One More Day

by Fire-Dash

Gone

Chapter Seven
Gone

{Twilight}

“Twilight!” somepony calls in the distance, beyond the blackness, beyond the incessant drumming of my heart. It's muffled and unclear but I know that it's calling for me. I just don't know where to find it, how to get to it.

I try to say something back but my mouth is glued shut. I drift around in a thick, inky darkness, feeling weightless and weak.

“T-Twlight? A-are you okay?” I know that voice. I try to follow it, try to reach it but it's like trying to attach two magnets together by their north ends. Something unseen repels me, forcing me to hover just out of reach. I try again to call back but my efforts are fruitless.

“Twilight?”

Light floods my vision. I rise up, gasping and choking like I'd just come up from drowning. I look around, confused for a moment before my brain registers where I am. The room, the red-jackets, the floating lights. I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth and let it out shakily, drawing my front hooves up to my head and rubbing my temples. What in Celestia's name just happened?

When I feel somepony's gaze on me, I sit up, staring back. It's Dusk, honey-brown eyes wide with fear. We may have only met this morning but it was apparent he cared about what happened to me. In fact, he seemed quite aware of everypony's pain. Every time someone cried or yelled or fell to the ground in defeat, he flinched. As though he could feel it himself. “A-are you alright?" he asks. "You j-just passed out.”

“I did?” I start to stand, feeling unsteady and dizzy. “How long was I out?”

“A-a few minutes,” Dusk replies, then turns and shoots what looks like his version of a glare (which really isn't all that menacing) at the red-jackets. “N-no one even c-cared.” He seems more upset than anything, and I know it's probably just how he is but I have to wonder why he cares so much.

“You obviously did,” I reply, meeting his eyes.

He looks away quickly and shrugs. After a moment, I realize that's all the answer I'm going to get.

Then I remember something—Nova. I look around frantically and when Dusk catches on, he merely states, “Th-they t-took her while y-y-you were out.”

At that, my eyes are drawn to the door, wondering what they could be doing in there. If they'd already taken Nova, and I'd only been out for a few minutes, it must not take that long. What could it be?

I turn my line of sight back to Dusk, studying him. I hadn't seen his cutie mark clearly before and now, seeing him in full view, I notice something off. The symbol on his flank appears to be a cloud, stained sunset-orange and pale salmon, fading to white at the top. And that's all. Just a single cloud. Looking closer, I can see the edges are almost... faded? Why is that?

I guess he notices my questioning look because he quickly turns around, facing me and hiding his flank. “W-why d-do you th-think they t-took us?” he asks, changing the subject before I even have a chance to start it.

I raise an eyebrow but let him be. If he doesn't want questions, I'm not going to pester him. I was just curious. “I don't know,” I reply. Answer of the day. I don't like not knowing things. It bothers me that I can't just go read a book and find out what's going on. But even if I had all the books from my library here, all the books in Equestria, I doubt I'd find any answers. “Maybe we're important for, well, whatever it is they're doing.”

Dusk appears in thought for a moment. “Y-you mean, they w-want us for our t-talents?” Despite the stutter, his voice is dark, much darker than I'd heard it go all day. What's going on in that colt's head?

“I guess so. I don't know what else they'd choose us for," I say with a shrug, pausing a second before I add, “unless they picked us completely at random, of course.”

The light brown pegasus shakes his head. “B-bad luck,” he mumbles.

I nodd. “Bad luck indeed.”

We sit there in silence for a while, watching the door, waiting for Nova to reappear through it. I find my mind starting to wander back to what had just happened to me. I try to ignore it but I know I can't do that for long. Everything comes back. According to Dusk, I'd just passed out cold. What brought that on? Did they do something to me? What did the dream mean? I keep seeing the dust images of Nova and Dusk, the stallion tearing them apart. The lifeless puppet-bodies, the circus tent, the audience....

