Breakdown
Time didn’t matter to Dusk Shine. He didn’t notice the passing of seconds, minutes, or hours. As far as he was concerned there was no time, only an eternal moment frozen around him like a waterfall stopped in time. Consciousness was a matter of circumstance, and he flitted in and out consciousness. Every time his eyes opened the crystal landscape was thrown into sharp relief and exploded with color. He saw white and gold and blue and purple, and felt something incredibly soft beneath him.
I am here.
Very often he retreated from the painfully sharp world outside to behind the shelter of his eyelids, into the fuzzy white domain that ruled his mind. In that place he was safe. He couldn’t move, but that didn’t matter: he didn’t feel himself anyway. Every so often he became vaguely aware of a sharp stabbing sensation far, far away. When his eyes opened it got closer and grew larger until it blotted out his other senses, making him squeeze his eyes shut and retreat again from the color and overwhelming feelings into the soft white space.
I am hurt.
The eternal moment of suffering and sinking into himself was interrupted by a sound. The outside world rudely crashed into his repose, making him wince. He liked it better when things were simple and all he knew was the white place and the distant pain. The sounds were at once familiar and intrusive, as if there were plugs around his ears being abruptly ripped away, letting noise in like a flood.
“How do we know he’s awake?”
“He is, after a fashion. We just can’t see it. See how his eyes flutter, the poor thing?”
“I hate waiting.”
“As do I.”
“He has to get better, Lucy.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
The white space filled everything up again. After a time he felt it safe to open his eyes just a little bit, and though the pain caught up to him again he felt different. Something was close by that made him feel safe and warm, and it brought the pain to heel and forced it back until it was distant once again.
“Shh,” another sound told him, softer and deeper than the others, “it’s all right, Dusk. Go back to sleep.”
And so he did.
The moment he was frozen in didn’t stretch on, but outward, as if its lingering increased its presence until it was all he was aware of. Time slowed to a halt as he reached a deeper part of the dream and didn’t come back out. A great many feelings and sounds and shapes came and went, drifting in and out of perception like fish in a murky ocean. Hazy, half-formed images of old friends surfaced every now and then. He thought he heard Mother’s voice once, but it faded into unimportant noise like everything else. The moment stayed around him like a protective bubble and he sat unmoved and cozy in the midst of it.
And then, without warning, the moment ended.
All of a sudden he was aware of his own body once again. It was stretched out and slack, without any strength in its muscles. He felt something soft, warm, and damp under his back and around his body.
Blanket. Bed. I am in a bed.
He opened his eyes and the pain rushed in. It erupted from his horn and crashed like a tidal wave through the rest of his body, dragging him back into wakefulness and forcing him to look around the room. Magical monitoring equipment surrounded his bed, beeping and shimmering quietly. It was night and the lights were dim. He shifted uncomfortably on his sweat-soaked sheets, noticing a thin sliver of light coming from a cracked open doorway.
He heard the voice of Prince Artemis, speaking in a hushed voice.
“It was my fault. I should have protected him. My guilt has sealed my lips: I would have told you sooner, but I could not find the words.”
“It’s all right, Artemis,” the voice of Prince Solaris replied. “Seeing what happened to Dusk, I do not blame you.”
“You should. I fear I am at fault in more ways than one. I told you most of what we saw in the dream, but not what really happened at the end. The other Bearers do not remember, nor did they see what I did. It was frightening and alluring all at once... brother, I think I might have been affected by whatever plagued Dusk.”
“What did you see?”
“I saw myself, but it wasn’t quite me. It was somepony who was me and at the same time was not. It felt incredibly queer and deeply affecting. I can only explain it as a vision of me if were I born female.” Dusk heard Artemis take a deep, shaky breath. “She was beautiful in a way that words cannot describe. I have never seen anything on this earth that seemed so perfect, as an artist looks at a painting and knows not one more brushstroke should be laid upon the canvas. I felt I was the sketch and she was the true masterpiece.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I looked at her... I felt incomplete. I felt such longing as I never have before, almost as great as my desire to return to Equestria after my banishment. I felt a hole inside of me, one I never, ever want to feel again.”
There was an eternal pause.
“I felt unfinished.”
The sound of low voices and clicking hooves faded from the doorway soon after. Dusk Shine laid his head against the pillow and drifted into darkness.
He did not dream.
---------------------
When he awoke again the pain had receded, it was late in the evening, and he was surrounded by his friends. All of them wore expressions of grave concern that came gradually into focus as his eyes flitted back and forth, glancing around the room until they settled on the others. He managed a weak smile, his spirits lifting the moment he laid eyes on them. There were a few seconds of delicate silence before all five of them rushed forward and spoke at the same time, trying to hug him and push each other away to give him air all at once.
“Dusk, I’m so sorry! I should’ve done something!”
“We’re so glad to see you awake!”
“I didn’t mean for anything to happen. I’m sorry if I messed anything up!”
“Dusk, are ya okay? Give him some room, everypony!”
“You look awful, Dusk! I gotta throw a million bazillion ‘get better’ parties for this!”
Dusk chuckled in spite of himself, hugging his friends close to him and only relieved to find them here after all they’d been through. The friendship he felt overwhelmed even the splitting pain in his head.
“Guys, guys, calm down,” he chided them, “it’s not that bad. I’m okay now and you’re all here.”
“We’ve been waiting for so long,” Butterscotch said, hiding his mouth behind his hooves. “It’s been such an awful, awful wait.”
“How long?” Dusk asked, dreading the answer.
“A week,” Applejack said. “It’s been seven days an’ seven nights almost to the hour, Dusk.”
“A week?!” Dusk squeaked, and looked down at his foreleg: that explained the IV tube stuck into it. “What about Spines? Are my parents here?”
“They all are. Spines arrived just a couple days ago.”
“Does my sister know?”
“Sends her condolences, but she’s stuck with Crystal Empire business.”
Dusk nodded, already feeling wearier the more he thought about his mother’s fretting. A week-long coma had to have been hard on all of them. Especially the traumatic event that caused it. The dream was... the dream! The dream!
“Guys,” he croaked, “what happened? I barely remember anything from that night. I’m just glad you all got out of there in one piece.”
They all shared a look of unease. Dusk’s smile slipped from his face when he saw them avoid eye contact with him, asking a silent question between them all.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
Elusive spoke first. “Dusk, my friend, there is something you should know. Are you sure you don’t remember what happened in that awful dreamscape?”
Now that he wasn’t in the strange frozen space, Dusk’s mind shook off the cobwebs and turned to that horrible night in his own head. To his surprise he remembered most of the dream with awful clarity as if it had just happened a few minutes ago. A strange feeling settled over him: a malaise of the mind as he wandered the pathway leading to whatever had struck him down. It made the throbbing pain in his head even worse; he dug his hooves into the sheets and scrunched his eyes shut to ignore it.
