>Huh? >Where are you? >You’re alive for sure. That’s why you’re thinking. >That said, you’ve no idea what’s going on. >One minute you were encased in dirt, and now you’re nowhere? >You’re somewhere, yet it feels like you’re floating in space. >Let’s try to move your arms. >Nope, those won’t respond. >Alright, well given that your legs are holding the same strike on movement, you try your hand at magic. >You don’t feel tired at all, so you assume your magic is back somehow. >Telekinesis comes to you as second nature now, so start with that. >You focus, trying to channel your arcane energy, but nothing comes. >Odd. You...must still be drained. >But then, how is it you feel so chipper? >It’s as if there’s no weight on you at all, as if your consciousness is just meandering through the open air. >Damn, you can’t see or hear anything through this dirt. >It seems like all the guards have left, but you can’t check because you can’t fucking move. >Actually, come to think of it, your lungs don’t hurt either. >Can you...you know… >You go through the mental processes of breathing, but there’s no air going into your lungs. >That is, you can’t feel any air. You can’t even feel your lungs. >There’s absolutely no sensation of you breathing at all. >This is definitely the time your heart would begin to race if you could feel it. >Instead, your mind just whizzes through scenario after scenario of what might be going on. >A spell backfired. >No, you fried yourself in that last spell. >No, it was definitely that cunt of misery, Twilight. >She did this. >Oh fuck, are you in Tartarus? Is this Tartarus? >Hell no. They actually did it, the absolute madmen. >Minutes pass. >Or are they hours? >Shit, after a while it all just started to blend together. >Your thoughts are your only companions in this Hell without explanation. >Even they begin to annoy you after a while. >Why can they just create themselves and bicker in your head, yet you’re unable to do anything but sit there and listen? >You don’t want to think, you want to know. >You want to know where you are. >You want to know what’s going on here! >Fuck! >Come on, do something! >Anything! >You’re screaming into nothingness. >With no mouth to speak off, your silenced voice can’t even echo into this inescapable darkness you’re submerged in. >All you can do is wait, and wait, and wait, and wait, and WAIT. >How long are you going to spend like this? >If you could, you’d be grinding your teeth into dust right now. >Unsure of if it’s been ten hours or ten days, you’re sure of one absolute thing. >You don’t feel the slightest bit tired right now. >Since you ended up in this situation, you’ve felt no fatigue at all. >Wait, what’s this? >That’s...something. >Yeah, it almost feels like a leg. >That’s you, right? >Slowly, agonizingly slowly, some form of stimulus reaches you. >It’s almost like you’re sinking into a warm pool of feeling. >Softness wraps around you as your body awakens. >You can hear a steady beeping. >Your arms are chilly, as opposed to the rest of your body. >Can you open your eyes? >Oh man, it takes you a second to remember how to even do that. >You peel them open, squinting at first from the sudden change in light. >Now, let’s see here. >You’re in a very familiar looking room. >Oh god no. >”You’re awake, it seems. Wonderful.” >You turn your head to see a smiling, light blue mare with her hair done up in a bun. >”Please excuse me.” >This pony dressed in white with a red cross on her flank exits your cramped, green room. >”Guards,” she shouts, “He’s awake! Alert the princesses!” “Well fuck me sideways.” >This hospital where you’re stationed, given that mare’s call for the princesses, is most definitely in royal guard central. >You squint, switching your view to include the magical strings tying together the world. >Er, you try. >Hey, what’s up? >You specifically altered this spell to be able to turn on and off. >Shit, you must have fucked with the runes somehow. >Whatever. Figure it out later. >You throw the thin white sheet which was covering your lower half off yourself, revealing your mostly naked form. >You’re still in your underpants and there’s a large bandage on your stomach, protected by gauze that wrap around your body. >There’s no extra weight on you. Your lungs feel fine. >There’s definitely enough magic in you to pull off an escape. >”Guards, help! He’s moving!” >”We’re on the way!” “They won’t find me when they arrive,” you say confidently and locate a window a few feet to the left of your uncomfortable bed. >Yes, that’s the way out. >There’s a chair too, so you can use your telekinesis on that and cheat your way into flight. >You run over and unhitch the blinders keeping the window closed. >When you throw it open, you see that you’re not exactly in Ponyville. >Instead of being two stories up, you’re probably on the order of twenty thousand stories up. >There’s the side of this hospital that extends down for quite a bit before dropping off to a very tall, purple mountain complete with its own glistening waterfall that ends in a violent, whitewater frenzy several thousand feet down. >Princesses, royal guards, mountains. “Canterlot. Figures.” >But how’d you even get here? >You don’t remember teleporting. >No, you’re in a hospital. >They moved you at some point. >You don’t want to spend too long thinking about this with the impending arrival of the guards, so you make haste and reach out toward the chair. >It’s only now that you notice these strange objects on your hands. >They’re like thick, black bracelets that extend via poles into matching rings on each of your fingers. >”Stop right there!” “Not on your life!” >You lift the chair over your head and throw it out the window, then climb into the sil and prepare to leap as well. >Holding your hand out, you channel some magic through and try to levitate the chair. >Then you jum--WOW HOLD YOUR HORSES! >You slip, your feet coming out from under you as you fall onto your ass. >Throwing your weight back, you land inside the hospital room and crawl away from the death drop right there. >It...you...your magic. >The spell didn’t work. >You look down at your chest. >None of the passive runes are glowing. >Not your detection spell, not your sober spell, not your enhanced strength spell, nothing. >Wide eyed, you turn to what has become a huge team of armed guards filling the front of your room. “What did you do to me?” >”It’s nothing too bad, Anonymous,” comes a soft, soothing voice that does little to calm your nerves and only aggravates you. >”Tis but a safety precaution. As ye youths today would call it, an insurance policy.” >”You’re a smart man, Anon. Try to figure out what’s different about you.” >You grimace as two very tall ponies appear at the door frame and enter, the herd of guards stepping aside for them. >Celestia, the goddess of the sun, gestures at your hands. >”You’ve studied magic very thoroughly to be able to do this to yourself. Tell me, what do those devices resemble?” “Horn rings,” you grumble. >”Now, art thou willing to speak as civilized people, or shall we behest our loyal soldiers impale thee once more, and end this madness altogether?” “I’m more interested in getting out of here.” >Oh shit, you can’t leave without your pants. >In all the excitement, you forgot about how naked you were. >You scan the room for any conveniently placed closets that would be hiding your items. >”Looking for these?” asks Celestia, moving a pair of dirty, torn up black pants into your view. “Give them to me.” >”That’s not very friendly.” “Now.” >”We’ll work on it.” >Conceding, she slowly and gently passes you your clothing. >Standing hurts a bit because of this wound in your gut, but it’s not so bad that you can’t function. >Man, to think that guard slammed into you so hard that it knocked you out. >You pull on the pants and tuck in the pockets. >While your hand is down there, you notice a distinct lack of a certain picture. >Your eyes widen and you can already feel your heart begin to race. >They touched it. >Oh fuck, they touched it. >They thought it was trash and they threw it away. >Those pig fuckers. Those arrogant shits. >”Are you looking for your picture? Don’t worry, we didn’t throw it away if that’s what you’re thinking.” >Which means she knows where it is. >You could ask for it back and be on your merry way. >No, wait. If they took the time to remove it and keep it safe, then she knows there’s some amount of importance to it. >But does she know it’s THAT important? “Well, that picture happens to be a family heirloom, so if you would be so kind as to give it back, I would really appreciate it.” >”Oh, but don’t you think it’d be much safer in my vault? I’m sure you wouldn’t want anything happening to an item of such value.” >She smirks, sparking something inside you. “Listen here, you white fuck. I don’t--” >She speaks loudly and clearly, cutting you off. >”Would everyone please give Anon and I some privacy?” >”Sister, art thou entirely sure of this? He is covered in those markings.” >”The rings will suffice.” >The guards clear as soon as Luna gives the nod. >Soon it’s just you three, and after some hushed words and hugs, Luna disappears too. >As she exits, she pulls the door shut. >”Now, you were in the middle of cussing me out, correct?” “Um, yeah,” you begin, “So, listen here. I want that picture by my side and I want it now. It’s my property, it belongs with me.” >”I think you’ve proven already you’re not the best at keeping your property safe.” “It’s not up for debate.” >”You’re entirely right, Anonymous. You are so utterly correct. It isn’t up for debate.” >She comes closer, keeping her smile up. >Not one crack can be seen in her composure. >Even her words, steady and even, convey the picture of ultimate kindness. >”I don’t think you fully understand the situation here, so allow me to be the one to paint the picture for you, so to speak. You, my friend, have not only dipped your toe, but have dived head first into a whole realm of the blackest magics. Consider your revival a professional courtesy thanks to your relationship with my star pupil.” >Wait, revival? >”You have assaulted my student, you have assaulted my guards, you have caused unrest in my cities, and you have broken strict magical law. Do not make the mistake of thinking you have any say in what happens next.” “No, go back a second. What was that about revival?” >”You’re a smart man, Anon. Tell me what happens to a soul when the body it resides in dies.” “I go to Heaven?” >”If that’s your human equivalent to the afterlife, yes. Now, what happens to the soul when the body dies but it does not reside within it?” >You swallow hard. “How did you know about that?” >”Luna say did ‘impaled’, didn’t she? You died, Anon. You were stabbed in the back, right through the thoracic. You bled out on the way here and perished. That is, your body did. Your soul happens to be tethered to something else, so while your flesh went on to decay, your consciousness lived on.” “Celestia, how do you know about that?” >”Do you think I’d ban something without understanding it fully? My decision on runes was made after centuries of studying them and their effects on society and ponies alike. I know what it takes to do what you’ve done. It’s no easy feat, so I do applaud you on the effort you’ve put into this. That said, you must understand--and I mean really absorb this--that you have, in doing so, forfeited all your rights. No liberty, no property, and no life. As it stands, you are an enemy of the state breathing only because my dearest niece still sees some small amount of hope in your future.” >No, no this isn’t right. >You traveled into uncharted territory. >You’re Anon, the greatest wizard in Equestria. >From scratch, you found a way to safely spellbind living things. >This is revolutionary. >She can’t have seen it before. There’s no way. >”Now, I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry, I won’t have you chained in a dungeon the rest of your life. Twilight wishes to see you rehabilitated, so I will, to the best of my ability, help you to see the error of your ways.” “Stop fucking with me. How do you know all of this? You read my papers, didn’t you? They weren’t destroyed after all.” >”They weren’t originally. I saw to their disposal.” “You what?” you shout and lunge for her. >The horn atop her head glows rather dimly, as if only the smallest amount of magic were being channeled. >Suddenly the bracelets on your hands fling behind you. >You’re dragged through the air at breakneck pace and are hung up against the wall, arms spread out as if you were Christ himself. >”I’m not going to ask you if we’ve come to an agreement. Like I said, you’re smart. You know this is your only option, so there’s no use in agreeing or disagreeing.” >This whole time, she’s worn that same smile. >Just who is it you’re dealing with? >”Now, I’m going to let you down, and I expect the next words out of your mouth to be ‘thank you for this opportunity, princess.’” >You can feel her grip slipping on your hands. >Instinctively, you pull against the force and snap yourself free. >You fall to the floor, kneeling to let your legs absorb the shock. >When you look up at her, you note that her face has changed. >It’s small, almost nonexistent, but her smile has given way to some look of sternness. >Your gaze travels down to your wrists where those damned bracelets sit. >Brushing your finger against the rods holding the bracelets and rings together, you can deem it to be a very high quality material. >It’s certainly no Ceilingmart ring they slapped on. She spared no expenses trying to contain your power. >”Well?” >Of course, the key word there is “trying”. >She could have killed you right there and there would have been nothing you could do to resist her. >With this second chance at life though, you’ve got a shot to undo these bindings somehow. >With enough time, if you play your cards right, you can get out of here. >Laughing internally, you put on the angriest face you can muster for show and turn yourself away from her. “Thank you for this opportunity, princess.” >”Very good. Now that you’re all healed, let’s get you escorted to your room.” “Let me guess.” >”The donjon.” “Not the dungeon?” >”The castle was built on the edge of a mountain. A dungeon wouldn’t be practical.” “I can think of a lot of things that are impractical regarding your city.” >”Well, then I suppose it’s a good thing I didn’t ask for your opinion on the matter. Now let’s go. Chop chop.” >You can feel a light slap on your behind, prompting you to get up and motion to the door. “Hey!” >”Put some pep in your step.” “I’ll show you pep, you fucking--” >You stop yourself as the image of your picture being torn in half flashes in your mind. >Play it cool, Anon. >You suck it up and move a little faster, exiting through the door as Celestia opens it for you. >”Take a right.” >Take a right, she says. >Right up your fucking ass. >Celestia makes sure to keep you three paces ahead of her the whole time during your walk. >After moving through several secured doors, past teams of guards, there is a breathtakingly long spiraling staircase. >After a few dozen yards, they apparently decided that windows were too old school and just left them out. >The rest of the walk would be in darkness if not for Celestia’s horn keeping the path marginally lit. >If you were going through here alone, one wrong step in the dark and you’d be falling right down that pit in the middle of the tower. >Two things you pull out of this walk is firstly, how dangerous she thinks you are given all these layers of protection she’s thrown on and, secondly, how out of shape you’ve gotten. >Holy moly, these stairs are the shits, man. >Eventually, you come up to the ceiling of this section which is, from the perspective of anyone in the room, the floor. >Nestled within it is a door secured by a lock which you can tell at a glance is enchanted. >Sadly, without your magic, you can’t quite make out what kind of enchantment it is. “Is that a blessing or a hex?” >”Miscellaneous.” >Ah fuck. >With the smallest sampling of her magic, the lock begins to hum and jitter, clicking open in accordance with Celestia’s will. >It slides out, and the door flings open. >You squint as light from the room assaults your eyes. >”Your new home,” she says, nudging you forward. “Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” you grumble and climb up. >The room is actually fairly spacious. >There’s a few chairs, a selection of tables, and a very comfy looking bed. >Not only that, but there is a specially made bookcase that matches the curvature of the circular walls. >Whoever built the room also decided to carve some windows into the white stone brick, giving you a nice view of the land. “What? Are you not afraid I’ll escape through a window?” >”I happen to doubt you’d enjoy falling eight hundred feet.” “Is that how high up we are?” >”Not counting the mountain.” >You scratch your head and approach one of those windows. >It’s just a plain old hole in the wall with nothing to stop what should be bone-chilling air from pouring in, yet the room itself is comfortably warm. “I assume whatever barrier that’s keeping the cold out also keeps pegasi prisoners in.” >”Are you a pegasus?” “No.” >”Then don’t worry about it.” >”Aye aye, captain,” you say with a salute. >It’s awfully nice in here for the Equestrian equivalent of a supermax prison. >Is that because of your connection to Twilight? >You mosey over to the bookcase and pull off one book. >Spectacular Expectations? >Oh hell no. >You slide it back onto the shelf and pick another. >Caught Her in the Rye. >Of Parasprites and Stallions. >A Farewell to Forehooves. “Celestia, please, no.” >”Those are critically acclaimed books.” “These are bootleg. Where’s the real stuff?” >”I don’t know what bootleg means, but I assure you everything there culminates in days worth of quality reading time.” “You call ‘Eddy-Pus’ quality reading?” >”What do you have against octopi?” >Holy shit you might just kill yourself after all. >”Would you rather I just take it all then?” “Yes, actually.” >”Very well,” she says simply. >The bookcase is wrapped in her golden aura and creaks as it’s lifted off the floor. >”I’ll see you soon, Anonymous.” >She disappears underneath the floor, the bookcase floating nearer to it. “Wait,” you shout before it can disappear like her. >”Yes?” >You know, they’re all shit books, but would you really rather have literally nothing to do in here? >She’s not going to let you anywhere near a book on magic and not even you can spend all your time plotting and stewing. ”You can leave it.” >”Oh, can I?” >You grit your teeth and nod. >Boy, she’s really pushing it. “Please leave the bookcase with me.” >”Well, since you asked so nicely.” >The case floats back over to its little spot on the wall. >She sets it down gently enough so as not to disturb any books. >After that, the door closes. >You can hear the lock snap shut securely, followed by her voice. >”I’ll see you soon.” >For what? >A quick start on these damned lessons? >Yeah, you’re so eager to learn about friendship. >You make way back to the window and lean outside, tensing up as your body reminds itself of your last round with a window in this place. >Nothing is plainly visible. >That is, you can’t see any physical barriers. >All there is is air and, further down the stalk of the tower, windows. >As it is, your room sits on top of the tower and juts out on all sides, like a saucer balancing on a pencil only not so extreme. >Think, Anon. What’s the deal here? >Magical barriers come in three classes. Anything from the bronze class would be far too sturdy for air to pass through, so it’s not that type of barrier. Elsewise you’d be suffocating in here. >Could it be iron class? No, because then not even light would be able to break through it. Besides, you can’t imagine Celestia would dedicate so much of her precious energy to controlling the donjon herself. >She probably delegates the powering of these spells to her underlings, and you fail to believe even a royal court wizard has the ability to make an iron class barrier. >That leaves stone class, which means this should work. >You snatch an apple out of the fruit bowl set on the coffee table near your bed and toss it out the window. >It falls about ten feet before slowing down significantly. >In that spot, you can see the faint hue of some unicorn’s aura as the apple slowly passes through the barrier. >Once on the other side, it begins falling again at normal speed. >But now, here’s the bigger question. >Does that barrier temporarily slow down the object or does it sap all its momentum right there? >Another apple helps you test this. >This time you make sure to throw it at an angle. >Once again, ten feet down, the apple slows to a near halt. >You wait patiently for it to begin again. >At first glance, it does seem like it’s going straight down now. >However, once out of the grasp of the barrier, it begins to travel with the same speed and in the same direction you had originally thrown it. >Yeah. You can work with this. >Next, you walk to your bed and examine it. >The king sized behemoth is covered in what look like the softest, warmest blankets you think you’ve ever seen. >You lean down and rub your hand over it, letting the crimson fuzz rustle against your hard skin. >Oh, that’s nice. >Grabbing the top, you peel the blanket back to reveal the sheets. >They match, at least, and look just as nice. >After ruffling it up, you grab a bunch of it in each hand and pull hard, trying to tear it. >All your strength proves meaningless, which is just perfect. >You’re no tailor, but even you can tell this is some nice fabric that could certainly take some punishment. >What does your closet hold for you? >Straight across the room from the bed is a tall, white wardrobe with gold trimming. >Wait, is that actual gold? >Curiosity increases your stroll to a jog. >It’s right in front of you, and you close the distance between it and your eye. >You don’t know the defining characteristics of gold, but jeez, that sure does look legit. >Hoh boy, you sure hope it’s real gold. >Given the general swankiness of your penthouse suite, you’d be hard pressed to assume it wasn’t. >If it is, you can have some real fun with that. >Anyway, back on task. >You pull open the closet and try to search for something useful. >Nothing of great value makes itself known, but you do see your coat hung up neatly in the center. >There have been obvious repairs on it, likely from the stabbing and the bleeding. >You can’t take it off the hook fast enough. >Wear it. >After sliding your arms in and buttoning up, you cinch the belt tightly, eliminating any chance of it getting away from you. >Wear it with shame. >You had everything in your hand, Anon. >You had power, you had magic, you were on the verge of respect. >Even with all of that, you lost. >No, you didn’t just lose. You were honest and truly killed. >What a nice reminder, then, that this coat will be. >Wearing it forces you to feel all over again the pain of defeat. >The cold, bitter taste of failure is one you won’t endure again. >All you need is more power, more magic, and that means more runes. >Within Canterlot castle, there should be more than enough of the materials you need to get another shop going. >Of course, you’ve probably been inspected all over to see what runes you’ve already written on yourself. >Given all these security measures in place, you wouldn’t be surprised if there are more checks to come to make sure you’re not pulling anything funny. >Will that stop you from trying? >Hell no. >As it stands now, you doubt you could take even Twilight. >You need to find a way to spellbind yourself even more. >Your next fight might just be against a god. >You grab the wardrobe and pull it out, opening its back to you. >The trim extends even back there, thankfully. “Alright, good,” you whisper. “If what he said was true, this should be enough. I’m counting on you, Scrabbler.” >Hands placed firmly on the doors, you heave and push the closet back into place, right up against the wall. >Well, you’ve done just about all you can do right now with what you have. >Still, you can’t help but feel a little antsy. >Storing up magic always makes you feel more energetic, but being totally unable to dispel any of it is becoming more and more annoying as the day goes on. >You’re almost tempted to call Celestia and ask her if you can use that staircase to tire yourself out again. >Just try to ignore it, Anon. >You shuffle into the middle of the room where a big, puffy blue chair sits. “Gross.” >You grab it by the arms and grunt as you hoist it over your head. >It finds a new home right next to the window that it would have gone out of had there been more of an opening. >What you’re left with in the center of donjon is a single coffee table and a small wooden stool. “Whatever,” you grumble. >On your way over, you pull something off the bookshelf. >What is it? >Plotting yourself down on the stool, you take a look at the cover. >There’s a picture of a bat wearing a suit, and a big old mansion behind it. “The Great Batsby.” >Ok, now that’s reaching. >Don’t read this shit, Anon. >Aw fuck, you’re reading it. >Some unknown number of hours later the sun has begun to set. >Your room gradually darkens to the point where you fetch a candle, only to discover you’ve been given no matches to light it with. >The book is actually a bit more gripping than you had anticipated so, rather than sit in the dark, you opt to move your stool to a window and let the last bits of light in the sky make reading easier. >Suddenly though, you hear a familiar clicking sound and pull yourself from the book. >The floor door flips open just as the golden glow on the lock fades. >A long, striking horn rises up out of the black pit that is the exit. >Celestia emerges from the darkness, still as bright and soft as if she were standing in the morning sun. >”Hello again.” “Hello.” >”So you’ve found your coat. Twilight said that you humans had an odd desire to always be clothed. I thought I’d leave it in the closet for you.” “Well aren’t you thoughtful?” >”Come now. It’s time for dinner.” >Wait, what? >You raise an eyebrow and lift yourself out off of the stool. >”What, did you think I’d throw you into studies on your first day?” “Kind of, yeah.” >”Let’s go. We need to get you washed before you appear in the dining hall.” >You hesitate, but she does not. >It takes little effort on ehr end to get a spell working that pulls you forward. >Before you fall over, you comply and move your legs. ”You’re not going to make me shave, are you?” you ask as you step by her and enter the stairwell. >”Yes, Anon. I’m going to make you shave the hair on your face so that you look cleaner and more respectable while surrounded by beings who are completely covered in hair.” “So no. Just making sure we’re on the same page here.” >Well, at least you got your wish of using the stairs. >By the end of this Odyssey, you’re sweating and short of breath. >Moreover, you’re super hungry. >Jesus, how long has it been since you’ve eaten anything? Let alone a real meal. >Celestia, looking as chipper as when she started the walk, escorts you to a bathroom just a few doors down from the dining hall. >Apparently you’re not trusted enough to clean yourself on your own, so you have to put up with six armed guards crowding the area. >They visibly tense as you take off your coat, revealing your tattooed body. >With some water and a liberal amount of soap, you clean most of your body, making sure to avoid the bandages. >You’re not sure what’s under there and you’re not too keen on disturbing it until you have other dressings on hand to help out. >Besides, you’re probably going to get regular doctor visits judging by your treatment so far. >Well, once you’re done, you redo your coat and make for the door. >The guards standing in front of it part their spears, allowing you to exit. >”All set?” “I suppose.” >She ushers you forward. >This time you move before she has a chance to use any spell on you. “I know how to walk.” >”Third room on your left.” “Third room on my left. Yeah, ok.” >You try to drag out the walk as long as you can, but she doesn’t leave you much room to pace yourself. >Soon enough, after two doors, you come to an opening in the huge white hallway. >The purple carpet beneath your feet splits, entering the room before you. >You turn to face it and all inside. >Your eyes widen. >Ok, even you have to admit this is a little impressive. >The dining hall is, to put it lightly, enormous. >It’s practically a palace in itself. >The ceiling is higher than anything you’ve ever seen, and on it is a mural reminiscent of the Sistine Chapel. >In the center, where the painting makes way, there is a beautifully crafted chain upon which hangs a massive crystal chandelier. >”Hi, Anon!” >Oh, right. >You’re a guest. >Your eyes break from the mural above and pan down to the long table smack dab in the middle of the room. >It’s adorned with candles and covered platters the whole length, as well as a few strategically placed fruit bowls. >The pony calling to you sits all the way at the end on the right. >A certain purple alicorn. “You’re fucking joking.” >”You should be thanking her.” “I should be doing a lot of things.” >”Move it,” orders Celestia with a tap on your bum. >You grumble and walk, passing all numbers of nervous looking diners. >The only rune visible on you while you have this coat on is the one on your neck, and not everyone here can see that. >Still, even for those who can’t see, you can only imagine the stories of you that are making it through the country right now. >You snarl at one particularly annoying looking pony, making sure to put your canines on clear display. “You look tasty, don’t you?” >He shouts, the spineless little turd. >Celestia thwaks you over the head with a rolled up napkin. >”Behave yourself in this hall.” “Yeah, yeah.” >Twilight is practically shaking as you approach her. >She looks so damn happy, so dumb, with that stupid grin plastered on her face. >Boy, what you’d give to wipe it off. >You know, just grab her head and slam it right into a bowl of soup. >Tomato soup. >You grin at that thought, sadly, and she seems to get the idea that you’re equally excited to see her. >You avert your gaze and try to focus on the rest of the party. >There sure are a lot of people here. Most of them look like dignitaries. >The end of the table that Celestia is walking you toward is devoid of such folks and is, instead, populated by more common looking ponies. >One of them even has a maid uniform on, and her blushing grey face tells more about how she’s feeling than the “I’m so excited to be here” you can just make out. >Twilight is situated on the left side of the table. Well, it could be right depending on how you’re looking at it. >Anyway, her chair, as well as the other two cupping the end of the dinner table, stands out from the rest. >Whereas all the other ponies are sitting in rather simple looking wooden seats, Twilight’s is a big, purple “throne”, for lack of a better word. >Her overly frilly and noble-looking dress matches the aesthetic. >Moving over, at the end of the table, is an even larger version of her seat, only it’s made of some very expensive looking white stone, save for the seat which is probably softer than any bed you’ve ever laid on. >At the top of the chair is a crest that, at your best guess, is supposed to be a sun. >Its golden rays stretch out across the chair, making elegant designs on the back and ending at the arms. >Lastly, on the right side is a blue copy of Twilight’s throne, only it, like Celestia’s, comes with a certain embellishment at the top. >This time it’s a moon. >You reach it, much to the dismay of those directly beside it, and Celestia stops you cold. >”You will take the blue chair tonight.” “I don’t think Luna would appreciate me using her chair.” >”My sister is,” she pauses and walks by you, taking a spot on her golden seat. >Her eyes lower, scanning your and her dinnerware. >”She is occupied.” “With what?” >”Her business is none of yours. Mind your manners and take a seat.” >The words “Make me” come to mind, but you don’t want to push it. >Even at a glance, you can tell there are some nice opportunities here at this dinner. >It’d be best to not overplay your role as the angry psycho needing rehabilitation. >So, with a grumble, you sit your behind down in the hard blue seat and rest your hands gently on the table. >When you’re settled in, Celestia’s smile grows into something you would call genuine if you didn’t know how she really felt given your circumstances. >Her chest rises with a deep breath, and then she speaks, her firm and royal voice audible throughout the whole palace of a room. >”I would like to thank you all for attending another dinner with me. It warms my heart to see you little ponies from all walks of life supping and chatting together. From the smallest worker to the largest mogul, we are all united in our goals by the friendship that keeps Equestria strong, and the hope that burns in each and every one of you.” “Oh my god,” you mutter, unable to control yourself. >She can’t be serious. That has to be the sappiest, most out of place speech you’ve ever been forced to sit through. >Despite the utter trash leaving her mouth, the ponies you look at around the table seem enraptured. >”Now feast, my little ponies. Dinner is served.” >The lids fly off the platters and hover to a far corner of the hall. >All the food is, well, you know, it’s edible. >You see bread, spaghetti, heyghetti, some vegetables, and those fruit arrangements still eyeing you. >It’s cool, but you’d rather sink your teeth into a fish. >God, it’s been so long since you’ve had meat. >Reaching out, you snag yourself a slice of bread and some butter. >You slide your knife across the bread, spreading the warm butter across the crumby surface. >She’s looking. You can feel it. >Her eyes bore into you. >Her smile feels like slime running down your neck. >Maybe if you ignore her, she’ll stop. >Just eat your bread. >”How are the studies going, Anon?” >Don’t talk to her. >No, don’t even give her that satisfaction. >That back-stabbing purple piece of shit. >You lean forward over the plate that had been placed in front of you and take a bite of the bread. >The creamy butter really adds some nice kick to it. >”When I heard you’d woken up, I couldn’t wait to see you.” >You could never see her for the rest of your life and it still wouldn’t be long enough. >”Anon, aren’t you going to answer your friend?” asks Celestia. >”He’s just excited is all.” >Does she ever stop? >”Right, Anon? This is going to be great. I’ll come visit you every day and we can get all this nasty rune business over with.” >Excuse you? >Nasty? >Your grip on the knife tightens as she drones on about all the wonderful things you two can do now that you’re in rehabilitation. >Finished with your bread, you reach out once more, this time for an apple. >Twilight’s hoof meets you halfway and lands on your hand. >”We can finally reconnect.” >You jerk your hand away from her and exhale deeply, almost growling, but keep your mouth shut. >”Hey, don’t be like that. Come on, Anon. Smile. Things can only go uphill from here. You’ve had your time to suffer, but with the magic of friendship, you can heal. You don’t have to be alone anymore. I’m here for you.” >The plate and utensils shake as you slam your fist down on the table. “Oh my fucking god, shut your stupid, cock sucking mouth you ugly cunt. I swear to God I will fucking merge your face with this piece of shit plywood ass table.” >Oh god damn it. >Twilight’s agape mouth matches the mouths of everyone at this table. >All except Celestia, whose mouth is not open, but certainly isn’t curved into a grin anymore. >You’ve stepped in it now, Anon. >Can you salvage this situation? >A whisper flows into your ear. >”He really is a demon.” >”Did he just say that to a Princess?” >There’s also the gentle whimpering of the blonde mare beside you whose tears stain her own napkin. >”Anon, take your seat. Now.” >Celestia’s voice is stern, hard, and as absolute as her order. >You didn’t even notice you had gotten up. >Ok, well, you’ve fucked it. >Celestia is giving you a way out. >Just take the seat and everything will be fine. >Or you could not. “Twilight’s an airhead,” you shout, making your voice known to all the diners. “She’s a stupid asshole who doesn’t know up from down and is as competent at being a princess as I am at being a good person!” >Bang, bang, bang go your fists. >You smash them on the table over and over again, knocking the silverware all about. >You reach over to the mare beside you and grab the heyghetti off her plate. >Scooping its sloppy messiness into one hand, you reel back and throw it at Twilight. >Celestia’s powerful magic grabs your wrist before you can make the full motion, but the deed is done. >The heyghetti flies through the air and splatters against Twilight’s face, the sauce soaking her dress. >Strands of it wrap around her horn, then slide off and onto the table with a squelch. >Celestia rises from her seat, opposite your motion. >Thanks to her magic, you’re pulled straight down. >You slam against the table, cracking your plate underneath your chest. >The sharp edges of it cut into your flesh, and the telekinetic grip on your wrist tightens uncomfortably. >”Please excuse me, my little ponies. One of our guests must be escorted out,” declares the sun princess. >Your hands move on their own, as well as your legs. >By her will, you’re forced up and walk out of the room. >Blood runs down your chest and soaks stains your jacket, but that doesn’t matter. It’s seen worse days. >”I expected you to be rough around the edges, but this is absurd,” she states as she exits the room. “Don’t you put me in a room with her again.” >”I can see you have much to overcome. Much more than I anticipated. It would seem your lessons will need some restructuring.” >You wrestle against her hold, but it does nothing except sap the energy out of you. >Her magic holds you tighter than any other force you’ve felt before. “Now, I know what you’re thinking. I just want you to know that I absolutely regret my behavior back there. It was absolutely deplorable. See? I can be healed. I just need tender love and care from a strong mare willing to nurture my poor, broken heart.” >”Enough of your jokes.” “Oh, I’m not joking. I’m really very eager to learn. Honest. Just set me up with a book and I’ll be a friendship expert in no time!” >Ah damn, here come the stairs. >You ascend the stairway to heaven. >As you near it, the door opens for you. >Suddenly, the your feet lose their support. “Wow, I don’t do flying. Put me down.” >You’re practically thrown the door. >It’s at that point that she lets go of you, letting you free fall face first onto the floor of the donjon. >Scrambling away from the door, you flip onto your ass and kick back until you press against the foot of your bed. >Celestia’s flowing mane first, followed by the rest of her, rise up into your room. “Ok, maybe I overreacted a little back there.” >”Three.” “Three bats?” >”Three tries. That’s what you get, Anon. If you continue to pull stunts like this, it’s your soul on the line.” “Hold on, you can’t do that! Three tries to prove I’m worth the air I breathe? That’s fucked!” >”If it makes you feel any better, it was four.” >Four? >You never heard anything about that! “Come on, Celestia! How do you expect me to make any progress if you don’t tell me these things? If I had known I only had four shots to save myself from damnation, I probably wouldn’t have thrown that fit!” >”You want honesty? But Anon, honesty is what got you here.