I'm shivering. I try to calm myself, take a deep breath, hold it, let it go, repeat. It's not working, though. The air's thick down here and I'm getting lightheaded. The dream images keep flooding back and I'm drowning in them. I try to rise and gasp for air but the current's too strong. I'm pulled deep under the cries of joy and amaze from the audience, the rows and rows of glassy puppet-eyes, the dust filling my lungs, the stallion's grin—

“Twilight?” I hear Dusk's muffled voice say. He sounds like he's standing behind a thick stone wall. “What d-do you—Twilight?” I vaguely register a feeling of falling before something catches me. “H-hey, sn-snap out of it!”

I jolt up to the surface, so fast I throw Dusk off-balance. I stumble and nearly land on top of him before I catch myself. I blink rapidly and shake my head, casting off the binds of haze.

Dusk sits up from where I'd knocked him down, eyes wide. He reaches for his glasses, which I had inadvertently flung from his face, and blinks at me. “St-stop doing that!” he cries, looking like I'd just given him fifty heart-attacks at once.

For some reason, maybe because I'm still in shock and loopy from whatever had just gone on in my head, but I find this profoundly funny. I laugh, a sort of airy, strained laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. Dusk gives me a strange look, somewhere between puzzlement, concern and fear. He looks like I've just gone insane. Frankly, I'm not sure if that's entirely wrong.

“T-Twilight?” he asks, reaching a hoof out like he wants to steady me but doesn't have the nerve to actually try. “Are y-you okay?”

It's the way he says it that brings me back. Something different in his voice. A fear that went deeper than mere concern. My laughter dies down and I take a deep, shaky breath. “Yeah,” I sigh after a moment. “I'm fine.”

He looks me over, as if trying to spot any sign of something that might be wrong, but he can't find it. “W-what happened t-to you just n-n-now?”

I shake my head absently, not meeting his eyes. “I don't know. I really don't. I was thinking back to... back to when I passed out just a few minutes ago and, well, that happened.”

Dusk draws in a sharp breath. He nods towards the red-jackets. “D-did they d-do that?”

Again, I shake my head. Yet another 'I don't know' to add to the growing list.

“I d-don't like th-the idea of anypony a-a-altering m-minds.”

I have to agree with that. But there's something a little strange about how he says it. The way his voice wavers beyond the usual stutter, the very real fear so strong and consuming I can see it in his eyes. Almost like he's dealt with it before. He looks different from this morning but I can't quite place how. I'm about to ask if anything similar had happened to him but a red-jacket stops me before I begin. He marches right up to Dusk, grabs him by his right foreleg, mutters, “you're next,” and drags him off before either of us can blink.

When I realize that Nova isn't going to be coming back out that door, I start to get uneasy. Maybe they let them out another door when they're done. I haven't heard any screams or cries or yelps yet. In fact, I haven't heard anything at all coming from behind that door. I'm not sure if that means I should relax or start to panic.

Absently, I begin to pace. There's so much going on in my head it feels like I'm going to explode. I can't focus on anything—not that there's really much for me to think about. What can I do? I don't even know where I am, why I'm here, what they're doing to us. I grunt (well, it's more like a growl) and sit down hard in the middle of the floor. I hate not knowing things. I hate being kept in the dark. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to lose myself in the ceaseless chatter of the crowd but it's useless. Eyes open or closed, I still see the same thing. The dust, the figures, the wind, the stallion—

And suddenly the metal door behind me swings open. Five grey-cloaks march inside, dragging several unconscious ponies in by their hooves. “These ones are fresh,” a guard says to the red-jackets, “but we can't afford to wait before we test them.”

The red-jackets exchange a few glances before one of them nods. As if that explained everything.

The guards drop the ponies in, taking one more glace back before exiting the room. The door slams shut behind them.

A few ponies seem curious, but most are just trying to ignore the eight newcomers sprawled out on the floor. I want to help them but what can I do? What comfort can I offer them now when they're trapped and I know no more than they do? So, like the others, I just stare.

After a while, the first few begin to stir, confused and terrified. With some hesitation, a few ponies finally decide to go help them and that's push enough for me to go as well. I proceed with caution, making my way over to the still-unconscious stallion at the end of the line. As I get a closer look, I can spot the bruising on his head and ribs, the specks of red dotting his pale grey coat, the gash above his eye, his freshly-severed horn.... He looks about as wonderful as I did this morning, and I probably look even worse now.