“There was a castle,” he said, “and a hall of windows. We were with Artemis and he was trying to help me navigate my dreams. Then we were in a strange, dark place. It felt familiar.”
“Awfully so,” whispered Elusive.
“And then you were all lights. You were lit up and the Elements were there too!” Dusk’s eyes shot open again, the sudden movement making him wince. “The Elements—my Element—it was talking to me, to all of us, trying to say something!”
“They went crazy bright,” Rainbow added, “I remember that much.”
“I felt like I was having the biggest doozy ever,” Bubble said with an emphatic hop. “Like, a bajillion doozies all happening at once!”
Butterscotch nibbled his hooves, shuddering as Applejack laid a comforting hoof around his shoulders. Dusk winced; even a week later they spoke about it like it was just last night. Had it affected them all so badly they’d refused to speak of it until now?
Dusk gulped. “And then there was—”
A stabbing pain engulfed his entire head. He grabbed his temples with his hooves and screamed as magic shot in uncontrolled bursts from his head, but not in the smooth, familiar way it always came before. It felt like something deep inside that couldn’t fit was trying to push its way out, cracking his skull open as it went.
Panic erupted as Dusk thrashed hard enough to shake his bed, unable to stop the geyser of raw magic that erupted out of his horn and scorched the ceiling. It flowed back down and around him, throwing everypony away with a blast of kinetic force before ripping away his blanket and settling into a whirlpool of chaos. Haywire spells altered the environment around him: fires sprouted and turned into grass, icicles formed and melted into butter. His friends staggered backwards, trying to avoid the whirling eddy of searing heat, freezing cold, gale force winds and time-slowing anomalies that threatened to engulf the still screaming Dusk.
“Somepony do something!” yelled Butterscotch, taking wing and backing away. The vortex was getting bigger.
Rainbow reached out to Dusk, immediately drawing his hoof back when it came in contact with the kaleidoscopic tornado. It had been burned and frozen all at once.
“We can’t get through!” he shouted, gritting his teeth while he cradled his singed hoof. “We gotta get help!”
The door behind them exploded into splinters. Solaris and Artemis stormed into the room, their horns aglow as twin beams of energy shot into the maddening whirlpool of magic. With a keening squeal and a bright flash of light, the vortex calmed and the magic faded, leaving a bed that was more of a chunk of coal now and an exhausted Dusk in its wake. The unicorn collapsed into a heap and Solaris was at his side in a moment while Artemis tended to Rainbow’s injured hoof.
“Dusk Shine,” Solaris murmured, “my faithful student. Can you hear me?”
Dusk panted and gasped on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It had nearly melted on top of him, leaving molten marble hanging down like gloppy stalactites.
“What happened?” he sputtered. “What happened, Solaris? I... I’ve never been out of control like that before... not since I was a foal!”
Solaris answered him with a grim silence. Wordlessly, he floated a mirror to Dusk. When Dusk tried to take it with his magic, another sharp pain made him drop it. Solaris caught it before it shattered on the floor.
“Stay calm, Dusk,” he whispered. “I had hoped to break this more easily to you.”
Dusk shivered, curling in on himself. The magical outburst had redoubled the pain. “What do you mean?”
“I mean pick up the mirror and look, Dusk,” Solaris answered, his ominous stare never wavering.
Dusk raised the mirror. His eyes grew wide, wider, and wider still. The pain in his head grew even worse, spreading down into his heart and squeezing it with a cold iron vise. He touched his forehead with a trembling hoof.
--------------------
Twilight rubbed the shattered stump of her horn with mechanical back and forth movements. She didn’t flinch away from her deformity. She didn’t even blink. She felt desolate and empty, as if she wasn’t herself anymore. She just sat there, rubbing her hoof over the jagged edges, slowly scraping her hoof raw. Every back and forth motion sent a new, throbbing pain through her head, but she welcomed it. Perhaps she thought if she touched it enough she would be convinced that it wasn’t all some horrible illusion or sick prank. She didn’t know how long she lay there staring at herself, but every time her hoof skipped over another crevice or touched the small point where the horn had burst unevenly, it brought another moment of denial. The reflection in the mirror had to be some other Twilight Sparkle, some other handicapped unicorn. Twilight Sparkle was the greatest wizard in Equestria. Twilight Sparkle didn’t have a broken horn. Twilight Sparkle did not have the one thing that most defined her taken away in such a horrible manner.
“Words cannot convey how sorry I am, Twilight,” said Celestia. Twilight continued to stare at her reflection.
She heard Celestia gulp: a frail, all-too-mortal thing to do. “It has been three days, Twilight.”
Twilight remembered. Her friends had stayed with her the entire week she was in her magically induced coma. They’d been at her bedside when her broken horn went haywire. They’d cried with her, sat with her, held her hoof while she stared brokenly at the far wall. Her parents had come soon after her friends, and poor Mother had cried with her all afternoon yesterday while Father held them both. Poor Spike was still beside himself and even now shuffled his feet miserably in the doorway.
They’d all cried with her.
Celestia had not.
Celestia hadn’t shed one single tear.
Perhaps she could explain that if Twilight spoke to her, but Twilight didn’t feel like saying one word to the Princess. Luna had yet to show her face since she helped Celestia rein in the vortex on the day of Twilight’s awakening, and then vanished without a word.
Coward.
Celestia tried again. “Twilight, you’ve barely eaten. You haven’t said a word that wasn’t covered in tears. I...”
She trailed off. Celestia never trailed off before, never so uncertainly.
“You must face facts so we can help you. Your horn is broken.”
It was not.
“I’m so sorry,” Celestia whispered, “for what I did to you.”
Silence.
Don’t acknowledge it. Don’t talk about it. You’ll wake up from the nightmare tomorrow.
“But things could have turned out much worse, Twilight. Your outburst when you woke up was an encouraging sign; that you can do magic at all is a cause for hope.”
She heard the immortal Ruler of the Sun lick her dry lips, fishing for words. Where was her loving embrace? The soft crook of her neck?
“Unicorns can still live well even with a condition like this. I swear you will have all the resources I can give to help you through this trying time.”
Why was she talking like a doctor to a patient? Why didn’t she swoop down with an answer or a gentle word? Just one brush of her wing would be enough.
“I... when you were brought here to Canterlot... I know Luna should have brought you here straightaway. But she did something she hasn’t done in a thousand years, Twilight. She panicked. She panicked and went straight to me, and I had you and your friends brought straight here.”
So the mighty Princess gave her faithful student a sickbed. Wonderful.
“If you are going to assign blame to anypony, blame me. But what happened was beyond what even we were expecting. I—”
Twilight dropped the mirror onto her lap, turning her head just enough that she could glare at Celestia out of the corners of her eyes. Her lips moved just the barest amount necessary to form words. “If the next sentence out of your mouth is not exactly why Luna had to do what she did, then I don’t think we have much to say to each other.”