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” >She steps forward. >It’s night time now, but even in the blackness of your room, you can still make out the shimmering metal around her neck. >Her horn glows softly, lighting a few candles around her that light up her immediate area. >”They were honest with you in Ponyville. You didn’t like that, though. You didn’t want to be told that you weren’t Superstallion. You wanted to be coddled and told you were just as strong as everyone else.” “That’s not true.” >”Isn’t it? Didn’t it burn you up inside, being faced with simple truths like that every day? That’s what drove you to this lunacy--this obsession with the dark arts. You’ve poisoned yourself because you didn’t like being told you couldn’t go adventuring.” “Shut up.” >”No.” >She lifts you off the ground and sits you plum down on the bed. >”You wanted the truth, so here it is. The damage you’ve inflicted on yourself is irreversible. Physically, there is no saving you.” >Damage? >The only damage done to you is what others have caused. >The only thing you’ve done is make yourself strong! >Now nobody can hurt you anymore. At least not once you get these damned bracelets off. >Yeah, just you wait, Celestia. >”You’ve already noticed it, haven’t you?” “Noticed what?” >”Your dependence on it. Those runes all over you draw in magic. Your body gorges itself on the stuff. It can’t get enough of it. When you run low, you yourself begin to feel tired.” “Well, yeah. That’s only to be expected though, isn’t it? Magic is fuel in a way.” >”It is fuel. Very powerful, volatile fuel. Every pony is born with a certain magical limit. When you overload that limit, it begins to wreak havoc on the body. What exactly do you think would happen when you, a being born with a magical limit of zero, suddenly kicks the clock up to 1000?” “Nothing. I feel fine.” >”For now. When your dependence becomes addiction and the black magic carved into your flesh begins to corrupt your mind, you’ll understand my stance.” “If I’m in so much trouble, then why not just kill me now? Huh? Get it over with! You haven’t yet because there’s no danger. I’m fine. You’re just pulling this out of your ass.” >”Your body is doomed, but if you learn the magic of friendship, there’s hope for your soul.” “Yeah, sure, Asspullestia. I totally buy that hock of crap.” >She shakes her head and steps back through the door, closing it behind her. >”I’ll see you tomorrow for your first lesson.” “Fuck you!” >Your body is doomed. >Yeah fucking right. >Scare tactics won’t work on you, no siree. >She’s trying to get in your head, that’s all. >There probably is a way to reverse runes. She knows that. >She’s just trying to make you desperate so that you look for that way and “cure” yourself. >It’ll be a friendship lesson for sure. >Well jokes on you, Celestia. >You reach your hand into your coat sleeve and pull out a knife you had stuffed in there when everyone was focused on the heygetti fiasco. >In your pocket is also a dinner napkin which you promptly stuff underneath your mattress for safekeeping. >With that out of the way, you disrobe and climb into bed. >The covers go right over your head, and you lay back, locking them between you and the pillow. >The little pocket you’ve made becomes an oven, bringing you to a sweat. >Using that as lubrication, you’re able to slide the knife between your wrist and the bracelet. >Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. >You saw away at the material for what feels like hours but in reality was probably only forty minutes. >The skin in the area is torn and bleeds, and the knife if totally dull now. >Not one tooth or sharp edge is left on it. >You’re unable to tell if you’ve made any progress on the bracelet in this light, but you’re pretty sure that there’s a slight groove when you rub your finger against it. >A small chuckle escapes your lips as you throw the covers off yourself and toss the used up utensil out the window, sending it hurtling down the side of the mountain. “Looks like school will be ending early, Celestia,” you say with a yawn and lay back down, ready to sleep. >You huff and you puff and you trot down the stairs from Anonymous’ room. >Darn that man. >You’ve dealt with your fair share of troublesome folks before, but he’s on a whole other level of irksomeness. >In all the thousands of years you’ve lived, because you are Princess Celestia and have lived that long, you’ve met only a handful of ponies that were as troubled in the ways of friendship as he. >In the past, it would have been simple to just banish them or eradicate them on the spot, though that was only because they were genuinely evil and there was no hope. >Twilight, however, sees something in Anon, and even though you can’t, you know you didn’t raise a fool. “Oh, my faithful student, why have you chosen him?” >In no time, you reach the bottom of the stairs. >The guards stationed there bow their heads to the floor and hold them there until you gesture for them to rise. >Their hard faces make it seem as though they could stand a storm or two before they fainted. >Looks aren’t everything. >You smile and nod to them as you pass and make way back to the hall. >Halfway there, you decide to beeline for the west wing bathroom. >It’s a while before you get there, what with all these winding halls and security checks. >Eventually coming to the door, you press your hoof against it, only to find it locked. >Well, it’s a good thing every lock in the castle responds to your magic. >You feed the lock some of your power and wait as the tumblers turn, clicking and ticking until all holding the door shut moves safely out of the way. >Slowly, you push open the door and peek around. >The bathroom, white--as snow save for the blue tiles making the checker pattern on the floor--looks completely clean. >It’s the sink area that leaves something to be desired. >Twilight stands in front of the setup, letting the water run over her face. >Tomato sauce runs down her cheeks and dribbles into the sink. >Occasionally a little droplet will fly out and splatter on the counter. >You step into the room, closing the door behind you softly. >Even over the running water, you can hear telltale sniffling. >She flips her head around, allowing access to the other side of her messy face. >The water runs down her horn, knocking off a few strands of heyghetti that refused to leave until then. >A lavender glow wraps around the handles and twists them at first higher, but then off. >Twilight takes her head out of the basin and shakes, slapping the mirror with her heavy, damp mane. >You float a towel over to her from the rack. >The sound of your aura alerts her to your presence. >Her eyes suddenly shoot open and dart to the mirror where they find you standing not too far behind. >”Celestia,” she stutters, “I didn’t know you were there.” >Quickly, she buries her face into the towel and scrubs vigorously. >Even through the cloth, you can hear her sniffing. >After a few seconds of drying, she pulls the cloth away to reveal her still red eyes. >”What are you doing here?” >You step closer and wrap a wing around her, pulling her close to your frame. >Some of the sauce still on her dress rubs off on your fur, a fact which, once she realizes it, prompts her to move away. >There’s no escape though. Not from you. >You tighten your grasp on her and lower your head to nuzzle. >”Celestia, please. Your coat.” “No messier than your own. I’m sorry about tonight, Twilight. I truly thought he would at the very least act with civility.” >”It’s not his fault. We pushed him into this too fast.” “I’m sorry?” >”He was only resisting us because we were too forceful. That’s fine, though. With time, he can still learn the magic of friendship.” >You lift your head and peer down at her. “Twilight, I know you see hope for him, but even you have to admit he’s a little jagged around the edges. What happened is, in fact, his fault.” >You can feel her rub against you as she shakes her head. >”No, he just doesn’t understand what’s going on. He’s scared. It’s up to us to help him through this transition.” “Oh, he knows exactly what’s going on. He probably knew before I even explained it. Where are you getting this idea that he’s helpless?” >”You don’t know him like I do. He needs protecting so that he can open up and accept friendship into his heart.” “What he needs is firm guidance and a good slap in the tuckus.” >”Princess,” giggles your niece. “Oh, come on, you’ve heard that word before.” >He moves her head away from you and gazes into the mirror. >She looks so nice nestled in your wing like that. “You’ve grown up so much since we first met.” >”And it’s all thanks to you.” “You’re like a,” a daughter, “A very good friend. I feel it’s my duty as yours to voice my concern.” >”On what?” “You’ve grown up seeing nothing but mercy and kindness shown to all around you, and I fear that’s skewed your views. Not everyone is innocent.” >”What are you trying to say? That Anon is evil?” “No, of course not. Not entirely, at least. What I’m saying is that I think it’d be best for you to step back and really examine your relationship with Anon. You may be letting your previous friendship with him cloud your judgement on the matter.” >The two of you share a few more words and eventually part. >She goes off back to Ponyville, and you to dinner, where the ponies have patiently waited for your return. >The pony that had been beside Anonymous was crying when you got back, so you ushered her into Luna’s chair and made small talk for most of dinner. >She was very fond of the gem in your necklace. >Apparently it reminded her of the locket her father had given her before she lost it in a freak mining accident outside Kenbucky. >The tale moved you, just the same as you moved that little purple stone out of your necklace and placed it in her hooves. >”N-no, Princess. I couldn’t possibly take this.” >You assured her there was no issue and insisted on her keeping it. “Nothing in the world can replace what you’ve lost, but I do hope this will at least ease your pain over the matter and remind you not only of where you’ve been, but where you can go.” >Dinner finished within an hour of that chat, the cue being when all food had been consumed. >After wishing them all a good night, you made way to your chambers. >Before you reach your own doors, you pass by Luna’s. >Should you? >No, she’s a grown mare. >You shouldn’t press your ear against the door like you’re doing right now. >Whoops, too late. >You hold your breath and close your eyes, focusing on what you can hear through the heavy wood. >There’s some chatter. You can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but they do sound rather enthusiastic about it. >Their voices raise and lower in rhythm with a certain squeaking noise. >Okay, that’s enough of that. >You pull yourself away from the horror show and make way for your room once more. >The doors spread apart for you, and as they do so, your assorted jewelry items float off your person and onto a little perch beside your bed. >With each step you take, one more slipper comes off, until you’re all bare and ready to crawl under the covers. >The morning is growing closer, and you need all the sleep you can get to prepare for what comes next. >You crack your eyes open and yawn. >Your body feels oddly relaxed. >Warmth radiates through the blankets and into your bones. >Goodness, this bed is certainly softer than you would have anticipated. >Do you really want to get up out of it? >Let’s weigh your options here. >Sleep all day, or get up ready for school so that you, Anonymous, can show Celestia how eager you are to be a good person and rid yourself of your dark and evil ways. >But the bed is so comfy. >”Good morning, Anonymous!” >You can hear the door to your room swing open and slam against the floor. >Ok, you guess it’s time for school. >Yay. >You throw the protective blanket off yourself and sit up. >After wiping the boogies away from your eyes, you spot a small white unicorn standing in the doorway. >You squint as the light bounces off her golden armor, right into your eyes. >Despite that, it doesn’t seem like this mare could cause you any more harm than a common housefly. “What, did they drop my threat level or something?” >”It’s time for your first lesson,” she calls out. “I gathered that much.” >You slide off the bed and cinch your belt tighter, covering up the markings on your chest. >As you approach the little guard-ess, you can see she’s not only a non-threat to you, but she’s scared out of her mind. >She practically quakes in her armor, and crooked smile does little to hide the fear in her wide eyes. >”Right this way.” >As quickly as she appeared, she disappears right down the rabbit hole. >Fucking stairs. >Without much choice in the matter, you began the long downward march, not-so-eagerly awaiting your first lesson. >The walk is long and boring but it does bring you to a sweat. >At the very least, you’ve gotten some of your pent up energy out. >Not nearly as much as you would like, sure, but it takes the edge off. >When you catch up to the mare at the bottom of the stairwell, you can’t help but notice that she’s not alone. “One, two, three, four, five, six,” you say with each step as you near the floor. >With the final level of stairs out of the way, nothing is left to obscure your view of the full group. “Eleven, twelve, thirteen. Wow, thirteen guards. I guess my threat level didn’t lower after all.” >Your foot touches down on the final step. >The ponies step back, matching every move you make. >A few of the stallions near the back raise their spears and lower their heads. “I don’t think any of you are being very friendly. What would Celestia say?” >”Don’t you use her name!” >”Quiet, Joe!” >The mare from your room must see the situation heading south and stands on her hind legs to get everyone’s attention. >”Boys, let’s not fight over this.” “Yeah, you go girl! You have to be a good example for me. How can I ever learn to be nice if all anyone does is get mad at me?” >Her face scrunches up and she lowers herself. “You know, I like you. Let’s be friends. You can come up to my room any time you want.” >You lower yourself down to one knee and reach out. >She quickly pulls away before you can brush your hand against her cheek. “I mean any time.” >The mare’s marble face turns crimson and she retreats right to the back of the herd. >”Don’t touch her, you monkey!” “Scathing.” >A big, burly stallion enters your personal space and puffs his chest out. >”You know why you’re here,” he bellows, seemingly unafraid of you. “You’re going to lead me around this hedge maze of a castle to some room in East Bumfuk and proceed to sit my little misbehaving behind in a chair so I can listen to a few lectures on friendship before you do the whole thing again but in reverse and lock me in my room for another night.” >”More or less. Now stand up and let’s go. No more funny business, you hear? Keep your hands and your comments to yourself.” “Again, I feel the need to express how unlikely it is I’m going to reform if you all treat me with such hostility. Can’t I get some loving?” >You lean to the side and look past the big daddy guard, spotting the mare. “Hey, blondie, I thought we had something here.” >Papa Pony moves forward more, pushing his hard chest into your face. >Alright, enough fun. >Wouldn’t want to turn some play into a strike, now would you? >You stand up and stuff your hands in your pockets. >”All set, then?” >He seems upset when you don’t answer him. >Well he’s the one who told you to keep your comments to yourself. >”Whatever. Let’s go. Guards, form up and move out!” >You’re ushered into the middle of the herd and forced to move with them, lest their pointy little horns tickle your tush if you stop. >Like this, you, as you expected, are escorted through this hedge maze of a castle to some room in East Bumfuk. >The front guard extends his hoof and opens up the door. >You can’t really see much inside except just enough to make out that it’s a classroom. >There are a bunch of tables just big enough for foals in the peach-colored room. >You’re taken inside where you can really get a look at everything. >There are sappy “hang in there, baby” posters hung up. >Two large windows on each end of the far wall let bright daylight into the room and show off all the toys lying about. “Oh no.” >”Welcome to friendship kindergarten.” “Can someone just stab me now, please?” >”Sit.” “No, seriously. Kill me.” >”Please sit,” says the little guard mare. >Hold on, were those manners you just heard? >Well, well, well, you almost got to thinking ponies had forgotten about those. >You really want to not be here, but running away would be a strike. >Besides, you’ve been a good boy. You’ve been quiet. >You’ve earned yourself some play time. “You see that, men? That’s how friends treat each other. They use nice words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’.” >With a dramatic flair, you leap into a nearby chair. >You have to move into something similar to a fetal position given how low to the ground your seat is. “And now what do you say?” >”Shut up,” utters Daddy Daycare. “You’re half right. Blondie, show them how it’s done.” >”Thank you?” “Star pupil right there. I can only hope to be so educated one day. Now where’s the teacher? I sure am excited to be talked down to and treated like a kindergartener. When’s snack time? Hey, do I get a nap today?” >”For the love of Celestia, be quiet.” “Alright, I’ll give my nap to him. He seems cranky.” >You slouch back, but that isn’t very far, all things considered. >”Now,” says one of the guards as they inch forward. >”Now.” >”Now we make leaves.” “Excuse me?” >With some magical assistance, the hefty saddle bags at his sides open up. >What floats out of them is a jar, two things of paint, some marbles, and a sheet of paper. “I really hope you don’t mean making leaves how I think you mean making leaves.” >Suddenly, a pair of scissors is shoved against your chest. >You look down at grab hold of them. >When your eyes come back up, you see most of the guards have their own equipment and are already cutting the paper. “Oh my god, this really is kindergarten.” >”Celestia has deemed you so unfit to be a friend that you have to start from square one.” >”That’s an achievement. She’s never done this before.” “I’m not doing this. I’m a grown man. I finished my schooling.” >”Think of this as remedial class.” “No. I’m not doing it.” >You set the scissors down on the tiny table beside you. “I’m not cutting fucking paper into the shape of a leaf with safety scissors.” >But if you refuse the lesson, it’s a strike against you. >Whatever, it’s worth it. This is plain degrading. >But fuck. Being difficult is what got you here. >”Come on. It’ll be fun.” “Pray tell, why exactly are my lessons and by extension the fate of my immortal soul being entrusted to a bunch of cannon fodder?” >”I’ll have you know, we are the Top Elite in the Royal Solar Guard.” “That doesn’t answer my question.” >”The princess is busy.” “Too busy to help a person as misguided as me see the light again? The fucking country better be at stake,” you grumble. >Although, once you think about it, that’s actually very likely. >It’s practically a once-a-week problem in Equestria. >If you’re really patient, twenty to thirty weeks is usually the mark of a catastrophe. >Now, let’s just assume you went along with this leaf bullshit. >She would show up later, see your work, and be impressed. >Of course, you don’t want to play too nice either. >Alright, you think you’ve got it. >They want a grown ass human to play kindergarten games? Fine. >Reluctantly, you start to cut out a very crude leaf from the paper. >When you’re done--and it doesn’t take long--the guard nearest takes your leaf and sticks it in the jar you were passed. “Hey, I was making beauty there. You mind?” >”This is part of the lesson,” says Blondie. “Putting my leaf on display?” >”No. Just sit on the floor.” “Go into the preschool class, Anon. Cut out paper leaves, Anon. Sit on the floor, Anon,” you grumble. “You fucking people.” >Next, she uncaps some of the paint and pours it into the jar. “Wow, wow, don’t drown it.” >You cut that whole thing out. Not cool, Blondie. >”Anon, please. This is part of the lesson.” “You keep saying those words, but I’ve yet to learn anything except how much I don’t miss kindergarten.” >After totally ruining your creation, she dumps some marbles in the jar and closes it lid. >Now what? >The mare lays the jar down on its side and rolls it over to you. “Ok?” >”Now roll it back,” she says. “No.” >You grab the jar and pick it up, holding it against you. “You’re going to hurt my leaf again.” >”Anon,” she gestures to the rest of the crowd. “That’s the point.” >The other guards are all passing their jars back and forth to each other. “I don’t want to.” >”Don’t you want to see what will happen?” “I know what’s going to happen. I’m not a fucking idiot.” >”Oh my Celestia.” >She takes off her helmet and rubs her temple. >”I can’t believe I was ever afraid of you. Anon, roll the jar to me.” >Seventeen different spells run through your mind. >How to roll the jar, how to make the jar disappear, how to heat up the jar, how to make the jar fly, and so on. >If you had your magic, escape would be as simple as pie. >You don’t have it though. You’ve got nothing but what you can scavenge on your own. “Answer my question first.” >”Yes?” “Will I be allowed at dinner tonight?” >”Of course.” “And will you sit next to me?” >“No. Guards don’t eat dinner at the regular time.” “That’s such a copout.” >Damn. If you annoyed her enough, she’d be less likely to look over at your dinner plate than a nosey, nervous noble. >You slam the jar down, thankful it’s plastic, and send it over to her. >She catches it in her hooves and rolls it back. >Without bothering to soften the blow, you simply knock the jar away. >She eases it to a stop and sends it over. >Again, you swat the jar towards her. >When it comes back to you, you find yourself easing it a little before moving it back. >A few motions later and you’re both engaging in some sort of give and take relationship with the jar. >Push and pull. >”Alright, I think that’s enough.” >With her magic, she pops the top off the jar and removes your leaf. >It’s covered in red and orange dots that make it look like something off a wilting tree in mid fall. >You’ll admit it. That’s not too bad. >A slight smile forms on the mare’s face. >”Isn’t it wonderful what you can accomplish when you cooperate with others?” “Oh, trust me. I know the value of cooperation,” you say and grab the collar of your jacket. >Pulling the edges down, you reveal your rune-covered chest. >It’s not like you could have sealed your soul away on your own. >Her look of worry returns as you put your “super evil dark magic no-nos” on display. >Yeah, that’s right. “Do you remember why you were afraid now?” >She averts her eyes for just a second, giving you just the opening you need. >You lunge forward and snatch the paint off the floor. >Instantly, she’s alert and leaps to her hooves. >Her horn glows menacingly, threatening to put a burning hole in your chest right there. >Before she can though, you pop the top off the paint bottle and throw it back, spilling its contents onto your chest. >Her eyes widen as you use your hands to lather it over yourself, completely covering your neck and even soaking your beard. >”What are you doing?” >The bottle has been emptied. >Both you and your jacket are stained orange, and your beard is starting to clump together, making talking very uncomfortable. “I am a dirty boy and must take a shower.” >”Anonymous, what have you done?” “I made a mess, obviously. Now if you’d please, I would like to wash myself before I stain.” >”What is wrong with you?” “Well for starters, I feel like I’ve downed a few cans of Monster Energy, I haven’t seen a spell book in a few days, I’ve been subjected to preschool classes with miniature horses, and my feet hurt. Do you want me to keep going or do you want me to shut up while I’m washing this crap off my skin?” >”Are we even allowed to take him to the bathroom?” >”I think it’s ok if someone goes in with him.” >”I’m not doing it.” >Oh, for the love of God. “I will actually shit myself right now if I don’t make it to the restroom. Unless any of you want to clean that up, I suggest we get moving.” >So the took you to the bathroom just down the hallway. >It’s a neat little thing nestled in the corner with an open door you fully intend on closing. >As you stand there, your skin becoming crustier with each passing moment, your whole team of personal guards deliberate. >”I don’t want to go in with him.” >”We should all go in with him. He’s too dangerous to be left alone,” says the hulking stallion who gave you trouble earlier today. >”But, like, everyone?” >”I think Sugar Plum should go.” >”No way. You do it.” >”Again, you’re all missing the point here. He’s a dangerous psychopath we’ve been tasked with guarding.” “Excuse me?” >”We need to all watch him together.” >”But, like, you know, all of us?” >”It’s a small bathroom.” >”It can fit ten ponies.” “I’m prairie dogging here. Let’s make it quick.” >”I don’t know about this. Maybe we should just call Celestia.” “Oh, yeah, bring the princess of the sun over so she can sit with a pooping alien because the ponies she tasked with guarding him couldn’t be bothered to make up their minds as to whether or not who wanted to give him a bathroom break. She’ll be real happy with you all.” >”I don’t care anymore. I’ll go in.” >”Are you sure, Thunder Chaser?” “Wait, your name is Thunder Chaser? That’s so gay.” >”I don’t know what that means. Get in the bathroom,” snarls your overbearing father as he presses his hoof against your back. >Obliging him, you enter the ivory room and wait for him to close the door before you disrobe. >When you hear the lock click shut, you take off your coat and toss it onto the floor. >Next, you slide your pants off and kick them to the side as well. >As you loop your thumbs into your underwear, you give the guard a look. “A little privacy, please?” >”What for?” “Because I’m going to have my penis out.” >”Yes, and?” “What do you mean ‘and’? That’s the end of it. Turn around.” >”I’m not the one who makes you wear pants. That’s your choice. We ponies have no issues with these sorts of things.” >Chaser rears up on his hind legs, displaying his pitch dark sheath. >”I’m not afraid to show everyone.” >Your face contorts in disgust as you turn away from him. “Absolutely abhorrent. Put that thing away.” >”Well, well, well. Would you look at that?” >You refuse to look at his face, but you imagine it to be something supremely smug. >”The terror of Equestria, scared of a little bit of penis.” “So I’m a terror now, am I?” >”Oh, yes. Your name is known all across the land by now. Anonymous the Terror, he who sealed away his own soul and turned his body into a walking book of black magic.” “And saviour of Ponyville. Twice, might I add.” >”That’s not enough to absolve you of your crimes.” “What fucking crimes, by the way? Yeah, I know runes are illegal. I kind of gathered that much. Why, though? Why am I such a bad little boy for playing with runes?” >You can hear him scoff from behind you. >”Do you really not know?” “No, I don’t, and honestly, I’d like to. I feel like that’s very relevant information I’m being deprived of here.” >”Yeah, well,” he stutters as you locate the faucet on the far wall from the door. “Whatever. Do your business.” >Looking over your shoulder, you see that he has finally turned his back. >Good. >Now you’re able to take off your underpants and head over to the shower. >You reach out and turn the water up as hot as it can go. >It comes out practically steaming and instantly burns your hand. >Wincing, you pull your hand out of the stream. “So, on a scale of one to ten, how much do you know about runes?” >”I don’t have to answer that.” “Right, sure.” >Following a deep breath, you jump into the shower with a yelp. >The scalding water attacks your flesh, and you hop in place trying to spread the heat out. >You manage to find the soap before the rising steam clouds your vision too much. >Frantically, you wet it and begin to scrub your body clean. >Chaser hears your grunts and turns his head, looking back. >”What are you doing over there?” “Nothing,” you shout. “I just fucking love hot showers!” >Jesus Christ, descend from the heavens and end your suffering. >You barely manage to hold in your shrieks as you get the last of the paint off your chest. >Your beard is another, far more difficult challenge considering its proximity to your face. >It’s a delicate act it is, putting your face that close to the water without melting your nose off. >Luckily, you manage. >By the time you’re done with that, the bathroom is getting pretty steamy. >You can barely see Chaser anymore, and you doubt that he would have a much better time looking for you. >Okay, Anon. >Okay, buddy boy. >Let’s do this. >Any second now, Anon. >You can’t move an inch, not even in this scorching water. >Your body is tense. Your heart races. Your breath quickens. >No, you must do it. >You gulp and slowly move your hand, clutching the soap, behind your back. >Chaser is all but a white blur now, completely hidden in the steam. >Gently, you place the tip of the soap bar against your asshole. >This is necessary. You need it. >Don’t be a pussy. >Slowly, painfully, you press the soap in, spreading your cheeks and sliding up your tailpipe. >Your mouth widens as a hoarse gasp comes out of your lips. >This continues on until you reach the quarter mark, at which point the soap’s width rapidly increases. >Your gasp turns into a scream. >The pain in your ass coupled with the shower is too much. >”What are you doing?!” “Oh fuck, fucking humans, man! We’re allergic to water but we just love the stuff! Fuck, we’re the worst!” >”You’re kidding me.” “Oh god, I’m so fucking allergic,” you scream, really drawing the last syllable out as you press the soap in even further. >”You’re so weird,” he mumbles. >You can’t tell if he was looking at you or not, but that’s fine. >As long as this thick layer of steam is up, there’s no way he could see you shoving a bar of soap into your pooper. >That sounded a lot better in the back of your mind than in the forefront of your thoughts. >It’s almost there. >You can feel it now. It’s nearly in. >Mustering all your strength, you end this horrible, agonizingly long process and really just fucking shove it in. >Once past the widest point, the bar is just sucked up into your ass where it it settles quite uncomfortably. >With one last shriek, you nearly fall forward and pass out. >The only thing keeping you on your feet right now is how much it hurts to move with a chunk of soap in your anus. >With the same care one would caress a newborn’s head, you move your hand back and turn off the faucet. >The water ceases its assault on you, but the lasting pain doesn’t fade. >Your head spins more as time moves on. >The waves of soreness in your ass travel up to your head, putting you in a daze of sorts. >It’s sort of like being on autopilot. >Fully aware, yet not awake at all, you take a towel and begin to dry yourself. >”Done now?” >All you can give him is an affirmative grunt. >When you’re dry, the steam has begun to dissipate, giving you a slightly better view of the bathroom. >Your clothes are on the floor. >All the way down there. >In the bending zone. >”Finally,” huffs Chaser as he picks up your clothing articles and shoves them into your chest. >Now you just have to put them on. >The jacket slides on fine, but the pants are another story. >”Well?” >Yeah. Well? >Just lift your leg, Anon. It’s not so hard. >See? We can do it just like thiiiIIIIS OH FUCK NO. >Yeah, you don’t move like that. Not right now, anyway. “I’m tired. Please take me back to my room.” >Your voice is flat and emotionless compared to usual. >There’s not much brainpower going into your thinking right now. >”No. It’s time for your next lesson.” “I have spent ten minutes bathing in my own allergies. Give me a break.” >”Outside, now.” >You shuffle forward, careful not to aggravate your behind too much. >The bathroom door magically opens for you. >Suddenly, what’s left of the steam flows from the bathroom and fades into nothingness in the open hallway. >The guards look at you with faces varying from curious to frightened. >”What was all that screaming?” >”Apparently humans are allergic to water.” >”What a backwards race.” >There’s an insult to be made there, but you don’t really want to get into it right now. >Your body is shaking not only from the magical energy trapped inside you, but you’re actually really about to pass out. >”Is he ok? He looks kind of pale.” >”How can you tell?” >Blondie steps out of the crowd and holds her hoof out to you. >”You want to go back to your room and get some rest?” she asks softly. “Yes.” >Relegating the holding of your pants to your left hand, you take her hoof and walk off with her. >”Hey, you can’t do that. It’s time for his lesson.” >”What good is a lesson if he’s asleep through it? We have all day to do this.” “Wise beyond your years,” you mutter. >She tries to move at a quick pace, but you force her to slow down. >”Jeez, that really took a lot out of you.” >More like put a lot in, but close enough. >”So why are humans allergic to water?” “Fluoride.” >”What’s a fluoride?” “Look, can we not talk for a bit?” >She shrugs and keeps going on ahead. >At some point, you decided it would be ok to look behind you despite knowing what that would do to the burns on your back. >A few yards away are all the other guards, spears held high and wings flared proudly, just like always. >Autopilot kicks in again and you awake several times throughout your journey finding that you’ve traveled significant distance. >On the last time, you’re all the way up the stairs to your bedroom. >Your rectum feels like someone is stabbing you repeatedly, and you’re sincerely worried about gaping after this. >Blondie, using some spell coded to her, activated the magic in the lock and snaps open the entrance to your room. >You travel up the final bit of stairs and enter your not-so-humble abode. >”I’ll be back in an hour.” “Ok.” >”Get some rest so you’ll be ready for the next lesson.” “Yep.” >”If you’re lucky, Celestia might even show up.” “Sure thing, Thunder Chaser.” >The mare shakes her head. >Hey, wait. Mare. That’s right. >”Not Chaser. I’m Innominate.” “Bye.” >”Bye.” >With that, your door slams shut and glows as she locks it back up. >Peace at last? >Your senses begin to come back to you. >Thoughts race through your mind. >Time to get this thing out of you. >You meander over to your wardrobe and flip your coat up so as not to block your ass. >Next you push and push and push with all your might. >Luckily, the soap is still lubed up so nothing is too sticky. >Your world is fire. >A horrific pain runs through you, most powerful in your derriere, as your anus enlarges to accommodate the soap. >The tip is poking out of you now, so you grab it with your nails and help it along. >Fuck you, it’s just as bad in reverse. >You close your eyes and grunt, doing your absolute best not to scream without any lame excuses readily available. >With a loud pop, the bar shoots out of your asshole and falls into your hand. >Immediately, you drop it onto the floor. >Nothing to stop your bending now, you fall onto your hands and knees, panting. >Cold sweat runs down your face and drip drops onto the stone below you. “Fuck me,” you mumble and kick the soap underneath the furniture. >Gold and a bar of soap. Perfect, Anon. Now you just need the catalyst and you can get to work. >Your arms quiver and give, dropping you onto the floor. >Dirt and specks of stone rub against your face and you sprawl out on the hard surface. >You’ve one hour to rest until she returns. >You better make that hour count, Anon. >Closing your eyes, you do your best to drift off to sleep. >It almost works. >The pain in your tush is hardly noticeable in a few minutes, but once that’s gone, there’s nothing to stop you from thinking about how untired you are. >The next attempt at slumber is rolling onto your side. >Obviously that was a terrible mistake since your moving just that little bit was enough to make your body think it was time to be awake. >You groan and sit up, rubbing your eyes. >Wow, it must have been a whole five minutes. >Hoh boy, you sure are rested. >Glaring at your restraints, you can only picture the day when they finally come off. “Damn you, Celestia. Damn you and your whole little castle.” >With nothing else to keep you occupied, you make way for the bookcase and look for something interesting. >None of them are spellbooks. >Hell, none of them are even about magic. >It’s almost like she’s trying to tell you something. >Your hand travels to a little blue book on the middle shelf. >Well, it doesn’t look interesting in the slightest but its Earth counterpart isn’t too bad so you decide to spend your hour doing this as opposed to sitting in the corner. >You lean against the wall and open up the dusty old thing. >The page is grimey, so you give it a quick blow, sending a cloud of filth from it. “High quality books here, Celestia.” >Time flies by as you scan each page. >The rest of your hour passes and right as you get to the part of the mysterious benefactor who has been carefully guiding the main character’s life from right under his nose, your door pops open. >Out comes your little unicorn friend. >The sun bounces off her golden helmet and right into your eyes. >You wince and close them, sending yourself into darkness. >”Anon,” shouts Blondie, “Come on. Sleep time is over.” >Sleep time. Right. >Better luck tonight, man. >You dogear the page and close up the book. >After setting it gently down on the stool, you approach the mare with a flat face. >”What’s the matter? Still not feeling well?” “Well, that depends. If I have to sit through another preschool class, I might be deathly ill.” >”It’s not preschool.” “Must have just been the hour-and-a-half flu. It’s very common these days.” >She waves her hoof, prompting you to follow her down the rabbit hole. >With an exaggerated sigh, you go. >The stairs aren’t any easier on day two than they were the previous night. >You’re still sweating by the end of it, but at least the frequency at which you’ve ascended and descended them today has tuckered you out a bit. >Maybe they’ll take you to a gym where you can run your little heart out. >Oh, what are you thinking? Of course they won’t give a high class criminal the opportunity to strengthen his body. >On the way down, you can hear her humming a little tune to herself. >You slow down on the walking, falling back on the stairs enough to wrap around and get a look at her face. >There’s a content little smile sitting on it that bounces with her bobbing head. “You are far too happy right now.” >”Am I?” “You’re going to have to stop that.” >A few steps later, it hits you with a truck the only reason she would be happy in this situation. >It’s not spending time with you. >It’s not going up and down these stairs. >It’s not the silence. >It can only be one thing. >The bottom of the staircase comes into sight, and with it, so to does the familiar guard squad. >There’s one more pony though, and it’s one you certainly aren’t too excited to see. >”Hello, Anonymous.” “Celestia,” you sigh. “So wonderful of you to pull time out of your busy day to visit little ole’ me.” >”Well, I heard you were tired.” “So tired. But that’s ok, I suppose. Everyone needs a rest now and then. Righto, time to get back to my super important friendship lessons. I’m at least at a first grade level now, right, Blondie?” >You try to walk by her, but your feet don’t ever leave their spot. >They can’t move, in fact. They’re being held in place by a familiar golden aura. >”Actually, I wanted to ask you about that. Why were you so tired, exactly?” >Oh god damn it. “Well, you see, we humans are the butt joke of evolution. We’re all allergic to water despite needing it to live.” >Your face is as serious as you can manage it, but you can tell you’re going pale. >That excuse sounded so much better at the time. >But to be fair, you and thinking straight weren’t exactly on good terms right at that moment. >”Funny, I don’t remember Twilight ever mentioning that about humans. In fact, I do believe that we thoroughly washed your body while you were asleep and didn’t see any reaction.” “It comes and goes?” >”Anon, be honest. What is the real reason you retired to your room?” >Come on, Anon. You can think of something. >All you have to do is stall while your mind works out something on its own. “Do they have to be present for this?” >You suddenly felt sick. >”They’re your guards and substitute teachers. They’re going to be present for pretty much everything.” >You had a massive erection and needed to take care of it. “Yeah, but I don’t think they need to hear our private conversations.” >You have a crippling fear of taking showers with other people. >”I wouldn’t call this private. That is, unless there’s something deeply personal you’d like to tell me about.” >Oh, you got it. “Heh, nothing personnel, kid. I just didn’t like being treated like an infant,” you shrug. >”Elaborate.” “I’m a fully grown adult, Celestia. I’ve lived my life already. The idea of going back to kindergarten doesn’t really sit well with me, you know? Can you blame a guy for wanting to get out of that situation?” >She stares at you, her eyes dripping with a gallon of condescension and a litre of thought. >Come on, just take it. >”No, I suppose not.” >Fucking score. >”Even so, do refrain from cutting your lessons short. Consider this strike two.” “You can’t do that!” >”Of course I can. You deliberately undermined my orders and sheltered yourself away from potential friends because you didn’t like how you were being treated rather than talking it out like a rational person.” “I did talk it out!” >”Knowing you? You probably made a few sarcastic remarks, got in a personal jab or two, and then acted like annoying little foal until resigning to your fate.” “That’s--” >”Accurate?” “Not entirely.” >”Anon.” “I don’t like your attitude.” >”Do I hear a strike three?” “No!” >Her eyebrow raises slowly, expectantly. “No,” you mumble. >After taking a deep breath, you continue. “I’m sorry for my tone. In the future, I will make my grievances known in a polite and rational manner. Thank you for this learning opportunity.” >”Very good.” >You fucking cunt. >You can just picture yourself stabbing that pointy, ugly little tiara right through her big fat throat. >”Now, if you’re all set, we can begin on your next lesson.” >You could grab her hair and just wrap it around her neck. >You’d pull it nice and tight and just watch her eyes bulge out of her blue face. >”Well?” “Yes, I’m ready.” >Two strikes down, two to go. >You’re on thin ice here, Anon, and she’s shining the sun right down on you. >You didn’t think she’d be playing this hard, but shit, you’re getting the feeling that one poorly timed sneeze is a strike against you. >Celestia turns her back to you, giving you the opportunity to flip her off. >Of course she wouldn’t know what it means, but you don’t even want to risk that right now. >When she starts moving, so too does your team of guards, prompting your shuffling. >All this walking today has really got your appetite going. >You could do with a quick bite. >After a minute, you begin to recognize the path you’re taking and your hunger rises. >This is the way to the dining hall, isn’t it? “Hey, what’s up? It’s still hours to dinner.” >You feel something poke your behind, causing you to clench your cheeks with enough force to turn coal into a diamond. >Your head whips around so fast it would fly off your neck if it weren’t screwed on. >Big Daddy has his spear lowered and jabs your ass again. >”Don’t question the princess.” >Oh, the words you would have with him. >You can’t go mouthing off though, not in front of Celestia. >Instead, you just bottle up your anger, shove into a corner in the back of your mind to fester and age into a fine wine, and turn your attention back ahead. >Soon enough, your merry band reaches the aforementioned room and are led in by a few butlers. >The table is still decorated, but not as decked out in terms of food. >All that sit on it are a few golden bowls of fruit and, at the end, what looks more and more like a full tea party. >Oh hell no. Please, Jesus, don’t do this. >“Are you hungry, Anon?” asks the princess. >You glare at Blondie. She shrinks back into her armor. “I thought you said I wasn’t going to preschool.” >”This isn’t preschool. This is the dining hall.” >You could slap her right now. >You could smack her right on her stupid horse face. >You could knock her herbivore teeth out and get your soul torn to fucking shreds in the process. >It’s cool, Anon. >It’s just a tea party. Totally not worth the destruction of your immortal being. >”It’s time for tea. Everyone sit down.” >You find yourself in the same spot as last night, along with Celestia still at the head of the table. >To your left is Blondie, and across from you is some schmuck who looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. >Jeez, you couldn’t look that emotionless if you tried. >Celestia’s magic hums along as she moves the large, ornate teapot around the table, filling everyone’s cups. >The stallion across the way looks up, locking eyes with you. >His soulless gaze sends a chill down your spine. >Leaning over, you whisper into Blondie’s ear. She yelps at first, but upon realizing you’re not trying to drink her blood or do something else totally nasty and super evil, she listens up. “What’s the deal with that guy?” >”Him?” she asks, pointing to the pony in question. “Yeah him. Also, be a little more subtle, would you? I’m whispering here.” >”We don’t know what’s wrong. Twinkling Mail has been like that for a few weeks now.” >That name sounds awfully familiar. >”Bonding already, I see,” comes Celestia’s soft voice. >Your attention is back on your plate as a pastry drops onto it. >You lift the crumby thing, watching it flop down and wiggle as you shake it. “A limp biscuit, huh? Your chefs never cease to amaze me.” >”Is that sarcasm?” “Am I really banned from using sarcasm?” >”Hurtful sarcasm, yes.” “But all of it is.” >”Well, I suppose that’s your answer then.” “You can’t be serious.” >Man, if you had your magic… >Arce incenderant. >You can find some space for that somewhere, can’t you? >Yeah, in a nice font too. >Obviously it can’t go on your chest. Somebody would see a brand new rune and get to thinking all the wrong ideas. >In the meantime, this biscuit is waiting for you. >You move forward over your plate and stuff your face with the snack. >It’s horrendously dry. >Chewing it becomes a struggle after a while, forcing you to fill your mouth with some tea to help wash it down. >When the biscuit is gone, you’re left with nothing but a mouth full of tea and wow, you are just amazed. >The flavor is so robust, so full, yet not so loud that it assaults your senses. >This is top shelf stuff. “Wow, I didn’t know I meant this much to you.” >Another food item lands on your plate, shaking it. >This biscuit, it would seem, is quite a bit firmer than the first. >”Well, you’re not an animal.” “Just a highly dangerous super criminal dabbling in black magic.” >”With an attitude problem.” “Can’t forget that part.” >Wait, did that count as sarcasm? >Your running sweat must have alerted her to your thoughts because she shakes her head and says, “No, that’s not a strike. Don’t worry.” >You wipe some sweat from your forehead and get back to your so-called meal. >All around you, guards just talk about this and that, shooting the shit like it was