Celestia, sword of the Solar Knights and defender of the peoples of Equestria, fights a battle for the soul of a troubled sorceress in the heart of the Everfree Forest.
Celestia, sacred paladin of the Solar Knights, has been on many journeys to the perilous Everfree Forest in the name of defending her kingdom from all kinds of magical menaces. But when she takes on a mysterious witch in the heart of the forest, she finds the values at her very heart challenged by the treacherous venture. Her quest to defend faceless subjects from a dangerous entity becomes one to save a troubled soul from its own misery, and, in the process, perhaps heal the pain buried deep within her own.
It was near midnight when the call came in, but she didn’t mind. Any chance to get free of Canterlot was a good one. Walking into the latest troubled village was like breaching the surface for a breath of fresh air. She may not have had the fastest reflexes amongst her order, but she easily outpaced her colleagues in grabbing a mission. Today’s call was yet another slice of nowhere by the name of Ponyville. Something about problems surrounding the Everfree Forest (no surprises there). Something about witchcraft. It was a chance to walk. She took it.
It felt good to slip into her armour again. Truth be told, to her body it was more comfortable wearing the armour than not. Her time in long, flowing silk dresses and fine jewelry left her feeling like she’d been dug out of a shell. The marks on her skin where the padded leather straps rested were finally reunited with their snug burden. Her thick, rough hide others called skin was no longer on display like a gaudy leather dress.
It was no secret that Celestia felt no attachment to the city her guild resided in. The sum total of her time surrounded by her colleagues was walking in the door, finding an application, attending whatever inane socials or fundraisers her higher-ups had scheduled during the wait for approval, then returning to the field as quickly as she could tear off the latest garish garment they’d selected for her. The last piece of armour was the helmet, and it was this that was the only piece Celestia truly disliked. The Solar Knights avoided contact with the public where possible, attempting to distance themselves from the conflicts they sought to resolve and avoid building attachments to people they might have to abandon. Celestia hated it. But her helmet was a part of her, even if it was one she resented, and so she placed it squarely over her head and marched towards the door of her simple board room.
The chariot ride to Ponyville was a quiet one, as Celestia had intended. She muttered a half-truth to the fellow guards that she needed quiet to gauge the situation. But the passage of rolling countryside was better on her conscience than the incessant inquiries about her that her fellows continued to make, so she told the truth in that way if nothing else. Her eyes flicked to the report after a good quarter-hour. Her mind free of its burdens for the moment, she decided to open it. The locals were said to be a superstitious, cowardly lot, meaning their claims had to be taken with at least a grain of salt.
Nevertheless, as the source of most of the kingdom’s horses (including the ones currently driving her chariot), Ponyville was high-priority when it made a claim. And then there was the Everfree to think about. The problem with a boy who cried wolf is that one is far more likely to take their claims seriously when they live next to a wolf den. And living next to a nightmare of a “forest” like that one would make anybody fearful. If it weren’t for the enchanted soil being so great for crop and livestock, it would be a miracle to find any kind of outpost there.
And yet there they were. Consequently, attacks by hydras, constellation monsters, dragons, manticores and cockatrices were all calls that had made rounds in her time with the guard. The hydra in particular she had dealt with personally. The poisoned blood had carved ugly scars into her body where the gaps in her armour lay, but she’d emerged to the sight of a set of terrified civilians look at her with hope, then relief, then gratitude.
A mousey, quiet local named Fluttershy had approached her after that battle, wearing her amazement all over her face. The talk that ensued was a welcome chance to socialize with somebody who didn’t see her for her history, and a chance to inspire somebody to make a difference in their world. She’d received a letter from this same Fluttershy outlining how she decided to follow her advice and example--she stood up to a cockatrice after it had cornered some children she’d been looking after and saved their collective lives with her newfound courage. Celestia only hoped she’d appreciated the glowing response.
But this time was very different. The locals weren’t afraid of any kind of monster that could be slain or driven off, nor in some kind of dispute she could settle diplomatically. They weren’t even being plagued by a rogue magical effect, catastrophic as those could be. No, this time was different, and far more dangerous for it. A dark magician had set up a tower made of oak and crystal in the ruins of the Everfree’s old castle, and the locals had little doubt she’d turn to them for test subjects at a moment’s notice.
Of course, “dark magician” could easily have been a stretch. The last witch-doctor call she’d answered for these people had turned out to be a black woman who liked making herbal medicine with a few traditions the locals had misconstrued as sinister. The woman--Zecora--still wrote to her to tell her how she was doing now that the locals didn’t think of her as a cannibal priestess. Particularly to tell her about the adorable bond she’d formed with one of the little local girls who wanted to know more about potions. The magic soldier felt a warmth bloom in her heart just thinking about it.
But this time was different. This sorceress, this--she checked the name--Twilight Sparkle had a record in Cantolot, too. After a disastrous attempt at an application to the wizard’s college had catalyzed a history of ostracism owing to her uncontrolled magical ability, the girl had fled to an abandoned observatory in the town of Solarity and lived a hermit’s life. Then she’d found a tutor, rumor had it. And not a good influence, either. Mages from the town had picked up on dark magic in her study and reported it to the local college. The budding witch had, according to the investigation that took place after, been writing her own magical theory books in every discipline under the sun. Some of them were being taught in colleges to this day, so skilled was her grasp under the eyes of whoever was tutoring her.
But the scope was troubling. Necromancy, pain magic, shadow magic, blood magic. There was evidence she’d experimented, too. And her writings implied she had a detached curiosity on these fields, and on the practical applications of her spells. Regardless, it wasn’t her Celestia was truly worried about. Her tutor, whoever they were, seemed to trapped by some kind of powerful magic. Those kinds of seals were usually in place for a reason, and this Twilight Sparkle seemed to be looking for a way to “repay her for her teachings”.
The stars will aid in her escape, she’d written out in the last of her journals before she’d fled. And now she was in a nexus of chaos and darkness magic. Celestia sighed. At least she’d probably get some paid leave for this. She could visit the locals, see if Zecora had met Fluttershy yet. Talk to that pink-haired woman who always got so excited when she visited. She looked outside again. There it was--the forest of monsters, still as dark and tangled as ever. Cutting its skyline was a tower built from glowing amethysts and rune-covered wood.
This was her stop. She stepped out of the carriage.
Celestia lifted her head to study the tower. Eldritch magic of a lavender persuasion emanated from the top of the tower, travelling down its length in twirling ribbons of light. She recognized the patterns--wards. This Twilight was careful, if nothing else. She looked back to the town, then at her report. Part of her thought that perhaps Fluttershy or Zecora might know something about this, but the report told her most of what she needed to know. Experimentation on the edge of town. Some sightings of a hooded figure observing the town folk silently. And, of course, there was the eternal conflict between duty to her subjects and personal interest that talking to these people would involve. She had to do this quickly, and a cold interrogation wasn’t something she was interested in thrusting upon people she’d forged some kind of emotional bond with.
She scanned the tower instead, making sure to hurry her approach towards the forest without another glance back at the warm and inviting community to her rear. Better to avoid mixing her friends (or, what could pass for as close to friends as she had) with her job. Duties had...complications, and emotions were an unwanted presence when engaging in this job. The wards were certainly expertly made, she had to confess. An ornately coiled set of enchantments tensed casting effect to near-instantaneous reaction, while microscopic spindles of mana shaped like spider webs betrayed carefully-laid activation mechanisms.
The wards themselves were laid out in ways that suggested at least some concern for intruders: Repulsion spells gave way to mental magic and then a layer of terrain alteration. The spells with lethal effects appeared to be tethered to triggers deep within the tower. Celestia filed away the relief at what that implied about the sorceress’ state of mind for later. Her boots crushed leaf litter and loamy soil with callous disregard, her body moving in harmony with her mind’s pace. The forest itself was familiar to her, if not admired in any respect. Formidable oaks wrapped in hanging ivy overshadowed spiny brambles and poisonous fungi of gelatinous disposition. Crows, mourning doves and blue jays formed a chorus fitting for the forest: harsh, gloomy and dark. The stink of rot and old growth flooded her nostrils.
Her feet navigated the paradoxical tangle of blooming, ever-bountiful life and gloomy, morose decay with the experience of a frequent visitor. Over forty calls in these dark woods had left her with the experience to navigate the twisted forest with few incidents. Her eyes and feet worked in unison to sidestep a manticore’s game trail, the ruins of a townhouse from an era when the forest was still inhabited, then the den of some timberwolf puppies. Even as she marched through the sinister lands, she continued to piece together how she would deal with the latest danger the forest had birthed.
Every step towards the tower was matched by a thought to how to unravel a ward. Every breath she took matched by a wave of determination, powering her forwards. The swing of her mace kept time with the formation of a plan to talk down her quarry. Twilight Sparkle was, after all, at her heart a young woman with a hard life behind her. Dark magic or not, the vulnerability and inexperience of the person meant there was a chance she was not set on the troubled path she had been walking for most of her life. That she had been forced upon it by her life’s circumstances further boosted her confidence. Perhaps most crucially, the pattern of the wards gave her hope that she could reason with her, that this Twilight would not be so quick to lash out at an invitation to live in harmony. That Celestia could disarm the threat she posed without destroying the life of the persecuted creature.
Maybe this time she could save the person from herse--she stopped, her body tensing along with her mind at the memory the stray line of thought dredged up. Perhaps it was a foolish wish. Would saving a woman she’d never met really ease her mind? She set a foot forward again. Ultimately, what she got from the exchange was unimportant. Her duty was not to purge her demons. She tightened her grip on her mace, expression stone-faced. She would be a saviour, with or without the solace she so wanted. With or without anybody by her side. A sharp light emerged from the top of the tower, and she was once again pulled from her thoughts. The energy radiating from the amethysts at the top of the tower converged into a bright violet flame.