Twilight could’ve sworn she sat there for hours, the warm presence of Celestia standing still and silent. The Princess’ expression was a mask of stoic indifference, the kind she might wear when she was listening to a dreadful proclamation
It was almost dark outside when she heard the Princess’ gilded hooves clicking on the floor.
They moved away.
Across the room.
Out the door.
Down the hall.
Silence fell.
Twilight’s parents visited her again before nightfall. She couldn’t bear to see Mother’s heartbroken expression and Father doing his best to keep a stiff upper lip for them all, but she did agree to stay with them in their Canterlot home, for now at least. She didn’t want to be near the castle, nor near the Princesses. She cried again in Mother’s legs in great heaving sobs until she felt her eyes would simply break from the strain. The worst part was she wasn’t exactly sure what she was crying for. Her broken horn felt like something had snapped inside of her, a vital connection severed that she’d never fully repair. The betrayal of Celestia’s love left a similar gaping hole, a giant question mark that blared a single question long and loud: why? Why did this happen? Why did she look uncomfortable more than sorrowful, why wasn’t her heart broken along with her favorite student?
Her friends didn’t have any other answers when they visited her the next morning.
“Tell me what happened,” she requested anyway. “Luna won’t let me remember.”
“I know what ya mean,” Applejack said, her face half-hidden under her hat. “When I tried ta’ go over what happened in there it was like my brain’s got a patch a’ fog sittin’ right over my memories. We went through a lot in there, an’ Luna’s usin’ her fancy magic ta’ muddle our minds? Somethin’s not right about this a’tall.”
“She blocked your memories too?” Twilight asked.
Rainbow stamped her bandaged hoof, which she soon regretted with a loud cry of “Ah, pony feathers!” With a snort, she went on: “She did it to all of us! I tried to remember what we did in there and all I came up with was some weird hallway. Then there was shouting and lights and I don’t know what. Now Twilight’s horn is broken and we’re all back at square one.” She opened her wings, pacing back and forth. Spittle flew from her mouth as she spat out her words. “When I get my hooves on that Princess—!”
Pinkie rubbed her forehooves together, fretting. “Dashie? Are you okay?”
Rainbow swept around on another circuit, nostrils flaring as she worked herself into a frenzy. “No, Pinkie, I’m not okay! None of us are okay! Just look at what she did to Twilight, and to all of us! I’m not going to just stand around wondering why this happened, I want to do something about it! And on top of that Luna messed with our heads and isn’t even sorry about it? After all we’ve done for her? I have half a mind to get right up in her face and show her what my hoof thinks of that! Her behavior is totally uncool and—”
Applejack crossed the distance between her and Rainbow with long, quick strides and shoved her snout against Rainbow’s. “Rainbow Danger Dash, you calm down right this instant.”
“Calm down?! How am I supposed to calm down? Twilight’s horn is broken, Applejack! There’s no way to fix that! If there was the Princesses would have told us. They’re hiding something!”
“An’ Twilight don’t need you hootin’ an’ hollerin’ an’ bayin’ at the Moon! She needs you calm, Rainbow. We all do. Now stow it, lock it down, an’ throw away the key so we can discuss this civil-like.”
“There’s nothing civil about what’s going on!” Rainbow took to the air and fluttered around the room, gesticulating with her hooves. “We already tried discussing it. You remember how that went? We both walked right up to Celestia and told her to tell us what was going on and what we had to do to fix it!”
She turned to Twilight, who felt the pain in Rainbow’s narrowed, wild eyes.
“She said what’s done is done, Twilight. She said that about you. She said that what happened had to happen and we just had to trust her. Well I’m not ready to do that. I’m gonna march back there—”
Applejack shoved her chest against Rainbow’s. “Stop it, just stop it! You’re just freakin’ everypony out Rainbow, now quit it!”
Rainbow’s cheeks puffed out, her pupils contracting. She sputtered and gritted her teeth, struggling to keep back words she’d regret later. Just when Twilight thought Rainbow was about to deck Applejack, the pegasus whirled around with a loud shot and bucked the wall, leaving a crack in its marble finish. She dropped onto her haunches, crossed her forelegs, and began to pout.
“Luna better be glad that wasn’t her face,” she grumbled.
Rarity covered her face with her hoof and sighed. “As uncouth as Rainbow’s words might be, we have to agree on one thing: something important was happening that night, and Luna openly admitted that to stop it she—” A wince passed over her expression and her gaze went to the ground, “—broke Twilight’s horn. As painful as it might be to admit, we have a mystery on our hooves and... and the Princesses do not appear to be willing to help solve it.”
“But why?” asked Pinkie. She had spent the entire conversation cradling Fluttershy in her hooves, stroking the pegasus’ mane. Fluttershy huddled miserably in her grip, probably feeling useless and depressed at being unable to help Twilight. Twilight’s heart went out to her, but she couldn’t work up the energy to do anything but lay there.
“Why would they do this? They gotta tell us something, right?” Pinkie continued. “I mean, they’re the Princesses of Equestria! They never hurt anypony!”
“Until they hurt Twilight,” Fluttershy mumbled, then hid behind her mane. “Luna shouldn’t have done that. She should have trusted that Twilight knew what to do.”
“I do,” said Twilight. Everypony turned to her, and she took strength from the confidence and trust in their eyes. She needed them to depend on her so she could know that she was strong enough to be worthy of them. “I know what to do. We get our answers ourselves. If the Princesses won’t help, then we do what we do best. We save the day.”
The words felt like razor blades coming out of her mouth. The very thought that the Princesses had actively hampered her in a quest to learn was a betrayal of everything she knew. But she couldn’t just sit around and mope all week, as tempting as the idea was. She had to do something for herself and her friends. Seeing them almost tear each other apart galvanized her. She liked to think that was Magic, still using her as a focal point of their friendship. If she wasn’t in working condition, none of them could be.
“I need to get out of here,” she said, forcing her voice to be strong and unwavering. “I need to go home. I need some time to think and read and do my best to remember. And then... then I need some books.”
Rainbow stepped up next to her, looking at her horn stump. “But what about... well, you know.”
“I’ll deal with it,” Twilight said with an emphatic swipe of her hoof, pushing the words past a tight knot in her throat. “I’ve been sitting in here crying for three days now. It’s time I started to learn how to live my new life.”
She rubbed her stump again.
“We’re all here for you,” Rarity said, laying her hoof over Twilight’s.
“Always and forever,” said Fluttershy, walking to Twilight’s side to give her a gentle downy hug that she gladly returned.
“I don’t expect you all to stay here twenty-four seven now that I’m awake,” she said, “so I want you all to go back to Ponyville and take care of the things you’ve been neglecting.”