another day. >All but two, that is. >Blondie, who seems a little too nervous to be talking to anyone, and Twinkling Mail, who can’t take his eyes off you. “So,” you start after a sip of tea, “Celestia, can I ask you a question?” >”Of course you can.” “I know you say that now, but this is sort of a touchy subject and I want immunity from strikes for it.” >”No promises.” >No promises your ass. “Why are runes evil? Your explanation last night left a lot to be desired.” >She sets down her teacup and closes her eyes. >”Anon, what are you doing?” asks Blondie. “I feel like that’s a very reasonable question, all things considered.” >”You can’t just ask someone something like that.” “And why not? I have a lot invested in this.” >Would taking off your jacket be a strike? >”Tonight, Anonymous, we shall begin your studies,” announces Celestia. “Studies?” >She sets her cup firmly down in its dish and replaces it in her magical grip with a biscuit. >”Yes, studies.” “Like remedial friendship lessons? Oh, come on. I’m trying here, aren’t I?” >”Barely, but yes, I can see you’re trying. These won’t be friendship lessons though.” >What else could they be then? >Is she going to take you to actual preschool? >”I will help you to understand yourself.” >You shoot her a deadpan look. >Understand yourself? >Is that some kind of new age pseudo-intellectualism? >”Any questions you have will be answered then. Until that time, focus on the present. Anonymous, would you please pass the butter?” “There is no butter.” >Her horn sparks, and a matching light goes off in the corner of your eyes. >”Isn’t there?” >Squinting, you turn your gaze to the direction of the magical disturbance. >Lo and behold, on a tiny, sparkling silver dish sits a hunk of greasy yellow butter. >Yeah, real nice, Celestia. >Go ahead and use all the magic in the world. >She’s taunting you. She knows it. >You smirk and reach out, taking the stick of butter into your hand, and slowly pass it over to her. “Here you go.” >She looks from the butter to your hand and back several times. “There something wrong?” >”Not at all,” she says in her usual soothing tone and proceeds to slice a bit off onto her biscuit. “I sometimes forget you fingered races like to eat with your hands.” >Nothing much very important happened after that. >That is to say, after you snuck another knife up your sleeve, you were escorted back to your room where you sat for the rest of the day. >Once you were sure nobody was around, you went over to your wardrobe and pulled it out, revealing the back. >With the knife, you pulled at the gold trim until there was enough of an open space that it could hold things. >After sliding the knife into that new slot, you pressed hard and closed the malleable metal around it, sealing the knife in. >Heaving and hoeing, you shoved the closet back against the wall and took a few steps back to examine your work. >The knife wasn’t visible from any angle unless you were snugged up against the wall looking right down at it. >For that matter, the wardrobe didn’t look out of place unless looking at it from that same direction. >There’s not much else to do throughout the day so you settle on grabbing the stool and sitting yourself down in the middle of your room. >There’s optimal shade and warmth here, so you can read in peace. >Where were you? >Locating the dogear, you pry open the book and give a content sigh as you find your paragraph. “Right, the mysterious benefactor.” >The sun inches by in the sky, slowly but surely robbing your room of its light, forcing you to move closer to the windows to be able to read your book. >You’re almost done with it by the time you have to get up and light a candle. >Of course, once you do, you’re interrupted by a familiar click click clicking in the floor. >Your attention turns to the door as it flips open. >Unicorn with a dull blue mane sits there, glaring at you. >His horn is sparkling dimly, as if the magic itself was tired coming from him. >”Time for dinner.” “Hey,” you point at him. “You’re Twinkling Mail, aren’t you?” >He doesn’t respond and instead slinks down into the dark hole. >Licking your fingers, you snuff out the newly lit flame on the candle and follow him. >You follow him down the stairs and try to piece together the events at the cabin in your head. >Everything is mostly a blur, but there are a few key moments you can pull out of it all even now. >One part that particularly stands out is all your hard work being trampled and torn up. >The other is a muffled conversation leading up to pure blackness. >In that conversation, you know that the order was given to leave and search the forest for you. >That made you happy. >Then, instead, some joke of a guard decided he wanted to not do that and, well, you know. “So you’re a rebel, huh?” >The only sound coming from him is the clippty clop of his hooves as he descends the never ending staircase. “Don’t be absurd, Twinkling Mail. There’s nothing under that ice. Isn’t that what he said?” >Your stallion guide stares on, refusing to even acknowledge you. “Hey, how about some conversation here, neighbor? I think I’m owed at least that much,” you snap. >”I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says flatly. “Yes you fucking do.” >You put some pep in your step and race down ahead of him enough so that when you turn around, you’re eye level. “You killed me, you lazy-eyed fuck. You put a spear right in my back. Do you remember that? Huh?” >”Nah, I’m gonna stab it.” >Your fists ball up at your sides. >If you pushed him hard enough, he would fall right down the center of this spiral. >They’d find him in a bloody pile, splattered on the stone, his armor distorted beyond recognition. >It’d be his just desserts. Hell, he’s a traitor in some right, isn’t he? >Maybe you’d receive a medal for it. >”Anonymous, that’s strike three. One more and you’re out of here,” is what Celestia would say. >No, it’d probably be more like “Holy shit you killed a pony. End of the line, cock sucker,” except nicer because she’s still a princess. >One moment of revenge isn’t worth it. >No, not even for him. >You smirk, looking up over his eyes. “That’s a nice horn you’ve got there,” you say, pointing to the stark white appendage jutting out of his golden helm. >”Nice horn you’ve got there.” “It’d be a real shame if something happened to it.” >”Real shame.” >Not one moment, Twinkle Shitter. >You’re going to have many, many beautiful moments together. >Yeah, you can imagine it now. >One horn is all you need, and he’s the perfect fucking candidate for it. >You’ve read that severing a horn from a unicorn is one of the most painful experiences they can go through. “Real shame indeed.” >”Indeed.” >You’d be worried he would tell Celestia you said that if he didn’t look like a fucking vegetable. >Jesus, what kind of food do the give these guards? >You twist, face the stairs going the right direction, and speed down them until reaching the bottom where a certain team of twelve ponies waits. >”Where is Twinkling Mail,” asks the little grey one. “The quiet guy? I asked him if I could go on ahead. He just mumbled something so I took it as a yes.” >”Was it a high mumble or a low mumble?” “It sounded sort of like when you climb out of bed and realize that it’s the weekend and you didn’t have to get up that early.” >”That sounds like something he’d say.” >”Alright, I guess we just wait for him.” “That’s what friends would do.” >So you waited and waited and eventually he came meandering down the stairs at his snail's pace. >How a man like that is still a guard eludes you. >One would figure being unable to move faster than two and a half miles per hour would be instant expulsion, but whatever. Maybe ponies are different. >Perhaps it’s their idea of “friendship” that makes them keep such useless ponies around. >You scoff and make your way to the middle of the herd so as to be properly escorted to dinner. “Gosh, I feel so safe surrounded by all of you. I mean, I know half of you want to kill me, but so far the only one who has been successful is a vegetable so I think my odds are pretty good.” >”He’s not a vegetable, he’s a pony.” >”Yeah. Jeez, Anon. He’s a pony.” “I get it.” >”Does he look like a carrot?” “I said I get it.” >”Get with the program, man.” “Guys.” >Your walk to the dining hall was similarly painful the whole way through. >By the time you arrive, your breaths are cycling rather quickly and your face feels hot. >At your side, your fingers twitch uncontrollably. >You stuff your hands in your pockets and head over to your own little blue chair, ready to dig in. >What you’re met with is not a nice, empty blue seat. >Instead, it’s a pony just a little bigger than Twilight with a coat matching the chair and a mane that totally copies Celestia’s. “Princess Luna,” you say in mock shock. >”Ah, Anonymous,” she graces you with her stare. >What, you can’t move your whole head? >Out of the corner of her eyes, she examines you head to toe. >Seemingly satisfied, she flashes a curt smile. >”We hath heard many stories of thee, young one.” “Young one?” >”To say thou art not the monster we hath envisioned would be a compliment. Thy true form is quite underwhelming.” “Thank you?” >Oh God, you can feel your beard greying as you speak to her. “Um, Celestia, where’s my seat?” >The sun princess’ gaze falls on you, claiming you for herself. >Once they understand whose jurisdiction you fall under, your entourage disperses to their own corners of the enormous table, lost amongst the nobles and peasants. >”Why, you sit next to me tonight.” >You squint and pan your eyes to each side of her. >On the right is Luna, and on the left is none other than-- >”Anon!” “Twilight.” >”Wow, it’s been so long!” >Well, that settles it. >Brushing past Luna without so much as glancing at her, you take your seat on Celestia’s right in a small wooden chair identical to all the other ones around the table. >”Ah ah, you get the left.” “The left?” >”The left.” >You lean forward, looking past the behemoth princess. >Twilight sits in her chair, wearing a dumb little smile that turns your stomach. >She’s going to want to talk. >You grimace and lean back, protecting yourself with Celestia’s figure. >With you hidden behind the white horse, Twilight can’t possibly see you. >”Anon, what’s the issue?” she asks. >Standing up, you move your mouth close to her ear and rest a hand on her hoof. “Celestia, please, if ever there were a time to hear a request of mine, let it be now. Don’t make me sit next to her.” >Celestia’s all-knowing eyes are focused in the distance. >Did she hear you? >No, she heard you. She just wants to humiliate you. >Are you really about to get on your knees and beg? >You don’t want to stoop that low, but hell, being next to Twilight is bound to end in another strike for you. >That would be the end game. >Alright, it’s time to swallow your pride. >You close your eyes tight and begin to kneel. >Before you’re fully bent, Celestia stops you, placing her hoof on your chest. >When you open your eyes, hers have turned to you. >She lowers her face to about the same distance you were apart just earlier. >”Last night wasn’t you being purposefully malicious. There’s an issue between you two.” >You nod in affirmation. >”I see,” she says and returns to normal seating. >She smiles at Twilight and shakes her head gently, bringing great sadness to the friendship princess’ face. >”I’m sorry, dear Twilight, but I think I’d rather have Anonymous on my right tonight. You know, for safety’s sake.” >”Oh, I see. As you wish, Celestia,” says Twilight, hanging her head. >Yeah, eat shit, you dumb purple bitch. >As you wish, Celestia. >What a joke. >”Lo, wherefore art thou resigning young Anonymous to our company? Where it not decided Twilight shalt enjoy him?” “What? Sad you get to spend dinner with little ole’ me? Think of it as a bonding experience.” >”That’s right, Luna. You haven’t met Anon before, have you? Consider this your introductory dinner. It really is too bad your little stallion couldn’t come tonight.” >The night princess shoots Celestia a nasty look. >”Oh well, I suppose you’ll just have to eat with the rest of us lowly ponies.” >”Always the jester, dear sister.” >”You know me well.” >Oh boy. Maybe Twilight was a safer bet. >After thinking that over for about half a second, you decide that no matter how bad things get over here, you’re still better off. >A true grin spreads across your face as you seat yourself and prepare your plate. >Some of that bread looks nice. >Ooh, you’re digging the look of that apple over there. >You reach your hand out, but Celestia’s magical power redirects it to your lap. >”Your dinner will be out shortly.” >She stands up on all four and breathes in deeply. >With full lungs, she belts out so that the whole hall can hear her. >”Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming to join me and mine for dinner tonight. It truly does warm my heart to see ponies from all walks of life coming together and enjoying and evening together. The castle’s cooks have worked very hard to make tonight’s meal special, so please, enjoy yourselves, my little ponies.” >The crowd shouts something unintelligible and proceeds to eat as Celestia takes her seat. >You stare dejectedly at the barren plate before you. >Well why the fuck is it even here then? Just to taunt you? >Huffing, you push it away and cross your arms. >”Oh, don’t be like that. They chefs will bring it out soon. It was a last minute request on my part, so they’re scrambling.” >Oh, so she wanted you to eat alone like some loser? >That makes sense. >Luna tries to talk to you about something while you wait. >She stuffs her face at the same time, so even if you were listening, you wouldn’t be able to make out what she’s saying. “Uh huh, yeah,” is all you can say. >Better make it look like you’re engaged. Wouldn’t want a strike, now would you? >She swallows and finally begins to speak in whole sentences that flow in one ear and out the other. >”And that was when we first stroked manes.” “Yeah, that’s great.” >”Praytell, Anonymous, who dost thou behold? Tis it a lady who beith the apple of thine eye, or dost thou lay in the bed of men?” >Except for that one. “Wait, excuse me?” >”Ah, we understand. Worry not, young one, thy secret is safe with us.” “No, go back a second. What did you say?” >”Ayy, one espicey ordera comin’ uppa!” >You whip around and glare at the stallion who snuck up behind you. >This slick-haired faggot has the most handle-bariest mustache you’ve ever seen and hides his crooked smile behind it as he leans forward, placing a covered silver platter down in front of you. >The scent of tomato sauce wafts into your nose as he reaches past you and lifts the dome up, revealing what you assume to be your meal at long last. >The food revealed takes your breath away. >You actually can’t breath right now. >The utter shock you’re in has robbed your body of its ability to function. >This is amazing. >Your mouth begins to water as the fatty, meaty smell of fish slaps you in the face. >There, right there in front of you, is a fully cooked salmon with a baked potato and a thick, sleazy brown gravy pouring out of its split innards. >The meat, perfectly seasoned, calls to you. >”Eat me,” it says. “Eat me like the dirty fish I am.” >”Ayy, godetevi il vostro cibo, stronzo.” >Your hands rush for the meat, but you’re able to stop yourself long enough to look at Celestia. >Maybe this is a test to see if you’re going to give into your omnivorous ways. >She smiles and nods, giving you the green light. >It’s at that time you notice that she has only just now begun to fill her plate with food. >Welp, that’s her problem. >You snatch up a your rationed fork and knife and slice off your first piece of meat. >The fork slides right into it without much fuss. >As it approaches, you have to fight the urge to throw the utensils away and just bury your fucking face right in there. >Oh man, how long has it been since you had some meat? >One month. No, two. >When the waters froze over and you lost your supply of fish, that was three months ago. >Into your mouth it goes. >The taste is so amazing that the closest thing you can describe what you’re feeling to is a whole-body orgasm. >Everything feels just right as you chew the salmon, shredding and grinding it to bits. >You don’t want to swallow, but you have to. >That’s ok though, because there’s a whole fish right there for you. >Again and again, you pick at it until there’s nothing but bones left. >Next up is that potato. >You scoop up some of the mushy starch and shove it into your mouth. >While you were devouring the fish, the potato had soaked up the gravy nicely. >The flavors dance on your tongue. >In your moment of bliss, you look over at Twilight who has for some amount of time unknown to you, been watching. >Don’t say anything, Anon. She doesn’t deserve it. >Actually, you have an idea. >You put another forkful in your mouth and accent it with an exaggerated sigh and content smile stretching from ear to ear. >Your happiness breaks her heart as she realizes it wasn’t caused by her. “It’s so good,” you groan. >”I’m glad you like it.” >Celestia wipes her mouth and sets the napkin back down on her lap. >With the fish gone, some semblance of reason returns to you. “Why?” you ask after washing down your meal. >”What do you mean?” “Why did you request this? It seems odd.” >”Well that’s a silly question. Look at your teeth. I can only assume those little canines aren’t for show. The fish did take awhile to get here, but we do have a nice supply now, so you don’t have to worry about starving.” “Wow,” you mutter and look down at your knees. “That’s actually pretty nice of you.” >”Thank you?” >”Verily, dear sister. Thou art a saint,” mumbles Luna through hiccups and slurs. >”Oh, gracious. Who gave her wine?” >”It matters not, dear sister. We are a princess, and a princess shall drinks what a princess desires when she would have it so!” >”Luna, go to your room before you embarrass yourself.” >”We shall show you embarrassed!” >”Please don’t.” >And that was when you saw Luna escorted out of the room, wrestling six guards as she desperately clung to the tablecloth. >Celestia very quickly thanked everyone for their time and asked them to leave. >The ponies gathered their things and bolted pretty quickly after Celestia’s order, leaving only you, her, and Twilight. >The sun princess, with nobody left to uphold her image in front of, lowered her head down to the table with a heavy smack. >”I don’t know what to do about that mare sometimes.” >Uh oh. Vulnerability. >Do you exploit it? >No, nurture it. Get on her good side. >You extend a hand and gently stroke the spot of her back right between her wings. “There, there,” you whisper. “Dinner is over. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.” >Twilight, the little tramp, also makes her voice heard. >”You two are sisters, Celestia. You have to get along.” “Siblings don’t always see eye to eye.” >”I’m sure whatever is troubling you two, you can get by it.” “Some troubles are too great to overcome, no matter how hard you try. As long as you’ve done your best, that’s all that counts.” >”With time, this will come to pass.” “Twilight, I don’t think you’re being very supportive here.” >”What do you mean? I’m giving her perfectly sound friendship advice.” “She doesn’t need that. Can’t you see she’s hurting? Celestia needs the tailored advice of a friend, not the general advice of a teacher. Jeez.” >”No, Anon. Twilight is right. She and I are sisters. This will come to pass. It may take longer than I have color in my mane, but she’ll see the light. Thank you for your concern, though.” >Fucking trick, man. You almost had it in. >At least she thought you were genuine. >Celestia’s soft smile returns to her face, directed at Twilight. >While the two are focused on each other, you make the effort to discreetly slide a few napkins and knives up your sleeves. >The knives slip neatly into a small hole on the inside of your cuff, but the napkins don’t want to stay. >”Twilight, thank you for your words. It would seem that even after all this time, I’m still learning from you.” >Ok, let’s see. They won’t go up your sleeves. Could you tie them around your legs? >”What do you mean, Princess?” >”Oh, my dear student, you’ve always been such a wonderful help to me.” >You’ve got it! “This is probably a moment better saved for the two of you. I’ll let you be,” you declare and swivel in your chair, leaving them with your back. >”As much as I’ve taught you over the years, you’ve taught me just as much.” >One notch at a time, you unzip your pants. >It’s a long process but just as quiet so that’s something. >”Do you mean it?” >”Of course I do.” >And then just stuff them in there. >Yeah, there’s plenty of room. >Just shuffle a few important objects to the left, tuck it all in, and bam. >Perfect. “Well,” you shout in tandem with a quick zip-up, “This has all been very informative, but I believe I was promised something by Celestia, was I not?” >You peek over your shoulder just in time to see them break a hug. >”That’s right. I’m terribly sorry, Twilight, but it’s time for us to part.” >Twilight’s eyes visibly water. >Right as Celestia goes to wipe a tear, she looks straight at you. >”Are you sure? Anon and I barely got to talk.” >Did it just get colder in here? >”It’s been a long night, Twilight. You two will have other opportunities to chat.” >”But Celestia, how can I bond with Anon if you keep separating us like this?” >Shit, that’s a really good point. >Celestia, please don’t listen to her. >”I know separating yourself from Luna for 1000 years helped your friendship, but Anon won’t live that long.” >”Thank you, Twilight. Goodbye,” she answers sharply. >The purple pony princess reels back from Celestia’s sudden tonal shift. >”Right,” she mumbles. “I guess it is getting late. Goodnight, Princess.” >Way to go, Celestia. >Maybe she isn’t so bad after all. >You know, if she keeps giving you fish and telling Twilight to fuck off, you might actually start to like this mare. >Twilight bows and retreats, leaving only you and the sun goddess who too, exits the room with you in tow. >The two of you travel back upstairs, but not to your room. >Instead, you take a quick turn down the opposite and make way for a new section of the castle you haven’t seen before. >This will probably be relevant later, so you try to keep a mental map of all the twists and turns you’re making. >Eventually, you arrive at one simple, yet subtly elegant ivory door at the near end of a hallway. >Something does startle you about this otherwise bland area. >You’re not alone. >You make it just in time to see the last half of a grey tail turn a corner down the next passage. >It’s very familiar to you, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. >It’s probably nothing, but your interest is piqued enough that you broach the question: “What’s down that hall?” >”That is Luna’s room,” responds the sun princess. “Which would make this your room,” you state whilst a slamming door sounds through the hall. >”Correct.” >As if on cue, your ears are filled with the tell-tale squeaking bedsprings of intercourse. “Oh my.” >Celestia’s door flies open and you’re practically shoved inside. >Holy moly, that is fantastic ammunition right there. >You could destroy her with that if you weren’t so concerned about having your soul literally torn to shreds. >The door to Celestia’s chambers shut, and with the portal to the hallway gone, you’re left in a very quiet, very warm room. >Warm not just in temperature, but the furnishings and general atmosphere of the bedroom make it feel very welcoming. >Even the bookcases, objects which normally seem bland and intimidating in an otherwise peaceful room, look soft and lovely. >”I had the walls soundproofed long ago. Nothing will disturb our learning.” >So you can’t hear Luna getting her brains fucked out her ears, but at the same time, nobody will hear you scream. >She’s not going down that route, is she? >You search for a spot to sit and decide on a rather comfy looking red armchair, but just when you’re about to lower your buttocks down, it hits you that you shouldn’t make yourself so at home in her most personal area. “Celestia, may I--” >”Yes, please, settle in,” she cuts in. >Well that solves that. >Your body sinks into the material and you lean back, fully immersing yourself in the cloud you’re resting on. >Oh yeah, this is nice. >You’d be able to sleep on this thing if you weren’t so jittery right now. >As it stands though, you’re far too amped up to really rest. >”Now then, there is much to cover.” “About me.” >”About everything.” “I thought our studies were going to help me learn about myself.” >”They will,” she says, finding her own chair. >A little white stool is wrapped in a bright golden aura and pulled over to the two of you. >She settles back and continues on, “But you are not yourself anymore. Not entirely, that is. You are now the sum of many parts, so to understand yourself, there is much you must learn.” >Ah, the old “relearn what you know” schtick. >Orwell was right. >And that was when she decided to teach you about runes. >Yeah, you two spent all night studying the basics and working on your forms so you could better understand what it is you’re putting on yourself. >Nah, just kidding. >Instead, she spends a few minutes lecturing you on the importance of understanding magic before applying it. >Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know all this already. >Just because you didn’t do it doesn’t mean you don’t know it. >”For example,” she says, pointing right at your chest, “I suppose you didn’t know the type of rune you bind something with has an effect on its quality of magic.” >You raise an eyebrow at her statement. “Magic is magic. Sure, different runes exist, but that’s only to say the same thing in different words.” >”Right, sure, that’s why anything bound with Courage Cardiac’s set of polished runes functions smoothly and with little magical consumption as opposed to Blackmane XIV’s twisted sets.” >Wait a second, you’ve been using Blackmane’s rune set. “What are you trying to say?” >”Haven’t you noticed how difficult it is to power a spell? How draining it is on you?” “Well, yeah. Spells need magic. I feed it to them. Of course it’s draining.” >”I’m sorry, I forgot for a minute you don’t have any reference point to look from here.” >She sits down and hovers over a small mirror, setting it down on the floor. >”Did you notice how smoothly my aura appeared and receded over that?” “Yeah.” >”And if you tried the same thing, what would happen?” “My aura would wrap around and recede.” >Click. >That’s the only sound you hear before your world stops. >That didn’t just happen. >No way it didn’t. Not after two days. >She couldn’t possibly trust you enough. >You say that, yet the sudden weightlessness on your wrist disagrees. >Should you look? >No, it’s a test. >Don’t do it, Anon. >Aw fuck, you looked. >Your wrist is free. The black bracelet that was once clamped around it has been removed. >The rings slide easily off your fingers, leaving your left hand open. >Instantly, you can feel your hand warming as magical power rushes to it, aching to escape. >”I’ve given you use of one of your hands. Be wise.” >You swallow hard, examining the appendage. >Lavender sparks shoot out from it, wrapping around each finger and darting throughout the room. >No, Anon. >Contain yourself. >You can’t do anything right now. >Not only would your output be halved thanks to the other bracelet, but you’re not anywhere near strong enough to face Celestia. >There’s no telling if a surprise attack would be effective or not. >Even if it were and you manage to kill her, then what? >Assuming your soul isn’t locked on a deadman spell tied to her, you still don’t know where it is. >You’re screwed three ways from Sunday if you fight her. >Just roll with the blows, man. >Your eyes roll down, scanning your body. >You can make out the faint purple glow of your passive runes working at half strength. >Oh man, that feels great. >It’s only been two days and yet you’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have that power coursing through you. >She points to the mirror she had brought over. >”Well? Move it.” >Move it with the magic, of course. >You hold your hand out and focus on the telekinesis spell plastered on your chest. >Your aura takes hold of the mirror and slides it a foot to the left, then disappears. “Easy peasy.” >”And did you not see a difference there?” “Difference in what?” >Without any warning, the object leaps from the floor and rockets towards you, pushed along by a golden energy. >Instinctively, you protect yourself. >Your hand rises and overtakes the mirror, completely smothering the smooth, radiant magic with your own bubbling, electric power. >”Magic is magic in the same way that soldiers are soldiers. Imagine you have two armies trained in the same way fighting in the same war. The difference is, one recieves orders from a corrupt dictator and the other from a benevolent ruler. The armies, alike in all ways but one, will function fundamentally differently.” >The mirror is released from your grasp as the bracelet and attached rings slide back over your hand, locking around your wrist with a loud cuh-chk. >”The runes you’ve put on yourself are sickening, angry things. The magic spells they make will perform equally as such.” “I picked Blackmane’s runes because they’re simple, straightforward, and powerful. I didn’t care at the time where they came from and I still don’t see a reason why I should.” >”All of your magic, coming in or going out, must be filtered through those runes. That means the power swirling inside of you is as violent as what comes out through your spells. What I’m trying to say is that if you had picked a softer brand, your magic would be more tame, subdued, instead of angry.” “And I still don’t see what that has to do with anything.” >”What it has to do with you is that it’s only doing all the more to rip you apart. You do remember that part, don’t you?” >This shit again? >”With the amount of runes you have on you and how fast you can draw in magic, I would give you eight years to live before your body gave out. That is, using an older, nicer language. Due to the nature of what you’ve let into yourself, I would honestly be surprised to see you make it past two.” >Yeah, ok. >Sure thing, Celestia. >Let’s just find that super spell to remove runes and get rid of them all then. >Like you’re going to fall for this shit. >”And for the record, that is what I meant by corruption. The vileness that is Blackmane’s rune language would have driven you mad in a search for more power had I not intervened. It may yet still, but the point of our lessons is to try and stop that.” >And if she should fail… >”And if I should fail, there’s always plan B.” “I liked you better when you gave me fish.” >”Look, you obviously know a fair bit about magic. However, knowing something and understanding something to the degree that you can safely apply your knowledge are two different things.” >She is completely right in every sense of the word. >You nod your head in agreement, bringing a look of surprise to her face. >”I didn’t think it would be that easy to get you to see my point.” “Why? You speak with logic. There is a very big disconnect between the two.” >That’s why someone like Twilight shouldn’t be trusted with power. >Yes, she knows about friendship, but she doesn’t understand it. >You, on the other hand, know and understand magic well enough to safely apply it. >Just look at you now! You’re in the best shape of your life! >Why, you feel so energized you could run a triple marathon and still rub one out when you got home. >Celestia probably doesn’t feel like this. And you know why? >It’s because even with all her years of studying, she never took the leap. >The princess hasn’t stepped into the suck like you have. She lacks the crucial experience to look down on a subject and understand it. >She’s undedicated, without conviction, and so full of herself that she can’t see her own shortcomings. >”I’m glad you’re being so cooperative. Given your performance last night, I would have thought you’d be much more difficult.” “I try to be accommodating.” >Your eyes pan from her, over to her bookshelf. >There are several nice titles sitting on the wooden planks. >Magical Cures and Serums, A Comprehensive Guide to the Magical World for Mages, Hexes and Blessings for the Curious, Spell Amplification, and so on. >Not really wanting her to think you’re eyeing her collection, you continue to shift your gaze. >”You know, it’s polite to look at people when they talk to you.” “I’m just admiring your room. I wish my bed were that big.” >”I’m quite a bit larger than you.” >Bitch, you’re a head taller. Tops. “Fair enough.” >You lock eyes with her again just in time for her to close them and stand. >”Well, I did have a whole lesson planned out, but you’ve proven to be a better student than I anticipated, so we’ll just go ahead and scrap that section.” “Is it Q&A time then? Because I have some questions for you.” >”How many?” >Well, just off the top of your head, where is your soul? >Can you keep those books on the shelf? >When will the bracelets come off for good? >There is one that really stands out to you though. “Five or six, but I would be willing to settle for one.” >”Let’s start with one and we’ll see where that takes us.” “Why, if only Blackmane’s are explicitly evil, why are all runes banned? You went out of your way earlier to explain that there were better, nicer, gentler runes.” >”The answer to that is simple.” >Oh, well fuck you then. >You must just be some kind of moron to not see the obvious answer. >”While some runes could be considered good, they are still insanely powerful. You’ve read the book, haven’t you? Even three simple bindings can make an ordinary stick into an object of legend. I observed ponies for many centuries as they came to terms with this power. On several occasions, I had to step in.” “Such as with the Blackmane loyalists.” >”The problems had been building for a great many years, but their living trials were the straw that broke the camel’s back. When I saw the horrors they were creating using runes, I made the decision to ban them all and save the world the trouble.” >But that’s not a reason. >That’s like saying just because Assam Al-Hyde drove his truck through a Detroit mob that nobody should have trucks. >You’re a great driver keeping in terms of the metaphor. “But Celestia, I’m not a Blackmane loyalist. I haven’t done anything wrong.” >”Except for assault my student and my guards, resist arrest, and strike fear into the hearts of my people.” “First of all,” you say, holding up your finger, “I didn’t assault your guards. I was trying to leave peacefully and they started attacking me. It was self defense. Besides, nobody important got hurt.” >”You crippled three guards after smashing them into trees and throwing one of them six miles.” >Like you said, nobody important got hurt. “And I’m deeply sorry for that, but I can’t help but feel it’s sort of balanced out considering they killed me.” >”And now we’re straying from the subject matter of your lesson.” “And, pardon my outburst, but what’s so wrong with a little bit of fear? They feared Zeccora when she first arrived, didn’t they? They got used to her and she didn’t even do anything. I saved the whole darn town from a hydra. Where’s my praise?” >”Excuse me?” “Yeah, I killed the hydra. Not Twilight, not Rainbow Dash, not Applejack, not nobody. I’m the one who stepped up there. I don’t think that makes me evil.” >Her eyebrows squeeze together as you drone on about your amazing feat. >”A hydra,” she whispers. “That’s what I just said.” >Celestia lowers her head and charges a spell to open her door. >Outside in the hallway are ten of your thirteen guards still armored up and ready to go. >They jump to attention, throwing several playing cards to the side. >”Princess!” >”Anonymous, I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our time short tonight.” “Was it something I said?” >”Yes.” “Did I screw up?” >”Have a good night, Anonymous.” >But wait, have a good night as in have a good last night or just enjoy yourself? >The sun princess doesn't appreciate you standing there and encourages you to move with a nudge of her soothing magic. >Once you’re in the hallway, the door slams shut, leaving you stranded with your associates. “Well, where to now, Mack?” >”Now we take you back to your room.” “You sure we can’t just have a night of poker? You’ve got the gear and I have nothing to lose.” >”Let’s go,” they say and push you along. >You make it back up to your room after quite a while and are left there to stew for the night. >When you’re sure nobody is around, you empty your clothing of the essential items and stash them where they should go. >Nice haul tonight, Anon. >If things keep going like this, you’ll be out of here in no time at all. >In the meantime, you should work on trying to get some sleep. >If you will is a mystery or not, but there’s no harm in giving it the old college try. >With the covers pulled up to your neck, you lay there in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours until about halfway through the night, you finally manage to fall asleep. >When you next wake up, the sun is shining brightly into your room and assaults your eyes, bringing on a nasty headache. >You groan and pull the covers up over your head, shrouding yourself from the sun’s harsh rays. >On an ordinary day back in Ponyville, you could have been flipping through some old books looking for new ways to adapt spells for various purposes. >Within ten minutes of that, there’d be a nice new rune on your body. >Now? Well now you get to stay in bed, wait for someone to barge into your room, and get carted off to some bumfuk corner of the castle for a friendship lesson because there’s fucking nothing to do in here. >Well, that’s not entirely true. You could sit and read, but with this headache, you’d really rather just relax. >Thinking about it seems to give it more power. >You rub your temples and curl up as the throbbing intensifies. >How much did you drink last night? >At the dinner table, you were offered a glass of water. >After that, you had another one. >To top off your wild party, you had one last cup. >Oh, what were you thinking? Of course three cups of water would give you a hangover. >Silly Anon. “She’s poisoning me,” you mumble. >That’s how she plans to get rid of you, the clever bitch. >She’ll destroy your body before your mind can be “reformed” and say it was too late for you. >”It’s time to let him go, Twilight,” she’ll say as she tears your picture down the middle. >There’s a fairly large chance you’re overreacting and that you’re just groggy because you slept wrong, but you have to keep your options open. >A few minutes later, there’s a smash in your room. >It’s that time again, isn’t it? >”Time for breakfast!” “Jeez, keep it down, will ya?” >You toss the covers off and ease yourself up to a sitting position. >Your bare chest feels the sudden shift in temperature, bringing your little duds to attention. >Blondie stands in your doorway, beaming at you. >”Come on, it’s time to eat.” “Last time you were this happy, it was because Celestia was downstairs.” >”I just love mornings.” “Really now?” >You slide out of bed and approach her. “You didn’t seem too happy about the morning yesterday.” >”Well yesterday was our first meeting. I was understandably worried.” “What? I don’t scare you anymore? But look at these nasty runes I have all over me.” >A slap rings through the room as your hand connects with your breast. “This one sucks all the light out of the air. Isn’t that horrifying?” >”You’re not so bad.” >Having reached the stool near the door, you bend over and pick up your jacket which has been draped over it. >”You kind of remind me of my brother.” “Should I take that as a compliment or an insult?” >”Come on, we’ll be late for the meal.” “I’m really not digging how cryptic you ponies are,” comes as a huff while following the waving mare. >Down the winding passage you go. >You slip your arms into the coat and cinch the belt tight. >Blondie tries to make small talk with you on the way. >You’re kind of obligated to dignify her words with responses. >Sure you have a bit more leeway with her and the other guards since Celestia isn’t around, but you still don’t want one of them running to her and saying you’ve shut yourself away from others and are no longer worthy of friendship. >Not that Blondie would pull that shit. She seems nice enough. >It’s guards like Big Daddy or Twinkling Mail that put you on edge. >Speaking of, the whole gang is collected at the bottom of the stairs. “Morning, fellas.” >”Top o’ the morning to ye.” >”Morning.” >”Meh.” >You’re growing on them. “So tell me, am I your new full-time or what? We have been spending an awful lot of time together.” >”You are our assignment for the foreseeable future if that’s what you’re asking.” “I don’t think friends are supposed to refer to each other as assignments.” >Big Daddy whips around and rears up on his hind legs. >He leans forward, pressing a hoof against your chest for support, and looks into your eyes. >”We’re not friends. Don’t ever mix that up,” he seethes. >You stop right then and there. >Your eyes drift down to his hoof and back up to him. >His gaze is steely. >”Calm down, Thunder Chaser.” >Blondie pulls Daddy off of you and pushes him to the front of the pack, a few ponies ahead of where you are. >”I’m sorry about him.” “Who pissed on his cheerios?” >”What’s that mean?” “Why is he so mad?” >The mare shrugs as best she can while walking on all fours. >”He’s just grumpy. That’s who he is.” “I gathered that much for myself. It’s just he seems particularly bitchy today.” >”I couldn’t tell you why. Chaser usually keeps to himself.” >”Hey, Innominate, quit fraternizing with the prisoner.” “Isn’t the entire point of your ‘assignment’ to fraternize with me and make me into an upstanding member of society?” >Big Daddy, the cunt of misery that he is, seems to be boiling over with rage at this point. >However, he doesn’t spear you, so that’s a plus. >You are tempted to see just how far you can push him, but you don’t want a strike against you either. >Man, Celestia is really tying your hands with these things. >Either way, it’s better to keep your mouth shut until you’re in a room surrounded by more witnesses. >Blondie understands this and keeps to herself for the rest of the walk, save for idle chatter every few minutes with one of her friends. >When you reach the dining hall, you’re hit with a few surprises. >Firstly, the room is much more packed than you thought it would be. >In your mind, you had been imagining a few ponies here and there picking fruits off some platters like in a cheap motel where none of the guests really want to stay there because of the weird fuzzy stuff in the corner of the room so they just grab their food and bail. >Instead, it’s fairly populated. >There are a few clusters of ponies talking with each other around the room in addition to the many at the table enjoying some big meals. >The second is that both princesses are accounted for. >The sheer length of the table makes them hard to make out, but their flowing ethereal manes make your job a little easier. ”I’d have thought Luna would be too ashamed to show her face in public after last night’s stunt.” >”Don’t talk that way about the princess,” jabs Blondie. >Luna gets respect now too? >What is this world coming to? >Oh well. You can’t change the people’s hearts. >Not yet, at least. Once you escape, you have a chance. >You mosey on down, escorted by your dazzling posse, to your usual seat. >As you come