• Published 21st Jul 2023
  • 3,133 Views, 274 Comments

A Dubious Welcome - Maonyman



Anon the veterinarian has to help Twilight recover from her injuries and then return home.

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CH33: Response

Celestia was barely holding on to consciousness while the blood continued to drain out of her when the image flashed through her mind.

She gasped with astonishment.

Starlight and Twilight both? And Twilight was okay! Her dear and precious student was safe! She nearly choked with relief, then she took several deep breaths.

This was it. This was her chance. Now, before she lost consciousness entirely. Her body may be weak, but her mind was strong, her will like iron.

She was going to need that iron.

Very carefully, with the bare minimum amount of glow, she burned a small hole in the sack near one eye, a twinge of pain lancing through her forehead. She was in the back of a large metal vehicle, Arno seated just beside her head, staring forward, not paying attention to her. He probably thought she was already unconscious.

It was early dusk, still reasonably bright, so her glow would be less noticeable... but not bright enough to cover this. They were going to see it.

It was the only way.

Most ponies who knew of Anchor's Note only ever thought to send something they saw, but Celestia knew better. She had known Stout Anchor himself. Fantastic magician, a prodigy for his time. She could still remember his cutie mark--a unicorn's glowing horn. What better cutie mark for a unicorn wizard? She had even considered making him an alicorn until his... accident. Of course, Twilight had that much potential too, but--

She cut herself off. She was getting distracted. The important part was, what most ponies didn't realize is you didn't have to send what you could see, you could send any mental image you could conceive of.

Celestia crafted her mental image very carefully.

First, the landscape she had ported into as the backdrop, with its odd trees, the double horned equine species, and the cat-like beast all visible. This would form the background. Then, fading into the foreground, her best impression of where she was now based on what she could see through the window, along with what she could remember of what the vehicle looked like. Finally, front and center, was Arno's face, clear as day, a dark and ominous aura about his head.

She held this image in her mind for several seconds, drilling herself on its various points, etching it into her skull. She would need to keep it clear even through the pain.

Her body was weakening, her vision fading. She could not wait any longer.

It was time.

Her horn began to glow as she charged the spell. Instantly, her head exploded with white-hot agony, but she gritted her teeth and bore down on her focus. She refused to succumb to the pain. This spell could not fail. Everything depended on it. This was her time to shine, her one chance to show what she was made of. Countless centuries of practice, all culminating in this moment.

Arno looked down in surprise.

"Eh?"

Her horn grew brighter, the pain grew hotter. Arno's face contorted with emotion.

Fear?

Anger?

It didn't matter.

The image was everything.

The image was the only thing inside her head.

That, and pain.

Every ounce of her focus poured into her mutilated horn.

She heard screaming.

It was hers.

The image burst out of her with its iridescent explosion, rippling the canvas of the vehicle, such was its force, her only hope tearing away across the ether.

Her body fell limp as she instantly passed out.