The others who were with him are all awake now and attempting to make sense of their surroundings. Some ponies are trying to explain everything to them but only about two are listening. The rest are all in a state of shock or panic, pacing or sitting rigid with a blank stare. Familiar reactions. Reactions most ponies had this morning when they discovered where they were, what had happened. It will take a moment before they register what they lost.

I nudge the stallion at my hooves, wondering about that gash on his forehead. It's really quite a nasty one and as I think about it, my mind delves back to dark places. What if this one isn't going to wake up? I quickly shake my head. No, head injuries always look worse than they really are. I remember reading about that. I nudge him again, just as one of the ponies who had been brought in with him spots us and rushes over. She looks down at him with wild eyes and gives him a hard shove, right in his bruised ribs. He coughs and tries to move but he doesn't have the strength yet. The mare rises on her back legs, still looking wild and furious. She grunts and starts to drive her front hooves down on his neck, but before I even know what I'm doing I dive and hold her back, pinning her to the ground.

“Hey!” I cry, “what did he do? Why are you so angry?”

And—in a flash—all the hate in her eyes melts away. She blinks, as though she had just snapped out of a trance, looking up at me in bewilderment. “I, um, I don't know,” she says quietly, her voice betraying her distress. “I just saw him and....” She's shivering now. I let her go and she bolts up, darting away like a frightened rabbit. I turn to the stallion, more confused than ever.

He coughs, a painful, raking cough, his body shaking with the effort. I lean down next to him and he blinks, looking up at me. “Hmm, wha—?” He jumps up, only to immediately double over in pain, holding his hoof up to the gash in his head. I can't help but notice how skinny he is. He stands tall and lanky, his long legs making him seem even thinner than he really is. His eyes are deep green and his mane is a medium-dark grey, fading to white at the ends. He shakes his head, tossing a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes as he studies me. I can tell that he's seeing about three of me right now because his gaze isn't quite focused yet. When I reach out to steady him, he stares at my hoof like it just turned green and grew talons. “Did you bring me here?” he asks wearily, his voice hoarse.

I shake my head. “No, I—“

Suddenly, his eyes go wide. He stands up bolt-straight, staring at me. “Y-your horn,” he gasps, “what happened?”

I look down, not prepared for the wave of despair that washes over me. I don't need to look up to know what he's just realized.

I hear a sharp intake of breath, the shuffle of quick-pacing hooves, the muttering of “no, no, no” repeated over and over. When I finally gather the strength to look back up, he's staring at the ground, shaking his head. “No,” he mumbles, “it's not real. There's no way, there's just no way.... It didn't really—oh, Celestia, no.”

I don't know what to say so I just stand there, shuffling my hooves on the gritty cement floor. When he finally stops pacing, I look up, facing him. He takes a deep breath before asking, “did they,” there's a catch in his voice, “did they do anything else?”

I shake my head slowly. “Maybe—but I don't think so,” I add quickly, trying not to make his mood sink deeper.

I watch him as he tries to pick out the others who were with him. “I remember them,” he says softly, mostly to himself. There's a long pause before he whispers, “what did I do?”

When I sit beside him he jumps a little, like he'd forgotten I was there. He relaxes quickly, though, sighing. “It's okay,” he says slowly, like he's trying to convince himself. “This is fine. This is just fine. I can fix this.”

Fix this? I want to ask but don't speak up. This is just his way of dealing with what's happened. In fact, it's quite similar to my own. I'm about to tell him that it's going to be okay, try and reassure him that we'll get out, when a red-jacket marches up to me. “Your turn,” he states simply in a hard tone, and proceeds to drag me off.

I catch the look of surprised confusion in the stallion's eyes as I'm dragged away. A look that quickly turns to anger directed at the red-jacket. This one, I could tell, was not going to be one of the ponies to accept his fate.

* * *

{Rainbow}

The library is on fire.