up to Luna, her attention snaps onto you. >”Well hello, human.” >The princess of the night sets down her spoon and stands from her navy throne to look you over. >”Thy title dost not proceed thee. We had assumed one named such Anonymous the Terror would retain a nigh intimidating presence.” “Wait, what?” >”Fret not, young one. Despite the tales surrounding thou, we do look forward to acquainting thee.” “We’ve already met though. Like, twice.” >”Luna, honey, you’re having another episode.” >No way. >You turn your head in the direction of that voice. >Holy Hell, there he is sitting right in Twilight’s chair, reaching across the table. >Luna meets the stallion’s hoof halfway and holds it. “No shit. It really was you.” >”Hey, Anon.” “Greymane.” >”You two know each other?” asks Celestia. “Quite well.” >”Well enough.” >Oh, he’s going to be like that after all you went through together? “You could say we were besties back in Ponyville.” >”That’s a strong word.” >”Greymane, darling, thou hast ne’er shared such details with us.” >”I didn’t think he’d ever end up here. I did leave town to get away from him, after all.” “Wait, what?” >”You know what you did.” “Oh my god, are you still upset about that night?” >All you did was force him to perform a soul sealing. He didn’t even get caught. >”Well, you two must certainly want to catch up,” speaks the sun goddess. >Celestia scoots her chair back and pulls Luna away. >”Why don’t you chat amongst yourselves for now? Come, Luna. Let’s sit you down elsewhere.” >”Yes, sister.” >The two head off, leaving you and your old bud alone. >Well, alone as in still with thirteen guards surrounding you. >You settle down in Luna’s chair and shovel some of her meal into your mouth. “You know, I’m continually amazed at the ability of ponies to turn fruit into cereal. On Earth, it would just be called apple flavored. These are real apples though.” >”Luna had told me there was a special case prisoner bunking in the castle. I was hoping it wouldn’t be you.” “I just don’t understand why you would say that. We had such fun together, didn’t we?” >”And then you became this,” he scoffs, gesturing at you. “Now we both know how that happened.” >Greymane’s eyes dart around the crowd. “Don’t worry, guy. I won’t spill any of your dirty little secrets.” >”Secrets?” asks one of your guard buds. “Yeah. This guy wet the bed until he was eight. Oh shit, did I say that out loud? Whoopsie.” >Another look at your friend’s face shows some mix of relief and embarrassment. “So, you’re the one who’s been porking Luna.” >”Anon!” “Oh, does that mean something else to ponies? Let me rephrase. You’ve been shagging Luna. Plowing? Boning? Are any of these hitting the mark?” >”The princess is a kind mare and better than anyone here deserves,” seethes Greymane. “Far better than you.” “Greymane, buddy, you can’t just go saying shit like that after all we’ve been through? Don’t you remember the stone vipers?” >The stallion leans back in his seat. >He lifts a loaf of bread to his mouth and takes the smallest bit off the tip probably just to keep his mouth busy. “What about the Temple of the Horned Manticore? I guess you just forgot about that. Did the Pit of Endless Despair escape your memory too?” >He swallows and chases it down with some water. >”We did go on a few adventures, but that doesn’t excuse what you did--what you made me do.” “Well I guess it’s a good thing the fate of my immortal soul depends solely on my ability to make friends then. Now I kind of have to make it up to you.” >Greymane isn’t a very skilled unicorn. >Actually, that’s an understatement. >He is the least skilled unicorn you’ve ever met on a list that includes foals. >Even so, you would appreciate an extra set of hooves helping your escape. >He’ll be easy enough to fool into it. >All it’s going to take is some smooth talking and time, and boy, do you have plenty of time. >”Well don’t think it’ll be easy.” >It will be. “Of course not. I know I hurt you, and I am very, honestly sorry. Really.” >”Laying it on a little thick there, aren’t you?” “I’m just trying to accurately show my sorrow.” >”Alright, cut it out now.” “Truly, Greymane, I have done you a disservice. I can only imagine the hate you must harbor towards me.” >He rolls his eyes and tries to get back to his meal. >Ignoring you? Oh, Greymane, buddy, that’s not how this works. >You reach across the table and snag his plate of half eaten pancakes. >They do look good drenched in that syrup. >”Hey!” >With a fork, you slice a section off and jam it in your mouth. >Oh boy, that’s pure Caneighdian maple. >Top shelf shit. “Hey, I have an idea,” you spout between bites. “Let’s do coffee. How’s my place? Oh shit, looks like we’re already here.” >”I was enjoying those.” “And now we’re both enjoying them. You see how that works? Yes, this is sharring. It’s an advanced form of friendship I learned just yesterday actually. Hey, papa, remember when we shared a bathroom and you tried to peek in the shower on me?” >Big Daddy’s cheeks turn crimson. >He looks around at his peers, all of whom look at him with concern. >”I did no such thing!” “He says that now.” >”You shut up! I’ll report you to Celestia!” >Your blue friend’s eyes dart to Big Daddy for just a second. >The guard catches this and freezes up right away. >His complexion returns to normal, and he casts his gaze down to at the floor. “Hey man, don’t be like that. We’re just having fun. Right? Everyone is having fun?” >There are no direct responses to that particular question. >You wrap an arm around the tiny mare beside you and pull her close against your chest. “Come on, you. You’re having fun, right?” >As she pulls away from you, she answers, “I’ll just say I’m entertained.” “That’s close enough in my book.” >After freeing herself from your clutches, she sets her armored tush down on the chair beside you. >Other members of your little gang follow her lead and find their own spots to rest. >Nobody dares to go near Celestia’s seat. In fact, they actively avoid it as if touching it were beyond their capabilities. >Big Daddy briefly considers sitting next to Greymane, but you manage to catch another cold glare passed between them, and he promptly walks away to another plainer chair three seats down. “Everybody settled in? Nice, now let’s eat.” >”You still have my food.” “What did I just tell you about sharing?” >He scoffs and grabs the plate with his own bit of dim magic. >Slowly, making eye contact all the while, he drags it back to him. “Are you taunting me?” >”You haven’t changed a bit, Anon.” >If that’s what he thinks, he’s a might bit dumber than you had originally thought. “You’ve certainly changed a lot though. Your magic is much stronger now.” >”You know what they say about practice.” “I do wonder if we could make it stronger though. Have you ever considered an outside power source?” >”What do you mean? Like spell amplification?” >Well isn’t that a familiar term? >You do believe you saw a book about that back in Celestia’s room. >One of these days you’ll have to go swipe it. “Sure, like that.” >”Well it wouldn’t really work. Not in my case, at least. There’s no magical source with any connection to me.” >”Alright,” interjects Blondie. “I’m going to ix-nay this magic talk.” “But mom,” you drone. >”Can’t you two just talk about hoofball like normal boys?” “No because hoofball is a pony ripoff of football and nobody seems to understand that around here.” >”Then figure something else out,” she speaks, her voice firm. “I thought you were cool. Well, what do you think, pops? Magic or no magic? Be honest.” >”Yeah, ‘pops’,” adds Greymane. “What do you think?” >Big Daddy looks nervously between you and the blue stallion. >”You two decide,” he putters. >Greymane shrugs and returns most of his attention to his food. >”I guess we do what the lovely mare says then.” >”What a gentleman. Anon, you could learn a thing or two from him.” >There’s a nice, big fat rune sitting on your left shoulder that would sink her through to the center of the Earth. >No, even better! >A transfiguration rune that would change her armor to silver. >Then you could give her a nice little shock with a lightning spell. >Now we’re cooking with gas. >The conversations continue as you finish Luna’s cereal and assorted snacks. >You try to keep a focus on Greymane and manage to do quite well. >If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was warming up to you. >It’s about time too. >With this headache, you don’t really want to deal with him being an asshat. >Is that unfair? >”So then I said to him ‘I’d buy that for a dollar,’” shouts some nameless schmuck of a guard. >The immediate area of the table erupts into laughter. >You’re obligated to join in so you don’t look out of place. >Eventually, the mirth dies down enough that you can hear Greymane speak up. >”Well, I really should be leaving now. It was fun.” “You sure? I mean, I haven’t been carted away yet so I’m pretty sure I still have more time.” >”And I’m sure you do, but I really should be checking in on Luna. We wouldn’t want her shouting any crazy things during one of her episodes, would we?” “Why would it matter what she said?” >”Oh, you never know. I just like to be there to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself or someone else, Celestia forbid.” >The stallion scooches his chair out and stands up, brushing his mane back with a free hoof. >”Anyway, it actually wasn’t horrible seeing you again, Anon. You know, even with the whole evil tattoo thing you’ve got going on, you really are the same guy.” “Not evil, but I appreciate the sentiment.” >”They are kind of evil.” “They actually aren’t.” >”They are, but ok. Whatever floats your boat, Blackmane.” >Why you outta. >You’d like to shove his spoon where the sun don’t shine. >Evil. They’re not evil! >Well, ok, they are evil, but you’re not using them for evil and that’s the important part. >Greymane bows his head to a few of your guards and makes haste out the door. >You follow track him, also making note of how empty the dining hall has become. “I guess we’re the last ones out.” >”Guess so.” >After another few minutes, the last members of your guard team have finished their breakfasts and usher you out for another fun filled day of friendship. >Today you make a paper doll chain. >Ooh, isn’t it so pretty? >Yes, it’s just lovely with its crudely cut out ponies and haphazardly applied glitter. >”It’ll look pretty,” she says. “Just let it happen,” she says. >Your face scrunches in disgust as Blondie holds her end of the doll chain and steps away, unfolding it between you two. >”I told you pink was a good choice.” “I told you blue.” >”There’s blue on there.” “Yeah, yeah. Compromise is important to friendship. I get it.” >You open your fingers and let your half of the doll chain go. >The paper line swings and snaps shut before spilling back out again and drooping onto the stone floor of your designated preschool room. >”Hey, you smudged the glitter.” “Now it’s tie dye,” you huff and plop yourself down in a much too short chair. >”Actually, yeah, that’s not bad. I like it.” >The mare spreads the paper horses apart with her hooves to get a better look at the scene. >”It adds some extra depth to the piece, don’t you think?” >Blondie, you’re too pure for this world. “So what’s the next lesson.” >”Well, if you must ask,” starts Big Daddy, marching up to you. >A small clipboard hovers in front of his face which he scans carefully. >”We make frosted pinecones.” “Please tell me you’re kidding.” >”What’s a frosted pinecone?” >”I think it’s a desert.” >”No, it’s arts and crafts.” >”But we just did that.” >”I don’t know, I think it’s desert.” >You’re not frosting pinecones. >You’re fucking not, ok? That’s where you draw the line. >”I found the boxes! Who has the glitter?” “There’s glitter over here.” >Fuck your life. >Your eyes lock onto Twinkling Mail. >He’s currently staring at the single piece of paper he started with ten minutes ago and continues to cut the same four inch line in the same spot over and over again. >Look at him using that horn. >It’ll look so much better in the palm of your hand as soon as you manage some time alone with him. >Just you wait, Twinkling Mail. Your bus is arriving at its last stop. >”Anon, catch,” you hear someone shout. >Instinctively, you shoot your arms out ahead of you, but the object in question had come from your left. >A pinecone slaps you in the bicep and taps onto the ground. >”Catch this too.” “Don’t you fucking dare throw something else at me.” >”Or what?” >Or you’ll be very upset and piss and moan like an angry child until you realize that you can’t actually do anything unless you want Celestia to destroy your soul. >Your hands are tied until they become untied, so to speak. >Luckily, nothing is thrown your way since the door to your classroom opens up, capturing the attention of your assailant. >You turn around to catch them and instantly wish you hadn’t. >”Hi, Anon. It’s been awhile, huh?” >Through the crack of the door, you can see Twilight standing in the dark hallway. >You can feel your blood pressure rising, heating your cool skin like an internal furnace cranked up. >”Princess Twilight, it’s an honor.” >”Hello, guards.” >No. No, she couldn’t possibly want to join in on your session. >You’d rather spend the next year and a half doing nothing but decorating pinecones than spend one single hour with Twilight Sparkle. >You briefly consider slitting your own throat and saving Celestia the trouble of taking your life. >The only flaws with that plan are your soul still being around to get linked to a new body that Twilight can torture, and the fact that you killing yourself is essentially admitting defeat. >That’s the kind of power these animals must absolutely not have over you, and it’s why you’re biting your tongue right now. >”To what do we owe the pleasure, Princess?” >”I was hoping to have some time alone with Anonymous. Does your station allow that?” >She knows exactly the answer she’s going to get. >”For a princess? Anything,” answers your blonde ex-friend. “Now hold on, don’t I get a say in this?” >”No,” states an angry stallion as he exits. “I don’t think that’s really fair. Hey, come on guys. Don’t leave.” >Your words do nothing. >One by one, your armored bodyguards slink out of the room like a wound slowly bleeding out. “Blondie,” you hold your hand out to her as she reaches the door. >She looks over her shoulder at you. “Don’t leave me.” >She smiles and closes her eyes, followed by the door, uttering “I’ll see you later,” while doing so. >Twilight hovers a chair over and sits down in it with little trouble. >It matches her coat exactly, like her and your magic. >The princess is just a few feet away from you. >Every time she scooches closer, the distance closes another few inches until there’s not even twelve of them between you. >Twilight, Twilight, Twilight. >Why, Twilight? Why invade the classroom? >Things were going so well relatively speaking. >Furthermore, how did she know you were here? “Celestia didn’t tell you.” >”I might have followed you.” >Fucking stalker. >Can you bludgeon her? Are you allowed to do that? >The answer is no you aren’t allowed to do it. >A better question would be if she would tattle on you. >The purple pony stares at you, unblinking. >It’s becoming very unnerving. >However, her silence is much more preferable to the alternative. >If there is a god and if he is also merciful, Twilight will keep her fat pony mouth shut. >”Aren’t you going to say something?” >You knew god was dead. “No.” >”Come on, I’m here. Let’s chat.” “Does Celestia know you’re here?” >She opens her mouth to respond but stops quickly before making a sound. >And there’s all the response you need. >”Of course she knows.” “So if I asked her about it tonight--if I asked her if she knew you interrupted my friendship lessons to chat--she would say she knew and condoned it?” >”Well when you phrase it like that, no.” “That’s the only way to phrase it.” >”She knows I’m here in the castle.” “Alright, I’m going to stop you there. If you had to pull that workaround, you knew full well the answer that you were supposed to give.” >”Honestly, I’m just happy we’re having a conversation.” >You lean forward and rub your temples. >”Drop something? Oh, let me help.” >The legs of your chair come to life as her magic shoves you away. >The sudden movement knocks you out of it and onto your knees. “Twilight!” >”Did you find it?” “Get out!” >Shouting increases the pounding in your head, and you instantly regret doing so. >Really though, you’re being very calm and collected compared to what you could be doing. >”Anon, come on. You’ve been avoiding me for so long.” “And for good reason! Fuck, can’t you take a hint?” >Holy shit, this stupid fucking mare is going to be the end of you. >”The only hint you’ve given me is that you need friendship now more than ever.” >Friendship, friendship, friendship! >That’s all she ever talks about! >Jeez, it’s like she’s obsessed with it or something. >You bet you could write some flavor of mind wiping spell to get that nasty trait out of her. >Yeah, that would solve the problem. >It would be easy enough. Mind spells are oddly simple, despite popular belief. >All it takes is some careful application, a magic circle or two, and even the weakest unicorn could wipe the recent memories of a whole crowd of ponies. >The thought of Twilight, dumbed down to five, stumbling around wondering where her mommy is and why she looks so big brings a smile to your face. >”I don’t get it, Anon. Why are you smiling if you’re angry? Does being mad bring you joy?” “No, but imagininging you suffering does. Now leave before I take the leap from fantasy to reality. You know I’ve done it before.” >The princess’ ears droop, hugging her face. >”That’s not a very friendly thing to say.” “Because I don’t want to be friendly. Not to you, Twilight. What I want to do is bash your head against a table until it turns into sawdust,” you hiss. >With one hand on your knee, you push yourself up. >Of course you’re careful to go slowly so as not to aggravate your head. >”And that’s precisely the reason why you’re here. We’ll work that aggression out of you. Don’t worry, Anon. It’s not too late for you to see the light.” “No, you daft cunt! I’m here because of you! I wanted to leave town! I wanted to live alone, peacefully, happily in the forest, but you just had to come along and screw that all up just like you screw everything up!” >The buttons on your jacket snap off as it’s pulled open. >The only thing holding it on is your belt and even that’s struggling to withstand the force of Twilight’s magic. >You liked those buttons. >”Look at your chest Anon. Those are evil.” “They’re evil, yeah, but I’m not! All I’ve ever done is good, haven’t I? I didn’t put these on myself because I wanted to rule the world! I just wanted to,” your words catch in your throat. >She stares at you, and you back. >What could be running through her mind right now? >A thousand items all pointing to the same conclusion that you’re just an insane little kid who needs a strong mare’s guidance to stop hurting himself. “I wanted to fit in.” >”Oh, Anon, you did fit in.” “I didn’t.” >”You were a citizen of Ponyville just like the rest of us. You were self sufficient. You were strong.” “But I wasn’t strong. I was weak--crippled by your standards. Do you know what it’s like to wake up every day and be reminded at every turn by every person that you’re completely and utterly hopeless? Magic was a gap. It was a gap so wide that no amount of effort or speech making could close it.” >”That’s not--” >Let her finish her response? You think not. “And then I had it. I had knowledge. I had taken the first step to becoming better than myself, but even that was thrown in my face. How could dumb old Anon, some loser with no magic, know anything on the subject? Cheerilee sure didn’t think so.” >”Is this about her?” “No, Twilight! Have you been listening at all?” >”Of course I have. I hear you.” >Twilight gets out of her chair and walks over to you. >Her face reaches your waist and she looks up with those big purple eyes. >She extends her hoof and rubs it on your thigh consolingly. >”I hear your cries and I accept them. I’m here to help you.” “I don’t want your help.” >You pull away from her. >She takes a step forward, but you put your hand up to stop the pony. “You still don’t understand what I’m telling you and I don’t think you ever will. Help from someone like you is worthless. You’ll never solve my problem because you’re too bent on solving your own.” >”But I want to help you!” “No, you want me to be your friend, and you’ll make that happen even at my expense. I lived my life here powerless and without respect. I was treated like a delicate glass statue. I may be imprisoned here, surrounded by angry ponies with spears, but that’s a far better alternative to you. They hate me, sure, but they hate me because I’m strong. I’m never going back to what I was before. I’m never going to be your friend. The sooner you get that through your head, the better.” >The pony looks at you as if you had just stabbed her. >”Never ever?” >Your skull feels like it’s under a hydraulic press. >All this yelling is seriously fucking with you. >What’s probably messing you up the most is her presence alone. >Her eyes begin to water, and for a second, you begin to think that she may have finally understood what you’ve been saying. >Years of social interaction tell you that you should be sympathy for her. >After all, who wants to see a girl cry? >Well sorry to break it to you, society, but nothing in this world could bring you more joy in this moment than her sadness. >It feels like a flood of warmth washing over your body, but even it can’t soothe the pounding in your brain. >”Anon, I didn’t know you felt like that.” “I honestly have no idea how you couldn’t.” >Twilight retreats to the door and cracks it open. >She hangs there for a second, head aimed at the floor, before slowly creaking through the rest of the motion and exiting your classroom. >No way. >Did that actually happen? Did Twilight just leave? >And of her own accord too. >Has God finally forgiven you for spring break? >You huff and sit yourself back down in your chair. >Leaning forward without the fear of Twilight knocking you over, you bury your face in your hands and groan. >Man, you wish you could enjoy this moment a little more. >You’re alone. >Not just alone in your room alone, but alone in the castle alone. >You didn’t think a time like this would come for quite a while. >It’s not even a question that your guards will be back soon having seen Twilight leave. >Even if there wasn’t a guarantee of that, you still couldn’t move. The very second Celestia heard that you had wandered around the castle unsupervised is one second before your soul is destroyed. >Best to just sit and wait for them, Anon. >Then you can make frosted pinecones together and be happy and solve all your problems because learning how to reconnect with ponies through childish games is exactly what has to happen for you to overcome your dark and evil ways. >All of a sudden, it becomes much harder for you to envision your escape. >Guards at every turn, uncountable defenses in your room, all the most powerful ponies Equestria has to offer under one roof, a maze of a castle to navigate, and you’re just one guy without any magic. >Worse still, anything you try to pull would have to be done on a very limited clock. >No, stop thinking like that. >You can do it, Anon. It will just take time. >If there’s one thing you have plenty of these days, it’s time. >Your guards slowly flow back into the room, one at a time. >When Twinkling Mail shows himself, your eyes instantly lock onto his horn. “Hey, buddy,” you mutter. >The unicorn’s eyes fall on you. “Not going to say hi?” >The next words are spoken not by him, but another pony. >”What happened in here?” >”Yeah, we heard a lot of yelling.” >Right. You weren’t exactly very quiet earlier. “We didn’t see eye to eye,” you reply. >”On what?” “That’s not your business.” >”It is,” chimes Big Daddy. “We’re your guards. Everything you do is our business.” “Well, if you must know, she said your mane was stupid and totally last century. I said that you looked super cool because you’re my friend and friends stick up for each other. You’re welcome.” >The stallion sneers. >”That’s not what she said.” >”Yeah, no way she said that!” >”Chaser’s mane is really pretty.” >”My mane is not pretty!” “You’re right. I think ‘adorable’ is a better fit.” >Big Daddy growls and adjusts the spear leashed onto his back, not so much ready to wield it so much as to remind you it’s there. >”Alright, boys, let’s cool it here,” motions Blondie. >Her soft, glowing magic envelops the essential supplies for your pinecone project and hovers them over to you. >”I do believe there’s something we have to be doing.” “You’re entirely right, Blondie. That’s why they pay you the big bucks. Come on, guys, let’s all make these super cute pinecones and laugh about how gay we are.” >So you do that, have a “laugh” about it, and finish up the day with a pleasant dinner. >After that, it’s off to bed so you can store your supplies. >That makes three knives and eight napkins, on top of your bar of soap and the gold your room came with. >Day in, day out, day in again, and then out once more. >For three weeks, you continue like this. >Friendship lessons here, dinners there, and even the occasional ball. >That’s right. Playing the good boy has earned you enough of Celestia’s trust that you were invited to the two balls she’s hosted since your coming to the castle. >Well, “invited” might be a strong word. More like “just come and behave yourself”. >Actually, you believe her exact words were “You’re to attend the ball tonight. You’ve been performing well, so I expect that sort of behavior to be kept up in the hall.” >It was probably just a ploy to get you used to being around ponies more. >You know damn well she doesn’t host those things just to show you off because she’s proud of you. >In fact, you’d go as far as to say she’s hoping you fuck up. >She knows you’re not stupid enough to go and kill anybody at the ball, but maybe you’ll just slip up and throw a fit. You know, toss the punch bowl and ruin a noble’s fancy tuxedo. >That would get your soul torn to bits. >If only she knew what you were doing in your spare time. >Oh, not that she hasn’t tried. >You were almost found out once during a surprise room inspection. >Lucky for you, she didn’t find anything, nor did she any of the other times she barged in nosing around. >After being dropped off in your room last night, you instantly went over to your window and leaned out. >Right underneath the window sill was a pouch made from the largest napkin you’d collected containing all of your supplies and secured on a knife lodged within the stonework. >It’s not the best place to hide stuff. >If one pegasus flies by and gets a little too curious, your ass is cooked. >Still, leaving it to an “if as pegasus flies by” is much better than “when Celestia sees it”. >Your next day--your twenty third day--starts with a bang. >Blondie enters your room, calls for you, and leads you to the dining hall for breakfast. >The room is just as lively as always with the poor and the rich mingling as if the former didn’t have work to go to and the latter didn’t have a reputation to uphold. >Nearing the end of the table, you note that all princesses are present today. >Twilight’s eyes find you and she opens her mouth to speak. >Before any words can come out, any semblance of a smile she had disappears and she resigns herself back to her meal. >Yeah, that’s right, bitch. Keep eating. >Luna and Greymane are chatting it up like horny teenagers. >The stallion nods to you as you take your seat. >Luna, however, ignores you. >She focuses on your pal like it was her first day of love all over again. >The one pony who talks to you is Celestia. >”Good morning, Anonymous,” she says, passing you a plate of bread. “Morning, Princess.” >”I trust you slept well.” >You shoot her. >A thumbs up, that is. You shoot her a thumbs up. >By the standards you’ve been setting, last night really was nice. >You managed to get a whole four hours this time, and your headache wasn’t even that bad. >It’s worsened since entering this noisy hall, but not debilitatingly so. >After a few minutes, Luna complains about an aching noggin and is led out by Celestia. >Everyone’s attention is on those two as they leave, giving you an opportunity to stuff some napkins down your pants. >That’s it, you think. >That’s enough. >Your napkin total is fifty as of this moment. By the end of the night, it will be fifty one or two. >You go through the motions of the day as usual. >Your attentive team of guards leads you to the classroom for another friendship lesson. >Today is pretty special, actually. >”Congratulations, Anon,” proclaims Blondie. “You’ve graduated to second grade!” “I would say yay, but considering I’ve already finished high school, I can’t see this as anything more than a demotion.” >”High school isn’t friendship school, silly.” “So what happens when I finish twelfth grade? Do I get to leave the castle?” >”That’s up to Celestia.” >Is it now? Well, we’ll see how that plays out. >Then comes your first lesson, followed by an argument with one of the guards, then your second lesson. >Like you said. Day in, day out. >Dinner time comes before you know it and you’re back at the table. >Everyone is eating happily, enjoying themselves, enjoying each other’s company, and generally showing how wonderful everything in life can be when someone accepts friendship into their heart. >It would be sweet if it wasn’t so pathetic. >Like clockwork, a distraction comes near the end of dinner, which you take as opportunity to load up on some more supplies. >Minutes later, it’s time for bed. >Blondie taps you on the shoulder, alerting you to that. >”Come on, champ. It’s lights out time for you.” >You oblige and stand, but don’t move. “Wait.” >”What’s up?” “Can I take a glass of water with me? My throat is kind of dry tonight and I’d like to have it nearby.” >She giggles and nods, hovering over one. >”You don’t need to explain why you want water, Anon. I’m not a monster.” “I know. I just like to be sure.” >So up to your room you go, escorted by none other than Blondie. >You make note of exactly where the last window is in your tower and how many steps it takes to reach your room. >It should be forty six feet to that point. >Oh boy, that really is just perfect. This morning, you thought you had just enough. >Now it turns out you have more than what you need. >The door opens up, and the two of you enter your room. >You set the glass down on the stool and turn to the guardess. >”All set. Well, goodnight, Anon. Sweet dreams.” “Before you go,” you say, grabbing her shoulder. “I want to tell you something.” >”What is it?” “First off, I want this to stay between you and me. Nobody else hears this, alright? I’ve got a reputation to uphold.” >She squints as you continue and turns her body to face you. >”Is it something I should be concerned about?” “It does concern you, so do with that what you will.” >”Go on.” >You inhale deeply and sit down, putting yourself at eye level with her. “Blondie, this isn’t easy for me to say, but you deserve to know.” >She tenses up-- “You really are my favorite guard.” >--and relaxes. >”What?” “I mean it. I wasn’t too believing in this friendship stuff at first, over time I’ve come to see that you’re the only one who’s really nice to me. You care, Blondie, and that means a lot. I’m glad we got stuck together.” >Her eyes light up when you finish. >The mare leaps forward and brings you into a tight hug. >”Oh, Anon, I’m so happy to hear you say that. I knew these lessons would work.” >Yeah, the lessons. They’re really working alright. >She pulls away upon realizing that you’re not going to return that hug. >Brushing her mane nervously, she approaches the door and steps into it. >”Right, well, your secret is safe with me. Don’t worry.” “I know it is. Good night.” >”Night.” >And with that, you’re alone. >Alone as in in your room alone. >You grin and run over to the window sill, collecting your pouch of supplies. >The bag can’t open fast enough. >Soon you have a whole pile on the floor of fifty one napkins ranging from twelve to thirteen inches long, save for the one you used to make this pouch with, which is seventeen inches. >The next hour and a half of your life is spent tying them together, untying, and retying, until you’re absolutely, positively sure that the knot is secure. >By the end of it, you have a rope that is, at a conservative estimate, fifty feet long. You undo your bed, throwing the blankets and pillowcases and such all over, then use that fabric to add, elongating it even further to sixty feet. >Yes, that’s plenty. >Your length is long, sturdy, and more than able to get the job done. >That is, it better be. >Look at it this way. It’s your only chance at freedom. >If it works out, then great. >If it doesn’t, well, you don’t plan on living as their toy anyway. >You drag your bed over to the window, placing it firmly against the wall, and tie the first end of your makeshift rope around it. >Out the window the other end goes. >The worst part of this all is waiting. >Every inch of the rope has to pass through that damned barrier, and given that you have sixty feet of it, that takes much longer than you would like. >Eventually though, it all works out. >You stuff two of your forty one knives into your pocket and stand on the bed. >This is it, Anon. >The last time you were ready to jump out a window in this castle, it was just after losing your magic. >This time, it’s the first step to getting it back. >Let’s go. >Ok, but are you really going to jump out a window three thousand feet off the ground? >Think about how silly that sounds. >Maybe you should rethink this whole thing and just go back to bed. >There will still be a castle for you to wake up to in the morning. >Just kidding, you already jumped. >And boy, was that a mistake to do before you went to the bathroom. >The first part was great. >You felt alive as the wind rushed by you, making a parachute out of your jacket. >It was almost electrifying. >Then came the sudden stop. >It was coming. You knew that. >You even knew exactly when it come. >Even so, how does one prepare themselves for a moment like that? >As of now, you’re inching your way through the barrier, struggling to hold in your bladder. >Seconds tick by, filling your personal hourglass with minutes worth of sand. >Your arm eventually comes free, and you reach out for the rope. >With a strong grip, you wait for the rest of your body to worm through the barrier. >Another arm slips out, and you add that to your hold. >One leg falls back under your control. >You press your foot against the wall for traction. >When your right leg exits the barrier, you drop. >Your entire being is now free, held in place only by a slim rope made of napkin three thousand feet off the ground. >That’s when your bladder loses it. >You close your eyes in shame as a small stream spills from your innards, soaking your pants. >It takes all your willpower and muscle control to halt the flow. “They better have bathrooms where I’m going,” you mutter, lowering yourself down foot by foot. >Not wanting to disturb the knots too much, you take your descent slowly. >Eventually, you reach the top window of the tower. >Throwing yourself in, you let go of the rope and land on the stairs just a mere three inches from the edge. >Next, you turn on a heel and aim yourself out the window. >Your pants drop to the ground as you unbutton them, freeing your manhood. >It takes a few seconds for your body to get the clue, but once more your stream starts up again and the ole bladder empties itself. >This doesn’t feel nearly as good as it should. >Considering the circumstances though, that’s understandable. >When you’re done, you give it the customary shakes, zip yourself back up, and get on your way. >The staircase is long and it takes you forever to traverse it. >You’re not too eager to get found by any guard possibly positioned at the bottom of the stairs, so silence is the best option here. >The end doesn’t come into sight any time soon. >That is to say, it doesn’t come into sight at all. >The tower, all the way down, is pitch black. >There’s not one single candle, torch, or anything down there. >Jeez, you know they don’t want to risk burning the castle down, but would some lux stones be too much to ask for? >It’s a good thing you know your way around here by now. >Once your foot touches down on floor, you break right. >The hallway is long, narrow, and dark. >It is the way to the bathroom though, so you know there should be a small table right about-- “Fuck!” >You fall face first onto the floor after knocking over a tiny knee-height table. >The sound of a shattering vase outdoes your pitiful squeal. >Damn! Did anyone hear that? >You hold your breath and try your best to tune out your heartbeat. >Listen closely, Anon. >Can you hear anyone? >No, there’s nobody around. >You get back up and start walking again. >After the table is about sixty more paces of hallway until a left turn that leads to the bathroom. >From what you’ve managed to pull out of Blondie during your stay in Chez’lestia, the guard barracks are on the other side of that hallway, almost mirroring the positioning of your room. >Thirty six paces left. Round about. >It could be twenty six. >No, it’s definitely thirty six. >Well, it was thirty six about ten ago. Now it’s twenty six. >Fuck it. >You throw your hand out and push against the wall. >After twenty six more paces, there ceases to be any wall for you to rub your fingers against. “Hey, I was right.” >That’s the hallway you need. >Taking the turn, you’re finally met with the tiniest bit of light right near the bathroom. >Right down the hall, hung up next to the bathroom door, is the smallest, most adorable lux stone you’ve ever seen. >You run up and grab it, snapping it off the doorframe and acquiring yourself a flashlight. >The pebble-sized orb illuminates your path to the barracks as you traverse the now not-so-dark halls. >At the end of this passage is another turn you take which eventually leads to a staircase. “Going down.” >Entering, you notice that there are many lux stones lining the way. >Oh, so you don’t get any but the guards have all the light they want. >Yeah, we wouldn’t want them tripping or anything, would we? >Now let’s see. Blondie always says it’s “like a thousand steps to get to the bathroom here”. >Since she’s a woman, that probably means anywhere from a hundred to one hundred and thirty. >Let’s stay conservative and assume the guard barracks are three stories down. >You begin on your way, keeping an eye out for any clues that could help you to know if you’re headed in the right direction. >Wouldn’t you know it? On your third flight of stairs, you spot a big, just really offensively yellow sign that has “royal guard barracks, please do not disturb during nap time” written on it in all capitals. >Aw, shoot. Guess you can’t go in since it says do not disturb. >Welp, time to go back to your room, Anon. “Knock knock,” you whisper and turn the doorknob. >Your fist closes around the lux stone, snuffing out its light as you open the door one millimeter per second. >You move your head in when there’s enough room to do so. >It’s not exactly what you thought it would be, but that’s a good thing. >Instead of all the guards sleeping in one big room, it seems like they each have their own separate ones. >This is basically a long hallway with thirteen doors--twelve of which are on either side of it with one being at the very end. >Each door also has its own source of light, so you’re comfortable with pocketing the lux stone you have away. >You enter the hallway and move along the right wall, looking at each plaque. >The guards have taken the liberty of signing their names on each one. >The only plaque that looks as if it were typed out is Twinkling Mail’s. It’s almost out of place despite the formal feeling of the castle. >You reach out and grab the doorknob. >It turns easily in your hand and opens smoothly. >Not one locked door in the whole place. Convenient. >If you didn’t know any better, you’d say somebody was trying to give you an easy time down here. >Your heart begins to race as you push your way into the unicorn’s room. >Don’t move too fast, now. If you make the wrong move and wake these ponies up, it’s game over. >Like a surgeon, you calculate every move exactly and move with precision, minimizing your noise output. >Is he in here? >You scan the room. >How can one describe this area? In a word: neat. >One dresser, one desk, one bed. >Everything seems to have a place and those places were pulled out of a modernist furniture book. >On that one bed, covered in a starch white blanket, is exactly the stallion in question. >The doorknob slips out of your hand, making a loud click as it returns to resting position. >You cringe at the noise and try to close it as quickly and quietly as you can. >It looks like your hands got really sweaty at some point. >Heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to toe. >You close the yard gap between you and his bed. >In the dark, you can make out his horn, his mane, his ugly face, and his thick, muscular neck. >Your hand goes into your pocket and fishes out one of the knives. >It’s warm from being pressed against your body for so long. >You hold it out ahead of you, looking past it and at the guard. >Wow. >You can’t move your hand. >You’ve thought about this moment for so long. >You imagined it every night for weeks. >It would be so easy, you thought. >It should be easy. It should be the easiest thing you’ve ever done in your life. >Even so, it’s much harder than you ever could have predicted. >Think about what you’re doing, Anon. >You’re just not the murdering type, are you? >Can you really take this pony’s life just for your own personal gain? >That’s not right. >Well, to be fair, he also shoved a spear through your spine. >He’s kind of got it coming, doesn’t he? >It’s revenge. Revenge makes the word go round. >But think about what this revenge entails. >You’re about to snuff out someone’s life. >Could you sleep afterwards? >Would you want to? >It’s not something that will ever go away. >It’s something you’re going to have to live with forever--something everyone will. >No, you can’t do it. >You can’t kill someone in cold blood. >Standing here over their bed, taking their life without any fight. It’s not right. >There’s only one thing to do. >You slap him right across his hairy face, jolting him awake. >His eyes shoot open, and he nearly jumps out of bed. >You grab his mouth in your free hand, forcing it shut, and slam him back down into the bed. >His hollow eyes meet your own, reflecting your image. “And now that you’re awake,” you whisper, “Walking away isn’t an option for me anymore. You’ve seen me. My life is on the line now.” >Nice mental gymnastics. >They get the job done. What else do you want? >You position the knife at the front of his throat, pressing against it gently. “What is it you said to me? Right, I remember. I’m gonna stab it.” >With that, you sink the blade into his flesh, burying it up to the handle. >Twinkling Mail’s eyes don’t have very long to go from the barely alive look they held to now dead. >Hot blood pours from his wound and stains the blankets, but not your hands. >You pull away before any of it can get on you. >One thing you don’t want to have to explain to Celestia is why you’ve got blood all over yourself. >Of course, that doesn’t mean it’s easy staying dry. >His wound spurts the stuff out around your weapon. >A