You'll Be With Me Forever
Twilight stared down at her friends. They meant so much to her, so much to the world, and that's why she couldn't let them go. The stories they shared, the ponies they grew into, the things they'd done; it was all so much, and yet, it could all fit into a book.
How wondrous writing was. You could condense somepony's life into a neat little package, a thing to hold and cherish forever, to pull off the shelf for a lonely evening's read. A book could never leave you, could never walk away or say goodbye. A book was a forever friend. Her friend.
Words pooled around her hooves like water from a spilled glass, dancing into neat little rows of text. They formed coherent stories, tales, memories. They filled the pages from top to bottom, so orderly and neat. Twilight smiled down at them, the ink glowing purple in her horn's light. It was nearly done, this little project, her last big endeavor before moving on. It had to be just right. It had to be perfect. For them, her herself, and the good of all ponykind.
It had to be perfect.
But, crafting stories wasn't easy. It was a messy thing, especially when you had such vivid, lifelike characters carrying the narrative. The strings of each plotline needed to be laid out just right., just so, or it'd all fall apart like a frail spider's web under the weight of its weaver. The story had to be just so. No errors, no plot holes.
It had to be perfect.
It wouldn't work if the words didn't come together the way they were meant to. If the story wasn't true to itself, it'd be merely a fairy tale. No, this was no foal's bedtime story. This was her story, the story of her friends, the story of her world, of triumphs and hardships, of happiness and sorrow.
Of everything.
Twilight strained, sweat beading at her brow. She flicked the wetness away with a hoof, taking in a ragged breath. She was growing weaker, and the spell she was so diligently casting wasn't helping matters. It was taking up all the strength she had left, all the magical power that still coursed through her, all into the book before her. She couldn't stop now, though. It was so close to being done. Almost perfect, almost concluded. Just a little more editing, a little more refining. It'd be done before the dawn crept over the horizon. Tomorrow was going to be a very lonely day, but that was alright; she had her friends. She had her book.
Thousands of pages, millions of words, countless years' worth of memories and thoughts, of lessons learned and friends made, all spread from one pristine cover to the other, a tale unlike any other.
It was almost done.
It was a gorgeous tome. Twilight had taken care to pick out just the right one, with an appropriate aesthetic that embodied her and her best friends. It had to match them on a soul-deep level. They deserved nothing less. The world deserved nothing less. Fresh, crisp pages turned with smooth, hushed whispers, bold writing weighing each down, giving them meaning and life. It was a living book, a thing alive between its front and back, a life made into print. Six lives, to be precise. All of them bound together on each piece of delicately etched parchment, every detail written down with not the slightest or tiniest detail forgotten. The memories she put down would last forever, and they would never leave her.
They would stay with her until the end.
Twilight blinked, losing focus for a moment, then shook her weary head. She felt an all too familiar tug within her aging mind, a drag upon her thoughts, but she ignored it, along with the uncooperative sparking of her horn. A spell this complex required her to put everything she had into its construction, which was by no means easy. She'd come too far to stumble now. It was almost done. Then, she could rest. Rest and read, read until the end. Oh, how beautiful it will be. Her friends forever with her, always upon her shelf, at her bedside, in her hooves.
She'd never forget them. Not when they were so close to her, always within reach.
Her horn sputtered out, the darkness on the pages ran for a split second, before her concentration fizzled back to full force. Not yet. It wasn't done. She needed to hang on.
Quills and ink hadn't done the trick, and the recollection of mere memories hadn't been enough. That's why, for her sake and the sake of her friends, Twilight needed to pull from the source material.
They needed to be preserved.
Twilight smiled down at her friends, tears filling her cloudy, ancient eyes. They looked so peaceful on the library's floor, sleeping soundly, dreaming their dreams, reliving everything. So delicate life was, and so precious was it that Twilight couldn't stand the thought of losing the stories those lives held. She couldn't let them go. Not now, not ever.
Not when her mind's walls were crumbling.
The night slowly passed, the fire in her study crackled, and her friends grew colder. They'd gone peacefully, Twilight had made sure of that, but it still stung to think about. She'd leave that bit out of the final edit. They deserved a better ending. A soft ending, with family and friends.
But, she needed them more than they needed their happy endings.
She watched the wispy trails of magic flow from each of their bodies, life made into energy, energy into ink upon the page. They were nearly empty by now, and so was she. These last few decades had been rough, and these past few nights rougher still.
The spell flared, her horn's aura faded, and the wispy trails died away. The room grew cold.
It was done.
Book closed, she looked up to an utterly unfamiliar world.
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And this is why Twilight would NEVER actually do anything to her friends like this fandom has a fetish for. Whatever else is wrong with her, Twilight is not like this.
And I'm still waiting for a valid excuse from writers on why they think she would. Nothing justifies this level of OOC.
11634806
Have you read the most recent chapters of "The Only Mark That Matters"? That presents a decent idea on Twilight's less than stellar actions throughout the series, and her penchant for using magic that affects the minds of others.
11634836
Haven't read it. Probably won't either.
I feel sorry for the others.
11634806
Sometimes it’s for plot and other times it’s for drama.
11634806
Do you do this on every Evil!Twilight fic you stumble across? I've seen you around a few times but I can't recall which fics exactly.
Good read.
While I didn't reslly feel anything when I read this(Probably because I have desensitized myself) I kind of understand the concept.
It's intriguing why Twi has done this, while you can only go so far without having one or two screws loose, immortality being a curse in disguise and all that, It still doesn't give you the right to do what Twi has done to her friends.
This is a good story, I like how Twi's thought process is explained and the reason behind It.
Her motivation is screwd up and down right diabotical.
The real question is when she did this ...
augh, Twilight’s lifelong adoration of books and how it looks like from this other side of her beloved friends’ lives
that is such a burden to place on a work, but there are so many that bear such weights. it will never feel good enough
and oof, taking her friends’ endings from them in order to preserve her memories of them. while this choice is only given to Twilight thanks to magical powers, we each have our own version of the tradeoff between creating memories and preserving them, of experiencing life and a person in all their messiness and fitting what they were into something meaningful and beautiful. it’s something i can very much see Twilight being tempted by, given her temperament. well done here, thank you for writing!
Certainly one of the more creative approaches to “Twilight preserves her friends at any cost,” but the base concept always rings hollow to me. Yes, she’ll always remember and cherish those first friends of hers, but she makes plenty more even in canon, much less however much time she has afterwards. And after that? That’s what faithful students are for. And books with lower production costs.
I appreciate the quiet, subtle, somber approach to magical atrocity, but the atrocity itself still feels wrong. That being said, thank you for the entry.
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Of course it feels wrong. That's what makes it horror. Well, one of the facets, anyway. I agree that the concept is a bit played out and out of character for Twilight, but the idea was so enthralling when it slipped into my head I just couldn't not write it. Another aspect of horror is seeing how terrible things could realistically come to pass given the right circumstances and events, how a life or a whole bunch of lives can change in ways you never expect but that could realistically occur. The tangible, all too easily imagined ways it could happen is definitely an aspect that frightens me.