The magic rippled and roared, betraying itself as stinking of corruption in the development of the incantation. The shape of a cat’s slitted eye formed in the center of the pyre, and a great floodlight formed under the narrow pupil’s gaze. A scrying spell. And a powerful one, at that. A range limited to a single cone of light was offset by its ability to undo even the most powerful concealment spells. Celestia’s breath drew, and her body forced itself against the back end of a tree. She forced tensing muscles to melt into the bark, animal instinct being trumped by a sense of purpose. The alien glow of black magic swept across the forest, its source widening in conjunction with its master’s wishes. Celestia shrank into the roots of the tree, hoping against hope that the enchantments on her armor would not betray her.
The twisted floodlight illuminated a grove to her left, falling upon the set of ruins she’d avoided travelling through earlier, then flicked across her. She felt dread well up in her stomach. The light shone past either side of her hiding spot, the tree’s long shadow her only safety against the black magic. Her breathing hitched, muscles rigid and body huddled at the base of the mighty oak. Then, without any further ceremony, the light passed on, studying a nearby set of trees with the same fervor as her hiding spot. Celestia waited with baited breath, expecting a return to her location, but the light moved on, almost mechanically, to yet another clump of trees after a few more moments. It was here that Celestia truly froze.
While the light finished its rounds, she set to thinking: A scrying spell of that power suggested anticipation of the arrival of an experienced spellcaster. The methodical nature of the way the spell was cast suggested her quarry was taking no chances, or perhaps was attempting to make it look like they had not found her. It was hard to glean how much they’d learned in the time they’d spent upon her, or if they’d even found her at all. Perhaps that was the point of the spell’s pacing. Perhaps she was meant to feel at ease. Whatever the case, forethought had gone into this. This was not a search cast in blind panic, and unlikely to be a daily event she’d had the bad luck to walk into: Twilight was expecting her, and had made plans to deal with her entry. At last the spell flickered out, the black-and-purple cat’s eye at the top of the tower dissolving into the roaring fire it had been conjured from, then dissipating into smoke and wind like a snuffed flame atop some grotesque candle.
Celestia redoubled her movements, eyes flicking over every tree. The closer she got to the tower, the more she noticed modifications to the environment. Here a set of trip wires to alert the caster to the presence of a magical entity. There a set of footprints trailing from a bed of nightshade, the pathway to the toxic plants guarded by powerful wards against magical beings. Hypnotic spells that compelled animals beyond a certain weight limit to give the tower a wide berth, all placed along areas that would normally make ideal game trails. She’d gravely underestimated the unstable youth. This wasn’t her forest anymore. This was a place of a wizard she’d never met, a wizard who wanted to have a plan to thwart her and anybody else that might cross her in every waking moment of her lifetime. A wizard with the intelligence to reach such a lofty goal. Celestia’s slowed her pace to a careful, slinking crawl, wishing more than ever that she could see into the mind of the woman she was up against.
---／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼---
The telescope focused in on the striking, heavily armored person making their way through the forest with practiced precision. Twilight’s eye squinted, taking in every detail. The enchantments were fascinating. The armor would become more rigid when taking piercing damage and more flexible when bludgeoned. There was an emergency teleport woven into the boots. It led a great distance away--probably to her guild, whatever it was. The helmet prevented mind reading. It was all so fascinating. There was nothing Twilight would have liked better than to strip the wearer and study the armor--maybe keep them for interrogation, maybe teleport them home. Probably interrogate them about intentions, first. Arrest was an inconvenience to her, and her current plans couldn’t be interrupted so quickly. Especially if they found her mistress.
She wound a few quick ensnaring spells into the base of the staircase. It would likely only slow down her pursuer, but it would at least help her in gaining an understanding of how that armor contained all that powerful magic without overloading. She couldn’t exactly boast that feat at the moment. Even now, the storage crystals tethering her more powerful outburs--spells of advanced magical calibre--remained unstable. She ran a few fingers along the most recent scar a bout of carelessness had earned her. It would certainly be useful. She ran a few quick calculations, writing them down more for posterity’s sake than because she was worried she’d lose them later on in time.
A faltering leyline told her the paladin had just stomped across it without noticing it. The location meant the soldier would arrive within approximately twenty minutes. She’d have another twenty before they reached her sanctum. She had the time for one more trap, but she’d have to rely on her magic staying consistently in check to avoid overloading the objects with it. She cast a glance around at the room, fighting back embarrassment as best she could. Levitating furniture, books frozen in magical crystal, piles of ash that had been candles once and a tablecloth coated in ever-burning fire served as proof that there was every chance the final plan would fail.
She’d almost considered turning herself in a few times. Despite what past experience had told her, there was still a glimmer of hope that somehow, somebody would be able to help her. Still, results had never been promising. Her condition wasn’t even documented in any of the country’s magical libraries, let alone curable. The only time she’d caught wind of discussion of it was in reference to her...accident at the academy. And even then, it was always “mysterious”. And usually speculated to be her own malevolent intent. Another leyline being knocked out of place by the paladin resting a hand against it broke her out of her memories. No, attempting to seek help from anybody else was a long shot, and she knew it. Besides, she and her mistress were close.
That was, after all, why it was so important to capture the paladin. They’d know how to undo the wards that bound her mistress. She could charm it out of them, scan their mind for it, or maybe even talk them into telling her. She so hoped for the last one. She didn’t want to hurt anybody--it dug into a part of her she didn’t really understand, and haunted her for days ever after. But she needed her mistress. With her free, they could do anything together. She’d do anything with her, pay her back for everything. Conquest, revenge? Whatever she asked. After all, she cared. No one else had. Why should Twilight choose them over her? And then, maybe, her mistress could set Twilight free, too. She looked at the twisted, humiliating, magic-warped tower and cracked a bittersweet grin. They were so close. So close to a cure. And then…then…she’d go find somewhere she could live free and live with...
Twilight paused. That cursed emptiness was rising in her gut again. That feeling that she’d lost something important a long time ago. That need to hear a voice besides her own, to see a face somewhere other than a mirror. It was an emotion she’d never been able to put to words, but it had been there since the night she’d had to leave her family. Like a gap in a song she thought she knew all the words to. A void in her center she could never fill. Her fingers crackled, lightning racing across her hands, and the thought was lost.
Priorities. Unknown emotions could be dealt with once her quest was over. Capture paladin. Free her mistress. Cure her cursed condition. Find a place to live in freedom. That was all she needed to focus on now. The rest could wait until later.
The paladin triggered the final leyline. A faint ache reached the back of her head, and Twilight’s eyes shone with magic, excitement and the promise of a better life. It was finally time for her finest hour.
Every instinct of hers screamed at her not to do it, but Celestia, against all common logic, raised up a hand to knock at the door. Her position was now thoroughly given away, if it hadn’t been before. But Celestia had not gotten where she was in the guard through brutality or subterfuge--rather, her empathy and integrity had done that for her. She called out to the tower’s owner. “Twilight Sparkle? I’ve been sent to exchange words with you.” There was a sarcastic chuckle. A face formed out of one of the stones in the wall.
“The word I heard was arrest.”
Celestia looked taken aback, turning to face the enchanted outcrop. “I beg your pardon?” Her grip on her mace tightened instinctively.
“I’m under the impression you’re here to arrest me.” Twilight smirked. Celestia took the moment to observe the icon, hoping to gain information. Twilight looked to be somewhere between eighteen and twenty. There were stress lines woven into the space below the eyes, but there was a fire in the eyes nonetheless. A fragile genius type, if ever she’d seen one. She lessened the grip on her mace, making sure to droop it lower.
“That is entirely up to you, and your cooperation with myself and the people of Ponyville now and in the future.”
Twilight gave a chuckle. “After all, cooperation with society has worked so exceedingly well for me in the past. No, I think not, in point of fact.” The spell rippled for a minute. “On the other hand, you could always, I don’t know, walk away and leave me alone? Forever? I think that would be fair enough. You’d never hear from me again, I’d never hear from you again, we’d both go on with our lives.” It was hard to tell where the sarcasm ended and the proposal began. Deep in her eyes, Celestia could see it. The betrayal. The hurt. The enforcement of an isolation not of Twilight’s own creation.
“For that to be possible you’d have to stop practicing the dark arts.” Celestia tried to be as patient as possible, despite herself. There were any number of ways Twilight could try to kill her as of this very minute, but her instincts told her that being gentle here would be her safest way forward. “Tempting though they may be, there is a--”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “Spare me. I’ve heard it before. ‘There’s a hidden danger to them. They can’t be controlled.’” She looked pensive for a moment, then malicious. “Safe? I never felt safer than the moment I started practicing. Nothing scares off your kind quite like a bit of black magic. Control? The minute I started studying real magic was the moment I started putting life in my control. I’ve never felt more welcomed by anything in my life. And I certainly don’t feel more welcome around you.”
“Then you leave me with no choice. Twilight Sparkle, for resisting arrest, practice of forbidden magic, destruction of public property and civil unrest, I declare you under arrest per the laws of the High Solar Magis--” She leapt out of the way just in time, making sure to roll toward the doorway and not away. A set of blue-red shields--not unlike the emblem of the Royal Guard itself--formed in a ring around the base of the tower, pushing outwards with a bludgeoning force. Celestia hugged the base of the door, her body and armor shrinking against it with a mixture of drilled practice and magical aid. The second wave of the spell began closer to the entrance than she’d anticipated. A web of white-and-blue magical lines surrounded the door, then the entire tower, and then a salmon-coloured bubble began expanding from the edges, reinforced by the leyline scaffolding. The entire bubble began to push outwards. Celestia’s armor bristled against the forcefield, pressing up against her chest and kneecaps and pushing her away in a painful backwards slide.