“We haven’t been neglecting anything!” Pinkie protested. “We’re here for you because we’re all the most super important thing to each other! Like a big giant friendship circle that’s got kind of an arrow pointing at itself and goes around and around and around and around—”
Twilight smiled and put a hoof over Pinkie’s lips, no easy task given how Pinkie’s head was spinning. “Thanks, Pinkie. But I know you’ve got jobs and family that need taking care of. The sooner we get back into a normal routine the better. I promise, the moment I think of something I’ll contact you all via Spike.”
Pinkie persisted. “But what if your magic goes crazy again?”
“My parents and I can handle it. And I’ll have the Princesses close by if things get dangerous. Trust me guys, this is going to be hard, but I—We—can handle it. There’s nothing we can’t do with the magic of friendship, right?”
She gave them a weak smile that felt painted on, but it seemed to satisfy her friends as they gave her their blessings and reluctantly left her alone. Twilight sent for the doctors and told them her plan; she got confirmation from the Princesses an hour afterwards along with a trinket delivered by a unicorn in grand purple robes with silver lining: the robes of a Court Wizard, one of the foremost practitioners of magic in the land.
“I was told to prepare this for you. The Princesses would have delivered it, but they are busy in court at the moment.”
Twilight let him drop it onto her hoof: a small silver ring with a red stone on its band. She felt it rest heavy on her hoof, tingling gently. She gulped hard. “That’s pure leystone,” she whispered. “Magic made solid. Why would the Princesses give me this?”
“It will stop any more outbursts from your broken horn. The Princesses themselves set a powerful enchantment into it that will alter and disperse spells cast by your horn. Instead, it will discharge as harmless atmospheric magic. Nopony will even be able to tell it happened unless they’re looking for it.”
Twilight’s eyes watered. It wasn’t enough that her poor horn was broken and she might explode like a firecracker at any given moment; now the Princesses had to foist this indignity on her, leashing her like some dangerous animal. Her hoof shivered and she put the ring down on the bed next to her, laying down with her back to the accursed thing.
“I can’t look at it.”
The unicorn shifted on his hooves, taking several short breaths as he searched for the right words. “Miss Sparkle, I have the greatest respect for who you are and what you’ve done for Equestria. It pains me to give this to you. Please don’t look at this like a punishment. It’s only for your safety and the safety of those around you.”
She curled up tighter on the bed. The unicorn sighed and stepped away.
“I will let you put it on yourself when you are ready. Take care, miss Sparkle. You will always be a great unicorn to us.”
She probably should have thanked him for the kind words, but nothing came. When the door closed again, she shuddered and sobbed, letting out the emotions she’d hidden from her friends. At least now they had some direction, and she could at last turn back to what she’d been wanting to do most: venting her frustrations.
She turned back around and stared at the ring, already a symbol of vitriol and disrespect. It was styled after a perfectly normal horn ring: nopony would even be able to tell what it was, but they might deduce it from her shattered horn. She doubted anypony would remark on it or even spare a second glance, but in her state of mind paranoia was a curious balm that stung and comforted her at the same time. At least it gave her an excuse to try and hide as much as possible in the coming weeks.
She picked up the ring and made to throw it. “Nasty thing!”
She stopped herself at the last moment, poised without following through.
“... But I could hurt my friends.”
She’d die before she did that.
Like a slave accepting their collar she slipped it over what remained of her horn, feeling the unnatural weight of it drop onto her skull. It felt like taking off a scarf in the middle of winter, as the leystone sucked away the warmth of her natural magic and turned it to harmless air. She lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and the marks where her magic had scorched it. That black smudge could be her friends if she wasn’t careful.
Everything felt wrong. She was a protector of Equestria, not a menace. She was Celestia’s brightest student, not the reject she had suddenly become. Looking out the window at Canterlot’s skyline, she dreaded what the citizens would say if they ever saw her like this. The world felt a strange, foreign place and she was just a visitor still trying to adjust to a body that used to be somepony else’s. How did she reconcile all of this?
The night brought no answers, but there were many more tears before she finally slept. She did not dream, but somehow that was the worst part.
--------------------
“Are you sure you don’t need any help, Dusk?”
“I got it, Spines.”
The dragon deflated and Dusk’s heart went out to her. He scooped her up and set her on the table, pointing at a shelf several levels above him.
“Except for that one right there.”
“On it, Dusk!”
Spines saluted and climbed the shelves, coming back down with the book in claw. Dusk gave her an appreciative smile and flipped open the pages. Though it wasn’t an important volume and he was fairly certain he’d read it several times before, he wanted Spines to feel like she could do her part too. That was more than what Dusk wanted to admit. With his horn shattered and the leystone ring in place, life had been reduced to a snail’s pace.
He stood up and walked over to another shelf, taking one book from its place. He walked back to his desk and put it down. He walked back to the shelf, took another book, walked back to his desk, put it down.
Every single step felt unnecessary. Every single movement was a waste of time and energy when he used to make the whole room come alive, swirling with books and quills and the wonderful flow of magic.
He stared down at the book: Tales of the Wyrd Reaches and Diamond Coast. Nothing in there would help his current condition or help him figure out what had happened in his dream. Nothing he had done in the last couple of weeks didn’t have to do with adjusting to his disability.
He cringed. That wasn’t a good word to use, but it was the correct one. A lack of adequate power or incapacity. It described him perfectly.
Spines watched him carefully as he caressed the pages of the book, listlessly turning them over one by one.
No more magic. No more magic.
He flipped from page thirty-nine to forty, then forty-one. He flipped back to forty. Forty-one. Forty.
No more magic. Dull, dumb Dusk Shine. Not even the Princes know how to fix this.
Two weeks and it still felt like a hole in his heart. Something had snapped inside of him, a vital connection severed that he’d never fully repair. It was the worst thing he’d ever felt. Not even the smiling faces of his friends and family, nor the support of the Princes gave him any resolution.
He felt Spines’ claws on his leg. She looked up at him with big moist eyes, eyebrows furled.
“Dusk,” she said, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna find an answer to this like you always do.”
Dusk sighed, lifting a hoof and staring at it. “I dunno, Spines. I’ve got a lot to figure out and I don’t even have magic to help me. Not even the Princes are sure what to do. If they knew, they’d have told us.”
Spines hand dropped away. “Well... I never stopped believing in you before, Dusk. If you won’t believe in yourself, I’ll just have to do it for you.”
Dusk reached down and pulled her into a hug, nuzzling her head spines. “You’re a blessing, Spines.”
“I know, Dusk. Don’t let it go to your head that such an awesome little dragon is around to help you out.”
“Sure, sure... Now how about that awesome dragon goes and sees if Mom’s cookies are done?”