We realize it far too late. Ponies are running down the streets, not exactly panicked, but not really wanting to stick around for questions either. You can only just barely make out the smoke—but it's there. We start running, I stretch out my wings, diving into the air and flying fast. I blitz towards the building quicker than lightning, not thinking as I rush into one of the open windows. Smoke fills my lungs the second I land and I have to squint to get a look through the haze.

“Hey!” I cry, trying to make myself heard over the roar of the flames. “Anypony alive in here?”

A hoarse cough is my response and I have to duck under the smoke, weaving around burning desks and charred books to get to it.

Spike is curled up tight in a corner, shivering despite the intense heat. I nudge my head under his small body and manoeuvre him onto my back. I try to check the rest of the library but there's too much smoke and I'm coughing and the fire's rising up around me and it's burning and—

I bolt through the door, knocking it off its hinges, flinging it across the road. I collapse the second I'm clear of danger. I'm lying on the ground, coughing my lungs out as Spike rolls off of me. He shudders, trying to curl back up into a ball before his limbs give out altogether. He slips into unconsciousness.

The others have managed to catch up now and Fluttershy helps me up. I have to lean against her to keep from diving back into another hacking fit. Rarity rushes to Spike, nudging him with her nose. “What in Celestia's name happened in there?” she asks, turning around to face me.

I shake my head. “How should I know? I just went in and out. There really wasn't much chance to search the place, you know, it being on fire and all.”

She turns away from me then, looking back down at Spike as firefighters begin to gather around the burnng library. Pinkie bounds over. “Is he okay?” she asks, tilting her head to look over Rarity's shoulder. “Can't you use magic to help?”

Something about that last sentence makes us all stiffen.

“No,” the white mare replies after a long pause, “I don't know how to do that.” The way she says it is bitter. I can hear the frustration in her voice. She feels it too. That tingling feeling you get when you're on the verge of an important memory, when you're so close to the answer you can taste it. But it's not close enough.

Fluttershy shuffles her hooves, not knowing what to do. I turn to her. “Can you go get a doctor?” I ask. She hesitates, glancing back at Spike, but after a moment she nods and heads off.

I know dragons are fireproof but I just need the doctor to confirm. It looks like maybe Spike's in shock. Passed out when something went wrong. Maybe somepony got hurt inside... or worse and he freaked out. I start to get anxious, worrying that maybe I left somepony behind I could have saved. I'm pacing furiously but Rarity's sudden gasp forces me to stop.

“He's not breathing!” she cries, looking around frantically for somepony to tell her what to do.

But how...? I nudge him, trying to prod him awake but he just lays limp. He's immune to fire and the smoke shouldn't have bothered him, so what—

And then I feel it. The world around me starts to blur. I'm suddenly cold. So, so cold. I shiver and the earth feels like it's shaking, forcing my feet out from under me. I collapse, hitting the ground but not feeling it. I'm numb. Still conscious, but numb.

Muffled, far away voices echo around me. I strain to hear them but I only catch pieces. “Rainbow...help! —no, what... happening.... Please—help us! Somepony... help....”

Voices fade, vision fails. I'm sinking. Deep and dark, down and down. Sinking... sinking... until there's nothing left. Nothing. No faces or colours or sounds or feelings. It's nothing all around. My thoughts are frantic, no, not now. Not yet, this can't be—it can't be! Not yet! I try to hold on to the memories of the light, to everything up there I'd be leaving. I hold tight but it's hard. The more I try to go back to the light, the farther I slip. The more I want it, need it, the harder it is to get. I'm falling, my wings have failed, my hooves are slipping and there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing. Nowhere to go, nopony to help. I can't hold on, can't keep it up. I'm tired, so tired. So tired all I can think of is rest. Sweet, sweet rest. So tired of holding on.... Nothing to cling to, nopony to call out to, no wings to fly away. Rest. Have to rest, need to rest....

I find myself letting go, just as I realize what's happening. And in the few seconds before all my world comes crashing down, I scream silently in my head. No! The word seems to echo in the dark and I reach out again, one last desparate attempt, trying to find... to find...

But it's already gone.