She ran down a mental list of the spells in her inventory. She’d prepared some dispel magic, but it was likely woefully unprepared for a ward as intricate as Twilight’s. A ward of this nature likely anticipated attackers attempting to break through it with brute force, meaning her mace was likely useless. She wanted to save the few anti-magic spells she’d prepared. Twilight could dispel any magical assaults that weren’t already prepared. But one thing Twilight almost certainly hadn’t counted on was the ward having to do a good job of budging an already-present force. Celestia buckled down, activating the force magic in her mace and slamming it deep into the ground.
She crouched around the mace, digging her armor’s heels and kneecaps into the dirt of the forest. She let a force spell in the armor intended for use as a battering implement weigh herself down even further, and allowed the contorting spell tuned into her armor to condense her weight into an even smaller, heavier mass. The ward pushed around her, ribbons of magic pressing against her and forcing her forward. Metal burrowed into her skin, and she grit her teeth at the scraping, needling pain. Dirt ploughed up over the bastion she’d formed from her equipment, coating her face through her visor. The barrier of magic around her began to distort. Her world was pain. Grinding, heavy objects buffeting and warping and crushing her body. She knew she would break before her armor did. But she also knew…
There was a flash of brilliant, dancing lights all around her, and the sound of glaciers and thunder echoing across her helmet. Celestia rose to her feet, adjusting her bruised and battered body within her completely-unscathed armor. She gave a rough grin. You’re going to have to try harder than that. She attempted to walk forward, only to find that one knee screamed in protest. She kept going, barely stopping to check that she had cast the spell correctly. To a cleric it was second nature, after all. Healing magic surged across her left knee, flooding her skin with a warm and silky feeling--like soapy water running over her. Her hobbling became normal walking, and she picked up the pace.
She could see threads of magic frantically attempting to rewrite themselves in tune with her motion, the barrier dissolving behind her, a second spell forming in time with her steps. Magic was flying through the air around her in a panicked, disorganized mess. Twilight was hurriedly attempting a poor man’s version of the spell she’d just broken. But a spell like that would take time, and effort, and that meant one very important thing. Twilight was distracted. With a flick of her mace, she hurled a dispel at Twilight’s half-finished attempts at a second ward. The strands began to dissolve around the same time she reached the door. She swung her mace, this time applying the force spell for its intended use. The door exploded into splinters, handles and fragments flying inwards at breakneck speed. Celestia decided to call out again.
“There is always time to settle this diplomatically, Twilight.” The chambers remained quiet. Distant sounds of crackling radiated from the top of the tower, while the forest outside echoed with birdsong. But no voices answered her. She scanned the tower with a much keener eye than the rest of the forest. This was no longer familiar ground. The walls were made of the same gem-studded oak as the outside. The room was illuminated by the gems themselves. Celestia was intimidated to notice that the gems weren’t radiating a light spell. They were syphoning off excess magic. It was the equivalent of lighting a house with lamps holding magma in place of lamps holding fireflies. One was naturally luminous. The other had so much raw energy that some had to escape as light. Celestia held her mace tighter. Just what kind of mage was this Twilight?
The further she looked, the less she liked what she saw. While the plush cushions, lecterns and rounded work table would look inviting in most other contexts, this furniture set radiated enough excess magic to levitate. The walls and floors were touched with magic where repair spells had been flung at them time and time again. She looked up. There was furniture that had hit the ceiling. Still, there was material here to suggest a life beyond magic. Busts of famous historians, scientists and philosophers were loving kept in even spaces around the room. Hollows had been carved in the walls to make room for books, on topics as predictable as mind control to as unexpected as books on techniques for jogging. She allowed herself to relax, if only slightly. The slithering sensation of a wave of rogue magic emanating from one of the room’s fixtures broke her feeling of security every now and again. The potted flowers that cheerily dotted the surprisingly well-lit room embodied this feeling beautifully. While each of them was growing merriyl and bountifully, they also were subtly off. Here some knobs of odd growth around the stem. There some oozing spots dotting the petals. Perhaps best that she find a way to end this dispute before she ended up looking like one of them, then. She gave the room around her a quick scan, searching for exits. Three made themselves apparent.
There was a doorway to her right. A vague smell of burnt food wafting from the door suggested a probable kitchen. There was a staircase leading further up the tower. Then, of course, there was a basement. The basement in particular interested her. If Twilight already knew she was here, odds were good that she was planning on teleporting away the moment things began to look too dangerous for her. She’d likely take her necessary equipment with her, too. Which meant that Celestia would be right back where she started. Collapsing the tower would put herself and Twilight in unnecessary danger. Which meant she needed a bargaining chip. Her face hardened. It might make diplomacy harder later, but it would at least force Twilight to stay in range for a while.
Celestia descended the stairs, mace in hand and armor tensed. Her free hand cast the Solar Knights’ famous mass-illumination spell, the reflective charms on her armor turning her body into a beacon. While rarely in the best interest of a paladin, the spell was remarkably useful in dark caverns (or basements) where an ambush was unlikely and in distracting foes briefly. It was also put to good use at parades, of course, though the thought made Celestia roll her eyes. The light from her shining armor touched the base of the stairs, illuminating something Celestia had not counted on seeing pinned to the wall.
Blueprints. Detailed, artistically-rendered blueprints. These had been drawn with an architect’s hand. Learning from books alone couldn’t have been easy-- either Twilight had an assistant or tutor at some point, or she was even more of a perfectionist than Celestia had already gathered. The blueprints were a mixture of spells, machines and foundations for buildings. Celestia supposed the tower couldn’t have come from thin air. The machines, however, were interesting. She hadn’t seen anything in the report or the tower thus far to suggest Twilight was a machinist. She filed the information away for later, investigating a sample blueprint in closer detail. There were writings in the margins of each one, paradoxically made in a haphazard scrawl that reached the very edges of the otherwise-perfect drawings. It looked like gibberish to her, though she was sure it had made perfect sense to Twilight at the time. She moved on to the title and shape of the enchantment. It was, in a word, brilliant. It picked up on fractures in the spell matrix and traced their origin points in order to reverse-engineer the spell in question.
A spell like this could eliminate secrecy in the Academy forever. She set it aside. Another spell that had been drawn up was one for isolating time-flow and then forming a resisting magical force in front of it, causing a localized time-stoppage. There were notes in the margin about redirecting temporal flow--forcing localized time to travel forwards and backwards. Celestia grimaced. The words “untested” were written in the top-left corner. It was a small consolidation. Another one appeared to be a way to harvest magical energy from a fellow magic-user. Nosferatu’s Gale, it was titled. She didn’t bother to figure out its workings or look at the others. She was certain the rest were as ill-boding.
She pressed on with increased wariness, wondering what projects she might find in the lab proper. Her armour continued to shine upon the edges of the basement. A workbench with scattered pieces of metal and components for spells. Here a set of tangled wiring wound around a metal rod, there a metal sphere with some gaps missing. Pearls and gems were embedded near their ends for each and every one of them. There were even some kind of wand-shaped structures jutting from an ovular base. She pushed aside the metal sphere to get a better look at the more complex source components. Something in Celestia’s mind flickered with recognition.
Generators and conductors, all mixed in with magic syncs and dissipators. The machines. They transported magic. She came to the largest, most complete one. It seemed like it was for...storage? But it had a diffusal mechanism at the base, sending the magic into the ground. Celestia marveled. Why would anybody build a machine to waste magical energy? Whatever the case, it was seared and scorched, and the word “failure” had been written in angry red letters on a blueprint resting above the machine. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about whatever trap that machine would inevitably be setting up for her.
The hairs along her body shivered in response to a faint hiss she picked up on the edge of her hearing. A whirring noise started up behind her, the sound of mechanical parts powering up in the midst of the ground around her. Celestia braced herself, spinning on her heel to face it. The build was remarkably simplistic, perhaps a necessity for the contraption in question. Four wiry legs held up the body--the sphere from earlier, she recognized--on a basic collection of pivots allowing the object to move in any set of compass rose directions. The bottom of the sphere, now that she looked at it, appeared to contain two compartments: One held a gem that was focusing a small red light on the center of her chest. The other appeared to be gearing up to open. Another hissing noise started, the hatch on the sphere flying open. Celestia’s legs tensed. A large red gem extended from a mechanical arm, crackling with electricity. She threw herself out of the way only just in time.
Shots of pure energy wrang out through the basement, exploding violently with the wall behind her. Celestia attempted to pull herself up, only to be caught by stray fire. Her armor glowed a dim yellow, several of her wards fizzling and dying in order to stop the round of bullets. She didn’t like the odds of surviving a few more rounds of whatever was in those shots. The paladin covered her next attempt to stand up with a blast of anti-magic directed at the last spot that she’d seen the android. To her surprise, the spell dissipated not a few feet away from her face. A faint glow she hadn’t know was there faded, and a collection of dust that had been invisible not moments before suddenly lost its cloaking function. The rounds of contact magic hit her in the chest once more, pushing her back towards the stairs. The wards again absorbed the brunt of the blow, her armor losing some of its shine in the token attempt it made to absorb the impact.