Dusk watched Spines hurry out the door. Mother’s cookies would always be a treat, and she’d been churning them out like they were a magic cure. It was an emotional salve more than anything else, a throwback to the days when Dusk and Glimmering Shield were little foals making a mess in the kitchen. It wouldn’t fix anything physically, and Dusk knew she only did these things for him because she didn’t know what else to do. But it worked because it was so heartfelt. His parents had been more than accommodating, giving him space, time, and every book their library held. It wasn’t as impressive as the Canterlot Archives, but it gave him something to keep his hooves busy with. It helped him remember that he had a cushion, an ever-loving pillow to drop back into when he was done and needed a time out from the world.
But all the family love in the world couldn’t repair a broken horn. Dusk was painfully aware of how alone he really was in this struggle. He lifted a hoof and brought a pen over to scratch down some notes. It felt strange and wrong between his lips, and even though his mouthwriting wasn’t bad, he was aware of every imperfection in his normally flawless cursive. Every motor movement, every muscle contraction jerked and creaked, mocking him with how horribly conscious he was of his own body. He had to forcefully stop his horn from working, from pushing magic through nerve endings that didn’t exist anymore. It didn’t work. The old habits didn’t die hard, they clung to him fiercely and wouldn’t let go.
He tried to think about something else.
He tried to think about his dream. The one he couldn’t remember anymore but knew like the back of his hoof.
He flung his hoof to the side and grabbed his dream journal, flipped it open, and read from the beginning.
I saw her again. She didn’t turn around.
He remembered writing it. He remembered having the dream. But he couldn’t remember the dream itself anymore. The shattered horn had shattered his memory along with it.
“Why?” he asked hoarsely. “Where did you go? What did I do wrong?”
He flipped through every entry, picturing the details in his mind. A beautiful filly with a cutie mark exactly like his, foggy and indistinct, never turning in spite of how loudly he called to her. That was how the story went, but he couldn’t remember reading it.
“Why?” he asked again, louder. “Where are you? Why did this happen to me?! Are you still there?!”
He grabbed another scroll and began writing with his own stupid mouth. His horn still tried to grasp it with magic.
“No,” he told himself, “I’m using my mouth. I’m always going to use it. No more magic. No more dreams. Just... my stupid... mouth!”
The pen scratched and jerked over the page, writing down a stream of consciousness as Dusk moved from notes to gibberish. Scribble, scribble, toil and dribble. The pen and Dusk began to scratch the paper faster and faster. He wasn’t even writing anymore, just raking the tip of the pen back and forth over the scroll, leaving angry scratches wherever it went.
The pen tore through the scroll as his scraping intensified, sending up a blizzard of paper fragments, and then began to dig long furrows into his desk, the awful scratching grating on his ears. He tore it out of his mouth and stabbed it down onto his desk hard enough to leave it upright.
Spines came to the door.
“Dusk, are you okay? I heard something.”
Dusk waved a hoof at her. “I’m fine, Spines.”
“The cookies are almost—”
His hoof slapped down on his desk. “I’m fine.”
He heard her pitying sigh as she backed away.
Dusk put his head in his hooves, willing his heart to stop pounding. He sat there for a while until he felt a whisper of cold air over his shoulder. Tendrils of fog reached around his hooves.
“Artemis?” he asked, craning his neck to look behind him at the Night Prince.
Artemis dispersed the fog with a single flap of his wings. “The very same, Dusk Shine.”
Dusk turned his chair around and sat, deliberately lazy, as he faced the Prince.
“What brings you here?”
“Your dreams. Or rather, your lack of them.”
Dusk let out a quiet ‘pff.’ “What about them?”
“I know you have stopped having them. I know that troubles you almost as much as losing your horn, almost as much as the dreams did themselves.”
Dusk stared miserably at his hooves.
“We’re no closer to figuring this out and I’m crippled for life,” he grumbled.
Artemis stared at him for a long, long time. Spines came to the door again holding a tray of cookies, staring wide-eyed at the Night Prince.
“Uhh... cookie?” she asked, holding the tray out.
Artemis smiled and didn’t hide it. “Yes, please. Dusk, won’t you have some? They are your mother’s, after all.”
Dusk shifted uncomfortably. “I, I don’t...”
“It will help you feel better.”
Dusk looked up again and saw no lie in Artemis’ eyes. It was true: Dusk would feel better after he had something to eat. And so he stared at the cookies for a moment to grasp them with his—
No. He bit back a sob as Spines smiled and brought one over for him. And so they munched in silence for a while until Artemis spoke again.
“I remember, you know.”
Dusk choked on his cookie so hard that Spines came over and thumped him on the back. When Dusk looked up at Artemis, his eyes wide and his mind racing, the Prince had only a placid, unconcerned look on his face. It struck him that Artemis had been planning what to say for a good long while and already knew where this conversation was going and how it would end.
“You do not remember, Dusk. But I was unaffected by whatever happened in your dreamscape. It was magic, Dusk. The same kind that any talented dreamwalker might use.”
Dusk gaped. “But how? Was it a Nightmare? Something else? Something had to have attacked us. I already asked the others; it’s like the whole thing never even happened! If it weren’t for you and my broken horn, I’d never even realize we went in there!”
Artemis closed his eyes, his wings twitching and opening a tiny bit. Dusk saw anxiety etched into the Prince’s face.
“I wish it had been a Nightmare. If it was, it would be a foe that we all know well and could simply destroy it at our leisure with the Elements. But this magic was something different. I could not destroy it, nor could I alter it, because it...”
Artemis swallowed hard. Dusk realized with a shiver that that was the first time he’d seen the Prince gulp.
“It was my magic.”
He went silent as Dusk puzzled it out. They went into the dream to find his doppleganger. They’d found something that broke his horn and took his memory of the event. He’d been searching for a pony that, it could be assumed, had the same abilities as him since the colors and cutie mark were an exact match, and now Artemis had faced magic that didn’t affect him because it was his...
“Hers?” Dusk said. The word was a dry whisper between his lips.
Artemis nodded solemnly. “Hers.”
Dusk almost fell out of his chair in spite of all four of its legs sitting perfectly flat on the floor. His mind reeled and he felt violently ill. The cookies almost exploded back out.
It can’t be. It just can’t!
“I’m afraid it is,” Artemis replied, reading Dusk’s reaction perfectly. “Dusk, whatever is happening to you, it is not an isolated case.”
Dusk fell to the ground, clutching his head between his hooves until it was painful. Spines hurried forward, holding him like a foal.
“Dusk! What is it? Do you need some water?” She looked back up at Artemis. “You mean you saw her too?”
Dusk heard their voices as if from far away, staring straight ahead at nothing. Something wild and ferocious clawed at a great dark curtain in his mind, shredding its thick velvet folds but never quite finding a way through. Sweat ran down his head in rivulets as he shook like a pony in a blizzard.
“Dusk!” Spines wailed.