small jet of it lands an inch away from your toes. >You snake away and stand near the door until you’re sure everything is said and done. >Any good therapist would ask you how you feel about what you’ve just done. >Well, it’s a bit odd, actually. >You know you should feel bad considering you just, you know, killed someone. >If it were anyone else, you probably would. >He killed you and you killed him. >You even went through the effort of letting him know it would happen. Now he can say he died in the heat of battle and you can say you didn’t off someone in their sleep. >Everyone’s conscience is cleared. >Blood still pours from his neck, but no more little geysers. >You approach the bed again and brandish your other knife. >The pony’s horn is on plain display for you. >Leaning onto his cheek, you hold him firm against the bed and begin to saw his horn off. >It’s a tough start, but once you get into it, the task is relatively easy. >Little flakes of horn cover your hand. >They tickle your skin, so you brush them off every minute or so. >Soon enough, the knife is dull, unable to saw any more of the bone. >That’s fine. >You’ve made a big enough cut that you can just snap the rest off. >Positioning your bracelet above the tip, you raise your arm and bring it down with as much force as you can muster. >The appendage makes a sickening crack as it separates from Twinkling Mail’s head. >His horn falls onto the bed and rolls, headed for the floor. >You grab it before it can fall and put it in your pocket. >As you do so, you also take out the lux stone. >Twinkling Mail’s corpse is now fully visible to you. >You know what? You were wrong earlier. >His eyes didn’t change at all. >You reach up over the headboard to the only window in the room. >Yanking the curtains off, you set it down over the ex-guard’s body. >Then, with your bracelets acting as hammers once again, you break the lux stone in two. >Intense solar energy radiates from the revealed face, burning your fingers. >You wince and set it down on the curtain, letting the magical pebble do its thing. >The curtain darkens in the immediate area, then smokes, and eventually bursts into fire. >Good. >Twinkling Mail’s room is soon engulfed in flames. >You snap off one of the bedposts that has been burning for a while and make your escape as quickly as possible, not even caring about noise anymore. >Your feet carry you up the stairs, through the hallways, and back up your tower. >The whole process takes about five minutes at your running speed. >Once you’ve reached the top window of your tower, you leap out and grab onto the rope still dangling there for you. >Climbing up is easy, but making it through the barrier is hard. >Not hard really, but annoying. >It takes painfully long, but you do manage to make it through, and when you do, you untie it from the bed. >Your bedsheets and at least one napkin remain essential, but the rest are a liability to you at this point. >You sever the rope at the right place and throw the main body out the window. >Eventually it will pass through the barrier and fall to the forest floor thousands of feet below, lost forever to the wilderness. >By now, your guard friends have surely awoken to a burning barracks and are feverishly trying to put out the flames. >They’ll be met with a Twinkling Mail so badly burned that there’s no way they could trace anything back to you. >Well, the missing horn part is a bit odd, but given that the majority of the wound is caused by a snap rather than a clean cut, they could chalk it up to some bloody accident. >What they do isn’t your biggest concern now. >With some books, you splay your bedsheet out over the floor. >The bedpost is fully cooled now. >You press the charred head of it against the bed sheet and begin to write, making yourself a neat little magic circle that looks all too beautiful to you. >Even from memory, you manage to get all the little details right. >Next, you go over to your dresser and pull off a strip of gold. >You wrap the malleable metal around the horn, enhancing its properties. >Ponies are so stupid. They don’t understand the potential they have on their heads. >Unicorn horns are some of the purest magical conductors in the world, able to absorb and disperse magic in the air with ease. With gold added to them, that raw magical energy is nearly doubled. >You gather the soap and, with another knife, shave a portion of it into the cup of water Blondie had given you. >After stirring, you have a gross, soapy mixture that you can dip the horn into. >The soapy water collects on the tip as if attracted to it. >You pull the thing out and watch as your white, slippery juice begins to glow on the tip of your hard bone. “Talk about a magic marker. What, nobody? I thought it was funny.” >The first thing you want to do is write a big, fat, “Fuck you, Celestia” right across your chest. >Of course that would be beyond stupid as she would know instantly what you’ve done. >Ninety percent of your body is off limits. Anything she couldn’t immediately see, she could have checked in a surprise inspection. >What you’re left with is a key few area where you can bind yourself further. >You unbutton your pants and pull them down to your ankles along with your underwear. >Your penis is limp, unwilling to rise as even it knows what you’re about to do to it. >With a heavy sigh, you reach down and the tip between your thumb and index finger, then stretch it out. >Stained emerald veins cut across the skin, ruining your nice canvas and bringing back memories of the timberwolf. “Alright, Anon. Just do it. Don’t even think about it.” >You lower the horn down, putting the tiniest dot of magic ink on your flesh before yanking it away. “But what if this is really bad? Like worse than usual.” >Good point, Anon. Let’s not paint your dick in magic. “No, no, it must be done.” >Then what’s the hold up? Do it, you bitch. Do it. >That’s when a light bulb turns on right above your shiny noggin. >You can cut the time you spend in pain tonight by half if you do it all at once. >You’re already well aware that binding yourself sucks, so let’s just skip the suspense and get it all over with. >With that in mind, there’s really no excuse not to go ahead and just start writing. >You’re only hurting yourself the more you put it off. >Well, that’s that then. >Time to bind your dick. >A lot. >No more waiting. >Just jump right into it. >Any minute now. >All you have to do is lower the horn to your penis and begin to brand it. >Yeah, that’s all you have to do. When you say it like that, it sounds easy. >Let’s just pretend that’s it and go. >Your grip tightens around your tools. >One deep breath. >Two deep breaths. >A third one, and you start. >Without any more hesitation, you begin to scribble on your penis. >The first spell is two runes. >Your second and third are both three runes long. >The fourth one, which you put on the underside of your penis, is a multi-parter. >It ends up being seven runes in length and takes so long to write that the others have already begun binding. >You tense as the heat begins to build. >An attempt to put one more set down proves fruitless. >One spell is one thing. >When three other spells join in the fun, it’s a whole different ball game. >The sudden shock freezes you in place. >Your mind fails to recognize anything but the pain radiating from your penis out to the rest of your body. >You fall back and turn, curling into a ball. >The urge to scream is powerful, almost too powerful, but you suppress it against all odds. >In its place come tears, streaming down your face and staining the sheet below you. >Your muscles tighten and contract further and further into themselves until it feels like you’re going to implode. >Your longest spell to date didn’t feel anything close to this. >Far too long passes with you shaking and sweating your entire water supply out. >Eventually, the pain subsides and you’re able to think somewhat more clearly. >Your dick still burns, but it’s not near as intense and marks the opportunity for another spell. >You wet the tip of your horn again and quickly begin on another few spells. >These next two go on either side of your member, and the next two on the underside of your scrotum. >Honestly, if Celestia goes so far as to search here, she’s free to kill you. >You don’t think you’d want to live anymore at that point anyway. >When you started this a few minutes ago, you were out of practice. >Now the symbols come naturally once more and you find yourself throwing them down with ease. >You’re able to get in three more spells by the time they begin their binding process. >The heat rises in your genitals. >With the time you have left, you move your tools away from yourself in case anything should happen. >You continue your night like this--bouts of intense pain lighting your world on fire interspersed between feverish writing and swearing. >It must be around four in the morning by the time you’re done. >Your ink supply is drained, having been transferred from the cup to your genitals, the spaces in between your toes, and even under your tongue. >That one really sucked. >To say you’re sweaty would be an understatement. >It’s as if you just ran a marathon under water. >That tiredness commands you to stand and drag everything over to your window. >The horn, the gold, the leftovers from the soap bar, and the charred bedpost all get tied up in your bed sheet and thrown out into the world. >By the time anyone finds them, you’ll be long gone. >Do you even want to move your bed back to its normal spot? >No, it’s fine there. You can just tell them you wanted to be closer to the sun when you woke up. >After pulling up your underwear and pants, hiding your newest thirty one spells, you climb into bed and pull the covers up over your head. >As Lady Sleep enters your room and embraces you, one last thought enters your mind. >How are you going to explain the missing sheet? >After many dozens of minutes, you awake, feeling totally refreshed in every way except for the most important one. >You open your eyes for a split second and instantly regret it. >The light assaults you, splitting your mind in half. >With a shout, you turn on your side, facing away from the window. >The world can’t be escaped though. >Birds chirp not too far away, singing happy songs about how wonderful the day will be. >Their little noises sound like a fire alarm blaring right next to your ears. >Groaning, you bury your head underneath your pillow, trying to escape the harsh sirens. >Oh god, waking up was a mistake. >Your head feels like it’s stuck inside a trash compactor. >The noise, the light, even your own blood flowing through it, make being awake--being alive--torture. >What’s going on? It can’t be any spells. >None of your sensory enhancement spells were even that strong. >Besides, with these bracelets on, your magic is being blocked. >There’s not one spell in your whole arsenal, passive or active, that you could use. >All you’re able to do is stockpile magic and store it inside yourself like a battery. >No, this has to be coming from some outside source. >A crazy unicorn trying to off you before you become too powerful? >Maybe it’s Celestia. >It must be. >No, don’t be stupid. You’ve been a good boy. >She can’t move against you. >Not yet, anyway. Not until you give her a reason. >Out of curiosity, you open your eyes just enough to be able to see the bracelets still latched onto your wrists with their onyx poles extending into rings. >The passive runes on your arms are black as night, just as they were yesterday and the day before that, tracing all the way back to when Celestia first locked down your power and shut them off. >Having affirmed that it’s not your magic going out of control, you shut your eyes tightly and curl into a ball underneath your covers. >You pray to any god listening to make this headache stop. >Even on your worse day, they weren’t this bad. >It’s a whole new level of pain, not much unlike the feeling you get when being bound, only centered in your head. >Right then, the door to your room flies open, smashing against the floor. >The sound is like a hammer coming down and breaking right through your temporal plate. >It breaks through your ears and bounces around your head, shredding any bit of brain it comes in contact with. >You cringe into yourself in a vain attempt to escape the booming wood-on-stone action. >”Anon!” >Oh boy, the fun never ends! >”Anon, where are you?” >Throwing your hand out from under the covers, you wave to the pony to stop their yelling. >”There you are. Come on.” >Please no. >”I said let’s go.” >You instead pull your hand back under the blanket and put it to better use cradling your head. >Please, stop talking. Go. Just go. >The pony’s hooves tap against the floor, getting louder and louder as they near you. >Without any warning, the blanket flies off of you, exposing your form to the elements. >The air. Usually warm, feels like ice as it grabs your skin. >Light from around the room and especially the window penetrate right through your eyelids, invading your mind. >”Anon? Gee, you don’t look so good.” >Detective of the year, anyone? >”Are you ok?” >Slowly, agonizingly, you peel your eyes open. >The light bounces off this pony’s shining armor and white coat. >It hurts you to look, but you scan their face behind that helmet. >”This looks bad. I don’t know if you’ll be able to make it to lessons today.” >The unicorn, as you discern, bends down on their hooves and rubs your head, covering those metal boots in sweat. >”I’ll go get you some water. Stay here.” >No. No, that’s bad. >Skip out on friendship lessons? >In other words, give Celestia a reason to erase your soul from existence. >You reach out and grab the unicorn before they go. “No,” you wheez. >Come on, Anon. You’ve been through worse. >There was that time in the bakery. Yeah, remember when you broke those tables? And the counter? And the wall? And the stove? >And then in the forest when you broke all those trees and bones. >Not to mention all the times you’ve bound yourself. >This? This is nothing. >It has to be nothing. >You sit up, moaning as your blood resettles in your head. >”Anon, you’re not well. Stay here.” >Stay here and die. >Not on your watch, kiddo. >The pony’s other features become more visible to you as you force some reason into your mind. “For you, Blondie? I’m A-OK.” >Oh fuck, why did you try to talk? >”Are you sure?” >Stop talking so loud! >Ow! Stop thinking so loud! “Sure as sunshine. Let’s go get some breakfast.” >Blondie stays close as you stand, keeping a hoof on your shaking legs. >Alright, so you’ve managed to stand up. >Next step? Step. >One foot in front of the other always worked before, so why stop now? >Your first attempt proves fruitful, as do the rest that take you to your door. >”Anon, I think you should lay down.” “Nonsense. Look at me. I’m in the best shape of my life.” >The two of you disappear down the stairwell with her taking the lead. >The darkness feels nice at first, but then you get to that blasted first window and the light returns, burning your eyes. >At a few points, you lose your footing and almost fall on top of her. >She doesn’t seem to notice this which is good. >After an eternity, you’re at the bottom of the stairs. >The pain has somewhat abated, transferring from your head to your stomach. >At least you can open your eyes now without feeling like someone is shoving a hot knife into them. >Now, one thing you notice about the bottom of the stairs today is that there is nobody there. >Usually there’s twelve other guards. >Considering you murdered one, you’d have expected at least eleven here. “Where are the others?” >Blondie doesn’t respond until you ask a second time. >”They’re in questioning.” “For what?” >She sighs and hangs her head as she leads you down the hallway. >”There was a fire last night. Celestia wants to know why.” >She might not like the answer to that. >”You won’t be seeing many of us anymore.” “Why?” >”Six died. Three went AWOL. Two say they’re going to quit after questioning.” >Huh. You got six of them? >”That leaves me and Chaser.” >Well shit. He couldn’t be one of the six, could he? >You rub your stomach. >It churns either at the thought of him or just the general ache of your body. “That’s so sad,” you mutter. >Now, you would bend over to rub her back, but you can’t help but feel like if you bend over now, you’re going to fall. >Instead, all you can offer is verbal support, which she seems to enjoy for a little while. >Eventually you have to stop as your stomach protests too much. >It knots up, almost equivalent to what your head felt like waking up. >You begin to lean on the wall for support and make it quite a distance like that. >After a minute or two though, you can’t take it. >Your knees give out, and you topple down. >”Anon?” >Blondie turns and rubs your back. >Propped up on an elbow, your whole body lurches forward as the contents of your stomach empty through your mouth. >A generous amount of blood and bile spill forth, covering the floor. >That...that is your blood, right? >It’s certainly the right color, but… >”Oh my Celestia.” >Blood isn’t supposed to glow like that. >The last few droplets separate from your mouth and join the puddle on the floor. >Soon, it begins to smoke. >No, not the blood. The stone. >You watch, wide eyed, as your own blood eats through the floor like an acid, completely doing away with the material and spilling through the hole it makes into the next level of the castle. >The mixture falls onto that floor too and sizzles, corroding the structure of it until the reaction just peters out and your blood evaporates, leaving no trace that it was ever there at all. >Your heart sinks, settling in your lower abdomen. >A feeling of dread and realization washes over you as you stare through the hole in the floor. “No,” you whisper almost too quiet for you yourself to hear. >It can’t be. No, it just can’t be. >But the proof is right there, staring you in the face. >She was right all along. >”Anon,” shrieks the guardess. >She leaps away from your form and eyes the floor with the same incredulity as you. >The pain in your stomach fades away for now, giving you the strength to stand up. >Or so you thought, that is. >You still stumble. It’s Blondie’s quickness that keeps you on your feet. >The unicorn’s powerful neck locks her head in place and turns her into a cane for you to lean on. >”I’m taking you to the infirmary.” >The infirmary? So you can be found out? “No,” you wheeze. >Right then, she steps away from you. >All your weight returns to your unprepared legs and you crumble onto your knees. >”See? You can’t even stand on your own. Now stop being difficult. I don’t know anything about humans but I’d bet my title that’s not supposed to happen.” “An oddity at best,” you grunt and struggle to lift yourself. >As stated, the pain is mostly gone. >However, there’s just no life left in your body. >Your muscles quake as you strain, inching yourself up. >Blondie returns and takes a place at your side. >She looks at you expectantly and shakes her shoulders. >Relenting, you wrap an arm around her back and use it to pull yourself up. “Fine.” >She takes an eager step forward, almost throwing you off balance. >Your sudden squeal alerts her to her mistake, and she lets you set the pace of your walk. >During your walk, all you can think about is how stupid you’ve been. >Celestia was right. Of course she was. >How could you have been so blind? >She was never trying to get you to burn through all your strikes. >The princess wasn’t actively trying to kill you. >She wasn’t waiting for you to provoke a guard and another stabbing. >She never wanted you to somehow erase your runes and find harmony. >No, nothing like that at all. >She was waiting for your own clock to run out. >Celestia, you devious fucking monster. >You growl, not in pain, as the realization dawns on you. >”Anon?” “Upset stomach.” >That bitch. >That conniving, scheming, fucking sack of filth. >She dangled it right in front of your face and you rejected it. >Right from the start, she told you exactly how she planned on letting you die, and you just ignored her. >You thought you knew more about runes than her. >Well if she’s so damn smart, then she knows a way to reverse this. >Of course she won’t do it herself, but once you know what it is, you can do it on your own. >Damn that pony. She thinks she’ll have the last laugh here, doesn’t she? >You’re nobody’s puppet. >You arrive at the infirmary and are greeted by a tiny blue-haired earth pony in scrubs covered with smiling bunnies. >”Two fa’ drop off?” she asks. “One.” >Enough strength has returned to you that you can pull yourself into bed without aid. >As you settle in, the nurse gets herself a clipboard and begins a rousing game of twenty questions. >”Date ‘a birth?” “Get Celestia.” >”I’m not sua that’s a date ‘a birth, hun, but whateva. Any all’agies I should know about?” “Unless you know anything about these,” you sneer, pointing to the magic missile spell on your chest, “I suggest you get Celestia.” >The nurse’s face contorts in disgust as she steps away from you. >”Blueheart, please. His blood just melted through the floor.” >”The one upstaiyas?” >”Yeah.” >”Dang, that was a good one too.” “Any day would be good,” you interject. “It’s not like I’m here because I like the atmosphere.” >”Yeah, yeah, ok. Just keep ya shirt on.” “Now,” you snap. >Blueheart drops the clipboard and scampers off, gone and out of sight. >Blondie huffs and drags a chair over to your little blue bed. >She climbs onto it and plots herself down, then rests her hoof on your hand. >”It’s going to be ok,” she assures you. “Yeah, sure it is.” >”I mean it. Celestia can fix whatever is wrong with you. She’s the princess, after all.” >Or something. >”Although,” she continues, “Now that I think about it, you know an awful lot about magic. You must know what’s wrong and how to fix it too.” “Wait, what?” >”I mean, come on. Look at you. It’s not like an idiot could have come up with all of that.” >Did she just say what you think she said? >No, it couldn’t be. >”Well? Do you have any idea?” “You expect me to have an answer to that?” >”Of course I do.” “You,” you pause, your mind racing to both put together the sentence and process what she said. “You consider me an authority on magic?” >”I wouldn’t say authority. You are a criminal, after all. I’m not going to pretend you don’t know your stuff though.” “Blondie, I want you to listen to me very carefully.” >She raises an eyebrow but eventually nods. “Blackmane--the first Blackmane, Blackmane the Great--made and used the first spell.” >”I thought that was Shire Sunbeam.” “Shire made the first named spell. In fact, he made most of his based off Blackmane’s teachings.” >”Really? That’s neat. Kind of disturbing, though.” “You believe me?” >”Should I not?” “Blackmane is evil.” >”Yes, and? Him being evil doesn’t change history. I mean, I’ll look it up later, but I don’t have a real reason not to believe you right now.” >No words escape your mouth. >You stare at her like an idiot for an unspecified amount of time. >At some point, you had flipped your hand around to hold her hoof, squeezing it tightly. >Before either of you spoke again, Celestia made her way in, wearing a fake mask of concern. >Yeah, ham it up, you bitch. >”I came as soon as I heard.” “I’m sure you did.” >The princess is unfazed by your words and steps up to your bed. >Blondie bows, touching her head to the seat of the chair. >Celestia holds her chin and brings her head back up to level. >”This isn’t the time or place.” >Her gaze falls on you now. >”I’m sorry we have to meet like this. I was hoping we wouldn’t meet in the infirmary again.” “Where did you have in mind?” >The graveyard? >”Can we just skip the small talk and get to the part where you make his blood stop being battery acid?” “Not sure I appreciate the phrasing on that.” >”Well it’s true.” >Celestia leans down, eyeing your body carefully, but not too carefully as she doesn’t peek under your undies. >Having found nothing of note, she pulls away from you and squints. >She sighs and lowers her head, aiming her horn at you. >It begins to glow. >Golden light spills from it and flows over to you, covering every inch of your body. >You begin to feel at ease despite yourself. >Your muscles, once tense and aching, relax as if you’d come out of an experienced masseuse’s office. >Could this be her fixing you already? >Huh. You didn’t think it’d be that easy. At least you thought you’d have to ask. >No sooner than it started, the light leaves. >Her magic fades away, lost to the air and most likely absorbed into your body right away. >No, scratch that. Definitely absorbed. >You can feel a certain rush of energy as her spell ends, followed by a churning in your gut. >So she didn’t fix the problem, it would seem. >Rubbing your stomach, you scooch yourself up on the bed into a more comfortable pseudo sitting position. >”Well?” asks Blondie. >Celestia’s expression worsens. >The princess raises her head and replants her hooves. >”Well, that was a full body scan. I was hoping it would show me something else, but all it did was reaffirm my suspicions.” >”And those are?” >”It must be your unique human physiology, but your rate of magical absorption has increased exponentially.” >You know that much already. >”My original estimate was wrong.” >Wait, what? “Wrong as in how wrong? Like sort of wrong or wicked wrong?” >”I’m sorry to have to tell you this.” >Blondie’s grip strengthens on your hand. >”All of this magic flowing into you, it’s doing more damage than I ever could have predicted and at such alarming rates.” “Get on with it.” >”Anonymous, you don’t have two years. You don’t even have two months.” >Oh. >”Wait, two months?” >That was unexpected, actually. >”What do you mean two months?” >You had a sinking feeling this sudden bout of sickness was connected to last night. >What you didn’t think was that you’d shortened your clock that much. >Jeez, two months. >”Celestia, what do you mean?” “She means I have two months to live.” >”Your body does, at least,” the princess corrects. “Which is why your training has revolved around the mind. The plan was to save your thoughts so that your soul could be connected to another vessel down the road.” “But now that the sand is almost out, the plan has to change, right? Something has to be done about this now.” >”You would be right on any other issue but this.” “What do you mean? Two months isn’t enough time to ‘save my mind’, is it? If my body is decaying that fast, you have to stop it. How do you do that?” >”As I said, you would be correct on any other issue. However, this is far out of my control.” “Out of your control? I’m your student, aren’t I? I live in your castle. You have my soul locked in a vault. I am very much so under your control.” >As much as it sickens you to say that, it’s true. >Come on, Celestia. >It’s not like she even has to do anything. She just has to tell you how to do it. >”That’s not what I mean.” >”What do you mean then, Princess?” >”I have spent a centuries studying runes and millenia studying magic. If there were a cure for what ails you, I’d have found it.” >If? “What do you mean ‘if’?” >”I mean there is no way to reverse this. I told you before, Anonymous. Your body is doomed.” “Hold on,” you say, letting your voice raise. “What do you mean there’s no way to reverse it? Of course there is. Magic can do anything. There must be a way to raise my magical limit or at least purify what’s inside me.” >”Contrary to popular belief, magic does have limits. A magical limit can absolutely not be changed. Believe me, I’ve tried, and I’ve dealt with the consequences before.” “You mean to tell me you’ve been leading me on this whole time without any idea of how to fix me? That there’s nothing you can do?” >”We’ve been over this before. I already told you. Did you think I was lying?” “Yes! Of fucking course I did!” >You almost jump out of bed, ripping your hand out of Blondie’s grasp. “You never tell someone they’re going to die no matter what they do on the road to salvation!” >”Salvation is your sou--” “You’ve had me locked up here for almost a month and you couldn’t let me near one fucking book to try and figure this out myself?” >Your voice is out of control now. >Blondie tries to hold you, ease you back into the bed. “I could have been studying these and figuring out a way to save myself!” >”There is no saving your body. Your mind is what’s important.” “My mind is in my body! This is me! I’m a human, damn it! I’m not going to be shoved into some fucking tower of clay you call a vessel and be left alone!” >”Anonymous, you’re angry. I understand that.” “I could have found a cure by now if you’d let me!” >”You couldn’t. I’ve looked.” “Not hard enough!” >”Harder than you could ever imagine.” “Then where is it, huh? Where is the cure? If you, almighty Celestia, had dedicated yourself to it, then where is it?” >”Therein lies your answer.” “You--” >You stop yourself. >Oh god. >That’s the answer. >The perfect, the powerful, the all-knowing Celestia. >If she hasn’t found a cure, then… >No, she hasn’t looked. >Obviously she hasn’t really tried. >Magic can do anything. She’s lying. >”You weren’t here for it, but some years ago, a powerful evil returned to the land from the pits of Tartarus. It began to absorb the magic of ponies from all over, aided by Discord himself. Luna and I knew he would come for us next, and that once he had our magic, it would be all over. We turned to another pony and poured our power into her, hoping that she would be able to evade this monster long enough to find a solution.” “I’ve heard the story. Twilight defeat him using the combined powers of the princesses and both Tirek and Discord were locked in Tartarus. The end.” >”That’s right. Does anything sound familiar to you about that story, though?” “All of it. I’ve heard it before. I just said that.” >”Think carefully.” >Oh come on. >Tirek comes back, begins absorbing magic, Celestia and Luna load up Twilight. >It’s so straightforward. “Oh.” >”In order to keep our power from one with no magical limit, we thrust it upon a pony with a very definite one.” “So you shaved a few years of Twilight’s life too, then?” >”Yes, and I’ve spent countless hours trying to find a way to undo what I did to her that day. There is no reversal, Anonymous. The magic and it’s effects on you are permanent.” >Anonymous glares at you, Princess Celestia, because that’s who you are now. >You could give him a strike for his tone towards you, but you’re far past that now. >His anger is perfectly understandable and there’s not a real reason to execute someone who only has two months to live anyway. >Well, even two months is being generous. At his rate of decay, it could even be six weeks if he’s unlucky. >That is, of course, assuming his physiology doesn’t alter his absorption rate again. >”Anon,” mutters Innominate as she strokes his back. >Anonymous’ hard face begins to reform. >His reddening eyes are accented by a quivering lip. >”I want to be alone now.” “I understand. Come along, Innominate.” >”Princess?” “Give the man his space.” >She looks nervously between the two of you, but of course relents and hops off of her chair. >The little guard grabs her helmet in a cloud of magic and carries it beside her as the two of you exit. >Gently, you close the door to his room. >”Princess, is there really nothing you can do?” “I have tried, young one, harder than I care to admit. What he’s done is irreversible. A simple magic transfer is one thing. The spell is complicated and must be performed with a great deal of effort, but it can be done and reversed nonetheless. The type of magic Anonymous has used is of a different nature.” >”How so?” “Well, I suppose the simplest way to explain it would be with a foal’s drink. You have milk and add chocolate to the glass. You’re still able to separate the two, aren’t you?” >”Just pour the milk out.” “Correct. That would be magical transfer. Now take a spoon and stir it up. Can you still separate them?” >”Well, no, but can’t Anon just use a bunch of spells to drain himself of magic?” >Suddenly there’s a shout from inside the room. >You jerk for the door handle, but stop as the sound of shattering glass and breaking wood follow it. >Anon screams again, and a second later, something big and very breakable crashes into the door. >Your heart breaks for the pony who has to clean up that mess. >The human within continues his tirade, breaking presumably everything he can get his hands on. “Follow me,” you say, looking to Innominate. >Before you leave, you order the two burly stallions on either side of his door to stand guard. >Another item crashes against the door as you start along the winding stone hallway. >Innominate keeps on your hooves the whole time. “Anonymous could continuously use spells and keep his magic at acceptable levels. That is, if he had a magic limit. The issue is that he doesn’t have one at all. His body isn’t designed to handle magic period, end of story.” >”He can’t just stay at zero?” “His body relies on magic for fuel as much as that fuel kills him. There is no happy medium here. His only hope is his mind. As long as his soul is around, we can connect him to a new vessel. There’s not a point in that though if he’s going to walk around and start spellbinding everything.” >The mare beside you nods slowly. >You’re not entirely sure if she understands, but if she doesn’t now, she will with time. >She doesn’t speak again for the rest of your journey, not even to ask where the destination is, although that might be because she already knows. >That spot happens to be a tiny, dark, musty armpit of the castle. >The stonework gradually becomes less beautiful, but visibly sturdier. >The grime stuck between each brick almost looks like glue holding it all together, but in the few clean spots there are, the true mortar is revealed. >The walls have ceased to be lined with lux stones. >Instead, your path is illuminated by candles. It is taxing to have to switch them out every few hours due to the sheer numbers, but you’d be lying if you said they didn’t add a certain atmosphere. >The hallway gets smaller and narrower until there’s just barely enough room for the two of you to stand side by side. >At the end of the dark passage is an old, worn door with iron holding it together. >With a hint of magic, the tumblers turn and click in the hefty lock, allowing you to push it. >The room it opens into is fairly nice in comparison to the hallway. >Bright, white bricks make the structure, and in the middle of the small bathroom-sized area is a table with two chairs, one of which currently houses Thunder Chaser. >The guard snaps to attention, setting his hooves down on the table. >”Princess, you’ve returned.” “Indeed, and I’ve brought a friend with me. We will be needing the room, if you don’t mind.” >”Of course, my Princess,” he says with a quick bow and steps by you once you’ve entered the room. “You’ll find Anonymous in the infirmary. Wait outside his door until he’s ready to leave. When he is, escort him back to his room.” >”As you wish.” >Chaser makes off with haste, taking the door with him. >Once it’s shut, you usher Innominate over to the chair he had been sitting in. >You take the chair opposite her so as to face the door and settle in. >Her back is straight enough that you could hang a picture with it. >Every muscle in her body is working to keep her perfectly still, betraying the nervousness her eyes are showing. “At ease, little one. I’m not going to eat you.” >”I know. It’s just, you know, here I am in a seven-by-ten room in the middle of a mountain about to be interrogated by the Princess.” “I’d hardly call this an interrogation.” >As you say that, her eyes widen. “There was a fire in the castle and many good ponies lost their lives. I’d just like to know as much as I can about that.” >”Oh, no,” stammers the guard. “I didn’t mean it like that. I totally understand you want to get to the bottom of it. I didn’t mean interrogate like a criminal.” >Her ramblings continue until you set your hoof on the table. >Innominate’s mouth closes and stays that way. >Goodness, what an animated mare. >Hopefully that won’t get in the way of her answering. “Tell me. Has Anonymous ever talked about his capturing?” >”His capturing? I don’t see what that has to do with the fire last night.” “That’s quite alright. Do answer me, though.” >”Of course! Well, he doesn’t speak much on the subject and he tries to dodge my questions whenever I ask, but there have been a few times he’s mentioned it.” “And do you remember what he said? What really stuck out to you?” >”Well,” she starts, “The first time, he was real upset over his notes getting trashed--something about ‘filthy subspecies guards’ trampling it all into the ground.” “And what else?” >”I think he said something about cooking a hydra, but I just let that one pass since it seemed out there.” “Have any of your other colleagues mentioned this hydra?” >She looks down at the table and rubs her chin. >Soft hums come from the pony, surely a sign of deep thought. >”No, I don’t think so. At least not that hydra. I heard Chaser once talk about a hydra problem back in his hometown.” >Luna never did tell you exactly where that was. >She merely hired him one day and neglected to inform you of much other than his “brave and noble character”. “Do you happen to know where that is?” >”Yeah. It’s some small village on the other side of Mt. Dawn.” “Are you sure about that?” >”Yeah. I remember because I didn’t think there were any settlements over there until he said that.” >That’s because, last you checked, there aren’t, save for a few large cities in the far south. >At that point, you’re nearing the border of ruins of the Theosodon Kingdom, and considering what brought about those ruins, you have a hard time believing anything inhabits that region. “Very good, thank you. Now, who was on watch duty the night of the fire?” >”Aithon. Obviously he didn’t do a very good job of it.” “And why do you think that is?” >”He always was lazy. I bet he figured it was a quiet night and just went off to bed.” “What unfortunate timing.” >She nods and hangs her head. >”It’s hard to believe that one mistake took them all.” “It is a tragedy,” you say softly and extend a hoof to rub her mane. “It may not look it, but I truly am sorry. They were good ponies and friends.” >”I know you are, Princess. That’s why we’re here. You want to get to the bottom of it.” “Of everything.” >Your discussion with Innominate continues for about an hour before you concede and let her leave. >Leaning on the table, you rub your head with your hooves. >It’s been weeks since you started your investigation and while you feel like you have most of the pieces, you just can’t piece it all together. >It’s Thunder Chaser. It must be him. >Everything surrounding that stallion is shrouded in mystery. >Hydras are a rare breed of monster. >For a small village that you’ve never heard of to have a “hydra problem” while the other few cities have made no such complaints is ludicrous at best. >Furthermore, during your little chat with him this morning, he told you and assured you that not only had Anonymous never mentioned a hydra, but that he had never encountered one himself. >The cause of the fire must have been him, but why? >There's no motive here. >Although, there is a chance you’re getting ahead of yourself. >Who is to say that Chaser is the liar? Innominate could be the deceiver here. >After all, everything she said does seem very outlandish. >Hydras, hidden villages, and the like are all out of place. >Chaser is cold and brutish, whereas the guardess is warm and kind. >Luna was also a wonderful mare once upon a time, but then Nightmare Moon happened. >Blast, you miss the old days. >There were no mysteries back then. >When there was a threat, it made itself known. >Blackmane, Tirek, the Sirens, Discord, Nightmare Moon, and Sombra all made themselves very well known and shouted their ultimate goals from mountaintops. >Nowadays, the villainous slimes of the world prefer to stick to the shadows. >You sigh and push against the table, scooting your chair out. >Exiting the room, you make way for the next stop of your day. >The best thing Anonymous has done since being here is serving as an attractant for your favorite, most faithful student. >Is that rude? >Within minutes, you’ve made out to the garden and step off the cobble path, embarking on a short trek to a lovely grove in which stands a table. >Waiting for you, as she does every day, is Twilight with a little pot of tea. >As you move deeper into the garden, past the field and into the shady trees, you feel cooler. >Grass and twigs crunch beneath your slippers on the way. >Soon enough, the trees break just enough for a small clearing of flowers ranging from rose red to tickle-me pink. >Twilight sits there, waiting for you on the shady side of the table. >A smile finds its way onto your face and you step out into the light to greet her. “Good morning, Twilight.” >”And hello to you too, Celestia.” >As you near the little ornate table, the intoxicating scent of whatever tea she has prepared today begins to overpower that of the flowers. >Her horn comes to life, bleeding magic into the air and arranging some dishes for the two of you. >Your talk with Anon earlier today has stirred up some nasty memories, so seeing Twilight putting on a display of magic brings a twinge of pain to your heart. >”How are you today?” “I’m fine. Yourself?” >You take a seat in the sun and ease back as she pours you a cup of tea. >”I’m fine.” “Have you worked on any spells today?” >The cup is finished. >Your own golden aura overtakes Twilight’s, enveloping the cup. >It floats up to your mouth and tips. >”Not today, no. I’ve been busy thinking.” >The tea washes over your tongue and you can’t help but sigh contentedly into the cup. >This is top shelf stuff. “Thinking of?” >”How is Anon today?” >Well that was fast. >She usually waits at least until you’ve gotten to the biscuits. >The purple mare leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. >Her enormous lavender eyes stare into yours excitedly. “Well,” you begin, trying to work through exactly how to answer that with the new available information. >”Well? Has he mentioned me?” “You did come up in conversation.” >”Does he miss me yet?” “It wasn’t that sort of conversation. How are your friends in Ponyville?” >”They sent a few more letters. What kind of conversation was it?” “Not the kind where someone expresses their missing of another pony. What did the letters say?” >”They miss me and they’re happy to have my friendship.” “It is quite the gift.” >You take another sip of tea and begin on the aforementioned biscuit. >The crumby treat flakes in your mouth, robbing you of speech capabilities. >You can practically see the gears turning in her head as she prepares another barrage of questions, so you swallow and beat her to the punch. “What have you said to your friends? I do hope you’ve replied to those letters. I’ve taught you that much, haven’t I?” >”I told them the truth,” she states, still not touching her tea. “I do miss them, and while I wish I could be there, I’m needed in Canterlot.” “You’re appreciated in Canterlot, but not strictly needed. Your prolonged stay is entirely your choice. You realize that, right?” >Your hoof snakes across the table and wraps around Twilight’s. “I understand your pain. You want to make a friend but he won’t reciprocate. What I don’t understand is why you continue to torture yourself.” >”It’s my duty, Celestia. I’m the princess of friendship. I should be good at making friends, being a friend, and helping them.” >She looks away from you, turning her gaze to a slender tree down the way. >”I know that I’ve failed Anon in those respects. He made that clear. That’s why I have to stay here until I can learn to be a better friend.” >If you were to give your expert advice on the subject, it would include not making every conversation about Anonymous. >That’s not what she wants to hear though. “You haven’t failed Anonymous. For that to happen, you would have had to have been able to make an attempt. As he is, that would never be allowed. Even with all the strides he’s made in his lessons, he’s many months away from being approachable.” >Months. Yeah, about that. >”With all due respect, you’re wrong on that.” >Her grip finally tightens on your hoof. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for what happened to him.” >”Of course I can.” “You didn’t drive him insane and you didn’t force him to pump himself full of magic.” >”But I did. I pushed and pushed and couldn’t see him breaking under me.” >She inhales deeply and turns back to you, forcing a smile on her face. >”But that’s ok. Like you said, in a few months, he’ll be all ready and so will I. Then we can finally start to undo the damage I’ve done.” “Twilight, my dear, I’m happy to see your determination is still with you, but on this particular subject, I think it would be best for you to temper it.” >”I don’t get it. Why are you so set on getting me away from him?” “I just don’t want you to be hurt.” >”I won’t get hurt this time. Everything will be better, just you wait.” “You will be if you don’t get your mind off him. Twilight, there’s a flaw in your plan.” >”What’s that?” “It’s working off the assumption that Anonymous will be around in a few months.” >Her hopeful expression dies and her mouth drops. >You can see her pupils shrinking into tiny pinpricks. >”You’re sending him away?” “I wouldn’t put it like that. It’s more like he’s sending himself away.” >”What do you mean? Is he graduating? Is he leaving? Where is he going? How is he going?” “He won’t be graduating. Twilight, you know the situation regarding his soul and body, correct? And the purpose behind our lessons?” >She nods. “Well, as it would turn out, Anonymous isn’t exactly keen on the idea of existing as anything other than his original human self. As far as he’s concerned, when his body goes, that’s the end of the story.” >”Well that’s alright. We have two years to change his mind. I’m sure once he sees the clay body you prepared, he’ll be super excited about connecting to it.” “If we had two years, yes.” >”But that’s what you said.” “And I was wrong.” >She jerks back in her chair, slamming her back against its. >”What do you mean?” “I was wrong, Twilight. His human physiology must react even worse with magic than I had originally thought. His rates have dramatically increased. I would be generous giving him even two months at this point.” >Those last words hang in the air like a heavy fog, seeping into her mind and bogging down all her other thoughts. >She stares at you for quite a while, unmoving, unspeaking. >A gentle breeze blows through, sweeping your napkins off the table and taking them into the trees. >The leaves above rustle, rearranging the shadows on your pupil’s face. >”Two months,” she whispers. “I’m sorry, Twilight.” >”No.” >Her voice barely registers as a sound, but it picks up with her next sentence. >”And there really is nothing you can do? No way to reverse the magic?” “There is no way. I have tried long and hard, but it’s undoable. To that end, I would like to admit another mistake of mine to you.” >Her hooves slip out of your hold and plop on the table. >Your heart gets stuck in your throat as you try to speak. >Come on, Celestia. You have to tell her. >It’s been long enough. >Twilight deserves to know what you did to her. “Years back, during the return of Tirek, I had a decision to make. I poured the power of princesses into your body.” >”I remember. It was the only way.” “Yes, but what I didn’t tell you then--what I should have told you before now--is that your magical limit is far under what it had to be to handle that much energy. On a smaller scale, I put you through what Anonymous is suffering now.” >Her eyes widen even further, a feat you didn’t think possible. “I’ve been searching for years for a way to reverse that, but I can’t. The damage I did to you is permanent. I don’t know how many years of your life I robbed from you, but even one second was too much.” >You close your eyes, letting one tear break off and travel down your cheek. “I am truly sorry, Twilight. What I did to you then was unspeakable, and keeping this secret from you for so long was even worse.” >You open your eyes again. >Twilight’s chin rests against her chest. >It rises and falls with each breath that slowly passes through her nose. >What is she thinking right now? >About how bad of a teacher you are, probably. >”It’s ok.” >Yes, there it is. You’re a horrible being. You-- “What?” >”It’s ok.” >Twilight picks her head up. >Her eyes are red and puffy and they leak tears that discolor her hair. >”What’s a few years anyway? I’ve got a whole life ahead of me.” “Twilight, you can’t be serious.” >”If you made the decision, it was the right one. I know that. You have to understand it too.” >How many pieces did your heart just break into? >There’s no way. >But there must be. >She’s studied them for so long. You’ve barely had a year. >But look at all the progress you’ve made! Surely that counts for something! >It shows you moved too fast without thinking. >So did she though. She damned Twilight for it. >Yes, she damned Twilight just as you’ve damned yourself. >No, that’s not true. It can’t be. >There’s a way to fix this. >There’s always a way when magic is involved. >”Anonymous,” the guard addresses you, because you are Anonymous the human. >Maybe it’s as simple as changing your magical limit. >Is that possible? >Has it ever been tried? >Of course it has, you fucking idiot. >If it was your first idea, it must have been Celestia’s too. >”Anonymous,” says the guard again. >Then what if you purified the magic inside you? >It would still be magic though, and that’s the issue here. >Two months. What are you going to do with two months? >”Anonymous!” “What?” you shout in reply. >”It’s dinner time.” “The hell it is. Go without me.” >Big Daddy, who has apparently been standing in your doorway for some time, huffs. >”I have explicit instructions to bring you to dinner. It’s part of your friendship lessons.” “I’m busy.” >Maybe you could find another object to seal your magic within. >Celestia said magical transfer was hard but doable. >There would still be the damage already done to your body, but that fix should just be a modification to one of your existing spells. >”I don’t care if you’re busy. Orders are orders.” >Confound these ponies. >You’re sitting here peacefully in your stool and all they can do is pester you. >”I won’t ask again.” “Then leave,” you snap and twist around, turning your back to the stallion. >Now, since magical transfer is a thing, could you perhaps transfer magical limits? >If yes, then maybe you could swap yours and Celestia’s. >You’d say Twilight’s just to piss her off, but you doubt hers would be able to handle what’s floating around inside you at this point. >”That’s enough play. Come. Now.” >Suddenly something hard grabs your shoulder and jerks you around. >You come face to face with Big Daddy. >Yours scrunches into a scowl, but not for long as that look is replaced with shock. >You nearly fall on your face as he drags you off of the stool and toward the door. >Twisting around, you free yourself from his grip and scramble onto your feet. >All this jerking around isn’t good for your health. >It stirs something up inside you, a burning ache, and forces you onto your knees. >Leaning on the stool for support, you press your head against the seat and moan. >”Anonymous, stop making this so difficult.” “Go away.” >”You’re coming to dinner whether you like it or not.” >Your grip on the edges of the seat tighten. “Leave me alone.” >”How many more suppers are you going to be able to enjoy with all that magic melting your insides? Just come on already.” “I said leave me alone!” >From your knees, you spin around, keeping the stool in your hands, and smash it into your guard. >The wood splinters against his armor and sends him flying. >You sprawl out onto the floor and instantly curl into a ball, clutching your sides as waves of pain crash against your frail form. >Big Daddy doesn’t like that. >He doesn’t like it at all. >Once the dumbfounded look leaves his face, he, fueled by his rage, charges at you. >The beastly stallion’s hoof collides into your gut. >You slide across the floor until your back hits the leg of your bed and stops you. >It elicits a cough that covers your floor in more of battery blood. >As that eats through the stone, he approaches you, brandishing his spear. >The guard presses the tip of his weapon into your chest and snarls. “You really need a spear to finish me off right now?” >”I should do it. I should do it right now. I’ve had enough of your shit.” “Yeah, you really should. I’m on a clock anyway, right? What difference does it make?” >”None.” “None to you or I. Kill me now, why don’t you? That is, as long as you can explain to your master why you killed their favorite toy before its time was up.” >He stops, ending the increasing pressure of the spear right before it can pierce your flesh. >Funny. You didn’t even have to drop Celestia’s name and he stops dead. >You can almost see the gears in his head turning as he contemplates his decisions. >That fucking mongrel. >Look at how hard he’s thinking. >It’s like it’s taking every ounce of his energy to make this one simple decision, yet here you are struggling to overcome the inner workings of black magic to preserve your humanity. >”One day,” he seethes and pulls the spear away. “You have one day free of dinner. After that, I’m dragging you there alive or dead.” “We’ll just see what tomorrow brings.” >”You’re a real piece of work. You know that?” >Your bones creak and squeak as you prop yourself up onto the bed. “So I’ve been told.” >Big Daddy leaves you, closing and locking the door behind him. >Now, where were you? >Ah, right. Dying. >Groaning, you manage to get up on your own two feet and hobble over to your window. >Your stomach churns, growling violently. >Lurching, you open your mouth and spew another cup’s worth of blood out into the air. >It falls and, upon making contact with the barrier, creates a swirling cloud of lightning. >The barrier almost seems to shriek as the arcs of electricity shoot out, bolting through it in different areas. >In these spots, the barrier glows and then dissolves. >Soon enough, the whole thing fails. >It is suddenly horrifically cold in your room. >A stiff breeze blows in through the window, knocking you onto your ass. “Excuse me?” >Aw shit. >Grabbing the sill, you pull yourself up and peek out over it. >Another harsh, icy wind hits you right in the face, chilling you to your bones. “Well fuck. I knew stone class barriers were weak, but I didn’t think they were that weak.” >Are you going to get in trouble for that? >You feel like you’re going to get in trouble for it. >Boy, it’s starting to seem like everything you do ends up a failure. >You’re feeling very uncomfortable being near this window, so you deem it best to make it over to your bed. >Once there, you pull the covers up over your head and tuck your knees into your chest. >It starts to warm up for you enough that you start to believe if you can stay like that long enough, you might not die of cold before somebody can come fix that barrier in the morning. >The sun goes down, marking the time at which you should be asleep. >Of course should be asleep and being asleep are two different things. >Lady Slumber refuses you until the night has nearly ended, giving you only about three hours worth. >The door to your room slams open, jolting you awake. >”Why the hell is it so cold in here?” >His voice, Big Daddy’s voice, rapes your ears with abandon. >You rub your head and slowly push the covers off. >Thinking you’re prepared for what the morning would bring, you open your eyes. >That was a mistake. >The light stings like lemon juice and you force them shut again. >”What did you do to that barrier?” “Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?” >”Get your ass down these stairs right now!” >Despite your fried brain, you’re able to properly--more or less--maneuver yourself to the door and enter the stairway. >”Honestly, I can’t see why anyone even puts up with you.” “Shall I count the ways?” >”I’d rather you shut up.” “Well for starters, Twilight has an unhealthy obsession with me that ties directly into her sense of self worth. Celestia is probably bored and wants something to play with until I die. You’re being paid. Have I covered all the bases?” >”Sometimes I wish I never took this job.” “If wishes were fishes.” >Once at the bottom of the stairs, you meet up with Blondie. >”Morning,” she says with a wary smile. “And what a fine one it is.” >You extend a hand to rub her golden mane, but stop short. “Oh, please excuse me.” >Turning around, you grab onto Big Daddy’s shoulders and lower your head. >The contents of your stomach empty right in front of his hooves. >Bloody acid shimmers as it dissolves the stonework beneath. >”Disgusting,” shouts the stallion as he pushes you away. >”Hey, watch it! He’s fragile!” >Blondie catches you before you can fall over and helps you to stand back up. >”Fragile? Didn’t you see what he just did?” >”I saw everything.” “She saw everything.” >”Whatever. I’m going to breakfast. Please, feel free to not come. Now that the woman is here, I can blame her for your absence.” >Making sure to avoid your love puddle as he moves, Big Daddy speeds away down the hall. “I don’t think he likes us very much.” >”He’s just stressed,” she mutters and nudges you. >Taking the hint, you begin to walk, once more using her as a cane. >The strength in your legs fails about halfway through the trip. >Toppling onto her suddenly, even she can’t support you and is crushed under your weight. >Her armor pressing into your gut burns like a hot iron, forcing you to roll off of the mare. >With some help, you manage to sit up against the wall to catch your breath. >She lays down next to you, resting her soft head across your lap. >Every breath is harder to take than the last. >Soon enough, you’re practically wheezing, struggling to get even one bit of air into your lungs. >It starts a coughing fit, but thankfully nothing liquid leaves you. >After a few minutes of rest, you feel strong enough to make it the rest of the way. >As you enter the hall, many eyes land on you and you alone. >Nobles and peasants alike gawk in a mix of fear and awe. >You can only imagine the stories that have circulated about you. >Anonymous the human, prime example of Celestia’s ultimate word and kindness. A human so misguided that he sentenced himself to death and was allowed a comfortable end in Celestia’s castle. >Anonymous the terrible, a man who dabbled in black magic and met a black end for it. >Anonymous, Blackmane loyalist who covered himself in runes as a declaration of love for his dark lord. >That and more, you’re sure. >Given the glare that scruffy looking janitor is giving you, there’s probably something in there about how you’re a filthy monkey who wipes his acid poop all over the walls. >No fun, right? >You reach your end of the table, complete with all the essential ponies. >Celestia who, with Twilight, casts her gaze away from you. >Luna squints and sizes you up. >After fully taking in your hunched form, she makes an amused huff goes back to eating. >”Thy title does not proceed thee. We had assumed one named such Anonymous the Terror would retain a nigh intimidating presence. Thou art quite underwhelming in true form.” “Yeah, ok.” >”Ok? Thou hast nary more to say to a princess?” “I’m just going to wait another three minutes until you leave.” >You don’t even wait for a response from her before you leave to sit down. >The plate before you is empty, but that can be fixed easily. >You lift your arm, discontent with how heavy it feels now, and grab some fruit from the bowl in the middle of the table. >A hoof lands on your hand and holds it there. >”Anon, man, are you ok?” >You look up at Greymane from across the table. “Oh, hey, buddy.” >”Greymane, we demand thee cease association with this beast.” >”Not now, Luna.” >”Thou wouldst challenge us?” >His horn glows a little brighter, and for a second you think he might be charging another spell, but instead he depowers it and the platter lowers. >Luna gently rubs her forehead and pushes away from the table. >Slowly and steadily, she stands, though it seems like with a rough shove, she wouldn’t be standing for long. >”If thou wouldst excuse us, we must retire to our chambers. We hath become weary of late.” >You were wrong. It was less than three minutes. >Anonymous was wrong. What a surprise. >”I’ll see you later, honey,” shouts Greymane as she walks off. >Well gee, it sure is nice that he can be so happy. >You finish your earlier task and deposit some food onto your plate, then proceed to eat it. >The fruit, once sweet and delightful, now tastes like some disgusting cross between sour and bitter. >Shuddering, you follow through and swallow the horrid thing. >It’s a bigger chunk than your throat can comfortably handle only because the thought of it being on your tongue any longer turned your stomach. >As much as it doesn’t want to, it does go down once you throw back some water. >When you put the glass down, something falls into it. >A tiny red dot wrapped in a lavender light plops into the water and fizzes it all up before dissipating into the mixture. Hesitantly, you bring a napkin to your face and wipe your nose. >Upon inspection of it, you see a smeared bloodstain that singes the fabric and eats away at it until half the napkin is gone. >You drop it onto your plate and stare at it, unaware of what anyone around you starts to say. >Two months? Yeah right. >More like two weeks. >Hell, you could even go and say two days with how you feel right now. >Even if you managed to find a cure for this, you wouldn’t have the time or means to apply it. >This is it, Anon. >This is the end. >You reached for the sun and got burned. Simple as that. >In an attempt to prove you weren’t weak--weren’t worthless-you instead showed that you were in fact all of that and worse. >Anonymous, the sole bearer of the name of humanity, and you sure as Sally ruined that. >You bury your head in your hands and leave it there for a while. >Time flows around you. >People chat and laugh and eat, and all you can do is think about how much of a failure you are. >Game over, Anon. >You lost. >At some point, breakfast must have ended. >When you next look up, most of the ponies have just finished filing out of the room. >All that remain are you, Blondie, and Greymane. >Greymane. Yes, that’s it. >He’s the answer. “Blondie, a minute please?” >”What?” “I would like to speak with my friend alone. Just for a minute.” >She opens her mouth as if she were about to say no, but relents and nods. >The mare scooches out and leaves the table, heading to the very end of the room so as to be seen and not heard. >”What’s up, Anon?” “I need your help.” >”That’s never a good thing. Is this about another scroll? I’ve got to say, I’m not too happy that all the adventures we went on before went toward this.” “Neither am I, but they did and now here we are.” >You lean forward and speak in a hushed tone just to be sure there’s no chance any prying ears could pick up on what you’re about to say. “It’s about my soul. You sealed it within a picture, remember?” >”Unfondly, but yes. Before you keep going, I just want you to know that I’m not going to help you.” “What?” >”Anon, I’ve got a good thing going here. I have my life on track and I have a mare who loves me. I don’t want to mess that all up committing treason again.” “Greymane, no, you don’t even have to do much. I just need to know where my soul is. You spend every night with Luna. You can get that information, can’t you?” >”I already told you no. Don’t keep doing this, Anon. I know it sounds bad, but can’t you just die with your honor intact? Why keep going on like this?” “Look, I know that my body won’t last, but my soul will. Once this body dies, I’ll either exist in empty space for eternity or Celestia will try to put me into another object. I don’t want that. I don’t want any of it. I just want to take my soul and go.” >He shakes his head and tries to leave, but you grab his hooves and hold him still. >He struggles a bit and voices a complaint. “Greymane, please. I’m not asking you to help me take over the world. I’m asking you to help me die on my own terms, on my own feet, away from this place.” >The look in his eyes says you’re winning. “Please. If you were ever my friend, show it now.” >”I don’t know, Anon.” “I accept that I’m going to die. I made too many mistakes and now I’m paying the price. What I refuse to do is die here as her puppet. I need to leave. When it all ends, it needs to be because I wanted it to. You understand that, don’t you?” >He sighs and closes his eyes. >You let go of his hooves in order to cover your mouth as another coughing fit comes on, lighting your chest on fire. >When that’s done and you’ve covered the table in your blood, he slicks back his mane and gives you a stern look. >”Alright, fine. I’ll help you get your soul, but that’s it. After that, we’re done. Ok?” “Yeah, got it.” >”I’ll get back to you at dinner tomorrow.” >The stallion finally gets up and walks away. >He’s too far now to hear you say it, but under your breath, you can’t help but thank him. >For everything you’ve done, he’s still here for you. >If ever there was a pony you could call a friend, it would be Greymane. >”All set, Anon?” asks Blondie, having appeared behind you. >Her soft hoof strokes your back as you ease yourself up and out of the chair. >Well, maybe two ponies. >The rest of your day goes mostly normally. >Your lessons continue, but not entirely as planned. >Given your current timeline, you have to say you couldn’t care any less about these friendship lessons. >Minimal effort is put into them on your part. >Big Daddy becomes ever more disgusted with you throughout the day. >At one point, Blondie leaves to get everyone ice cream, leaving you and the hulk of a stallion alone. >”You listen here, you monkey,” he barks, poking his hoof into your chest. “At this point, I don’t care if you’re dying or not. You just better not do anything funny to fuck up my record.” >You smile and slide your lip between two teeth, then bite down as hard as you can. >The flesh splits and spills forth blood. >The taste, almost cringeworthy, is something like lime juice mixed with copper. >A drop of this toxic substance falls onto his boot and sizzles as the gold melts away. >His eyes open wide and he jumps back, shaking his hoof and throwing the armor away. >It flies away and clanks onto the floor, rolling on its side until settling in a crevice between bricks. >The part facing you has a fist-sized hole in it and the still smoking edges of that are a greenish purple. “You shouldn’t get too close to me. It’s not healthy.” >”You son of a,” he starts and raises a hoof as if to strike you. >It’s at that very same moment that Blondie reenters the room with three vanilla white cones locked in her magical grip. >When her shimmering blue eyes land on you, they almost pop out of her head. >”Chaser!” >”It’s not what it looks like!” “Bad pony hurt the human. Hit him, Blondie.” >”He did that to himself! It was self abuse!” “Lies and slander.” >”I think you need to leave,” she orders in an uncharacteristically low voice. >Big Daddy searches for the right words for this situation but can find none. >The anger leaves his eyes and he marches out, but not before taking one of the cones. >Slamming the door shut behind him, he abandons the two of you. >Blondie shakes her head in disappointment and closes the distance between you two. >You, in a still too small chair, accept the ice cream when it hovers near your hand. >”Don’t take it personally. He just lost a lot of friends and is having trouble coping.” “Oh, is that it? Sorry, I must be a little biased given all the times he’s threatened to impale me through the ass.” >”Some men would take that as a compliment,” she smirks. >You chuckle and take a lick of your treat. “Shut up.” >The ice cream tastes atrocious. >Not wanting to let her know that, you resolve to keep it to yourself and continue eating the shit on a cone. >On the bright side, the cold dairy feels great on your lip. >The two of you spend the rest of the day shooting the shit until the sun sets and it’s time for you to go to bed. >Your guard escorts you through the winding castle, making sure you get some rest whenever your legs get shaky, and eventually sees you to your room. >It’s warm again, marking the return of the barrier. >Good. Now you won’t have to spend the night in a ball. >Hobbling over to your bed, you undo your jacket and toss it on the floor, then crawl under the covers. >”Don’t die tonight, you hear me?” “I’ll do my best.” >”I mean it.” “So do I.” >With a nod, she lowers herself a few steps and closes the door, then makes sure to lock it. >You lie in bed for quite some time, mulling over how tomorrow will go. >More specifically, tomorrow night. >How will dinner go? >Will you leave then or does Greymane have other plans for you? >What fi Celestia catches wind of everything? >These questions and more bounce around the inside of your skull until something unheard of happens. >The lock on your door clicks and swings open. >He’s early! >You throw the covers off yourself and almost jump out of bed, unthinking of the effect that would have on you. >When your feet slam onto the ground, your body gives up and you crumple down, landing on your hands and knees. >The door slowly opens, and from the darkness appears not Greymane, but someone else. >You squint, trying to make out the features. >Oh no. You know that mane shape. “Fuck me sideways.” >The lavender mare who put you here pulls herself into your room and closes the door, locking it once more. >”Hello, Anon.” “You’re in my room.” >She cranes her neck, likely searching for a place to sit and upon not finding one, plots herself down just a few feet away from you. >”I wanted to talk.” “I don’t.” >”I know you don’t.” “Then leave.” >”Not yet.” >You grunt and lean back against the bed. >She’s not going to leave until she’s said what she came to. >There’s not even anywhere you can go. >Well, that’s not entirely, correct. >You could certainly jump out the window. >She opens her mouth to speak, but you hold up a pausing finger and turn your head to the right. >Your stomach, unhappy with what you put in it today, empties itself onto the floor. >The red acid spreads across the floor and corrodes it, biting through the stone and sending cracks through adjacent bricks. >It takes a second for you to catch your breath, but when you can, you give her the thumbs up. >”I know you’re not interested in talking to me, so just listen.” “I’m not too keen on listening to you either.” >”I won’t be long.” “You better not be.” >”Look, Anon, this isn’t easy for me to say, ok?” “You’re killing yourself?” you ask excitedly. >”Celestia no.” >And by that, she means “not yet”, right? >”I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.” >Ah, so she’s not killing herself. >She’s just trying to mock you. >The purple princess scooches closer, entering the little light available in your room. >”It took me a while to work through what you said earlier. I didn’t quite understand what you meant. I had thought I was being a great friend to you. I was so convinced by it that I couldn’t see I was only hurting you.” “That’s nice. Now leave.” >”My actions drove you to this pursuit of black magic. Now every bit of power you absorb serves to undo you, and worse still, your aura is identical to mine. It’s like I’m the one killing you right now.” >Huh. >You never thought of it like that. >Jeez, that’s really fucked up. >”I never meant for any of this to happen. I just wanted everyone to be happy.” >Her lavender eyes redden and tear up. >”All I ended up doing was ruining everything. Now you’re on Death’s door because of me.” >When she blinks, the tear breaks off and flows down her cheek. >Enough of them collect on her chin and a droplet separates from her, pittering onto the floor. >”So I’m sorry, Anon. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you. I’m sorry for not being a friend, I’m sorry for suffocating you, I’m sorry for driving you into this all, and I’m sorry for what’s happening to you. You’d have been better off having never met me.” “And do you mean all that?” >She nods, keeping her head low. “Wow,” you say. “I didn’t think you could get any more pathetic, but here it is.” >She clenches her eyes shut and swallows. “The brave princess of friendship coming to me and saying she’s sorry for being the worst pony on the face of the Earth. Did you really think I’d forgive you for everything you’ve done to me? Did you think it would be that easy?” >”No.” “What was that? I couldn’t hear you over your misery.” >”I didn’t think you’d forgive me. I don’t deserve it. I just wanted you to know that I see now how wrong I’ve been, and how sorry I am it took your death for me to realize it.” “And you would leave right now if I told you to, knowing that I still hate your guts?” >The princess nods and shuffles to stand up. >She turns around and starts a slow walk back to your door. >Her horn glows in tandem with the lock and opens it, followed by the door, right up. >This is really it, huh? >She’s leaving you. >She’s not just leaving you, but she’s leaving you forever. >More than any of that, she admitted she was wrong. “Hey,” you call to her as she enters the stairwell. >Her ears perk up, but her head remains lowered to hide her watery eyes. “Twilight, you’re the worst pony I’ve ever met. A few hours ago, I wished you nothing but pain and misery for the rest of your horrific excuse of a life.” >”I know.” “Don’t interrupt me,” you demand. >You try to stand up, but your legs don’t agree with that. >Instead, you crawl like a child over to her. “I could have lived the rest of my life having never heard what you just said, but then you barge into my room in the middle of the night and say it anyway.” >Finally next to her, you ease back onto your feet and sit down. “You swallowed your pride and poured out your heart, admitting to me how much of a failure you were and how wrong you were about me and everything.” >The tears are really flowing from her now. “And now I want you to know something else. Listen up.” >Extending a hand, you rest it on her head. >Her eyes shoot open, flinging tears at you. >Slowly and as gently as you can, you stroke her mane. “I forgive you.” >”Anon?” “Don’t get me wrong. I still hate you and I never want to see you again, but as long as you understand what you’ve done and how wrong it was, I forgive you.” >”You can’t be serious.” “It’s ok if you’re retarded about friendship, Twilight. You are just a pony after all. Nobody expects intelligence out of you. Just leave the brooding to me.” >”Anon, I…” “Now get out of my room and don’t let me catch you around here again.” >The princess, dumbfounded, can only muster a nod. >Even so, she continues to stand there, staring at you. “Well?” >”Oh, right. Sorry.” “I know you are.” >Twilight takes a few more steps down and begins to lower the door. >”Thank you.” “Whatever.” >Your door shuts and the lock clicks. >Alone at last. >You sigh and pull yourself back over to your bed. >Did you really mean what you said back there? >Forgiving Twilight sounds impossible. >After all, she led you down the road of ultimate self destruction. >She is the embodiment of everything you hate. >At the same time, you are the embodiment of all of her shortcomings. >Telling you that she was sorry, that she was wrong, must have killed her. >Isn’t forgiving her the least you can do? >It feels right, at least. >Maybe this whole dying thing is getting to you. >Dying all pissed off would really suck. >Maybe it’s time you let go of all this anger. >With a few obvious exceptions, things are pretty alright. >You even get to kick the bucket out in the woods just like you wanted. >What reason do you have to be angry anymore? >Well, if there’s something, it will make itself known soon. >You seem to remember having another revelation like this a few weeks ago before getting shat on by a royal guard squad and the Wonderbolts. >It must be, oh, around five or six in the morning by the time you actually manage to close your eyes. >Of course, by now the sun is coming up and the birds start chirping. >Before the outside world rips you from slumber, you land a solid thirty eight minutes of sleep. >Round about. >There are no clocks in your room. “God, I miss clocks,” you grumble and rub your noggin. >The intensity of the headaches hasn’t gone down, but you’d venture and say that you’re mostly used to them by now. >One thing you just can’t get used to is this aching. >Every second of the day is some agonizing limbo between pain and awareness. >Your body wants sleep. It demands it. At this point, you would kill to appease it. >This power that courses inside you though, it forces you to stay awake. >It’s like it’s overcharging all your functions so no matter how exhausted you might feel, they just keep going. >How long until someone knocks on your door? >It could be a while. >Better get busy doing something, Anon. >You lean to one side and quickly find you lack the strength to hold yourself up in that position. >The end result is you falling onto your left shoulder and spreading out in the floor. >It’s not too uncomfortable. The brick could be a little softer, sure, but you’ve been on worse. >Your mouth hangs open as a small stream of acid flows from it, pooling around your chin and dissolving the stone. >As if angered by your new orientation, your stomach turns in on itself. >You clench your eyes shut in pain as a hot ball of bloody stomach juice runs up your throat and erupts from your mouth. >It splatters all over the floor. >Quite the distance, in fact. If vomiting was an olympic sport, that would be at least bronze. >Deciding it best not to lay down on the spot right where the brick is being eaten away, you resolve to move yourself. >Getting your hands underneath you, you push yourself up about an inch before falling down again. “Come on, you ass. Fucking move.” >After several heavy breaths, you heave and give another mighty push. >This time you manage to get high enough that you can ease yourself onto your knees. >From there, it’s a slow journey onto your feet. >Being so high up makes you feel a little dizzy, so before you can tumble down, you grab the wall for support. >It would best not to sit for a while. >If you do, there’s a good chance you won’t get up again. Not without a miracle, at least. >How much longer? >Come on, ponies. >It’s not like you’re getting any younger here. >Can this day just end already? >God, the one damn time you actually want to be present for dinner and they decide to triple the length of the day. >Should you read something to pass the time? >Yeah, one of the fifty fucking books you’ve already read eight different times. >Nice bookshelf, Celestia. Thanks for all the variety. >You’re especially fond of the thirty books where the main character is a friendless asshole who has to hit rock bottom before he can accept the magic into his heart and get the girl. >Oh, and the book that’s just like that except the main character is a girl and is much more pretentious. >Can’t forget that one. >Right then, a familiar clicking sounds through your room. >Your eyes jump to the door as it flips open. >Out from the depths of blackness emerges a startlingly white mare with long golden locks that hug her slender neck. “Well I’ll be damned. Big Daddy turned down morning duty today?” >”I didn’t think it’d be a good idea leaving you two alone together.” “Probably for the best. It’s that time of the month, after all. He’s very moody.” >”Well? Come on, it’s time for breakfast.” “Yeah, sure. Just hold on for a sec.” >Let’s do the math on this. >If you take one step forward, that should begin a chain reaction where you take another step forward, followed by another, until you reach the door. >Balancing operations will be left to your core and limbs, as controlled by your inner ear. >That all sounds good, right? >Let’s bang this baby out. >Pushing off the wall, you take one step and oh hell no. >Right down onto the floor. >That one hurt. >”Anon!” >Blondie runs to your side and takes you into her hooves. >”Maybe we should just stay in here for now.” >Her eyes run over your form. >It must either disgust her or make her pity you based on the face she’s making. >”Or maybe for the day.” >That would mean no dinner. >No dinner means no Greymane. >No Greymane means no escape. “I’m fine,” you growl and, with her aid, get yourself up. >”Obviously not.” “I just need a minute to catch my breath. That’s all.” >You have to go to dinner. >That is an absolute. >If you spend too much time in this room, she’s going to think you’re too weak to attend and just keep you here all night. >One minute passes. >Your limbs still feel like lead, but it’s been too long already. >Just bite the damned bullet. >Groaning internally, you ease yourself onto your feet and take a pained step toward the door. >Your knees crack with every step, and your tibia feels like it’s sinking right into your foot as if your ankle wasn’t even there. Not to say there’s an ankle bone, but you know what you mean. >Still though, you can’t let her know any of that. >Instead of shouting like every muscle in your body is crying for you to do, you put on a smile and nod. “Told you I just needed a minute.” >She remains where she sat, dumbfounded. >”You can’t be serious.” “As serious as the day I was born. Now come on; breakfast must be getting cold.” >The mare stares at you for another few seconds before shaking her head and attending you. >Together, you travel down the stairs, albeit much slower than on your first day. >Big Daddy is waiting there for you with his typical disgruntled glare. >You don’t even have the spunk to engage in quid pro quo with him. >The best you can offer is a “fuck you” accompanied by a half-hearted middle finger. >These miniature horses still don’t quite have the handle on hand signs, but he seems to get the jist of what you’re saying. >”Fuck you too.” >”Be nice, boys.” >”He started it!” >”What are you, five?” >”Why do you always take his side?” >”Because he’s an unhinged criminal. I don’t expect much maturity from him. You’re a trained royal guard. You’re supposed to be a bit more regal.” >You’re not unhinged. >”And you’re just a naive girl. Look, let’s get him off to breakfast and finish the day. Man, I can’t wait for tonight.” >Amen to that. >You were excited to see Greymane at breakfast, but he ended up not being there. >Oddly enough, Luna wasn’t there either. >Twilight was, but she left the second her eyes landed on you. >Good girl, you thought. She’s learning. >Celestia makes a small effort to talk to you, but after enough ignoring her, she gets the clue that you’re not in the mood. >All you want to do is stare at your food. >Normally you’d have said “eat your food”, except anything that goes into your stomach comes back out a few seconds later. >Even staring at the stuff starts to hurt after a while. >Your eyes begin to burn no matter how much you rub them. >Eventually you splash some water on your face and the feeling subsides to a tolerable level. >By then, breakfast ends and everyone starts to file out. >Blondie helps you out of your chair. >Suddenly she freezes up, throwing you off balance. >You fall back into the seat and shout as your body compresses from the drop. >If God is merciful, he’ll make Celestia wrong again. >Two weeks of this would be the absolute worst. >The second you make it into that forest, maybe you should just end it. >Living is nice and all, but living like this? >”Anon, your eyes,” she stutters out. “Get lost in them?” >She hovers over a silver platter. >Grabbing it with her hooves, she holds it up to your face. >In the blurry reflection, you can still make out that the optic orbs on your face are bloodshot. >Not only that, but the irises have turned a purple similar to Twilight’s. Or more specifically, your magic. >The fun never ends, does it? >You sigh and nudge the platter away. “Whatever.” >”We should go to the infirmary.” >Oh yeah, the infirmary. >You know, the place where they can just suddenly cure anything that ails you. >Blueheart will definitely make the ouchies go away and then you can continue your friendship lessons unimpeded. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather just go outside.” >”You’re not allowed outside, idiot.” >”Chaser!” >”He’s a criminal!” >”What, do you think there’s some kind of flight risk? He can’t go two feet without help.” “I managed the stairs on my own.” >”I think outside is a great idea. Celestia did a wonderful job making the day. Why shouldn’t we all enjoy it?” >”You can’t be serious.” “I think she is.” >”Let’s go, Anon.” >She helps you up and out you all go to the gardens. >It actually is really nice outside. >The light stings though, so you seek refuge in the shade and sit down with your back to an old oak tree. >Blondie prefers her spot in the sun and settles into some tall grass. >You look around the immediate area, astonished by all the colors and smells. >It’s almost overwhelming. >Just think, Anon. >You’ve spent your whole life outside, yet you’d almost just forgotten what it looks like. >Apart from the nature, there’s a fair bit of stonework. >Statues, fountains, golden brick roads, and of course the castle itself. >Atop the wall overlooking the garden is a big, dark metal bell. >You can’t make out the writing on the plaque, but given everything you know about Equestria’s history and the circumstances under which this castle was built, it’s probably some sort of alarm. >You’ll have to make sure to take that out somehow. If it goes off, the whole castle will know you’re escaping. >That should be easy enough though. >What you should really be focusing on is a route out of here. >You don’t want to use too much magic and risk alerting anyone, so on foot would probably be the best way at least until you’re out of range. >Maybe the best way out is the most obvious way. >People generally don’t put down gaudy golden bricks on a pristine nature path unless it leads somewhere. >Considering you know of one that led to a wizard, this seems very relevant to your situation. >You motion to get up and are suddenly immobilized by the tightening of your stomach. >Waves of pain radiate from it, crashing against the entirety of your gut. >Groaning, you settle back against the tree and decide to wait for a few minutes. >The path isn’t going anywhere and neither is anyone else. >Blondie ends up falling asleep during your little sit down, and Big Daddy has decided he’s just tired of looking at you. >Well, ten minutes is long enough. >You scooch yourself back up the tree to a standing position. >That alone tires you out so much you start panting. >With an arm wrapped around your stomach, you take a few hesitant steps forward. >It hurts, but your legs are still attached so that’s a good sign. >Yeah, let’s keep it up. >”Where do you think you’re going?” snaps your guard as his eyes catch you “sneaking” away. “I need to take a shit.” >”I’m going with you.” “A really smelly shit.” >”Innominate, go with him.” >He nudges the sleeping mare awake. >Blondie picks her head up out of the grass and rubs her tired eyes, knocking a few blades out of her mane as well. >”Huh?” >”Go watch him take a shit.” >”Excuse me?” >”Go watch him shit so he doesn’t escape.” >”You know the only route off of these gardens is a two thousand foot drop, right?” >”What’s your point?” “I don’t fly so good.” >”Anon, go answer nature,” orders the mare. >”You’re not going with him?” >”Of course not. I don’t need to see all that up close and personal.” >Now given permission to defecate in the royal gardens, you make your move for the yellow brick road. >After travelling along it for long enough, you come to a mighty wood pile with a tall, beautiful axe that would have made you swoon a few months ago. >Jeez, imagine all the wood you could have chopped with that thing. >You find yourself stroking the handle, admiring the smooth finish. >The head is expertly crafted and shimmers in the sunlight breaking through what little tree coverage there is in this tucked away clearing. >Man, that’d put a nice hole in some monster’s neck too. >Imagine the manticore up against this beauty. >Alright, that’s enough of the axe. >Scooting along, you eventually make it to the end of the road. >It’s just a little fountain with some golden benches at the edge of a white stone wall. >You approach the structure and lean over the carefully carved decorations. >What you’re met with is the vast expanse of Equestria. >You hold your hand up underneath it and close your fist. >Everything north of Mt. Dawn is right there in the palm of your hand. >Once upon a time, you wanted nothing more than for your name to be known throughout all that land. >Right now, your mind is more focused on what lies just over your thumb. >How can you get to the Everfree from here? >Gravity manipulation is a horrifically draining spell. Even with all the magic you’ve accumulated, you doubt you could keep it going for as long as you would need to to descend the mountain. >Well, unless you just jumped and used it near the bottom to slow yourself. >There’s a thought. >Chew on that for a bit. >You’ve had your fun and your body is threatening a revolt, so you turn around and hobble back to where you left what remains of your entourage. >Big Daddy looks at you expectantly as you wipe some blood from your nose. >”Well?” “It was a long shit.” >”I don’t believe you.” “I can show you if you want. Let’s go look.” >His snout scrunches in disgust and he marches away. “No, really, it’s just down the way. I think it might still be steaming. Don’t you want to peek?” >”That’s quite alright,” he utters, entering the castle. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want to see my smoking log. He’s the one who asked.” >”Anon, I don’t think anybody wants to see that.” >Blondie makes it to your side, offering her head. >You press your hand on it and let more of your weight be supported by her than you originally intended. >The stress taken off your bones brings a sigh of relief out of you. >”Looking to rest now?” “Hungry. When’s dinner?” >”About ten hours.” >Fuck your ass. >”I have some apple fritters in my pack.” “Not that hungry.” >”Do you fear my cooking?” >Eating is the last thing you want to do. >The thought of anything entering your stomach right now makes your blood run cold. >On that note, maybe you should be thinking about it given how hot you feel. >Suddenly feeling very winded, you lean even more onto Blondie until your knees just give out. >Collapsing onto them and falling forward, you rest your forehead on the grass. >”Are you ok?” >Whoever is kneading your guts like this needs to stop that right away. It’s not funny anymore. >God, it’s like an electric mixer is stuck in your intestines just buzzing away. >You inhale sharply everything seems to contract at once. >You’re frozen, unable to move, breathe, or even think until this pain abates in a minute. >When your senses return, you see that your nose has sprouted quite the leak. >A stream of blood flows from it and onto the grass, scorching the greenery as it comes in contact. >You sniff as much as you can back in and wipe the rest from your face. >Of course that doesn’t stop anything, but whatever. >Your friend is content to stand there while you recollect yourself. >She’s silent the whole time thankfully. >After a few minutes, your bleeding has stopped and you feel good enough to get back up. >”All set now?” “Yeah. I’m good.” >She nods and leads you off to some other corner of the castle to relax. >Funnily enough, she hasn’t mentioned your friendship lessons all day. >In fact, it almost seems like she’s avoiding them. >When you ask her about that, she just brushes the question off. >Wait, did you just say friend? >The hours grind by, but finally, after so very long--so long that it felt like months--dinner arrives. >With that, the final chapter can begin. >Part one of this plan is the meet with Greymane. >Part two is escape. >There will be no part three. >With no small amount of assistance, you make it into the dining hall. >The usual crowd awaits you, save for the one pony you really want to see, and with slightly less stares than usual. >Escorted to your seat, you plop down into it, shaking the table a tad as you do so. >Upon your arrival, Twilight heads out again. >This time, Celestia seems to connect the dots. >She glares at you disapprovingly, but keeps her piece to herself. >The princess of the sun instead focuses on her meal, stabbing at the cabbage loaf. >Luna, just a seat next to you, absentmindedly pushes some food around on her plate. “Hey, you ok?” >She doesn’t answer. >Her tired eyes, still unfocused, merely blink. “Anybody home?” >”Obviously not,” snaps Celestia, slamming her fork down on the table. >Jeez. Touchy? “I think she might need some help.” >”Your expert opinion has been taken into account.” >The sun goddess stands, shoving her throne away, and approaches Luna. >Her wing extends protectively between you and the navy mare. >”Luna, darling, come along.” >Slowly, her head pans from the supper below to her sister. >”It’s time for bed.” >”That’s right, Luna. It’s time for bed.” >”Ok, Tia.” >Celestia leads her sister off out of the room. >Luna’s ethereal tail disappears out of sight, and you slump back in your chair. >”Anything look appetizing?” >Where the fuck is Greymane? >”Anon?” “Huh?” >”Anything look good tonight?” “Yeah, sure. That cabbage loaf looks delicious.” >”You hate cabbage,” mutters the blonde guard. >She fills a plate up with fruit from the bowls in the center of the table and sets it down in front of herself. >She gently floats an apple over to you which you promptly brush away. “No thanks.” >She huffs and does the same thing, eliciting a similar response from you. >”Anon, you have to eat.” “What are you, my mom?” >”All you’ve had in days is a bite and I’m willing to believe you threw that up.” “And I won’t throw this up?” >”Fair enough.” >Her fight mostly dies down after that, but the apple still sits on your plate. >You can’t move it without her putting it back. >At least she’s not forcing it down your throat like another mare would have tried to do some months ago. >Greymane does decide to wander in about thirty minutes later. >How nice of him to show up. >By now, most of the dinner guests have left. >All you have to do is ask Blondie for some privacy and you’re alone. >The blue stallion sits down in Celestia’s throne and leans back, stroking the arms of it. >A smile grows on his face as he rubs his mane against the cushioned back. >”Oh yeah. I could get used to this.” “Greymane.” >”Yeah, yeah, I know.” >The both of you lean toward each other, closing the distance of the table. >”It took a little bit of digging, but I got what I needed out of Luna. I know where your soul is being kept.” >You swallow hard. “Where?” >”No.” >Take a deep breath. >He didn’t just say that. “Where is my soul?” >”I’m not telling you.” “I swear to God almighty, I will puke all over you.” >”Calm down, man. I’m going to take you to it.” “No. Absolutely out of the question.” >”Look, you’re a psychotic, treasonous maniac trying to steal an item of immeasurable importance from the most secure place in the country. If you get caught and one single shred of evidence leads back to me, I’m done for. I want to make sure you do it right.” “I won’t get caught. That’s a promise.” >”Anon, this isn’t up for debate. I’m going to get your soul.” “And if we do get caught, what then? I have to live with your capture on my conscience?” >”You won’t be living much longer anyway. You don’t have anything to lose in this. Not much, anyway. My future is on the line here.” “How is your future isn’t dependent on the state of my soul?” >”Look, if you want to know where your soul is, meet in the lower grand hall.” >He huffs and snatches your apple, then proceeds to leave. “Greymane, we’re not finished here,” you say, grabbing his tail. >”I know. We’ll finish this discussion in four hours.” >Your grip is too weak to hold him. >Greymane slips away and saunters out of the room. >Your growl, tightening your fist around the open air. >Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. >He’s going to fuck everything up. >On your own, escape would be easy. >Well, not easy per say, but definitely easier than with an accomplice. >Still, he did go through all this trouble just for you. >You owe him. >You owe him one whole handshake, not letting him tag along on this adventure. >Maybe you can ditch him. >Get the location and peel. >Yeah, that’ll do. >You like the guy and all, but this is something else. >”Anon,” comes a feminine voice. >Blondie pulls your attention to herself. >”It’s getting late. I think we might do well getting you to bed.” “Bed. Yeah, that’s not a bad idea.” >Some alone time will be a good opportunity to think. You know, contemplate the situation here. >Blondie, the doll, helps you out of your chair and lets you lean on her during the trip back to your room. >One the stairs, there are a few points where you have to stop and catch your breath. >At this point, going up and down the steps feels like a marathon. >She opens the door for you, allowing you to pull yourself into the room and admire the melted floor. >There are no holes leading to the outside, just a few spots that look to be significantly weakened. >Making a note to avoid them, you make sure to only step in key areas on the way to your bed. >The soft mattress gives way to you as you fall onto it. >A sigh of relief leaves you as the pressure is taken off your legs. >”All set?” >The mare’s armor shines even in this moonlight. >It spills through the window, unaffected by the barrier, and highlights all of her soft features. “I think so.” >”Well, I should let you get some sleep then. See you tomorrow.” >She turns to leave. >Suddenly, your chest tightens up. >It’s not pain though. >Well, there is pain, but that’s not the prevailing feeling here. >Her hips sway as she approaches the door, never to be seen again. >This is your last night here, after all. >You’re not going to miss her. >Then why can’t you help but feel like you’re losing something? >The mare enters the doorway, and you can’t stop yourself from calling out to her. “Wait.” >”Huh?” >The ache in your chest alleviates a bit when she cranes her neck to look back at you. >Her startlingly blue eyes, matched with a confused expression, meet yours. >Wow, it’s been so long since you felt this. >The last pony you felt like this with was Twilight, but that was months ago. >”What’s up?” >This is what the last few weeks have been all about. >It was Celestia’s ultimate goal, after all, to teach you friendship, to make you care enough about another pony that you wouldn’t want to be without them. >She wanted you to care. >Your face grows hot. >”Anon? Wait for what?” >And it’s precisely because you want her here--because you care--that you have to do this. “There’s something I need to tell you.” >She deserves to know. >Is that your excuse? >No, it’s not about her deserving the truth. >You’re just so tired of hiding it. >All the lying, all the deceit… >You’re going to die soon. >May as let it go before you kick the bucket, right? “I told you once that you were my favorite guard. I was glad we were stuck together. Do you remember that?” >She nods. >”I remember. It sure felt pretty great hearing that.” “I lied.” >The room is quiet. >Deathly quiet. >She stares at you, blinks a few times, and opens her mouth to respond. >No words come out though. >She just smiles, perplexed, and tilts her head. >”What?” “I lied to you. When I told you that, I hated you. I hated everyone here. Every second of every day, I thought of as many ways as I could to kill you all.” >Her smile fades. “I thought that if I told you that, you would be dumb enough to believe I was turning a new leaf. I had it in my head that if I could manipulate you like that, it would make escaping this hellhole easier.” >The guard’s eyebrows furrow. >A more defiant look spreads across her face now. >”You can’t be serious.” “I am. I lied to you for most of our relationship. It was all me trying to get on your good side. I misled you for so long into thinking I actually liked you.” >”Is this your psychosis talking?” “No. It’s all the truth. I hated your guts.” >”How could you? I trusted you.” “That was your mistake. I was in it for myself. Given the opportunity, I would have killed you.” >”And here I thought the stories were wrong. It looks like I was wrong though.” “You were. I never saw you as a friend. But that’s not all. I want you to know something else.” >”I don’t want to hear it.” “I know you don’t, but stay. Please.” >She growls and stands a little taller, as if trying to intimidate you. “Everything I said about lying to you, hating you, it was all in the past tense.” >”So?” “So it’s not true anymore. I never saw you as a friend, but I do now. It took me this long to figure it out, but I can now appreciate that you’re one of the only good parts of waking up here every day. I’d even say the best. What I did to you was horrible, and I’m sure you hate me now. I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I just want you to know that, in the end, I really did see you as a friend. I wish I could have understood it sooner.” >Her eyes are hard. >They look over you, criticizing every inch of your body in the harshest way. >She probably wants to impale you right now. >”Why are you telling me this?” >Because you’re insane and can never leave well-enough alone. “Because this will be my last night in the castle.” >”Celestia said you had two months.” “I know what she said. I also know myself. This is my last night. I can feel it.” >”And you wanted to air this all out to me because of that?” “I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye, could I? For everything you’ve done for me and everything you’ve become, one word wouldn’t have done it. I needed to tell you.” >”Well it was despicable of you. I can’t believe you would do something like that. At least die and leave me with a better memory of you than what I have now.” >You hang your head, closing your eyes. >Well, there was your goodbye. >She’s free to hate you for the rest of her life, but at least you got it off your chest. >You can die without worrying about that now. >In a way, you’re fre-- >Your eyes shoot open as your bed shifts. >You look to your right and spot none other than the blonde mare. >Her horn glows, channeling magic that removes her armor piece by piece. “What are you doing?” >Once done, she moves your covers out of the way and crawls under them, leaving a flap open for you. >”What, I’m going to let you kick off in this empty prison cell?” “Yes?” >”Of course not. Now lay down and stop talking before you mess this up too.” >You stare at her, unable to move. >”Dumbfounded” doesn’t describe you right now. >”Shocked” is still pretty light.. >Even “astonished” doesn’t carry the proper weight here. >”Well?” “You would do that for me? After everything I just told you?” >”You said that you hated me once. You said you lied to me. You also said that you see me as a friend now.” >The mare turns on her side so as to face away from you. That is, toward the wall. >”I guess I wouldn’t like it if a friend left me to die alone.” “Blondie, I…” >The words are caught in your throat. >”Didn’t I say stop talking? Just go to sleep already.” >You find yourself easing down and resting your head on the spare half of the pillow. >With your back to hers, you pull the bed covers up to your neck. >Her horn glows again, and the lock to your room clicks shut, sealing the both of you in here. >All there is right now is the darkness and what little light enters in from the outside world. >It spills onto the two of you, wrapping you in a relaxing glow that, if you weren’t so pumped full of magic, might make you sleepy. >“Goodbye, Anon.” “Goodbye, Blondie.” >Silence sets in. >Breathing. That’s all you can hear. >Her lungs slowly filling, along with yours, as the clock ticks on. >Even as she drifts off to sleep, you can’t relax. >Your mind races, unable to land on one subject. >Anything that could possibly go wrong flashes inside your head. >Everything that could go right battles those images. >Each version of your destiny, thirsty for the blood of the other, war with one another as you begin to shake with anticipation. >Is she out yet? “Blondie,” you whisper. “You awake?” >She doesn’t acknowledge you. >The mare is totally relaxed, pressed up against your back like the warmest pillow you’ve ever had. >Ever so carefully, you shift one leg out of bed, followed by another, until you’re able to sit up. >Looking over your shoulder, you assess that she is in fact sleeping. >The gentle rise and fall of her chest accompanied by a calmness that a waking mare wouldn’t be feeling in this situation tells you that. >Right, everything seems to be good. >Easing yourself out of bed is much harder than it should be, but you manage. >Your knees quake as the full weight of your body comes down on them. >Damn these legs. >You limp over to the window and reach out, fumbling around the lower part of the sill until your hand lands on a pouch of cloth. “Gotcha.” >Grabbing it, you pull it up and untie the knot, letting the starch white napkin fly open and spill all the knives you’d collected. >All but one, that is, which you keep between two fingers. >Not too long ago, you believed you needed all of them to escape your cuffs. >What a long night of sawing that would be, huh? >With the new development of your condition, you determined you don’t need such things anymore. >With the knife against your wrist, you inhale and press down. >The blade sinks into your flesh and sizzles, the tip turning red as your blood superheats it. >You make a long cut along the joint, bringing plenty of blood up that, on contact with the black bracelet, begins to dissolve it. >Now, most people would be weirded out seeing acid spill from their own slit wrist, but you couldn’t be any happier. >These damned cuffs have hindered you for so long and now they’re finally leaving. >That’s right, Celestia. This puppet is taking off its strings. >A certain lightheadedness begins to overpower you, but the bulk of the bracelet is melted before you can collapse. >Quickly, you slide the rings off, totally freeing your left hand. >Oh holy hell yes. >It’s like sticking a fork into an outlet. >Your arm is electrified as the magical power inside you suddenly feels free to surge out. >You can’t help but moan in pleasure, closing your fist, and relishing the feeling. >This is what you’ve been waiting for for so long. >This right here, this one moment. >Even if the circumstances have changed, it’s still as blissful as you always imagined it would be. >The blood loss threatens to take you out soon, so you decide to get on with the next cuff quickly. >Now with some amount of magical power returned to you, you’re able to pry the other one off with some telekinesis. >The powerful locks snap like twigs in your grasp and the bracelet flies off. >You close your eyes as pleasure washes over you. >Suddenly the pain you’ve been forced to live in begins to fade. >It’s now entirely manageable, and you’re able to stand up straight without worrying that your body will collapse in on itself. >The damage done to you is irreversible and the spells you’ve applied can’t stop more from happening, but at the very least they can hold you together long enough to do what needs to be done. >You look down at your open wrist, admiring the sight of your own blood forming stitches that seal the gash and harden. >Speaking of looking, you can’t help but wonder what you look like now magically speaking. >Searching for the spell is somewhat difficult, what with it being so long since you’ve been able to activate any. >Your mind lands on the right codes and you switch on your detection spell, allowing it to run on its own. >The world is suddenly an array of colors. >Strings of pure energy find their way into everything. >The floor, the walls, the furniture, and even Blondie who has a fair amount of magic stored within her. >You, on the other hand, are something else completely. >Your entire body is like a Christmas light. >It’s almost blinding when you look to any part of yourself. >You’re totally covered in the connections and gaze as each individual strand sucks in magic from the world. >That will be very distracting. >With another thought, you switch the spell off and start on the real shit. >You turn from the window to face the door and extend your injured hand. >Electric energy swirls around it and shoots out, jumping through the stone and furniture, looking for anything to latch onto. >The door is wrapped in a lavender haze and creaks as you close your fingers. >The metal locks snap off as the main wooden structure splinters and turns in on itself. >Though it doesn’t want to, you will the door to move and condense it into a ball of wood that you then drop straight down the dark staircase. >The way is clear. >The time is here. >Oh boy, the time is here. >You take a step forward, amazed at how little it hurts, and then another, and another. >Walking like there’s barely an issue, you quickly close the distance between you and the hole and take the first few steps. >Turning back briefly, you wave to the sleeping mare and then continue on your way. >Even faster than on your first day in, you make it down the whole flight of stairs. >In a practical run, you make it to the lower grand hall. >It’s very dark, save for a few lux stones that line the walls and give off what little light they can. >In one area, the stone seems to have died, leaving it pitch black. >”You sure look alive,” comes your friend’s voice, hushed. >Out from the darkness steps Greymane. >The night seems to cling to his coat, not wanting to let go even as he approaches you. >”No bracelets?” >You smirk and hold up a fist. >Just for show, you allow a small portion of your magic to spill into the world. >Bubbling purple energy flows out of you and disperses into the air, warming it. >His eyes widen as he steps away from you. >”Unbelievable. I can actually feel that. Jeez, just how much magic do you have stored in there?” “Enough to kill an elephant.” >”Or a princess.” “Possibly, but it won’t come to that. I’m not looking for a fight.” >A sly smile spreads across his lips. >”Well, let’s hope. Now come on, we have a soul to find.” “Lead the way. I want out of here.” >He starts down a dark hallway which you can’t help but follow him into, sticking close to him. >The stallion begins to pick the pace and lets out a laugh when, at a speed walk, you manage to keep up. >”That’s some real pep in your step. What’s the deal with that? I thought you were dying.” “I am, but with the help of application of some transfusion and weaving spells with some coagulation for good measure, I can manage to hold this body together a little longer. I’d say I bought myself a day, but it sure feels like a year.” >”Assuming things keep going as they are. I’m sure that number will change if you start taking in more magic again.” “That won’t happen. Trust me.” >Soon enough, through an unintelligible maze of hallways, you make it to the throne room. >No way. >Your soul is probably the most valuable item in Equestria, all things considered. >She couldn’t have kept it in this totally unguarded room in which thousands of ponies enter every day. >”It’s right in here.” >Oh, well fuck you then. >You shudder at the thought of some Joe Shmoe pony capturing your soul and dangling it over your head like ransom. >”Steal the crown jewels or I burn it,” they would say and laugh maniacally. >Greymane pushes open the enormous doors and the two of you enter the grand room. >There, at the end of it, are the two thrones of the goddesses that rule the land. >Each one is in pristine condition and looks as if a master craftsman had put his whole worth into it. >There’s also something else. >A certain vibrancy in the air. >You inhale as your body picks up on the stagnant magic in the air. >There is a very powerful spell somewhere in here. >You walk out ahead of Greymane, up to the thrones, and inspect them carefully. >Nothing about them seems out of the ordinary, nor the few stairs that lead up to them. >It doesn’t even feel like there’s a veil or a ward around. >Shrugging, you merely wave your hand. >The stone cracks and splits open, sending huge chunks of the stairs flying away. >They would have crashed onto the floor had you not cushioned their fall with a well timed telekinetic pillow. >There, beneath the stairs, is an empty space with nothing but an oak door that looks like it’s seen better days. “Clever girl,” you giggle and step through the debris. >As you reach out to open it, something forces you back rather violently. >You reel as an invisible force knocks you down onto your ass and leaves your hand stinging. >”What was that?” >Nice one, Celestia. >You grab a heavy looking chunk of marble step and throw it with all your enhanced might. >The stone collides with the door and shatters into pieces, falling lamely onto the floor. >The door, however, in all its unglory, is not harmed. >”Is it enchanted?” “No,” you say, rubbing your beard. “It’s just a barrier.” >”How strong?” ”Iron class.” >”Oh man.” >Your blood did work to shortcircuit the barrier back in your room, but that was only bronze class. >An iron class barrier cast by Celestia herself likely would be able to withstand the magical poison that is your blood. >You could always try to overload the spell. >It wouldn’t take too long, but the powersurge would probably snap her awake if she’s sleeping. >If you could break it, you would probably be fine. >That is, unless she’s awake. >Let’s take a chance. >You hold your hands out and channel some magic through them, grasping at the barrier. >Your ethereal tendrils dig into the forcefield and tug at it. >Sweat begins to bead on your forehead as you pour more magic into the spell and make no more headway than earlier. >”Hey, what if we tried some spell amplification? I read about it once. It should be able to strengthen your spell enough to fight hers.” “No, bad idea,” you grunt. “I am the spell, remember? I don’t want to think about what any amplified magic will do to my body.” >”Right. What was I thinking?” >Growling, you lean on the gas and really dig into the barrier. >Your power penetrates her defenses. Finally with some footing, you strain and move your arms apart. >The process isn’t visible, but with your body tuned into the magic in the air, you can mostly feel what’s going on. >Her barrier begins to break, splitting down the middle as you rip it apart. “Come on, you piece of shit. Break.” >Your arms quiver as the stress begins to undo the inner stitching that your weaving spells have done. >Before the completely give out, you manage to pry the barrier apart, dispelling it completely. >Your arms fall limply to your sides, burning in pain as your body begins the healing process again. >Within a few seconds, they’re back in functioning order though, and you head for the door again. >Hesitantly, you reach out. >Nothing forces your hand away. >When you touch the doorknob, it doesn’t shock you or turn into spikes. >Everything seems to be alright here. >”Well? What are you waiting for?” “I don’t know.” >What if your soul isn’t there? >What if the door was just a prank and Celestia is about to come barging into the throne room? >What if it is there? >Everything you do from here on out is absolute. >Before, you would have been able to turn back. >You could have talked it over with Greymane, repaired the stairs, and gone back to your room. >Once you open this door though, there’s only the future. >Well, whatever that means, you’re ready. >You have to be. >Turning the knob, you pull the flimsy wooden door open, revealing a little closet-sized room. >On a pedestal that seems to be made of some ancient, otherworldly stone, sits a small picture of a boy and his father. >Your heart skips a beat as your eyes land on that. >It’s here. It’s really here. >Your hands find their way to the picture, and you hold it up to your face. >It looks worse for wear, but you can still make every detail out. >The sun in the background, every leaf on every tree, the scales of the fish, and the smile on your father’s face, are all just as clear to you now as the day it happened. >Soon you realize you’re shaking and lower the photo. >”Anon?” >You sniff and turn, facing your friend. >”Are you ok?” “Yeah. Let’s go.” >As the two of you maneuver through the dark halls, you try to inform the stallion that you really don’t need help past this point. >The guy just won’t leave you though. >He’s got it in his head that if he leaves you alone, you might just get yourself caught and throw him under the bus. >It does sting that he has that little faith in you, but at the same time, he is helping you commit high treason so you have to give him some leeway here. >Soon enough, you come to the same exit that Blondie had taken you to earlier in the day. >”Shall we?” “If you’re so set on it, sure.” >He presses his hoof against the doors and push them apart, opening the outside world to you once more. >The Canterlot gardens look so different in the moonlight. >Each blade of grass sparkles in its rays except for under the trees where the ground is matte. >Taking a step, you let the grass fill in between your toes. >Your toes wiggle on their own, playing with the vegetation. >You’ve been here before, but not as a free man. No, not as a free man. >It’s funny, but as you inhale all this familiar air into your lungs, it fills you with a starkly different feeling. >Right then, there’s a fluttering of wings. >Several feathers whiter than the purest snow fall before you, glistening in the night as if it were broad daylight. >Your eyes follow their descent to the ground. >They land gently and settle in the grass without moving one single blade. >Looking up again, you see the producer of them all. >”Anonymous.” “Celestia.” >”Oh no.” >She stands as tall as you and twice as proud despite the look in her eyes. >If you were less of a man, you’d be down on your knees right now begging for forgiveness. >Her face is stern and not visibly angry, but her eyes are intense, steely, as if she were trying to stare a hole right through your being. >Her gaze shifts for a brief few moments down to your hands. >Unintentionally--defensively--you ball them into fists. >For the first time, the aura surrounding the princess is not regal, nor is it prideful or hopeful. >It is something deadly--something that, if you stepped near, would kill you in an instant. “How did you know?” >”I felt my spell being broken. When I exited my room, Thunder Chaser caught me and alerted me to your plans. I came as fast as I could.” >How could Big Daddy have possibly known what you were up to? >Was he following you the whole time? >No, that can’t be. He’d have tried to stop you if he saw you walking around without your bracelets. >”I am very disappointed in you,” speaks the princess, recapturing your focus. “Now, I know what this looks like, but hear me out.” >”You were actually starting to give me hope. I thought you might have been changing. I see now that I was incorrect on that matter. And to think, not only do you spit in my face and the faces of everyone who worked to help you, but you do it with my own sister’s lover.” >Greymane takes a step back, keeping space behind you. >”I suppose it’s time to dust off the gallows for the both of you.” “No!” >She lowers her head at your voice. >You freeze up and begin rethinking what you were about to say. >Jeez, what’s wrong with you? >It’s Celestia. You’ve been ready to fight her for ages. >How many nights did you lie awake fantasizing about grinding her face into the concrete? “No,” you say softer. “Just me. He has no part in this.” >”Anon, what are you doing?” whispers the stallion. “I brainwashed him. It’s a simple spell. He fought me, but I was too strong for him.” >”Nice try, but there are no runes on you for mind altering spells.” >Damn it. “Celestia, please. I haven’t hurt anybody.” >Well, you know, kind of. There were those few murders but if you tell her that, you’re done for. “I just want to--” >”Enough of your words. You weaseled your way into Twilight’s mind with words and tricked her into keeping you alive. I won’t be made the same fool.” “Please, listen to me!” >”I have listened for far too long. I was wrong before, Anonymous. You don’t have two weeks. You don’t even have two hours.” >Her horn lowers, pointing directly at your chest. >”This is your final night.” >Suddenly she’s off the ground, speeding for you. “Greymane, move!” >In a burst of telekinetic power, you shove the both of you out of Celestia’s path. >She enters the castle and digs her hooves into the tile, screeching to a halt. >In the second it takes her to turn around, you’ve raised several dirt walls between you and her, each harder than the last. >She literally burns through them with balls of fire that scorch your skin as they narrowly miss you. >Your fingers take control of the trees. >Willing them to sprout from the ground, several roots tear out of the soil and coil around Celestia’s legs. >All it seems to do is annoy her. >The roots, once damp, begin to steam and soon burst into flame, shriveling away from her still pristine hair. >From her horn comes a white hot ball of energy that threatens to eat through your core. >You leap back and fall, slamming your back into soil that suddenly swallows you up, hiding you up, taking you deep into itself. >By manipulating the density of particles around you, you’re able to grab certain sections of the Earth and pull yourself along as if you were swimming underground. >Have to get out of here. >You have to get away. >Yeah, get away and leave Greymane. >Damn it all. >Grunting, you turn around and pull yourself back up onto the surface. >Craning your neck, you quickly look for wherever Celestia might be. >Instead of her, you find Greymane standing just a foot away from you. >”Dude, do something,” he pleas. “Working on it.” >”Evidently not hard enough.” >She’s not going to listen to reason. >Even if she were willing to once upon a time, with how she is right now, there’s not a snowball’s chance in Hell. >If you could incapacitate her, that would give you enough time to escape. >Greymane would just have to learn to cope with being a fugitive. >The Griffon Kingdoms would probably welcome him. They love pony war criminals. >Ah shit, he’s not a war criminal. Nix that idea. >Wait, there she is! >Celestia is high up in the sky, about fifty feet away, right in front of the alarm bell. >Her horn glows intensely, almost blindingly, and releases a huge ball of fiery magic the likes of which you’ve never seen. >Its red hot center crackles with power as it charges for you. >Faster than you thought it could, your arm raises. >Both her and the missile are wrapped in a graviton field that sends them both plummeting straight into the Earth. >The flaming magic missile explodes into the dirt, covering both you and Greymane in gunk and worm guts, but leaving you otherwise unharmed. >Celestia lands on her hooves and grunts, taking small steps toward you. >You lean on the gas and really pour on the magic, increasing the force of gravity several times over around her. >She does eventually fall onto her knees, and then her stomach, but refuses to let her head touch the ground. >Sweat beads on your forehead as the spell drags on. >Even with all the magic you’ve accumulated, you can’t keep this up. >Unless your absorption kicks into higher gear, you’ll be totally out soon enough. >All you’re doing right now is wasting your energy. >You have to think of something. >Come on, Anon. She has to have a weakness. >There’s no way you’re so weak you can’t find it, not with everything you have at your disposal. >On that note, you still have one thing at your disposal that you really shouldn’t in the fight you’re about to have. >You hold out your fist to Greymane and uncurl your fingers, revealing your picture. “Take this. I don’t want it on me in the fight.” >All too quickly, it disappears from your grip. >Gee, he sure was excited. “Now go.” >Alright, Anon. It’s time to drop the spell. >You said it’s time to drop the spell. >Drop it. >Come on, shut off. >In an attempt to look at your clearly malfunctioning hand, you notice that you can’t move your arm. >In fact, you can’t move any part of you. >”Oh wow, I can’t believe it. It finally happened, didn’t it? I mean, I knew it would, but still!” “Greymane, what the fuck are you on about?” >And furthermore, what the fuck is up with this spell? >It’s seriously starting to drain you. >Greymane saunters into view and, with the smuggest grin you’ve ever seen, looks you in the eyes. >”What’s the matter, Anon? Can’t move?” >He sighs and rolls his eyes, twirling the picture around in the air. >”Sadly, that’s about all I can do. Your soul has been connected to your body for so long that I can’t sever the bond as easily as other golems.” “Sever the bond?” >What the hell? >”You can’t be serious,” seethes Celestia. >The condescension on his face evaporates, leaving a fury you’d never seen in him. >He marches over to Celestia and raises his hoof. >Without a moment of hesitation, he strikes her across the face, throwing off her tiara. >It leaves your graviton field and rolls lamely onto the grass. >”Oh, I am quite serious, you fucking cunt. I’ve put a lot of time into this, so why don’t you shut your pretty little mouth and let me have my moment?” >She glares at him with a smoldering hatred and spits, although the glob of saliva doesn’t make it far as it too crashes into the Earth a mere centimeter away from her mouth. >”I knew my sister picked the wrong stallion.” >”Oh jeez, don’t even get me started on your sister! I thought I had it bad trying to nudge Anon in all the right directions. Being her boyfriend is practically a full fucking job!” >He turns around, waving his hooves flippantly. >”She’s got the attention span of a flea. I had to keep blanking her memories just to keep her interested in me!” >”You what?” >”Oops, did I say blank her memories? I meant scramble her brains with a soup ladle.” “Greymane, what’s going on? What the fuck are you talking about?” >His eyes meet yours. >They’re the same as they always were, yet so much different to you now. >Inside their blackness was something that never sat quite right with you, and now, with everything going on so suddenly, it’s never had a more profound effect. >”What’s going on is that I win. Chaser, let it rip!” >The following instant, a loud chiming rings throughout the air. >The alarm! >Wait, Big Daddy is here? >You turn your eyes up and spot the hulking stallion descending, landing unceremoniously on the grass. >”Good boy, my little loyalist.” >Your arm begins to shake, not just from tiredness of the ongoing spell, but from anger. >Big Daddy...Chaser was in on this the whole time, whatever this is. >”Thank you, master.” “What, are you two butt buddies?” >”No,” answers Greymane, “Although I’m sure he’d love it. He was the best student in the village, after all.” >”The village on the other side of the mountain,” speaks Celestia. >”That’s right.” >”I never heard of it before. Why?” >”Well, we like to stay hidden. After all, there’s not a lot of people in Equestria that would tolerate the presence of Blackmane loyalists.” >A shiver runs through your immobilized body. >”So that’s what you are? A crazed loyalist?” >”No, he’s a crazed loyalist,” says Greymane, slapping Chaser. “I’m nothing of the sort. What, you don’t recognize me, Celestia? Is the name seriously not enough?” >”That’s impossible. I ended that bloodline.” >”Weakened, not ended! Your final spell crippled my ancestor, but it didn’t kill him. No, he survived and he bred just like all those before him. Only difference was our magic wasn’t so strong anymore.” >It all comes back to magic, doesn’t it? >God, you were so stupid getting yourself wrapped up in it all. >More than that, you were stupid for ever trusting this fucking worm. >You try again to move, imagining your hand around his neck, choking the life out of him. >It works to an extent, but not very well. >You’ve budged a few inches before you give up. >”My father, his father, and his before him, all spent the best years of their lives trying to reclaim the power you stole from us. When it didn’t work out for them, they beat their goals into their spawn. I learned from their mistakes though. I was the first one to realize that the magic of the Blackmanes would never return. I was the first one to realize that we could never beat you.” >Greymane looks you over and grins. >”So I searched the land looking for any monster that could. Soul sealing is very useful, you know. If done right, the connection between a soul and a golem can be severed and the original caster can take control. I set my monsters out on the world in search of one powerful enough to kill you. Imagine my shock when one day, I find a worthless, magicless little runt with the steel to slay a manticore.” >It’s slipping. >The more he talks, the less he focuses on whatever spell is keeping you locked in place. >Keep monologuing, you shitstain. >”And then to meet him in person. What a treat! When I saw how bitter and angry he was, I knew I’d found the beast that would be your undoing. It wasn’t terribly easy, but a few well timed monster attacks shattered his pride enough to drive him into the corner I needed.” >God damn him. God damn him to Hell. “I trusted you,” you growl. >”You did, and that was perfect. Thank you for playing along. Now, I knew you wouldn’t play well enough to bring you to the castle, so of course the royal guard needed to come by and drag you away somewhere I could inch you and Celestia closer together.” >Slowly, achingly, you begin to reposition yourself. >Greymane, now walking in circles, continues his speech. >He’s moving around too much. >You can’t aim your hand at him at this rate. >He needs to stand fucking still. >If you’re able to move like this, you should be able to fire off at least one magic missile. >Even a weak one would do as long as it takes his focus off the spell. >Once you’re free, you’re going to rip his fucking head off. >No, better yet, strangle him with his own entrails. >Or maybe gouge his eyes out with his horn. >”And just when I was getting worried that you were being reformed, you go and kill all those guards! Harsh!” >”He what?” asks Celestia. >Oh god damn it. >”Yep, I saw the whole thing through one of their eyes. He fucking torched the place. What a guy, eh?” “Shut up.” >”Hey, I’ve earned this little monologue after putting up with Luna’s shit for weeks. Now that’s a high maintenance mare. She’s even tougher to deal with than Anon over here! Well, was. I guess that final wipe was too much for her. Now she just kind of