or at least, I figured you would by now,” Sage retorted. “Everyone will tell you: Doldrum got his cutie mark after a fight. We went over this: he has a magic addiction, or a gnostic addiction, if you want to get technical. It’s getting milder now, but it’s still a problem.”

“Yes, I know that, but you never mentioned he fought a monster! That was a water devil, that’s terror incarnate, they can choke you just by standing too close. Why didn’t you mention that part?”

“It’s camp policy,” Sunburst said.

“You mean it’s Sage’s policy.”

“Pretty much the same thing, really.” Sage said. “Why?”

“You don’t think it’s useful to tell me what sort of problems he has before I try to fix them?”

“Sure it’s useful.” Sage shrugged. “That’s what the nurses and doctors do for him back home. That’s what his teachers do. That’s what everyone who knows him tries to do. And look where that got him.”

Starlight frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Sage came closer and sat down on the grass. “Think about it for a second. What is the difference, practically speaking, in terms of outcome? What would have happened if I’d told you right from the start?”

“I’d have… I’d have been more careful, more gentle.”

“You would have treated him differently,” Sunburst concluded. “And he would have known that you were treating him differently. A boy his age will pick up on that. And then you stop being a teacher in his eyes. You end up being another reminder that something is wrong.”

Starlight sighed in defeat. “You want to break the feedback loop. Of course. Did you know, Sunburst? Right from the get-go?”

“No, I found out because he told me, and he told me because, at the time, he trusted me. He was lot more scared when I first met him. Sage knows him longer, though. He’s been working with him ever since the, well, the incident.”

Sage nodded. “Doldrum likes to try and look normal, at least when it comes to that part. If he can fake being, well, not completely messed up, then he can start believing he really isn’t as messed up as he thinks he is. Of course, that does make it more painful when he’s found out.” Sage rolled his eyes. “Neighsay tried 1410 on him, again?”

“Maximum settings,” Sunburst replied. “It went about as well as you’d expect.”

“Great.” Sage let out an annoyed grunt. “Well, silver lining, at least: now you’ve had a proper look at what we’re dealing with with our little Assault. Anything else you noticed?”

“He’s dissociating,” Starlight said. “It looks like he gets stuck with the memory in his head, and that keeps stressing him out. He got this weird look in his eyes, I didn’t recognise it at first, but I’ve seen that look before. We had patients like that in Alherda all the time.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring it up sooner,” Sage said. “It’s pretty normal for a boy in his situation.”

“So, what, he doesn’t feel alive unless he’s losing himself in a trance, and what he does feel like becomes murderous before he wakes up?”

“That’s the long and short of it. That’s why we’re working on his self-control: he has to learn to stay conscious when he loses himself, keep all the focus and still maintain lucid thoughts when the adrenalin kicks in,” Sage remarked. “That’s the only way he’s going to get past this.”

“Well, that or get into a fight that lasts for so long he’s completely exhausted and his mind and body just reset,” Sunburst suggested.

“It’s the only reasonable way, with minimal damage to himself and others,” Sage clarified.

Starlight scoffed. “Great, that’s not a tall order for a child at all. What else haven’t you told me?”

“What else hasn’t he told you yet, you mean? You’re a teacher here, not a doctor. If he doesn’t want you to know, you have no right to force him.”

She opened her mouth to protest, then bit her lip. “I suppose I can understand that, a little. I don’t agree with it, but fine. I just hope he’s okay.”

Sage looked around. “Is Doldrum by the lake now? If he had such a bad time, we might want to get him into the meditation bunks again.”

“I sent him to our bunk. When he gets like this, he needs time alone,” Sunburst said. “The memories and thoughts become so loud he can’t really hear himself think. As long as no one gets in his way, he’s fine. Why, where’s Bastion?”

“Probably by the lake by now, waiting for us. You’re right, as long as no one gets in his way when he’s upset, he’ll be fine.”

---

Bastion had pretty much turned his luggage inside out by now, looking for his swimming gear. The flippers were easy to find, his snorkel was tucked away to the bottom and the side of his bag, so that took a while to track down, but the goggles were downright gone.

Turns out he’d put his them in a little pocket in the top of his backpack so he’d have easy access to it.

Of course, once he’d made a mess trying to find his swimming goggles he decided he’d better clean up after himself, which he did as quickly and calmly as he could. There wasn’t a lot of shelf space in the bunk, and he wasn’t about to get in trouble for being sloppy.

He turned, and there stood his bunkmate.

“Oh. Hey, Doldrum. Didn’t see you there,” Bastion started. “How did the test go?”

Doldrum took a deep, slow breath in, and glared at the changeling.

Bastion flinched. “Uh, are you okay?”

Author's Note:

Hoo boy, lots to say on this one. The show's poor definition of magic always made stories like this one needlessly complicated. But Bastion needed alone time with all three adults, and he had to learn something new each time, so this is the progression I settled on. Prismatic spells tie into Sunburst's background, and they make the D&D connection a little more fleshed out.

Adding Neighsay made sense, and the amulet he has in-canon didn't need much tweaking to fit into the paradigm of artifact magic becoming a thing, so in he went. He also shows up in part 3, so I had to get him in there somewhere and show that Sunburst and him know each other.

I don't know if I mentioned this yet, but the Alherda thing isn't a reference to anything specific. I remember there being a genetic deficiency that basically makes foals fall apart that kind of sounded like Alherda in abbreviation, but I can't recall the details right now. And yes, I do practise chaos magic myself (not often anymore, but hey, new year), but my own backstory is nowhere near as tragic. It just made sense to have a pony city that hates Unicorns, because the fandom seems to enjoy painting them as villains while completely ignoring established canon about the sacrifices.

As for the whole 'power that can be taken away' thing? That is from the Order of the Stick webcomic, page 657, paraphrased. I should also note that Sage never confirms whether his horn was ever damaged. He doesn't need to: ponies like Fizzlepop Berrytwist are enough of an example. And they would end up in Alherda.

One more chapter, and this story will be done.