“I saw her. And I saw me, too,” Artemis said, and the words rang like death knells in Dusk’s ears. The sheer, mind-numbing reality of this revelation was too much for his fragile mind. Some great weight pressed down on him from all sides. The thing behind the curtain in his mind leered at him with a wild look in its doey violet eyes. He wanted so badly to remember it all.
He saw his parents burst in after hearing Spines’ frightened cries. They took one look at Artemis before ignoring him in favor of Dusk as he sputtered and shivered on the floor.
“My baby! Dusk? Dusk, are you okay?!” his mother cried out as his father threw a blanket around his shoulders and nudged him to his hooves, where he fell into his mother’s waiting grasp.
“What’s happening?!” his father demanded of Artemis, who looked on impassively.
“He is trying to remember,” he said, “and he is failing. That dream is desperately trying to return to him. I have pondered many nights now what it might mean to do this, but I must try for the sake of his sanity. Dusk Shine, remove the leystone ring.”
Spines’ voice rang in his ears. “But he can’t! His magic will go crazy!”
“Yes, it will. But I am here. Trust me. We can discuss the existential crisis of female doubles later. Right now, I must undo a terrible curse of my own making.”
Dusk shuddered. His parents exchanged worried, tearful looks. Spines looked up at Artemis, and with a final nod from the Prince, she slipped the ring off his horn.
Artemis’ horn glowed, and his magic’s light embraced Dusk’s head, joining a swirl of lavender energy that leapt from Dusk’s horn stump. It strained against Artemis’ magic, struggling to break free, and the Prince soon showed the strain of keeping the outburst contained in the grimace on his snout.
“Now, my little ponies,” he said, gritting his teeth, “it is time for you—both of you—to remember.”
-------------------------
Twilight sat at her writing desk, poring over her notes of the last month and a half of her life. The dreams, the feelings, and the events were all recorded here. Books held so much power. Nothing went into them that the writer didn’t want. Their pages held the most baseless lies or the most incontrovertible truths. Right or wrong, they were powerful, and she’d sequestered herself in her parents’ library every day for the last two weeks just to be near those fonts of power. It let her feel in control, being able to learn and study like when she was young. The books never judged her; all they needed was her hoof to caress the pages and flip them open. Though it was a constant reminder of her disability—she cringed at the word, correct though it may be—they were the only refuge she had.
She stared dumbly at the last few journal entries just before the fateful night in her own dreamscape, trying to recapture the feelings she’d had during them. Her eyes flew over the pages, catching only small snippets before going on to the next one.
Day 18: Finding it hard to stay awake now. Dream remains unchanged. Male presence a constant. Not sure how I know it’s male. Still can’t change outcome of the dream.
Day 21: I think I’m going crazy. I have to tell my friends. Dream remains unchanged. Growing somewhat skittish. General health deteriorating, malaise now constant. I managed to convince Spike I have the pony pox.
Day 22: Pony pox plan fell through after another of Rainbow Dash’s rain dump pranks. Almost lost my temper. I don’t want to know what I’d have
Day 24: Unable to sleep. Scared of sleep. Have to sleep. I want to see him. I don’t want to see him. This is going too far. Somepony has to know.
Him.
Have to.
Don’t want to.
Nothing I do is working.
Twilight closed the journal again and shook her head: trawling through previous miseries in the vain hope of a solution wasn’t helping. She had to try to undo the lock that Luna put on the minds of her and her friends. Until that injustice was dealt with, she was even worse off than she was when the dreams started. She hated not knowing what to do, and she hated lying to her friends that she did. All she’d done since they left was hide here and read books, desperately trying to ignore the world outside that waited for her. The dreams were gone and she was utterly lost.
“You turned my life upside-down,” she whispered into the air, “but somehow... I kinda wish you were back.”
She leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “Spike?” she called. “Spike, I need a new ink well.”
She listened and waited for the sound of his scampering claws, rubbing her forehead. This nasty headache wasn’t doing her any favors.
“Twilight?” she heard Spike ask from the door. “I got your ink here! Where do I put it?”
“Right next to me, Spike, please.” Twilight gestured at the desk without looking at it, continuing to rub her temples. Her headache was getting worse all of a sudden; it must have been the cold front that moved in last night. Stupid sinuses.
“And... maybe get me some tea? Piping hot?” she asked.
Spike saluted. “Right away!” he said, and then hurried downstairs.
Twilight groaned as her head began to pound, immediately regretting sending Spike away. She pushed away from the desk and stood up.
I’m just working too hard. That’s all. I need to get some bed rest. My horn might be broken, but at least I can get an uninterrupted night’s sleep now...
Her headache continued to worsen. It felt like she was preparing to cast a spell, but the energy wasn’t quite getting through. She touched the leystone ring, feeling its cold, heavy presence—the stone wasn’t altering any spells. They weren’t being cast at all. This wasn’t even like her outburst two weeks ago. The thought of an all new catastrophe building twisted a knot in her stomach.
“Spike,” she called, “where’s that tea?”
“Coming!” he yelled back.
“Don’t shout in the house!” Twilight’s mother said.
“Sorry!” Twilight shouted back.
The pressure was getting worse; the magic wasn’t going out through her horn. She felt it balling up, gathering together right beneath her horn, spreading through her frontal lobe. Half-formed ideas and vague suggestions of spells whispered between her ears, straining to be expressed. She bent over double in her chair, clutching her head in her hooves.
“Stop,” she commanded herself, gritting her teeth as she wrestled with the wild magic. “Stop it. I’m in control. Deep breaths… deep breaths!”
The pressure spiked as she felt herself cast a spell involuntarily. It seeped through her horn, scattered invisibly by the leystone ring. But it didn’t ease the pressure, nor did it stop the swirl of magic in her mind. She felt bloated, full of things she wanted to say and create. The magic wanted, needed to be cast. It was what unicorns were meant to do. She gasped and fell to the ground as another spike of pressure crashed into her
“Spike,” she whimpered, curling into a ball, “somepony! Mom! Dad!” But her voice came out in dying whispers, all of her thoughts focused purely on the working of magic and the creation of spells. Ideas and emotions blotted out clear, rational thought, all the wondrous things she could do tempting and exciting her, igniting her need to create. The incoherent ramblings bled together into an incomprehensible swirl. Titles and names swept through her mind’s eye, and she rattled them off like a grim litany.
Want It Need It, Starswirl’s Time Turning, Minda’s Multitasking, Swifter Sweeping, I have to cast something, I have to use my magic, I HAVE TO!
“I can’t take it!” she shrieked, and reached up to the leystone ring. It fizzled and sparked from the sheer volume of magic it had to contain, the last tiny plug before a flood wall burst open.
Get off me! Get off! I have to be free!
Celestia’s warnings were forgotten, her previous discipline utterly spent. There was no more choice now. Just action.
She grabbed the ring and threw it away.
Spike came to the door, bearing a plate covered in biscuits and teacups. “Twilight, I got the- AHHHH!”