She was running out of options, and she knew it. She ducked behind the cover provided by the wall between the stairwell and the basement proper, hoping that it would prove thick enough to absorb the brunt of the force of the roving weapon platform. Brutally effective, if nothing else. The academy would be very grateful to look at it. But how to disable it? Celestia readied her weapon. The machine remained silent. Perhaps it wasn’t programed to move beyond a certain boundary? Or perhaps it was so simple as to remain stationary whenever a target was outside the view of its targeting reticle. Either way, the fire appeared to have stopped. Celestia decided to take a moment to regain her bearings. To her surprise, the wall that had taken the brunt of the machine’s onslaught appeared to be unscathed. Likewise the parts and blueprints. Irrelevant at the moment. She returned to the task at hand. A plan began to form in her head. Risky, but better than anything else she had at the moment. The delicate nature of the machine itself, combined with the rudimentary nature of the programing, suggested a simple course of action to her. She only prayed it worked. She only had enough wards left to survive two more onslaughts, and she was still a full tower away from Twilight herself.
She needed a non-essential piece of her gear. Something that was situational at best. For some paladins, this would be a kneepad or a satchel. Celestia, however, immediately chose her mace. A glorified baton in the arms of a paladin capable of doing their job, to her way of thinking. She held it out in front of the wall, waving it in such a way as to (hopefully) attract the sensors of the sentry. Sure enough, a hail of bullets fired into the other side of the wall, again leaving the surface spotless. She let the mace slowly pull back towards the wall. A whir of mechanical movements followed. Celestia closed her eyes and took in a breath. She would get exactly one chance to do this correctly. The robotic horror’s shadow grew larger. Celestia narrowed her eyes. The clank of gyros and gears grew louder. Celestia opened her palm. A robotic leg cleared the corner. Celestia’s legs clenched. At last, the robot rounded the corner. Celestia lept.
The sound of fire echoed through Celestia’s ears, several of the stairs exploding into splinters under the force of the barrage the machine had let loose. Celestia slid past the creature, her hand running along its side until she hit the joint she needed. The cannon’s opening joint. The dispel gave a spark, then a fizzle, and then began to do its work. While anti-magic itself may have been impossible in the magic-heavy air, the chaos magic inherent in the dispel began to do its work almost immediately. The door slammed down again and again against the turret, pounding the fine crystal and brass of the framework against the solid metal chassis again and again. The spidery automaton began to whirl, gun attempting to target Celestia wildly all throughout the frantic assault. The sound of metal on metal filled the basement, echoing up the tower in a church bells’ chorus. Every time the turret appeared to get a bead on Celestia, the flying metal of the hatch would beat it out of position and into the robot’s unflinching shell.
It was a moot point, at any rate. The crystal itself was beginning to fragment. Celestia backed away, raising a hand against the inevitable result of the critical failure of the container for the magic. Light and heat began to vent all over the floor of the chamber like the last moments of a dying firecracker. Magic spilled out the cracks in the crystal in the form of changes in air pressure, temperature, gravity and light. The result was a mess of violations of physics that oscillated between dangerous and barely noticeable. It was only once the crystal had given out, and the warped and damaged lower half of the spidery construct had stopped glowing with the heat, that Celestia allowed herself to breathe. With a heavy sigh, she turned to the rest of the room, careful this time to check for movement out of the corner of her eye with every step she took.
There was a large machine further to the back that appeared to be medical in nature. Lines displaying pulse, temperature, bloodflow, neurological output and a dozen other life functions were displayed on a screen, while a strange-looking hat with a series of flashing lights lay bound to the machine by a set of wires. There were charts on human anatomy here and there, as well as that of owls, to her great surprise. She stored the information for later, placing it in her mental catalogue alongside her thoughts on the fragility of Twilight, the excess magic machine, the hobbies and hidden talents that had made this place a home, and her understanding of Twilight’s ability to think under pressure. It was all starting to come together--how this woman had come to be what she was, what she wanted to do with her life, how Celestia could stop her. And, more important than any other, what she could do to smooth down the dangerous situation here.
The rear wall housed an array of potions with labelled under various ailments, which stood near-adjacent to the machine itself. Celestia looked down at the assemblage with a grimace. A runaway and criminal could hardly stop at a hospital or a pharmacy. Those were not the only potions, though. A second table to the left of its medically-inclined cousin held up several chemistry sets--she lacked a background in the subject, so the most she could manage was “vials containing liquids of various uses”. One of them was labelled “morning stimulant”, with notes from Twilight declaring she’d made a better coffee. Celestia chuckled. The people back at the lab would get a kick out of it, if nothing else. She decided to take some of the notes for analysis, slipping them into a satchel at her hip. It was only then that she noticed something that made her freeze. There were notes in handwriting she recognized from somewhere. Somebody she’d discussed a similar subject with earlier. It was then that Celestia almost dropped the notes. Zecora. Stolen, perhaps. She checked again. Many of them were indeed on potions, yes, but there were letters between them. She was reading the other half of discussions on spells, on herbology, on the local wildlife, on the townsfolk. There was a warning, even. A note that there had been...had been a paladin nearby.
She scanned the note, heart sinking. Zecora’s writings were far more aware of her failings than she’d ever let on. She was “ignorant to the dangers of her colleagues”. “Dangerous in her sincerity”. “A link in their iron fist”. “A fore-runner to prisons”. “To be treated with great caution”. Celestia let the notes drop, then hastily gathered them and shoved them into her bag for later. She’d let the analysis team learn the rest. For the moment, she had other concerns. She removed the wiring from the helmet Twilight used for medical scans. She’d got what she’d came here for. It was only a shame she couldn’t ransom the entire machine itself. Though, truth be told, in hindsight it was nice to not be fully vindicating Zecora’s warnings, and it was still entirely possible Twilight would call her bluff either way. Losing that piece of equipment was an inconvenience to her. Celestia hadn’t yet found something Twilight could be said to love. Part of her wondered if she could even bluff destroying it when she did.
She turned her mind to brighter places. The books seemed to be ever-present in this house. Books on engineering, books on stargazing, books on...slumber parties? Celestia bit back judgement, unable to stop a nervous laugh from escaping her lips. Perhaps she’d have to take some lessons herself, if she was ever to make an honest friend. Celestia made her way up the stairs at long last.
Celestia returned to the landing with a resolution to be more careful--both around Twilight’s spare parts and around people she thought to call friend. She approached the entrance to the stairwell, musing to herself. It was true that the Solar Knights caused fear more than security in some members of the populace. Their stance on the matter was that nobody with anything to hide would have anything to fear, but to Celestia’s mind the simple reality was that everybody, up to and including her colleagues, had something to hide. She certainly did. Still, it was true that the bulk of people they locked away could have been helped in some way. It was always a hit-or-miss prospect. She’d embraced sobbing magicians of eight years old who’d mistakenly discovered dark magic and seemed like terrors to some of her colleagues. She’d also fought bitter battles against shadow magic users that she bore scars from to this day. Healing magic could only do so much. Perhaps most of all, healing magic could only smooth over the wounds on the outside. They couldn’t pull out the shadow of memory of the one person she’d needed to save more than any other.
Teal eyes pierced her vision, and a barking laugh tainted her hearing. Shadows crawled over her, and recollections of black magic digging into her gut and shoulders returned to her. She squeezed her eyes shut before the memories of that day could return in full force. Even with that, she couldn’t drown out the worst memory of all--the scream of terror at the spell she’d cast. The knowledge that she of all people had done what she’d done to the person she loved most in the world. That she could have saved her, and that she forged a hideous prison for her instead. But then, it was so difficult to tell. Some of their charges were truly beyond help. And trying to learn the difference could be very dangerous, to body and soul. She hugged herself, wondering what she was doing here. Why she wanted to antagonize what was so obviously a miserable creature anyway. Just as thoughts of turning back began to surface in her mind, she caught the trail of some leylines leading from the outside to follow her path up towards the stairs. The sinister glow of dark magic was upon them, light though it might have been. Celestia reflexively cast a dispel on herself, and the light faltered for a moment.
She redoubled her forward march, enough clarity returning to her to spot mental magic when it was cast upon her. She focused on the positives while the spell was still disrupted. Celestia hadn’t given up on Twilight. Zecora’s warning made her resolute. No matter how the woman tried to stop her, Celestia would not stop offering peace. Still, she had to watch her step from here on in. After all, the wards on the tower’s deepest parts had registered as deadly, and the mental magic ones had registered pre-emptively. She let out a breath, then clutched her mace more tightly. She readied herself for the next level of the tower, approaching the ascending staircase with no small feeling of trepidation. The stairs were embedded with a series of runes, some of them glowing out of sync. She used a spell to carve a line through each of them before the spell could return in full force. Still, the feeling of failure lingered around her. She turned her mind to the rest of the hall. Lamps coated in ever-lasting and cold-burning spells to the point of ridiculous excess hung from the wall. It gave the staircase a paradoxical welcoming glow to it, where the crimson glow of the runes had done quite the opposite. She also noticed hearts carved into the steps. She raised an eyebrow, but decided not to ponder further. There were also yet more books nestled in ledges on the sides. Twilight was quite the literature buff, whatever else could be said about her state of mind. At last she reached the second floor.
The landing contained a door rimmed in crystals, a large grey gem sitting proudly at its top. She immediately labelled it as a trap, surprised it hadn’t triggered early. Perhaps the spell was more complex? She considered asking Twilight. Thus far, however, she’d walked into enough traps that she was happy to take it slowly this time. She scanned the outside of the doorway. It was obviously magical in nature. Some of the wards traced here, and they traced in such a way that it was clear the door was the focal point. More worryingly, at least four of them had some role in casting a spell of deep and twisted dark magic. Where the scry from before had been a harmless spell powered by corrupting forces and the stairs had been meant to repel more than harm, these were a direct physical and psychological attack on the person. She traced the shape of the ward, looking at how the spells intersected. Something in her mind registered a defense against the dark arts class from long ago. She knew this spell, and she knew what it did to its victims. They were shown despair, and physically petrified. It would force them to live their darkest sorrows. But how did it activate, and why had Twilight laid it down so obviously and so reservedly?
