Opened
It was a beautiful, albeit regular day, nothing truly of note happening besides the sun shining and the birds chirping; Twilight had long ago decided this was the perfect kind of day for some library cleaning. Not saying that any day wasn't a good day for cleaning, but these were by far the nicest. Her duster brushed the shelves of the old library, the hollowed out tree making the perfect shelving spaces for her precious books to sit. The sunlight filtered through the leaves of the old Library, shifting in waves as it dappled the tall bookshelves in golden light. It truly was an intellectual's paradise here — she couldn't ask for more. Her mental fog was broken by the somewhat loud chirp of a voice, "Hey, Twilight! How's it goin'?"
Spike, her practically adoptive son, casually walked by, a bag of gemstones in his little hands. Twilight turned to face him, and shot him a smile, cheerfully stating, "It's going great, Spike! Thanks for asking!"
He rolled his eyes, amused at her enthusiasm for the mundane things in life, but smiled nonetheless — she may be weird, but he still loved her. He kept walking, making his way to the door — before he left, he yelled a quick, "Don't forget to have something for lunch, I know how you get carried away with your work!"
She exaggeratedly sighed, replying in a huff, "Ugh, fine! If I have to!" They both shared a laugh, and Spike eagerly shoved a few gemstones into his mouth as he left the mare to her day of fun — cleaning fun, that is. She sighed happily, content to keep working, but she knew the little dragon was right — she really should take a break soon. It wouldn't be the first time she forgot to eat all day, too enthralled in her work. She whispered to herself, "Alrighty then, just one more bookshelf and I'll call it quits for the day.."
She trailed off as a particular book caught her eye. There were plenty of eye-catching books, yes, but books didn't belong on the floor, peeking out from behind the bookcase itself. The unicorn felt her mood dampen at the sight of the mistreated tome — she hated when her dear treasures were misplaced. They deserved the same respect as jewels in her view. Her magenta aura surrounded the surprisingly old book, gently lifting it from its resting place on the ground — she immediately gasped, her eyes widening in surprise. To her immense horror, dust drifted off the book's cover in little white-grey puffs. "There's no way I missed this before, especially not enough times for it to get this dirty.." She would never neglect even the corners of her bookshelves, how in the world.. No, more importantly, where in the world?
She flipped the book around in her levitating grasp, checking it for a title or some markings to tell where it came from, but was left dumbfounded as it turned out to be entirely blank, the cover as smooth as the paper itself. She didn't even see any stamps on it, or an insignia, or.. Her eyes narrowed as she eyed the material. It wasn't cloth, and it was too old to be synthetic.. "Oh, uh.. Okay..." Immediately, she recoiled as it dawned on her that the material the cover was made of was, in fact, old leather. She hadn't seen leather books, or really leather anything since visiting the old war museums in Canterlot — how in Equestria would something like this come to rest in her library?
Well, it was here now, and she had to be careful with the artifact in case it was something important. The unicorn mused to herself quietly, "Maybe a curse, or enchantment or something wore off, and it materialized where it was last left..?" That seemed to be the most likely explanation, though it was still unlikely by a mile.
Her curiosity began to chip away her thoughts, until she found herself carefully opening the book — just as she suspected, it was written hastily in old Ponish. She wouldn't be able to easily read this, though she might be able to pick out a few words here and there. Twilight bit her lip; it had been years since she studied the language, and she was terribly rusty — hopefully she hadn't forgotten the basics over time.
The pages themselves were old, yellowed, tattered and stained, some torn and some bent completely out of shape, as if the book had been haphazardly thrown around without regard to its well-being. It was a truly saddening sight, all things considered, at least to the purple mare. She flipped carefully through the pages, her magic holding it in a weightless grasp, as she studied the writing.
It was neat, almost definitely written by a unicorn's magic, the pen strokes steady and bold. In fact, one could almost call it pretty, the flowing lines of the letters practically their own variety of calligraphy. Flipping softly through the pages, she began to notice something immensely strange, however. The writing, once neat and tidy, with pages organized into strict paragraphs and columns, began to deteriorate in quality. "Oh, no.."
Upon the halfway point of the book, it became easy to see the decline of the writer in the pages. With each turn deeper into the book, the lettering became more and more frantic, scribbled, and spaced out — obviously the mental health of the writer was getting worse and worse as time went on. "Sad.." She muttered to herself as she noted the undeniable pattern. Large drops of ink were splattered across the pages, as if they didn't care about anything but getting the words on the paper — she couldn't help but wince at the large stains dotting the pages, obscuring some of the writing.