He stumbled back and fell on his tail as a lightning bolt struck the door and blasted it off its hinges. Twilight stood in the middle of a maelstrom of power, suffusing the room in a violent purple glow. Her mane whipped around her face and her eyes glowed with a fearsome white light. Above her head a sparkling menagerie of raw magic swirled and billowed like an angry cloud. Books, papers and chairs rode a furious whirlwind, striking the walls along with tongues of flame and tendrils of distorted reality that lashed and burned the very space around Twilight, leaving bright afterimages of their passing.
Spike huddled down as Twilight’s parents rushed to the door, gaping at the spectacle.
“Not again! Twilight!” Spike called out, but his voice was lost in the cacophony of explosions and swirling wind.
Twilight staggered into her desk. It melted away like ice wherever she touched it. Books were vaporized instantaneously and rebuilt seconds later. Words and images spilled out of her unburdened horn, writing all new spells on the air. She had never felt more alive, more in tune with the pure, unbridled magic of the world. She felt like an artery and magic was her lifeblood, a source and a fuel for all her energy. She sobbed and laughed at the same time.
“I can feel it!” she crowed, ignoring her family’s cries as they called out to her. “I can feel it all! This is Magic! This is Magic!”
Her vision distorted. Her parents and Spike turned into glowing motes of light before her sight blasted upward, through the ceiling and into the sky. She saw herself standing on a great cliff face, looking out over the whole world. It was covered in lights, near and far, large and small. She understood in that moment that she saw every single pony in Equestria. Little fires flickering, daring the darkness around them to come and snuff them out. Ten thousand thousand little lives, all burning bright for how small they were.
She heard words and shouts, and vaguely understood that her parents were calling to her. She heard Celestia’s voice, pleading with her, but that wasn’t important now. She heard another voice, an echo of a whisper on top of all the others. It came from so far, far away, yet she heard it right next to ears. She tried to reach out to it, heard its siren call getting louder, louder...
A great tug from behind brought her back to earth.
Her immediate vision returned to her. She saw her magic—her beautiful, fantastic magic—bound in a bristling cage of lightning.
She turned her head. Both Princesses stood there, straining against her with all their might. Her parents stood behind them, holding each other, tears staining their cheeks as Spike huddled at their hooves.
All of them wavered between reality and indistinct, abstract forms. Beautiful, beautiful lights, pulsating and shimmering like fire. Her parents, burning fiercely with protective love. Spike, wavering unsteadily. And the Princesses, Celestia blazing bright as the Sun with Luna reflecting her light. They paled in comparison to her.
She wasn’t Twilight anymore. She was Magic.
“Why are you doing this?” she demanded of them, and with a thought she smashed her cage apart. The Princesses fell back on powerful shields that stretched to both sides of the room. Everything not behind them was burned away by Magic’s power.
Twilight, she heard Celestia’s mind say to hers, stop this. You don’t know what you’re doing. Something is working to undo all of our progress.
“This isn’t progress,” Magic spat back at her. “It’s prison. You know what’s going on and you won’t just let it happen!”
It must not. You are not ready for this, Twilight, Celestia pleaded. Tears shimmered in her eyes. You must trust me. This is for your own good. Look at what you are doing. You’re out of control. Your parents are frightened and want you back.
Her expression wavered. I want you back.
“This is all your fault!” Magic screamed back at her. “Not ready? Look at me! In being broken I have become stronger than ever before! I—remember—everything!”
She turned her full fury on Princess Luna, who fell to her knees. Celestia leaped to her aid, strengthening her shield with her own.
“She... I deserve an explanation,” the changed unicorn spat.
Neither of us unlocked your memories! said Luna. It was something else entirely. Something antithetical to us both, Twilight! Can you not see you are in danger? That we are ALL in danger?
“Because of you!” Magic shrieked. “Because of your lack of faith in me!”
Celestia shook her head. Twilight, we cannot tell you everything. Not like this. I trust you! You know that! But... there are things in this world... things I must protect you from!
“I gave you back your sister,” Magic snarled, “but you try and crush me. No more. I can feel it. I can feel him. I remember the dream and you won't stop me this time!”
Celestia closed her eyes. Luna’s expression went flat, but the flames of determination made her light grow stronger.
We must, Twilight, said Celestia. We must.
Magic shook her head.
“But you can’t.”
She closed her eyes and the world vanished.
-------------
Trees. Sun. Wind. Sky. Open space. Magic, out of control, spiraling. The ground.
Twilight opened her eyes.
She was in a forest. It was peaceful and green, apart from the crackling embers that lined the crater all around her. She was exhausted, and her broken horn felt as horrid as it did the day Luna had broke it. It hissed and sparked, energy still coursing around it even after she had utterly spent herself. Every spark hurt.
But the Princesses weren’t here, and they didn’t appear after she lay there a while, gathering her thoughts and her breath. She had escaped. She was free. Free to pursue the dream herself now. Free to investigate what she’d seen in the moments before her horn was broken. Even free to destroy the world, if her brush with insanity just a few moments or hours or however much time had passed ago was any indication.
She stood up on shaky legs, but she was struck by how clear her thoughts were now. She knew. She remembered. She had a goal.
First, find out where she was. Second, find a way to keep her magic under control.
And then find him. She felt closer to him now. The feelings of longing and need were still there, but it didn’t make her heart sting as much now. Something had reached across universes and undone the spell laid on her. It was a sign that she was doing it right. It had to be.
She looked up and saw a trail of smoke on the horizon. Step by step, she walked.
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I thought unicorn horns grew back eventually, being made of keratin, otherwise the Lotus sisters wouldn't even dare file them down.
Trust, yeah, right.
A simple explanation could have been given, it didn't even have to go into detail... both sides are trying to care for their ponies, but one of them is going about it all wrong... currently, my money rests in that the side that is betraying the spirits of the elements that is wrong, and going to lose much more than what they would if they had spoken up from the beginning.
Huh, horn breaking seems to be popular recently.
FEATURED ON EQUESTRIA DAILY!!
So... we have three villains.
Luna, Solaris, and... and... Celsestia
I hope to see more of this heart-wrenching story.
2193595
I want to see more, but ultimately villain seems like the wrong word. I think there all really scared, and not sure what's really happening.
I kinda hope this doesn't go the way Eternal did (you know, where Celestia chained up her other half -- fanon) or like Dusk's Dangerous Game where Celestia was being something of a control freak to achieve a particular end, almost regardless of what got in the way. I'm seeing that kind of vibe though.
If you asked me what was up, I'd almost be willing to say that two universes want to merge for some reason. Or at least that they will, given half a chance. Not sure if that's bad or good. Alternatively, maybe Celestia and/or Luna have done something wonky and are not telling the whole truth about the existence of the elements.