The focal points running along it appeared to be more invested in boosting the signal strength than in being traps themselves. Maybe the books had a more subtle trap, or the lamps? She scanned them, but found nothing but more of the same background magic that absolutely infested the tower. She took a deep breath. She’d have to do this quickly, and she’d only have the one anti-magic spell prepared otherwise. But she would try. First, though, she needed answers. Twilight wasn’t proving especially cooperative. Still, it was hard to attribute motivation to her without springing the trap. She decided charity might prove more favourable than accusation. “It was considerate of you to give me the option of leaving this far into your home.”
A set of glowing amethyst pupils formed in the flame of one of the lamps. “If you were here on better terms, it wouldn’t be active at all.” Bingo. Celestia grinned.
“Like Zecora, you mean?” She said, her polite smile unchanging.
“It’s rude to snoop, you know.” Twilight rolled her eyes. “But yes. Like Zecora. If you’d been someone else, things could have been...different. Maybe.” The pupils flickered for a moment, losing themselves in a recollection. “Either way, they’re not. The past is the past, and neither you nor I can change it.” Celestia looked at the set of eyes staring at her with a quiet empathy. She opened her mouth to speak, but Twilight cut her off. “My brother and I used to idolize your lot, you know. Not that it’s any of your business that I even have a brother, but there it is. Before I became what I was, I wanted to be a scholar. I wanted to do something with my life, you know. I saw this woman on parade make the sunlight shine through the windows of all our neighbourhood, and I thought to myself, I’m not very magical, and I’m not very strong or athletic. But I’m smart, and maybe I can learn more about how to make the world a better place. Maybe knowledge alone can make the world better.”
The wistful glance turned to a bitter glare, her eyes flashing to the helmet in Celestia’s arms. “What a beautiful lie that was. I can’t imagine what I’d think if I’d seen you like this back then. If I’d learned about all the people you’d forced into the rat holes of society because they didn’t fit into your sun’s shining rays. That some day, I’d get to choose between living under a bridge or in a jail cell.”
“Then don’t choose. Let me give you another option.” Celestia braced herself. She looked at the helmet, and then at her mace. She sucked in some air, then let it out slowly, preparing herself for what she would have to do next. “My job is to keep the peace, not drag out a conflict that hasn’t even started.” She dropped her mace, letting it land on the steps with a heavy thud. “It’s time I started acting like it.” Then she pulled off her helmet. “My name is Celestia. I’m not an implement of jailors. I’m a human being. I know you’ve been wronged. And I know that we’ve been among the ones who wronged you. All I can do from here is take a step in the right direction.”
She looked at the helmet in her hand, then set it at her hip. She looked down at her mace, letting it lie where it was. Good riddance to the pointless hunk of metal. “I’m going to set these aside because I don’t want to use them. I can only hope you won’t make me.”
Twilight looked aside for a moment. Celestia tried a different approach. “You have things here, Twilight. Things that matter to you. You kept those letters for a reason. You made a home here for a reason. And you aren’t bound to what you’re labelled as, despite what you’ve told yourself. You keep plants, you read books on slumber parties, you’re thinking of getting an owl. Or maybe you already have one. Either way, are you really willing to give all that up just to get away from me?” She paused, then noticed the solemnity in her voice. She softened. “Do you really think I want to take what little you have from you?”
“I think you want me to trust you. I think that makes your job easier.” Twilight said the words half-heartedly. Her age showed--her heart was on her sleeve, despite how savvy she tried to portray herself as.
“My job is to keep the peace. If dark magic only hurt yourself, you know that I wouldn’t be here. You could have lost yourself in the endless pleasures of dream magic or become addicted to your herbs, and I wouldn’t have had to step in. But you didn’t. And I think you know that these spells are wrong, even if you won’t admit it to me.” Twilight’s face was a portrait of regrets. Of a life never lived and of worlds closed before they could ever be explored. Celestia made one last plea, hoping she might at last see reason. “Your brother made it to the guard, didn’t he? That ward spell from before, the one surrounding the castle. The base spell looks very simple. Those shields, that colour scheme, they’re visual additions. Is that a tribute to him?” Twilight bit her lip, glaring away from Celestia. “On the way here, I read your file. One of my colleagues was barred from the case. Was that him? Shining Armor? I could--”
“Shut up!” The flames in the lamps roared to life, and the entire tower shook. “You don’t know him! And you don’t know me.” Twilight’s entire face lost its energy. Then bitterness kicked in, as if she was reliving a cycle she’d undergone many times before. “What were you going to say: ‘I can bring him back to you, if you’ll only cooperate? I’ll be your friend where nobody else ever has?’ I can only take so many lies at once, y’know. No matter how many fantasies of a better world you put in front of me, this is what I have.” She scowled. “Leave this tower or stay, more of you will come. No matter what you promise, there will always be people like you in this world. Do your worst. I’ll be waiting.”
“Twilight, wait--” Celestia was cut off by the simultaneous snuffing of the lamps within the hallway. She lit her armor once more, eyes narrowing upon the crystal at the center of the door. Simply smashing it would cause a similar reaction to the chaos wrought downstairs. Fortunately, this particular spell was dependent upon several supporting spells. Therefore, she wouldn’t have to power through the crystal with brute force. Instead, she’d simple starve it. She looked around at the wards beside her. Patience, she thought to herself. She grabbed her mace, fastening it to her belt and sitting down on the steps. I didn’t really think it would be that easy, did I? She took a moment to close her eyes, focusing her body and soul. Whatever Twilight had decided, Celestia had still deduced the mystery around the door. She still knew more about Twilight’s mind, and about her fragility. The paladin let out a breath, peace rushing over her.
She touched her fingertips to the ward, letting the power flow through them. Power radiated from the center of her forehead in waves of sound, heat and light, creating a golden glow and a buzzing noise that filled up the air surrounding. The “third eye”, as it was called. She concentrated, narrowing the power into a gentle beam. She applied some force to the coiled strands of energy, arching some of her own magic from where it was focused around the crown of her head to the fingertips that were interacting with Twilight’s spell. Gradually--so as not to break the connection all at once--she began rerouting power sources from the ward to her own armor using the faint disruptions on her fingers. The actual moment of dispel was a short, small, erratic spark. It was keeping the entire spell from shattering or triggering that was the difficult part. With every power funnel, Celestia had to gradually disrupt the flow, smoothing down until at last the crystal at the top began to show wavering energy of its own. The crystal began radiating dark violet light, warping under the heat it was rapidly losing and failing under its own loss of energy. All at once, the entire structure crumbled into grains of fine quartz, leaving the doorway’s top without its crown jewel. Celestia opened the door hesitantly.
Inside she found what the “landscape alteration” wards had led to. There was, paradoxically, a moonlit forest growing in the center of the second floor. It was as if a section of the Everfree Forest had been transplanted into the tower itself. Tall, dark trees hide the outlines of ruins and darkness. The sounds of crickets and frogs permeated the air. Perhaps most peculiarly, there seemed to be less magic in this room than in the rest of the library. Besides the conditions that nurtured the trees and created the artificial night, nothing seemed to be magical in nature here. Plants, animals, fungi. All that sprung up here had done so of its own accord. The ruins, of course, had been moved in. Was Twilight nostalgic for the outside world? Whatever the case, the room did not have much to offer her, and the modification runes grew more intense further up ahead. She pressed forward.
The woods were even gloomier than their original template. Gelatinous fungi in the colours of bodily fluids, tangled messes of ferns and thorn bushes, rotten logs and lumpy mounds of dirt all dotted the landscape. The only noise was the short, sharp, nervous peeping and whistling of the amphibians and insects desperately trying to attract mates amidst the terror of lurking predators. Cheerful sparrows and chickadees were nowhere to be seen--instead, the skies were filled with bats. The only thing missing from this portrait of the night was an...owl. Oh. So this was where Twilight was keeping it, if it was indeed caught yet. Celestia scanned around. Her ransom plan from before floated in her mind’s eye. But could she really capture and threaten a creature? Twilight already distrusted her enough as it was. She put the thought out of her mind. She needed to find the door. Made for the owl or not, the modifications to the terrain also did an excellent job of disguising where exactly the next stairway went. Her light spell would cause an uproar in the forest, and the trees would likely contain the glow, anyway. She needed to find a way to the door. The leylines of the castle could lead anywhere--one might be supplying water for the tree, another might be controlling the internal day cycle, still another might lead her right back downstairs. She bit her lip.
In the midst of all the silence, she didn’t notice the owl land beside her. “Hoo.” It said decisively.
She turned to it, appreciating it for what it was. A great-horned owl was a majestic thing at any time, and this was no different. Feathers preened to give it an imperious look, powerful wings resting placidly at its sides, potent talons set against the branch like a knight’s greatsword. She looked into the luminous, infinite eyes of the spectacular creature. Perhaps it could show her the way? It was certainly looking at her expectantly. More accurately, looking at the hand not holding the mace. “Hoo.”
She raised an eyebrow, slipping into deadpan. “No, I don’t have any mice for you.”
“Hoo.” The creature hopped closer to the free hand. She opened it, revealing the empty palm to the owl. It bit back its disappointment well, leaping off the branch it had chosen and propelling itself into the night with the silence of an eon passing. Celestia could not say she shared its patience. She sighed at the sight of its departing tail.