She flipped a few more pages when she finally saw it — the grand finale of the old book. It was written in something that didn't seem like any ink she had known. After the final writing, it entirely stopped, the pages going permanently blank, the author falling into silence. On those last few pages were only a few words, scribbled in dark crimson letters, more of a stain than something written.. She knew, deep down, that she had to figure out at least what those pages said — it was impossible for her not to. Curiosity may have gotten her into trouble in the past, but that was a lesson she was simply unwilling to learn.
The mare rushed to her language books, finding the few she had on old Ponish, and while they levitated in her grasp, she cleared a table, pushing everything — other books, ink wells, pens, scrolls — to the side. Her books were then quickly set down, splayed out haphazardly before her. She could organize them again later, for now, her focus was on getting the information as quickly as she possibly could. She threw down a fresh scroll, picked up a pen, and went to translating the ominously scrawled sentence. The unicorn spent a good few moments just finding her references, sifting steadily through the assorted contents, but slowly, she did manage to spell out the main sentence scrawled across the pages. When her eyes rested on the finished result, any sense of pride in her work quickly evaporated.
"THEY STILL SEE ME"
She shivered a bit, but brushed it off, murmuring, "Huh.. Strange.." Logic dictated that it was probably nothing more than a pony with a mental problem falling deeper into the stages of their disease. Back then especially there wouldn't have been half the kind of help they have these days, so the poor writer would've been left to fall apart alone. Still, it was sad, and.. quite unnerving. A grim reminder of the old days, if nothing else.
"Well," she laid the book carefully on the table on top of her scroll, making a mental note to stop touching the fragile thing, "I'll just get the word out to Celestia as soon as possible, and that's that." She huffed a little, upset at the fact dragon-fire wasn't an option — there were simply too many magical and chemical reactions that could occur and ruin the entire object. Therefore, she would have to bring the Princess here rather than take it to her. Right.. and it's as simple as that. As the unicorn returned to her dusting, trying her hardest to resume her joyful activities, she just couldn't shake that creeping feeling of eyes on her back.. but that was just her nerves, right?
Twilight spat into the sink, sighing before washing the toothpaste from her mouth, exhausted after a long day tidying the whole library — when she cleaned, she really put her all into it. Setting the toothbrush down in the holder, she took another breath, looking herself in the mirror. Besides her tired face, she noticed again the worried expression that had refused to leave her all day. The book.. of course it had been on her mind, despite everything she tried to do to distract herself.
Why couldn't she just throw herself into her work and study it like anything else that found its way into her possession? Simply because it could truly be an artifact from war times. Her magic was immense, and she was skilled, but who knows what that book had been through. Maybe even simple levitation could dirty its magical aura, making it impossible to trace the unicorn that had last cast the spell. Or gosh, even an alicorn? She didn't know — they wouldn't know if she kept messing with it. She hoped the amount of touching and snooping she had already done wasn't enough to mess anything up.
The mare sighed, beginning to daydream of Celestia giving her a permit to study the artifact herself, maybe after they ran some spells and got the information needed — she could spend weeks just translating the old Ponish into modern day Equestrian, and the thought was enough to perk up her spirits. Turning from the bathroom mirror, she took a step towards the bedroom —
Wait. No, no no, no..
Her head whipped back, immediately facing her own glassy visage.
Her head turned left — the reflection turned left.
Her head turned right — the reflection turned right.
She smiled, and dropped it immediately — the reflection mimicked her every move.. as it should.
Just as it should.
A shallow, shaking breath escaped her nostrils as she stared herself down in the mirror.. If it was just as it should be, why didn't her reflection turn with her when she began to leave?
Her trance was broken as Spike meandered to the bathroom, awakened by her gasp, "Twilight..?" He rubbed his eyes, "Everything okay..?"
Twilight nodded, shaking herself out of her daze, "I, um.. Yeah, Spike, sorry.. Everything is fine.. Go back to bed." He cast her a disbelieving look, but didn't argue, too tired to put up a fight. It was just a long day, that's all it was. She was paranoid about ruining the artifact, she was enthralled with the book's contents, she had cleaned all day.. It was simply exhaustion. Exhaustion and nerves making her see things that weren't there. It was logical and well documented, it could happen to her just as easily as anypony else. That's all it was. Casting one last glance at the cold mirror, catching her own eye for a second, she began making her way to bed — yet, as she walked away, she still felt somehow..
watched.