2161398
It's like having a dragon or something tear the wings off a pegasus.
Pretty sad, really.
As a new project I'm starting on my channel, I've done my 1st ever dramatic reading of the 1st chapter of this. Give me some feedback (i wasnt prepared for rule 63 voices a lot of times I droned in and out of em, and Dusk Shine is freakin hard to pronounce) Have a listen and be an honest applejack about it, I need all the positive or negative feedback I can get! Click me!
Wow............. If I may impose personal parallels, I feel almost as if I am reading the emotions and confusion I went through when I was first coming to grips with (and my eventual acceptance and embracing of) my gender dysphoria. A doppleganger that you recognize yet can't reach out to. The fear that others possess. The need to know more. If that is your goal, my hats off to you good author, because this is a fucking stroke of absolute genius. If not... Well, unintentional allusion is unintentional.
24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m74nez3s3T1rv8jpzo1_r1_400.gif
This is absolutely brilliant! Also, playing this song on repeat throughout the chapter really gives you the emotion:
Sweet Celestia's fine flanks! Look at all the comments!
1651254
I hope you're still reading, because I'm still writing!
1655490
You'll notice it is Angela now. :3
2160612
Celestia and Luna have been alive a long time. In this story, they unfortunately seem to believe that entitles them to know things that other ponies aren't supposed to.
2161000
It's the classic "don't eat a cookie before dinner" conundrum. You'll get in trouble, but obviously the cookies are better than dinner if you have to wait so long for them...
2161398
Is it? I haven't seen many other stories where horn breaking happens to the mane six. Ah well, this horn breakage is incidental rather than the focus of this story anyway.
2192882
Isn't it though?
2193595
Solaris? I dunno, he seems like a nice guy to me in the last few chapters ... Or does he know more than he's letting on too?
2194027
Scared is a good word. Fright can easily make anyone desperate.
2194657
It will come. Don't you worry about that.
2193838
Sorry to hear that! I guess I'm just a fan of opaqueness?
2195518
I listened to the entire thing, sir. It was impressive, and quite flattering. I've never had a story chosen for something like that before! The voices had good inflection for the most part, though perhaps they need a little more range to differentiate from your reading voice, but I can understand it's hard to sound like a filly.
You put an interesting spin on how some of the talks went; I enjoyed Applejack's part especially. I hope you do more!
2195573
I was honestly floored by how forthright you are here, and I'm touched that you connect with my writing so deeply. Another friend of mine actually pointed out similar feelings about my story when this was still conceptual, and I won't say that didn't affect how I viewed the work. So I guess it's unintentionally intentional?
I'm glad people can relate so well to my stories, and I'm happy to have you along for the ride.
2196464
BWAAAAAAAAHHHMMM.
2202196
Well thats the thing, the mark of a good author is the ability to be both abstract and concrete. Let the readers draw their own conclusions. The fact that so many people can relate to this in so many ways means you're doing extremely well.
(One suggestion though, you might want to scootch the plot along and let us know what's really going on soon, because there's abstract, then there's too abstract.
)
Really looking forward to seeing where this is going.
Holy crappers, this is amazing. Please continue with your awesomeness!
Artemis seems to be the only helpful one so far, with Solaris being indifferent and Luna/Celestia actively trying to stop their student. Dusk Shine out rolled Twilight for the better set of rulers, it seems.
Fantastic story! I love how the viewpoints are alternating between worlds. Differences are subtle at first, but grow with time, and after Artemis' spell at the end of last chapter, the symmetry seems to be broken completely.
My current theory is that Celestia and Luna have either discovered this mirror world, or divided it from mane Equestria in the past and created the black barrier to keep the worlds separated. They believe that if left for themselves, the worlds are going to merge and Princesses are going to do everything to prevent it.
Found this through Equestria Daily. Having Celestia and Luna being opposed to Twilight like this seems off to me; Solaris's and Artemis's actions are much more in line with the Princesses we know. But other than that, I sense potential here. Favoriting to see what happens next.
That awkward moment when you have a genius comment but you forget it while typing it
I am fiiiinally hooked.
My impressions are being slowly vindicated. I love the internal content in this story. Twilight becoming Magic was spellbinding. The description of her feelings of loss, especially regarding Celestia, is great. I can relate right now to Dusk Shine's struggles to adapt to life without magic, since I'm suffering from tendonitis at the moment and trying not to use my right hand any more than I have to. The way you describe his frustrated rage is spot-on.
But the thing about this chapter that resonated most with me was when Twilight and her friends realized that the princesses really weren't with them, and they had to decide what to do. I imagined myself in Twilight's place, slowly telling them what she thought:
"I think... that it's possible... that the best thing for us to do will be... to leave Equestria. I may want to take advantage of Celestia's generosity... and learn how to live... without a horn. But once I've gotten... as better as I'm going to get... we may want to leave Equestria and go.. someplace where the princesses can't find us. Somewhere where they don't have any power. And then we'll try... to solve this mystery that's clearly very important. If you don't want to go, I understand... it's just that I may need all the Elements to solve this."
Rainbow Dash would be the first to say she'd follow Twilight anywhere. Then Fluttershy would assent. Then Pinkie Pie. But Applejack and Rarity wouldn't be willing to go. Applejack would suggest remaining behind but leaving a way to contact her in case the mystery was on the verge of being solved and she was needed.... And the quest would last for years, maybe a decade, before Twilight, in exile and without most of her magic, but with support from Spike and three of her friends, would finally break through the barrier....
The behavior of the princesses really seems off. There better be something really sinister at work here...
Uncannily accurate portrayal of mental illness with Twilight in this chapter. There's a part of me that wonders if this whole "alternate universe" idea is a giant metaphor for schizophrenia.
This is how supervillains are made. Also dude-team being the cool guys as usual.
2160399 Maybe they do but only to a point like your liver, remove enough of it and it won't grow back
2440061
I know right.I become suspiscous of Celestia. She seems like she knows who Solaris is...
THERE IS NO NEED FOR SLEEP!!
It seems like either the princes are fake, the princeses are fake, or they are both real and somehow the princesses are bitches.
2937085
Yeah both are real and Celestia is being a troll
Typical
Pony pox plan fell through after another of Rainbow Dash’s rain dump pranks
Dusk gaped. “But how? Was it a Nightmare?
1. Did you mean Dumb?
2. I think you meant to write it as small caps nightmare. Though initially I thought you were trying to say Nightterror (like in the previous chapter) but I guess that's what I get for going a little too fast
3354381 2 is yes 1 is no
She is talking about a "rain dump prank"
As in dumping rain. You can't "dumb" rain.
Okay, this was an intense chapter all around.
I wonder why Celestia and Luna are trying so hard to keep Twilight in the dark. Was that dark barrier something they made, or something that they found...?
3365781 I think they mean "dumb rain pranks" not "rain dumb pranks"