“Back to square one.” She continued thinking and continued moving, but she also found herself thinking on the environment now. She was missing something. Something important. The owl, the trees, the plants. Maybe it was the light of the moon and stars? She checked. Lit by magic, and hardly a perfect replica. Useless for navigation. And still, the nagging sensation in the back of her mind remained. She turned back to walking. Her eye chased wards, maintenance spells and environmental enchantments in dizzying patterns and arrays laid out through all the undergrowth. She only counted herself lucky in that she hadn’t encountered any leylines for dark magic ye--and that was when the penny dropped. The owl. It wasn’t tainted with dark magic. It was perfectly healthy. In point of fact, none of the forest life gave off the stink of it. None of it was under its influence. Twilight had kept her dangerous side away from her pet. And that meant that where she picked up its trail, it would lead right to her. Celestia returned to the path with renewed purpose, eyes following magic strands only long enough to tell what they were and weren’t. She needed one of those tell-tale signs of corruption. She needed to see that dark taint, that feel that sensation of impending harm that her brain would reflexively manifest the moment she encountered the twisted workings of the magical world.
And that was when she saw it. A type of magic she hadn’t seen in over a decade. A type of magic she’d prayed she’d never see again. But there it was, staring out at her just the same as the black day she’d first known about it. A shimmering set of teal lines crept through a section of the undergrowth. A twisted type of dream magic. What had the creature called it? Lunacy, a part of her mind she’d long since buried answered her. Celestia’s breath stopped. She needed backup. She needed more time to prepare. She needed to get Twilight, the owl, and anybody else out of this tower as quickly as she could. She needed to burn it to the ground, then seal the ashes under the soil for a thousand years of solitude. But the needs of Ponyville--of Zecora, of Fluttershy...of Twilight--were greater than her own need. And their need was for her to keep them safe. Even if it meant facing what Celestia knew was no doubt lurking beyond that door. She only prayed Twilight hadn’t been so stupid as to release the Nightmare from her bonds.
She walked forward, hands clenched firmly on her mace. For only the second time in her life, she was glad she carried it with her. Her footsteps were shakier. Her breathing came in short, sharp breaths. The lines shimmered with alien light, leading her through the ruins. Did Twilight’s notes hint at what exactly was going on? She could only hope so. She tore through her satchel, looking for anything she could find on the Nightmare Moon, eldest and greatest of the horrors of dream magic, and what exactly Twilight had done with her in their time together.
She paced through them patiently, light from her palm illuminating the words and keeping back any forest creatures that might otherwise antagonize her. Every detail mattered. Every bit of information could mean another life saved. Whatever Nightmare was planning, its scope would be absurd and its concern for the lives of those around it would be based entirely upon how useful to her they were. There were pages here that led her to see more than one disturbing trend, and, with it, more than one solution to her problems. But the one there was one plan she was attracted to more than any other formulating in her head. A plan to end this without bloodshed or suffering. To end this the way she’d intended to from the start. She only hoped she was right.
It was a long, painful process marching towards the door. Thoughts on what would happen raced around Celestia’s head. This might be the mission that finally killed her. She couldn’t guarantee Twilight’s safety. And, if she let her emotions take her, it might be the start of a new age of tyranny in the land around Ponyville--or worse. Even victory would be as sour as it had been the very first time, as full of shame and failure as it had ever been. Celestia at last opened the door. True to what the notes had said, the room containing the Nightmare was surprisingly simple. Barely more than a supply closet with some scattered herbs and spare metals, save for a plain table and a set of books that had been arranged carefully so that their open faces were in direct view of the centerpiece of the room from one angle or another. Said centerpiece, however, was anything but ordinary.
It was as hideous and hateful as the day Celestia had used it. Glass stained a venomous red struggled to contain an unearthly teal glow, only held together by a frame of wrought iron charmed with dozens of magical seals interwoven over the span of a month by some of the Solar Knights’ best mages. Even that metal had warped and distorted twists and spikes growing out of it from where the soul within had made unsuccessful escape attempts. Celestia drew closer, sure the Nightmare inside was watching her. She looked it over once more. Its age was showing. But she was certain it was in there. So she gave it a prompt to speak. A chance to fan its ego. She prompted it. “A decade of solitude. Of nothingness. Until a lonely, curious girl with enough knowledge to see through the camouflage spells layered upon the vial had plucked it from the ground and taken it to her study. A girl desperate enough to believe its lies.” Sure enough, the spirit inside began to shimmer, the light at the heart of the tiny prison shining brighter with every word. “But we both know what the truth is. And we both know what you want from her. And what you’re going to do with her when you’re finished. Don’t we, sister?”
Black smoke spilled out from the vial, a series of dark chuckles telling her everything she needed to know. A face appeared in the midst of the column of gas, a wicked sneer plastered upon its mouth. “Hello again, sister. How fitting it is that you of all the guardians were sent. I’d call it Fate, if I believed in such things. But perhaps it would be better called poetic justice. Either way, I’m glad that after ten long years, it’s you who will be the one to fall in order to serve my rise!” Lightning filled the air, bolts darting all around the tiny study. Celestia was only grateful that the bolts appeared to be just for effect--it meant the Nightmare had little power outside the cell yet.
“And how do you plan that, sister?” Celestia kept her emotions in check, making sure her face was blank and unreadable.
The specter of black magic’s face grew darker. “I’d love to indulge you on the details--truly, you know that I would. But my apprentice is ever so keen to learn for herself. Why don’t you ask her?” The Nightmare’s face twisted into a sadistic grin, her eyes glowing with venomous joy. Celestia followed her gaze to the frame of the door, only to be treated to a sorry sight. There, framed in the moonlight of the artificial forest, stood a woman barely past twenty in a flowing dress patterned like the evening sky. Her entire body crackled with power, floating like a siren over the very ground Celestia walked on. Her eyes were framed in teal energy blazing across her brows. Her face was screwed up in concentration, more anger than menace or malice. Still, that the single finger she was pointing at Celestia contained more power than Celestia had in all her armor more than made up for her lack of malice. “Paladin, you’re out of second chances.” She dug her heels in, barriers of lavender energy forming at her back and feet. Her entire forehead erupted into blue flames, the roar of raw magic’s release echoing all around the room. Electricity crackled from her fingertips and in her pupils, marked by a lavender glow. Her eyes filled with determination. “It’s time to take you down.”
Twilight’s notes flickered in Celestia’s mind, and she could see each and every one of them reflected in the girl’s outraged, terrified eyes. In between all the data and formulas, lines crying out for help had shone through the pages. Help Celestia could give, if only she could push through what had held her back this far in:
I can’t keep getting sick like this. The last time I think someone might have recognized me. I only wish I had the knowledge in potions. I heard of a witch doctor somewhere on the outskirts of town. Maybe if I help protect her from the locals, she’ll help me when I’m sick…? I’ll risk it when I have more data.
I found an artifact that had gotten lodged in the ruins somehow today. There seems to be something trapped inside. Maybe someone? Whatever the case, somebody teleported it in a hurry. They seem to have had something happen to them mid-spell. Maybe they got trapped in here in the middle of their port?
In the present, the wounded animal in front of her paced. Still more dangerous than anything Celestia had ever faced before. Raw magic filled the air like electricity in a thunder storm. “Step away from the vial.” Twilight raised her hands, making sure to show how readily they crackled and how heavily she was armed. More notes flashed in Celestia’s vision.
The creature in the artifact is named Nightmare. She’s not as bad as the name would imply, though. Heh! She taught me a lot about magic in the time we’ve talked, actually. But that’s not really what impresses me...she knows something about my magic. How to control it. How to stop it from rushing out of me. She says she’ll teach me more if I free her. The wards are pretty complicated, but how can I say no? Who else is going to give me a chance like this?
She says the strangest things. I think she must have delusions of grandeur. Whatever they might be, I’m not losing hope. We’ll both be free together. We’ll see what she says to that.
She got awfully upset at me when I told her I was spending time with an owl. Said I wasn’t working hard enough. But that seems silly to me. She has to have something worth doing besides conquering and revenge, right? Maybe when I get to show her she’ll agree with me.
“You know I can’t do that.” Celestia tightened her grip on mace.
“Can’t? You always have a choice, Paladin.” Her hands began to glow an icy blue colour, the energy spontaneously beginning to snake its way around Celestia’s forehead.
The rerouting has failed. I really do need Nightmare for this. But I can’t rely on her to keep her word, no matter how easy it would be. I’ll try again later.
Nightmare is getting impatient again. Her temper is hard to deal with sometimes. Still, she talks to me...At least Zecora came by with some herbs today. I wonder when she’ll want me to pay her back for that.
The spell to free her requires control that I don’t have alone. Experts must have worked on her prison. They must have had a reason to be so thorough...I don’t like where that line of thought ends. But I made a promise, and I made it to a person who’s lived the same life I have. I just have to hope she’s as loyal to me as I am to her.
Celestia stepped between Twilight and the rolling mass of shadows. “My name,” she said slowly, “is Celestia. Not paladin. Not Solar Knight. I am a person, Twilight Sparkle. I can’t let you walk this path because I care. Because I want to help you. I work with the Solar Knights because I care. Because I want to help the world around me. And I know that once, you did, too.”
Thirty-two tries to free her later, and I’ve realized I need a control to study. It needs to be a paladin of the Solar Knights, too. I need to know how their seals work if I’m ever going to figure out how to dispel them. I’ve never managed to find out how their anti-magic spells work, so I’m going to have to hope my precision work is enough. The holding tanks for my abilities are going about as well.
Twilight reached out an uncaring hand, her body sucking in some of the dark energy from the Nightmare’s twisted prison. “Your offers mean nothing to me. You have no evidence of your good will. You give me no reason to trust you. And several reasons not to. Why would I trust the kind of person who would trap her own sister in a gem for all eternity? The kind of person who would use my own brother as a bargaining chip? When do I join the lineup of people you’re using?” Nightmare laughed from behind her.
“I had no choice.” Celestia said to her mace more than to Twilight.
“You always have a choice.” Twilight insisted more urgently, angrier now.
I thought about going back today. Turning Nightmare in, hoping they’d be merciful. Why would they ever let me be, though? Who would ever accept me back? With what I can do to them, without even meaning to? I can’t bank on odds like that. Besides, I can’t turn on somebody who trusted me this far. Even if they are...ominous. Even if they never talk about anything other than freedom and conquest. I have to believe she’ll be better when she’s free. Just because nobody else will give me a free hand doesn’t mean I can’t offer one, right?
Celestia looked down. “You’re right. I could have chosen to let her.” Celestia severed the Nightmare’s connection to the outside world with all but the last of her dispels, knowing it would take her sister enough time to find a way back out that Celestia would be able to talk without her influence coming into play.
Twilight stopped. “Let her what?”
“I could have let her kill me when she tried.” Celestia looked over at the Nightmare, memories flooding into her. “Part of me was tempted. My own sister hated me enough to kill me? Maybe I deserved it. But truth be told, I have enough scars left over from that day.” She pulled back her hair, emphasizing the jagged line of dark tissue running from her ear to her collar bone. “One of seven she gave me that day. All of them given to me because she wanted to show me she was stronger than me, and that her iron fist would keep the peace better than I ever could.”
“You can’t prove she did that.” Twilight’s hand shook.
“I can only tell you what I know.” She switched gears, knowing that attempts to prove herself would go nowhere. “You had a choice too, you know.” Celestia looked at her with pity. “You could have let yourself be captured, before all this began. You only assumed what they would do to you.”
...Another failure. I’ll patch the burns in the morning. It’s not worth doing it now. I’m so tired of running. I’m so tired of everything.
“I knew my choices!” Twilight’s breathing grew fast and shallow.
“You feared consequences. You never bothered to learn what they were.” Celestia remained firm.
“St-stay back!” Twilight took a step away from the spare room, back into the hall.
“I’m not getting any closer.” Celestia showed Twilight her empty palms. “But I need you to let me bring back my sister. I need to know if there’s anything I can do for--”
“Don’t touch her!” Twilight’s hands glowed with power, anger and protectiveness rising in her voice.
Celestia’s eyes softened. “If I let you work with her, she’ll corrupt you. Twist you. She wants to use you, Twilight. Your freedom is entirely incidental to her--”
“You won’t take my freedom from me!” Celestia’s entire body rushed downwards without warning, dragged forehead-first by the coiling blue magic. There was a clicking noise, and then a set of energy spikes drove themselves through the floor towards her. They travelled through the wards in her armor, then through her skin and flesh to pierce something far more primal. Twilight flicked her hand, and Celestia went flying forward into the forest chamber, a wave of blades made of inky blue magic travelling through her chest. She landed on her face, a soup of dark energy bubbling up to swallow her. She pounded a fist against the floor, forcing herself to stand on shaky feet. A great weight was suddenly developing over her mind and body. She felt like she was running a flu. Starlight gathered into the shape of giant, floating equine skulls all about Twilight. Celestia made to get to her feet, only for the horse heads to suddenly turned into a hail of powerful lasers, pressing against her armor and crushing it against the floor. The darkness swallowed her up, draining more of her energy with every minute.
“Heh.” Twilight smirked, floating toward Celestia with burning midnight eyes. Despite herself, and her situation, she gave a giddy grin. “I call it Gale of Nosferatu. Saps the wakefulness of the victim. Not that you’ll remember as much once I put you to sleep.” Her eyes were very much not her own; the pupils had the haunting glow of cyan that denoted the presence of Nightmare Moon, while the sclera was a void of empty blackness speckled with the night sky. The cyan pupils flashed with the inky blue energy periodically, illuminating Twilight’s look of fury, and emphasizing the way her eyes quivered with fear. Lavender flames spread across Twilight’s back, her feet dangling like those of a rag doll. Twilight dragged Celestia to rest below her feet, then shot her against the wall with a resounding thud with the flick of a finger. Celestia studied the supply room, eyes casting around for whatever Twilight was...was...she wondered for a minute what she was looking for. All she knew for now was that it was time to use a desperation enchantment. Something her boots could do once per day. An emergency teleport. Twilight reached out with a hand to smother the magic gathering about her opponent’s feet, but Celestia threw out a quick dispel to snap her focus for a moment. This time, Twilight was much quicker to react than she had been when Celestia had interrupted her magic earlier. But still not quick enough. The blast of energy that Twilight let out hit the wall, causing the tower to shake with the raw force of the blast.
Celestia landed in the room containing the Nightmare with a heavy thud. The insidious smoke still trailed around her, coating her body with black magic. “Just give up now,” Twilight’s demand echoed from the forest, “I don’t want to hurt you any more.” Then she saw it. The shelf with the fluid. Fluid she’d read about in Twilight’s notes, back when she’d been in the basement. “I can’t live like this!” Twilight’s begging voice got closer by the minute. “I can’t keep living like a monster!” Celestia dragged herself along the ground. “And you won’t stop me!” Celestia’s dwindling thought process kept telling her the shelf was important, the fluid was important, what it did was important. She slid an arm up onto the bench. Shelf, fluid, reaction. With the last of her strength, she slid her hand slowly along the surface until it reached a mug of some persuasion, then gripped her hand around the handle.. She opened her mouth and downed the contents of the mug with a greedy desperation, almost drowning herself in it in the process. It tasted disgusting. It bit into her throat and soaked its way into her tastebuds with the complexion and flavour of bile. It also jolted her out of her stupor in a few tenths of a second, just as she’d anticipated. Just as the notes had promised.
She hauled herself up to her feet using the bookshelf, looking at Twilight with nothing but resolution. Light shone from the palm of her hand. Twilight pulled back from the blinding light enveloping Celestia. She used the moment to slip the Nightmare’s vial into her satchel, the last of her dispels serving as a contingency measure against Nightmare’s influence while the teleport to the analysis team began taking place. Celestia ran down what spells she had left. She her dispel stock was empty, her emergency teleport was gone, she’d left her mace behind. All that remained of note was her helmet and two anti-magic spells. Fortunately for her, however, she knew exactly what to use them on.“That’s your problem, Twilight Sparkle; you live a life ruled by fear. You’ve never taken a risk before in your life. You don’t understand the importance of sacrifice.” With the air full of magic, there were only two things she could safely cast the anti-magic upon. Twilight would never let her get close enough to use them, and she’d never be able to fire one off without it hitting excess magic in the case of a different spell.
So if she couldn’t prevent magic being cast by Twilight, she had to make sure of something else. She cast the magic over herself. One washed over her body, while the other washed over her armor, stripping it of all of its enchantments and strengths in an instant. The equal-yet-opposite force of the anti-magic caused the runes engraved into the armor to fizzle, burn and then dissipate altogether. Celestia advanced towards the blinded foe, armor dimming to nothing in a moment. “And that’s why you’ll never be happy--because you’ll never let go of what you have, even if it means finding something better. You’ll only take a risk if it’s on someone else’s terms.” Twilight tried to Celestia’s body in her telekinesis, only to find that she couldn’t get a hold. She fired another blast from one of her horse’s heads, but a golden glow shimmered around Celestia, faltering in patches but holding in others.
“D-don’t touch me!” Twilight hovered backwards, spells activating at random, now. “I’m not coming with you! I’m never going back! I can’t go back!”
“But you’re too busy being a victim to see the way forwards.” Celestia continued her march. A column of fire dug into her right shoulder with enough force to rip through the anti-magic and sear armor and flesh alike. Celestia shrugged off the burns with a grimace. “And I can understand. I can understand hiding your pain. I more than any other guard, maybe. I who banished my own sister because I could not see her faults, because I could not see her hatred growing in my shadow. I who disguised wanting to find somebody--anybody--to fill the gap she left as a pure-hearted attempt to save a troubled soul.”
“You don’t know anything about me!” Twilight erupted a galaxy of blazing stars over her head, firing them towards Celestia. The blue magic that had burned in her eyes began to evaporate into inky smoke. “You don’t know what I am! The things I do just by existing! You don’t know the monster I am!” Runes criss-crossed around Twilight’s skin, pages of magic runes flying from her body and exploding with great force against Celestia’s body and armor. Bruises, cuts and angry burns dotted all over the paladin’s body, but it only slowed her down. Twilight’s entire body was shaking, and her lavender pupils were huge in her shy, mousey face.
Celestia forced her way through the burning array of pseudo-stars, fire etching scorch patterns across her face and body. She’d noticed fairly quickly that the black magic had dissipated the moment Twilight had begun a retreat--Deep down, the girl just didn’t have the heart for it. “I can never go back!” Twilight began to uproot a tree, lightning arcing from her hands and body. “I can’t show them what I am! I won’t be hated by anybody else!” She blasted long, clumsy arcs in Celestia’s way. “I don’t need anybody else! I don’t need your l-lies! I don’t need your hope! And I don’t n-need your help!” Celestia caught the electricity on her arm, forcing one part of her body to spasm. The rest of her reached out to grab Twilight, pulling her out of the vortex of desperation and destruction the troubled witch had created. Burning, scarred and battered, Celestia held Twilight nonetheless. Not with the brutality of an arm of the law. But with the strength and tenderness of a servant of the peace.
“I believe in you, Twilight. I believe in your better nature, and the better nature of your family. Even if you don’t believe in anybody else’s.” Twilight’s hands grabbed her own arm. Panic stared back at her, tears running down the wounded creature’s face. Celestia, despite what the blind thrashing of the damaged woman had done to her, knew whose wounds she really needed to heal right now. She let Twilight hold her, and in that moment, the all-powerful witch dissolved into the heartbroken little sister; the self-abasing genius; the betrayed would-be scholar; the owl-training, slumber party-loving, book-collecting little girl that had always hid in its shadow.
Twilight clung to her for dear life. “I just wanted to--I can’t--I don’t have the courage to--If I’d been free, I’d--”
Celestia let her cling to her, resting another hand on Twilight’s shoulders. Tears flowed freely from her would-be enemy’s form. “I know, Twilight, I know.”
The door she held was rough and grainy. It needed polish badly. She pursed her lips, silently cataloging her resources. A pair of ladders. A table with a rough bust of a human head. A dusty desk and some long-since spent pens. A card catalog she didn't know how to use. A ledger with dusty pages and a rigid spine. She surveyed the walls. Farmers' almanacs. Albums and school yearbooks. Cookbooks. Traditional medicine. History, both local and abroad. She counted the books per row, then the rows per shelf, then the total number of shelves in the library. 1, 658 books total. And one sign she had yet to use.
She could do this. The building had been abandoned for a year and a half, the previous owner having passed away from old age. But she had cleared out an abandoned castle left to rot for decades. She could handle a dusty hollow tree. Sweeping would be first. She hauled open the broom closet and reached through the spider webs. She pulled back a broom, brushing cobwebs off her sleeve gingerly. The clouds of dust weren't good for her cloistered lungs, but she'd get used to it. She swept the broom back and forth. 26, 280 hours to go, starting now.
It had been a strange trial to sit through. Passionate pleas from both sides had started the trial. Officer Shining Armor had been found emotionally compromised, arguing for immediate release back to the family and no further repercussions. The officers focused on imprisonment had suggested 10 or even 20 years to start. Dark magic was a serious crime. So was assault of an officer, and resisting arrest. Unlicensed magic use was less serious, but had been more persistent. Twilight's hopes had sunk with every charge laid out. But the trial had not ended then and there. Celestia had been a blessing on both of the assault-related charges, arguing down the sentence from four years to four months by demonstrating that her injuries had not been severe and vouching that Twilight had been acting in what she believed to be self-defense.
Twilight's youth had been brought up, too. As had her lack of exposure to outside society, and lack of understanding of its laws. The dark magic, too, had been connected to coercion from the Nightmare. She had only followed through on its use, Celestia argued, because of her fear of the greater damage her uncontrolled magic could cause herself and others. This was sustained with testimony from Twilight herself and some of the locals of Ponyville. Lobbying from her parents and local charity Troubled Youths of Canterlot had been put forth. A character witness from Ponyville, Zecora, confirmed she had never seen Twilight mishandle dark magic and that she did not believe Twilight would do so. But still justice had to be served.
Discussion also went towards Twilight's untamed magic. It was clear that she was not safe to the public. Clear she couldn't be released into the world at large. She'd tried not to let her heart sink again at that news. But there was discussion she hadn't stopped to hear before. About the potential in her condition, about the study that needed to be done and the treatment that needed to be found, and, most important to her, about the humanity she needed to be treated with.
At last a verdict had been reached. Four months of magical containment in a secure facility for problem magic users, with regular training underseen by a professional of the field, followed by three years of paid community service to be agreed upon by an overseer (Celestia) and the town of Ponyville. She considered herself lucky. To Celestia, it was just a promise kept. To Twilight, it was her world.
Twilight finished sweeping the dust from the floor into the last of three perfect piles. Already it was looking less daunting. She swept the dust out the front door and away from the dirt road leading to the gigantic, hollowed oak tree. Her walk back to the closet was interrupted by a knock on the door. She pulled it open to reveal the Paladin, no longer dressed in full armor, but instead in a plain white shirt and light blue pants.
"I'm glad to see you made it safely."
"Please. I lived in the Everfree. One last walk over wouldn't kill me." Twilight rolled her eyes. But she had to stop a smile. "You were expecting me." You didn't think I'd run away again. The subtext hung between the two for but a moment.
Celestia smiled back. "One of the local miners wanted to meet you. I told her you needed a little time settling in."
"Meet me?" Twilight balked.
"She seemed very...enthusiastic. But she meant well. She wanted to throw you a welcome party." Twilight shuddered at the nightmare being laid out in her mind's eye. Celestia snapped her back. "Like I said, I think some time would help before we take a step like that."
"You could have dropped me after the trial, you know? There are officers in Ponyville who are quite capable." She ushered Celestia inside, working her way back to the closet.
Celestia smirked. "And that would be the professional thing to do. But I learned recently that professionalism is not the only mark of a good Paladin." Twilight stowed the broom and began searching around. Celestia shrugged. "The law is there to serve the citizens who follow it. And you are one of Ponyville's citizens now. It'd be a disservice to abandon you to the whims of a town you hardly know."
Twilight looked up, a washcloth now in hand. "But you could've. You didn't."
Celestia's pose shifted, her head tilting. "How is the Rune?"
Twilight glanced down at her neck, at the tiny chip embedded just above her collarbone. Another condition to her freedom. Part tracker and part restrainer. The culmination of her and instructor's hard work. She could feel it draining off her excess magic even now. "It itches. Still getting used to it." She absently grabbed at her hand and prevented it from scratching.
"I still don't think it was fair of them." Celestia's gaze followed Twilight's hand. "You're already doing enough for them."
Twilight brightened. "Are you kidding? This was for me. I can actually sleep at night now. The bed doesn't float. I can stub my toe without blasting the kitchen table. Walk down the street without turning people into teapots. I don't care if it turned me blue and made everything taste like stale bread." She set the washcloth down and rubbed her arm. "You really were right about them." She whispered the last bit. "And about me."
The discussion dropped for a moment, Twilight wrapping her arms about herself and Celestia looking on with a hand on one hip and a smile on her face. Twilight cut the silence with a question. "What about your sister?" Twilight's expression softened. Even with all the evil she'd done, Twilight wanted her to be safe. "How is she?"
Celestia's brow furrowed, and she pursed her lips. "My sister has been returned to custody. Her trial will begin in a few month's time. For her there isn't much I can do personally. Too close to the subject."
"Right." Twilight looked down.
"Besides. She's a danger to herself and others. The best I can hope is that she's kept away from the public, and that her time alone will give her time to reflect. Perhaps reach out."
"Gets the help she needs." Twilight stared into Celestia's eyes. There was something so very tired there. Something that no longer dared to hope, not on this topic. She decided to change the subject. "I checked up on Owlosyius recently."
"Owlosyius?" Celestia raised an eyebrow.
"The owl I met." Twilight shrugged one shoulder, trundling the washcloth over to the sink and turning on the faucet. "He needed a name." She finished off the table and moved on to the shelves, taking delicate care not to touch the paper with the rag. "He's nesting now. I know owls aren't strictly legal as pets, so I'm thinking I might get a cat. Keep the mice away from this place. But I hope the local shelter lets me check up on him from time to time."
Celestia put her finger to her chin. "I met one of the rescue workers once. Fluttershy, she's called. You'd have to ask her about all this. Just be sure keep her focused on the animal work. She's a very nervous person by nature, and the stories about you..." Celestia sighed. "You'll have to earn her trust."
Twilight grimaced. There was still that brittle sense around her fellow human beings. It wasn't perfect. She focused on toweling off the table and wiping away the dust. Celestia sensed the tension in her shoulders. The bitter furrow to her brow. She put a hand on Twilight's shoulder. "But you don't have to do it alone." That relaxed her tense charge.
"No...I don't." Twilight thought of her parents. Of her mother shaking, embracing her, sobbing into her shoulder. Of her older brother trying and failing to stop crying in front of her and his father, of her father trying to be strong for the family, swallowing on the frog in his own throat. She thought of Zecora, of her owl and her instructor. She looked over at Celestia and smiled.
／人◕ ‿‿ ◕人＼
Twilight wiped her sweaty brow and glanced up at the clock. Only 26, 278 hours to go. The entire oak was cleaned up. The books were all stowed away carefully in their proper places, their shelves gleaming in the light of the overhead lamps. The desk was clear and ready, the ledger open to a blank page. The entire place clear of dust and cobwebs. It was almost perfect. Celestia stood up. "If you need any help with this..."
"No. I have to do this myself." She cracked a thin smirk. "The law demands it, right?"
"I meant support. I will be here." She stood beside Twilight, her stance proud and sturdy. "Law or not."
Twilight slipped away, grabbing the sign from its place on the table, walking towards the entrance. She looked back at Celestia, who continued to stand firm. For the first time in her life, she flashed a hopeful smile. "You've already done plenty." Twilight opened the door and walked through the archway, out into the sun. Villagers moved around and through the center of town. Farmers pushing carts of apples. Children racing through the streets on scooters and wagons. A town guard here, a doctor there. And there a seamstress with a load of fabrics for her store. The sun shone on her face. The skies were bright and open.
She walked forward, the text above her head proudly displaying the words 'Golden Oaks Library'.With Celestia watching her way, she hung the sign over a nail on the side of the tree, looking out on the town she was now a true part of. The sign swung merrily in the breeze. "Open", it read.