drools.” >He smirks at Celestia. >”I should probably do the right thing and put the poor animal down. You know, after I give her a good shag. Oh, or maybe I’ll give some real meaning to ‘fuck her brains out’. How’s that sound?” >”You’re a monster.” >”No, he’s the monster. Or at least he will be. It’ll be another minute until the gardens are swarmed with guards. I’d like you to see what he’s about to do to them. When all your precious ponies are dead, I’ll have the runic monster take your life too.” >He chuckles, bringing the picture close to his chest. >”You know what’s funny? I don’t even care about ruling the world like my father did. I’m just happy seeing you die.” >”You’re a fool if you think you’re going to win, Greymane.” >”My name,” he corrects her sternly “Is Blackmane.” >Just a little further. >The pony is in your line of fire now. >You just need to fire the missile and you’ll have your opening. >”Now, I did say that I couldn’t sever the connection between your soul and your body, but I don’t need to do that. All I have to do is amplify a few of your runes until the magical overload fries your little brain and lets me slip right in.” >Now! While he-- >Control over your limbs returns to you, but that’s completely useless. >You bend over and grip your head, screaming. >Your fingers dig into your scalp, raking across the flesh and making you bleed. >That pain is nothing. >Your night of spell binding in the castle was nothing. >It was the same as a slight itch compared to this. >It’s ten, no, ten thousand times worse than any spell binding you’ve ever performed. >Every inch of your body is alive in agony as if your blood was boiling through each pore. >You stumble forward, almost losing your balance as your wail continues, interrupted only by short lived breaths. >You know exactly which runes are at work here. >You can feel them in particular sucking in magic, forcing the spells into overdrive. >Your vision becomes hazy, but even so you can still make out the magical threads of the world threading themselves into you as the detection spell activates. >Celestia looks much like yourself, what with being completely covered in them. >Chaser resembles an average unicorn from Ponyville. >It’s Greymane who consumes your attention for the short while you’re able to focus on anything else. >There are all of two strings entering his horn. Two small, pitch black strings darker than the deepest reaches of space and more hopeless than how you feel right now. >The burning in your mind finally becomes too powerful to think of anything else than the pain. >Your knees give out and you collapse onto the ground, screeching as like a bludgeoned fawn. >All thoughts are pushed into the back of your mind. >All memories begin to fade away into nothingness. >You watch as your old school desk vanishes into the void. >Every grade you received ceases to exist. >The curves of your mother’s face blur into nothingness. >Your father’s voice no longer soothes your ears. >Your first car, your first love, your first job, and everything else goes up in flames. >You crumble, rolling around in the dirt as the magic inside you tears apart your body and your mind. >The corrosion, sped up exponentially, becomes too much for you to handle. >The pain overloads your mind and in another second it all goes blank. >You watch in horror as the human just fifty feet away screams his lungs out. >With all the power in the world, you, Princess Celestia, can’t lift a hoof to stop it. >Anonymous’ gravity spell is too powerful to fight physically. >Even magically it is too mighty given what it did to your magic missile. >Your burning anger melts away when his shouting stops. >The bloodcurdling howls cease, replaced by an eerie silence. >He lays there for a few moments, just breathing. >Greyma--Blackmane begins to laugh. >At first it’s low, but then comes unhinged and spirals into something wicked as Anonymous begins to move. >”That’s right, my beloved! Rise!” >Without any fuss, the human pushes himself up to his feet. >His head, hanging, slowly lifts up and reveals his eyes. >The once vibrant, energetic gaze he held is gone. >Despair fills you as that dead glare pierces through you, accentuating every failure you’ve made in the last few weeks. >Right on cue, just as Blackmane said, the gardens are swarmed. >Every guard you can think of arrives on the scene, armored and armed, ready to fight. >To know so perfectly the response time of the guards, he must have spent many long nights prying into Luna’s mind. >Curse you, Celestia. >All the signs were there and you couldn’t see them. >”Now, my perfect tool, show them what you were made to do. Kill them all.” >The human’s fingers crack as they curl into fists. >His lifeless, glazed over eyes take in the full view of the guards and he raises a hand. >A broiling field of purple energy surrounds his fist. >When he opens it, a wall of air expands out with great speed. >It would have knocked you back if you weren’t secured to the ground by this gravity field. >The other ponies aren’t that lucky. >Those nearest to you are thrown off their feet and slam into the wall of the castle, cracking both the stone and their skulls open. >”Cinnamon Swirl!” >”You monster!” >”Charge!” “No, my little ponies,” you shout. “Run away!” >They either don’t hear you or they ignore you, although it’s probably a mix of both. >The night sky is suddenly bright with color. >White and gold mottle the dark background as dozens of guards gun straight for him. >Anonymous is unphased by it. >From his still extended fingers come a flurry of magic missiles. >One after the other, from one fingertip to the next, hot balls of magic burst forth and roar through the air. >Several make their mark, burning holes into the chests of their targets. >Your ponies drop like flies as the rest of the group catches the hint to dodge. >The missiles, an endless stream, give your ponies no rest. >Their wings flap furiously, dropping feathers every which place as they bob and weave in the sky, trying desperately not to become a roast. >Right then, one lucky stallion lands a solid punch on the human’s jaw. >For a second, you can feel your prison’s strength waver, but it returns just as fast as it went. >You can see it from here. >Blood pours from Anon’s mouth. >In the stream are one or two teeth that drop into the dirt with little clicks. >”Got you!” >Anon’s dead eyes pan to the unicorn. >He is unblinking, unfeeling. >In a quick move, he grabs the unicorn’s neck and drags him close. >Your guard’s smile fade as Anon’s cheeks swell. >The human spits, spraying his blood all over the guard’s face. >The pony begins to scream as the flesh on his face sizzles and melts off, revealing bone. >”Let him go!” >As another pony comes up on the right, Anon jerks and throws his victim into the attacker, sending them both flying. >Their armor collides and bends into each other, almost merging the two as they roll away. >Undeterred, Anon approaches the mass of ponies and bends over, picking up the ball by one’s tail. >His closed hand glows and arcs of electricity travel from it straight down the tail he’s holding. >The ponies squeal as lightning rips through them, but all too soon their voices stop as their eyes whiten and a foam begins to drizzle from their mouths. >While he’s distracted with that, a small mare with crimson hair takes the opportunity to do what nobody else has had the forethought to try. >She sneaks up behind him and, without making a single sound, plunges her lengthy spear into his back. >Anon drops the shocked guards and stumbles, gripping the head of the spear jutting out of his stomach. >”That was for Bob.” >With it tight in grip, he pulls it right out, the whole dissolving rod of wood, and turns to face her. >The mare’s eyes widen, as well as yours, when she sees the hole in his gut begin to close itself and seal using his own blood as makeshift stitches. “Magpie, watch out!” >It’s too late. >Before she can even step away, he raises his palm and fires off a massive magic missile--the largest you’ve ever had the misfortune of seeing. >It scorches the Earth, heating the ground even near you. >Dirt and grime fly into the air, shrouding the human from view. >”Now’s our chance!” “No, run! Go away,” you shout, tears streaming down your face. >”We’ll save you, princess!” “Don’t worry about me, just go!” >”Cyclone formation! A-Squad, in!” >Twenty three ponies run into the cloud. >You can’t see anything, and you certainly can’t hear anything over all the grunting and yelling. >Several times, you feel his spell’s hold on you waver. >Your hopes are torn. >While you do want your ponies to get away safely, you also want to be free of this prison. >The longer they’re in there, the more excited you get that they’ll pull it off. >Then that nagging voice comes back telling you what you already know. >They won’t. “Please, flee!” >”That won’t work, Celestia. Anon, stop playing around!” >You can feel it in the air. >A magical power begins to build up all in one spot. >Instinctively, you brace yourself for whatever may come. >Instead of armageddon though, the feeling disappears and your gravity prison completely drops. >In an instant, your wings are fully expanded and you take to the sky, looking to get a better vantage point. >As you soar into the air, that feeling of buildup returns, >Suddenly, the cloud is gone, done away with by a rapidly expanding wall of bubbling purple energy. >The solid magic slams into you, pushing you along with what’s left of the squad away. >”Anon, stop!” >Pressed up against the magical field, you see Blackmane through the purple haze being pressed up against the castle walls. >At his words, the field dissipates. >From your vantage point in the sky, you take in the full view of the gardens. >It looks like a ten year war was waged already. >His little wall trick has completely ripped the ground to shreds, uprooted every tree, knocked over structures, and littered the area with bodies. >Electricity hangs around him, crackling, bolting through his body and into the earth. >”You’re supposed to be killing them, not your master, you dumb piece of shit! Get back to work!” >Anon goes back to tracking down ponies. >He happens across a broken, moaning little unicorn and grabs their horn, lifting them off the ground. “No,” you call and fire a small fire charge at him. >The ball of flame blazes through the night sky and collides with him. >It explodes, covering him in flames that lick his flesh. >The human looks up at you, seemingly unaffected by this. >As if to taunt you, he hugs the pony close to his chest, letting the fire spread. >The guard wails in agony as your own fire transfers over, finding a new food source. >You pull your wings in and begin to drop, aiming for the two of them. >Anon charges some kind of attack, but you’re moving too fast for him to follow through. >Your body slams into him, sending him flying a dozen yards away. >The dirt around you is soft, so you roll the crying pony around in it, putting out the flames that cover them. >Their scarred frame shivers and shakes as blood pours out of their blistered flesh. >They turn their eyes up to you and, for just a second, you see a glimmer of hope in them. >”Princ--” >And then they explode. >Your shout and leap back, slipping on a patch of blood-mud. >Scooting away, your eyes dart to where you had left Anonymous. >He stands, hand smoking as if he had just fired off a blast. >In the patches of missing skin and puffy burns, his body tries desperately to weave his wounds closed. >”And he just keeps going! Wow, I knew he’d be a fun toy, but I didn’t think I’d get this much out of him. What a guy!” >You stare, wide eyed as he takes a step forward. >Suddenly, his knee gives out. >It’s not that it just fails, but it fails in the most devastating of ways. >His femur just seems to slip out of his leg, shooting out with a squelch as he topples onto the ground. >He lays there for a second, unmoving, exciting you a bit. >As he twitches, Blackmane begins laughing again. >In long, strained movements, the human picks himself up and stands straight as if nothing had even happened to him. >You notice his left hand is glowing, matching an aura surrounding the injured knee. >The bone is nowhere to be seen. Not at first, anyway. >As he comes closer, you spot that hole in his leg and a spot of bone behind it. >He can’t actually be holding it in himself, can he? >His blood wraps around the bones, anchoring them to his muscles. >You can hear the scraping and clicking as everything moves back into place. >When the impromptu bandage is no longer needed, he lets the telekinetic field drop. >The human is now all of twenty feet away from you. >Looking at him this closely, you’re quite amazed that he’s able to even walk at this point. >If it weren’t for that one spell holding him together, he could fall apart. >His entire body looks to be held together by threads, and from each open wound, some green slime seems to spill out. >Oh, Anonymous, what have you done? >”Now’s your chance, my beast,” calls out Blackmane. “Kill her!” >Kill you? But he was saving you for last. >Your heart sinks down into your stomach as you search the gardens. >Oh. >You really are last. >A rage wells up inside you more powerful than any you’ve felt before. >Without even thinking, you scramble to your hooves and charge. >The distance between you closes quickly, and with just a yard between you two, you fire a magic missile. >He steps to the side, dodging the heated magic blast and grabs you by the horn. >The blood soaking his hand burns as it starts to eat away at your appendage, but luckily he doesn’t hold onto you for long. >Instead, he twists his mangled form and throws you away. >While in the air, you open your wings and take off. >It becomes obvious to you that stopping Anonymous is off the table. >The only option you have is killing Blackmane. >If he’s the operation center for Anon, then taking him out should do the job. >You also make a note not to use a flashy spell this time. >When Blackmane dies, it will be with his heart on your horn. >Speaking of horn, yours and the newly minted bare spots on it seem to be leaking magic. >There’s a thin trail of golden light streaking behind you. >That’s a problem for later. >Right now, you need sights on Blackmane. >You spot him below, hugging a wall for cover with Chaser standing beside him. >Before you can make a move, a magic missile whizzes by your face. >You turn your attention to Anon who, with both hands and all ten fingers outstretched, fires another barrage of spells at you. >There are few spaces in the air you can go where there isn’t a chunk of magic waiting to put a hole in you. >You circle around, trying to get behind him, but from where he is all he has to do is slowly turn his body in accordance with your movement. >It’s then that you realize that the number of magic missiles you have to avoid don’t match what he’s firing. >One might think that when one flies past you, it’s no longer a threat. One would be wrong in that case. >These new types of balls are following you, staying hot on your tail. >Every second that passes, dozens more join the group. >Almost your whole field of vision is engulfed by the missiles as you try to avoid every one of them. >You’re not entirely sure how much time passes with you like that, but it’s obviously long enough to annoy Anonymous on some level. >Something else enters your little field. >In the small gaps between the magic missiles, you see the alarm bell flying toward you. >Of course, as it enters the fray, it becomes obvious that it’s not just the alarm bell, but the entire bell tower that had been ripped off of the top of the wall. >The telekinetic field moving it drops as it gets to where it needs to be. >The huge stone behemoth smashes into you, putting you right in the path of all the missiles you had been dodging. >You must black out for a second because the next thing you’re able to register is being on the ground again. >Your whole body aches, and a quick overview of it shows that patches of your hair have been scorched off and the skin underneath bleeds profusely. >All around you are blocks of brick, and just a few feet away is the one ton brass bell itself. >You groan, trying to stand up, but it’s useless. >”How the mighty have fallen, Celestia,” gloats the grey unicorn as his monster hobbles near you. >Your horn lights in pain as you channel magic into it, but you have to try something. >All you can manage are several small beams of energy that the human doesn’t even bother trying to dodge. >One meets his left shoulder, almost blowing the arm off his body. >With his right hand, he grabs the arm and lifts it, pressing the two wounds together until his blood can stitch the appendage back on. >Before you can fire again, Anon grabs you by your dirtied golden necklace and pulls you up, then slams your back against a hefty chunk of white stone. >He leans down and holds up his hand, aiming the pointed fingertips at your neck. >That’s when you get a good look at his eyes. >From a distance, they looked to be utterly blank as if they belonged to a corpse. >Up close, you can see that was wrong. >As his eyes peer into yours, you see quite a bit of emotion, and yet none at all. >Tears spill from his hopeless, beaten gaze. >To anyone else, it would look as if he had no soul, but to someone who has peered into the depths of the blackness this world has to offer, you understand. >His bloodied fingers slowly approach your throat. >One drop of the red gunk drips off and touches you, searing your skin. >Inch by inch, his drenched hand makes its way to your filthy neck. >You press your hooves against his chest and push with all your might, but being hit with several tons of stone and metal really took the fight out of you. >”Anon, stop,” comes a voice much unlike Blackmane’s or Chasers. >”Don’t do it!” >Wait, you know both of those voices. >He doesn’t stop though. >His fingertips brush against your skin and begin to eat their way through, but something knocks him away before he can do anything truly hurtful. >You rub your throat, getting off the small amount of his blood that was there. >At your side appear two mares--two ponies who you don’t want within a million miles of this. >”Celestia, are you ok?” >Twilight wraps her hooves around you, pulling you into a hug. “Twilight? No, go. You two must leave this place now.” >Past her is a tiny, starch white unicorn clad in the most beautifully crafted golden armor issued to every royal guard. >”Anon, no,” she whispers. >”Would you look at that? Two more toys for you to play with. You’re a lucky boy tonight, aren’t you, Anon?” >Blackmane’s laughter bites your ears as he drones on. >Innominate snaps her head to the right, glaring at him past you. >”What did you do to him?” >”Me? He did this to himself. I’m not the one who painted his body with black magic.” “The two of you need to leave,” you groan, trying to lift yourself up. >Twilight lets go of you, putting a hoof gently on your chest. >She pushes you back onto the rock you’d been forced against. >”Celestia, you’re hurt. Let us take care of this.” “You once said that if I made the decision, it was the right one. Consider this my decision. You must leave now. He’s far too powerful for you.” >Right on cue, the human, thirty yards away from where Twilight’s spell had struck him, begins to shuffle in the dirt. >You can barely make it out from the distance, but it almost looks like patches of his skin are burning away, leaking magic in the same way as your horn. >His arms shake as he pushes his chest up off the ground, and that’s when the right elbow completely detaches. >He falls flat, his forearm no longer able to support him. >The severed limb’s main wound spills more of that green muck from earlier, but you can’t examine it for long as, once he’s propped up on his knees, he picks the arm up off the ground and presses the wounds together. >Sanguine fluid drips down from his bicep and gets to work on tying the limbs together. >After a few seconds, he gives his repaired--and you use that term very loosely--arm a cautionary shake. >All seems well, more or less, and he once again goes to stand. >Anon hobbles toward your little group, dragging his mangled leg behind him until the river of crimson and emerald wraps around it and snaps everything back into place. >The next step he takes is strong and unhindered. >Innominate retreats an inch, her white face turning grey at the sight before her. >”Anon, did they do to you?” “Blackmane amplified the power of his spells until the magic fired his brain. He’s nothing more than a puppet right now, operating under the order to kill.” >”Blackmane is back? I thought you killed him.” “So did I,” you sigh. >Twilight looks around, taking in the full view of the graveyard before her. >She cringes and, when her eyes land on Blackmane and Chaser, they almost pop out of her head. >”You’re kidding me.” >”Hi there, Twilight! Fancy meeting you here.” >”Greymane, why? Anon was your friend. If you keep forcing more magic into his body, he’s going to die.” >”Oh, that’s quite alright,” chuckles the stallion in response. “He doesn’t have to last too much longer; I only really need him for one more thing.” >By now, Anon has almost completely closed the distance between you all. >The ground begins to quake as he draws nearer, rumbling the debris of the bell tower all around you. >Twilight and Innominate struggle to keep footing on the uneasy Earth. >Anonymous raises his left hand toward the castle wall and makes a fist. >Suddenly the sky is alive with color. >A lavender hue chokes out the blackness above. >You all look in the direction of the new light source, including Blackmane, and shout when the wall of the castle, covered in the aura, rumbles. >Anon makes a sound for the first time since his assault began. >He grunts, his fist shaking as he struggles to pull it across his body. >Then he jerks his whole body, stumbling and almost falling, but makes the necessary movement. >It’s not just a portion of the wall, nor is it that which covers the garden area. >The entire thing--the whole south face of the castle--booms as it is ripped off its structural supports. >Pieces of stone and wood fly from the scene as the top of the wall curves, its weight pulling it down towards you. >Anon returns back to full height, keeping his head low, and exhales. >A small barrier blinks into existence, sparkling with corrupt energy, protecting him from the incoming wall. >”Impossible,” whispers Innominate. >”How could anyone have that much power?” asks Twilight as horn sparks to life. >”Anon, you dumb shit! You’re supposed to kill them, not me too!” >Almost dismissively, the human waves his hand. A barrier much like the one surrounding him covers Blackmane, though oddly enough not Chaser who begins to bang on the shield, begging for entry. >A heavy shadow quickly covers you, the gardens, and stretches out over Equestria. >Dust from the wall falls down, dirtying your coat further. >”Everyone, brace yourselves,” shouts the purple pony beside you. >As the tension and weight becomes too much for the materials, the wall cracks in the middle and splits. >Twilight’s horn erupts. >Your face is heated by her magic as she forms a barrier cushion on the lower half of the wall. >When the hundred tons of stone collide with her field, her whole body nearly collapses. >”I could use some help here,” she grunts, the spell flickering to failure. >Innominate chips in with you, both doing what you can to amplify the power of Twilight’s spell. >Once you’re connected to her, you too can feel the full brunt of the impact. >The three of you combined can’t even slow it down. >However, what you do manage to do is change the form of the barrier. >As if you were all sharing a mind, you pull the edges of the barrier in while extending the top, forcing it into a wedge that splits the wall in half. >While the top section from earlier crumbles into pieces and slams harmlessly onto the ground, the two new portions of the lower half slide down the barrier, each falling off the edge of the gardens and descending into the Everfree. >The mountain shakes as tons of stone crash into it on either side, but it does not give, nor does the rest of the castle thankfully. >You pant, having spent the last of the energy your body can offer, and fall face first into the dirt. >Twilight and Innominate also seem fairly drained but do manage to stay on their hooves. >”What a crock of bull. Come on, Anon! I didn’t cultivate you just to dick around! Get serious and slaughter these animals!” >”Anon, don’t listen to him,” cries the guard. >”Any part of Anon that could understand you is dead, bitch. All that’s left is a mindless tool--a monster to do my bidding. Now, don’t make me repeat myself, Anon. I want their heads!” >On command, Anon drops his forcefield and aims a fingertip at you. >”You shut up,” shouts Innominate, charging for Blackmane while Twilight comes to your aid. >He blocks the beam of energy emitted from Anon’s finger and sends it flying off into the night. >”Chaser, kill the girl. I don’t want Anon distracted.” >”With pleasure, master,” growls the traitor. >Innominate leaps into the air higher than you thought her slender legs could help her. >Her horn glows beautifully, and then intensely. >It’s soon a blinding source of light that forces anyone near it--by that you mean Chaser and company--to shut their eyes. >When she next lands, it’s directly in front of the traitor. >She cocks her hoof and fires, slamming it into Chaser’s jaw and knocking him away. >The stallion falls over and spreads out onto the ground, unconscious and missing a few teeth. >”Huh. Hey, Anon, I uh, I have a problem here.” >The human extends his hand toward Innominate. >The skin on his palm peels away, floating into the air and turning to dust on the wind as a sickening field of magic surrounds what’s left of his hand. >”Eyes on me, Anon,” orders Twilight and fires a magic missile for him. >The human, with his free limb, raises a barrier of stone between him and the attack. >Twilight snarls and opens her wings, taking to the sky and firing again. >The princess circles around him, firing blast after blast of magic at the human. >”Don’t make me do this, Anon! Fight him,” she pleas. >Anon, using all varieties of spells, blocks each incoming attack. >First it’s a gust of wind powerful enough to change the course of the missile. >After that, it’s a barrier field formed halfway between the two. >Next he pulls some roots still buried deep within the ground and sends them up to take the hit. >Still, he keeps one attack, continuously charging, aimed at the guard mare. >The missile never fires though. >His arm shakes, and for a fraction of a second, you can see a break in his still face. >It lasts as long as a thought on the wind, but he displays a hint of discontent. >That’s when Twilight lands her hit. >It’s a small energy blast that blows his targeted hand clean off the wrist. >Anon stumbles back and raises his stub, examining the wound. >The man takes a second to look around for where it might have gone, and upon finding the pile of mush Twilight’s spell left behind, must decide that reattaching it isn’t worth the effort. >”Allow me to rephrase! Anon, kill the white one first!” >Blackmane squeals as he bobs and weaves, avoiding Innominate’s attacks be they spear or magic. >Anon takes his eyes off Twilight and begins a slow walk toward Innominate. >”Up here, Anon,” shouts Twilight. >She sends down another magic missile for his remaining hand. >Before it can make contact, the hard Earth beneath him cracks and shoots up, sending taking him with it. >The human, perched on a floating island of stone, hovers casually higher up into the sky. >Dark lavender power drips from the stub on his arm. >The energy, rather than wafting away on the wind, cling to him like a bad stench. >You can almost feel it. >Despite the circumstances, despite everything that’s happened tonight--everything he’s done--you would be lying if you said that even for just a moment, he didn’t seem like something godly. >In the ancient storybooks that speak of all powerful beings creating the universe with single strokes of their limbs, he would fit right in. >However, he wouldn’t be the kind and merciful deity giving life. >The aura swirling around him, turning the air into a purple haze, resembles more something from the other half of the legends: the destroyers. >Your mind tracks back to the name your sister had given him. >Back then, Anonymous the Terror seemed like a good fit. >Now? No, terror doesn’t even begin to describe what you’re feeling. >”Anon, help me now! That’s an order,” cries Blackmane. >His horn lights up as he discharges a magic bolt so pitiful even a kindergartener would be embarrassed being associated with it. >”What’s wrong, Blackie? Screwing with his mind eating up too much power?” >”I’ll gut you, bitch! Anon, make with the murder already, will you?” >The human jerks his head toward Blackmane, wrenching it and cracking it in several places. >Slowly, he pulls his attention back to Twilight, balling his fist up in preparation for an attack. >”Obey me!” >His hand begins to shake. >After a few seconds, of staring at each other, Twilight and the princess begin to separate. >His island sinks back to the ground. >Once fully nestled back into the crater from whence it came, Anon steps off the rock and takes a few steps toward the two battling ponies. >Twilight drops from the sky and lands between them all, planting her hooves firmly on the ground. >”Anon, stop this. You’re better than him. You don’t have to follow his orders.” >It’s too late for that, Twilight. >It’s far too late to save him. >Anonymous takes a step toward her and reaches his bloodied hand out, grabbing at her mane. >She pulls her head away before he can get a grip. >Her horn comes to life as a beautiful light enters the ground and forces it to shift. >She strains as the stone erupts and a flat section swings up from underneath his feet, throwing him away. >Anon lands hard on his back and coughs up a mixture of blood and that green substance still leaking from his open wounds. >He rolls over on his left and continues to hack a lung out, spraying his internal acid all over the place. >Twilight raises an eyebrow when she locks onto his discharge. >”It can’t be,” she mutters. >The human wipes his mouth with the stump, only covering his face in more blood. >He looks down at it, seeing the mess he’s made worse, and sits up to use his other hand and properly clean up. >His eyes dart from her to the ground beneath her, and then back to her again. >After he waves his hand, your student begins to disappear from sight. >Down she goes straight into the Earth as if nothing was there to support her weight. >She yelps, but her voice is muffled as her head sinks below ground level. >The human closes his fist in junction with his magic slicing through the immediate area around where she once stood. >He raises his hand, dragging a chunk of stone out of the ground much in the same way as his island from earlier. >Then, when it’s high enough in the sky that you can barely see it without having to pick up your head, he swings his fist down, slamming it into the Earth. >The boulder comes crashing down a foot or two from where it emerged. >It shatters into pieces, revealing Twilight and her battered form. >She crumples as a few larger chunks land on top of her back. >Twilight groans and rubs her head. >One of her eyes is swollen shut, and the other struggles to stay half open as blood pours into it from a nasty gash to the right of her horn. >Anonymous gets up, eliciting a moan himself. >The first few steps he takes to her seem drawn out as if he was trying to delay the inevitable. >Perhaps there is some part of him alive in there. It would have to be sick, sadistic portion of his mind that drives his cruelty. >His head jerks again, and he clenches his eyes shut. >”Anon, please,” grumbles your student. “Don’t do this. We were friends once, weren’t we?” >At those words, his gaze returns to her, and he bends down, reaching out for her. >His fingers lock around her mane. >As he returns to standing position, you can see smoke rise from Twilight’s hair. >Before his blood can singe all of it off, he twists his body and lifts her overhead, then lets go. >Twilight goes flying through the sky, screaming the whole way until she’s out of sight, far away from the mountain. >With that last sliver of hope gone, nothing can stop Anon. >He inhales deeply, and on the exhale coughs up some more of his multicolored fluids. >On his slow march, he passes right by you. >It’s then that you notice the hole in his gut from Magpie’s assault has mostly healed. >It’s covered in a thin green, sappy film that glistens in the dim light available. >The human approaches Innominate as she thrusts her spear straight at Blackmane’s chest. >He trips and falls, landing on his haunches. >His eyes widen as the hard steel tip speeds for his heart. >Before it can make contact, the spear is wrapped in a bubbling lavender field of energy. >Innominate looks behind her, spotting Anon and gasping. >The stallion laughs and scuttles away. >”Now you’ll get it, you bitch. Anon, do what you do best.” >Her spear is freed, and she instantly retreats several feet. >The guard lowers herself, keeping her spear raised and aimed at Anonymous. >”Anon, I know you’re in there. I’m trying to help you, but if you get in the way, I’ll have to hurt you first.” >Her tone makes it sound more like she’s trying to convince herself than him. >Anonymous extends his fingers. >Purple energy swirls around them and shoots out some three feet before stopping dead in its tracks. >The magic takes form, becoming a blade-like extension of his arm. >The mare gulps and takes another step back, mirroring Anon as he inches toward her. >”Please,” she breathes. “Don’t make me do this.” >”Kill her!” >And then he strikes. >He lunges, extending the full length of his magical blade. >She parries it with the spear. >His searing blade slices right through the tip, leaving nothing but the body of the weapon. >The metal glows where his magic cut through. >Again and again, he swings at her. >She stumbles back, losing bits of her spear left and right. >His onslaught leaves him open on many occasions, but Innominate takes advantage of none of them. >Instead, when she’s left with nothing at all to hold him back with, she darts away, speeding toward Blackmane. >Anon dispels the sword and grabs her tail. >Innominate shouts as she’s pulled back. >He changes grips to her shoulder and hoists her up onto her hind legs. >As the blood covering his hand begins to eat away at her shoulder, she shouts in pain. >Her wailing ends quickly though. >He reels, backhanding her. >The thunder from that blow reverberates in your bones. >Her neck twists, she rips through the sky, and then clashes with the ground. >The mare’s helmet flies right off and lands lamely in a pile of dirt as her body rolls over, ending up right in front of you. >She groans and curls up into a ball, rubbing her face gently with a hoof. >Anonymous approaches, and Innominate forces a closed eye open to see him. >You can feel the fear dripping from her gaze as she kicks the ground, retreating and pressing against you. >”Anon, please,” she whispers. >You strain and manage to lift a hoof up, putting it over her and securing her position. >”Oh, what’s the matter? One little slap knocked the fight out of you?” >Blackmane chuckles as he circles you all, eventually ending up on your left side a few yards away. >”Toughen up. It’s nothing my father never did to me.” “Your father was filth then, just like you,” you seethe. >”I know he was, and that’s your fault. Celestia, the all powerful sun goddess and ultimate good in the world? What a joke. If you’re so good, then you should have killed my family the right way and spared me my childhood.” >He smirks, raising the photo and dangles it tauntingly at you. >”Lucky you, Celestia. You have a front row seat to my class. Lesson one, of course, is how to properly slay your nemesis. You’ll have to miss lesson two.” >The aura surrounding Anonymous’ photo grows stronger, eliciting a slight grunt from him. >”Now, my monster, kill them both. Let’s see that world famous magic missile of yours.” >The human, once on your left near the castle, steps before you. >He’s just a few feet away now, and when he raises his hand to your face, suddenly it feels like he’s not but a nanometer away. >Chaser comes back to the waking world and joins his master. >When Anon’s hand begins to glow, they both fill the night with mirth. >A small ball of purple energy forms in front of his palm and slowly grows in size. >It’s a sickening thing to look at. Part of you wishes you were already dead so you wouldn’t have to be in that vile power’s presence. >Innominate tenses up in your hold. >Time slows down to a crawl. At least, that’s what it feels like. >The sands of time flow on, but he doesn’t fire the spell. >His hand begins to quiver in junction with the ball’s flickering. >You can feel the power drain from it as the once monstrous cluster of magic disperses into the air. >Looking up over his quaking arm, you see something you didn’t expect. >His eyes, damaged as they are, still hold life. >They burn with rage to match his contorted face. >Anonymous growls, gradually pulling his hand back. >He steps away, clutching his head. >”No,” he stutters. “No, I won’t kill. I won’t kill her.” >He turns away and stumbles, hunched over as his fingers dig into his skull. >”I won’t kill my friend.” >A single ray of light breaks through the heavens and shines down on him, illuminating his sweaty, bloody body. >”Well, isn’t that something? Here I thought the magic turned your brain into stir fry.” >The grey stallion sneers and waves the photo around in the air. >”I’m not sure how you healed your mind, but don’t think for a second that means you’re free. I own your soul, Anon. You’re mine, now do as I say and kill them!” >”That’s it, Anon, fight him,” calls Innominate. >The same runes Blackmane attacked before begin to glow again. >Anonymous cries in pain and collapses onto his knees, barely supporting himself with his one hand. >You can see the tears dripping from his eyes, trailing down his face and collecting on his chin. >The human’s whole body shakes as if he were a feather in a tornado. >”It was cute before, but now I’m getting real tired of waiting for you. Obey your master, beast!” >He grunts with monumental effort, forcing himself to stand. >His knees look like they could give out at any moment, just like the rest of him. >The green substance pouring out of his wounds seems to be concentrated on his head now, and especially the cranium where most of the injuries you’d seen before have healed nicely, save for the patches of skin where his own magic has burned through and leaks from. >Anonymous does obey his master and lifts his arm up, but it’s not aimed at you. >Your heart flutters as he begins to charge another attack destined for Blackmane. >The look of shock on the two stallions’ faces are almost too priceless. >”Anon, what do you think you’re doing?” >”I won’t be your tool,” he replies through clenched teeth. “I won’t kill her. Not her. I won’t die a monster.” >”You’ll die alright, but you damn well better hope it’s your body giving out before I have to teach you a lesson in obedience!” >The magic surrounding his picture crackles with power. >Anon almost drops, but he catches himself. >As the light emitting from Anonymous’ runes gets brighter and brighter, Chaser begins to step away from his master. >”You’re doing it! I knew you had it in you,” cheers the mare in your hold. >”I’m sorry, Blondie. For everything,” he says, keeping his eyes focused on Blackmane. >It seems even the stars want to join in and shine on, helping the moon in brightening up the area. >”You honestly think you can hurt me? I’m your master, Anonymous. You could never harm me. All you’re good for doing as I say. Now obey me, you shit. Be a good puppet, aim that missile at a more appropriate target, and fire.” >”I,” the human starts, “Am nobody’s puppet.” >He takes a deep breath and shouts boldly, proudly, so that the whole world can hear him. >”You want to see a magic missile so badly? Well, here!” >The ball of magic in his hand suddenly grows ten, no twenty times in size. >The heat emanating from it scorches the Earth, baking the dirt and melting the stone. >Your and Innominate’s hair singes black in some spots. >Even you, who raises the sun every day, struggle to keep your eyes open as the brilliant light of his magic makes it seem like it’s another sunny day in the gardens. >The two of you are almost blown away as he fires the house-sized missile. >Chaser runs away before it can strike him. >Blackmane, on the other hand, can only watch with wide eyes as the electric ball of lavender fury rips its way through the ground, heading right for him. >The built up power inside it almost screams as everything tries to escape the condensed chunk of energy. >The missile collides with Blackmane. >You can just barely make out the flames that lick his hair as the heated attack burns away everything in its path, including Anonymous’ photo. >The slip of paper, also caught in the blast, is torn to pieces and turns to ash in the wake of his rage. >Without another second passing by, the runes covering Anon’s body all shut down, turning black as tar. >The human falls down, sprawling out on the ground. >His magic missile, not content to stop with Blackmane, soars off into the night, shining brightly and illuminating everything beneath its sun-like glare. >In the distance, hundreds of miles away, you can still make out a wall of mountains being ripped apart by his spell when they meet. >Without that, it’s suddenly very quiet. >Anonymous lays there, unmoving. >He’s not speaking, not breathing, and his eyes, unlike before, finally look to be truly lifeless. >Your heart catches in your throat as Innominate wrestles out of your grip. >She drags herself over to him and nudges his back with her hoof. >”Anon, you did it.” >There’s no response. >”Anon? Hey, come on. You killed Blackmane. Hey, wake up.” >The spot where her hoof touched down glows dimly and seems to melt away. >Boiling magical energy escapes from the hole and starts a chain reaction. >The wound spreads out, causing everything to just dissolve away. >It eats through his lower back and legs, also making its way up to his neck. >The last part that disappears are his eyes, which gaze off into the distance, almost admiring his work with the missile. >His whole head caves in, leaving nothing but a pile of mush that bleeds magic into the world. >The ground beneath the once-human goop sizzles as the acidic sludge gets to work. >After a while, you can feel the power--his presence--fully disappear. >Now totally drained of any magic it once held, the remaining mush settles in the crater it made, no longer able to cause any more damage. >Innominate is silent. >No words escape her agape mouth. >The whole world is dead quiet. >Not a creature stirs, not even a mouse. >Of course, some things are so vile they can’t be considered living things, but embodiments of hate and disgust. >Chaser is one of these things, and he makes himself known by knocking Innominate over when her back is turned. >She falls into the crater Anonymous’ remains made, and Chaser kicks down, slamming his hoof into her horn. >Innominate cries as the bone cracks and snaps off her skull. >”There. I’ve had just about enough of magic for one night.” >With his other hoof, he raises a bronze spear and turns to you. >”My master may be dead, I live on.” >The stallion throws off his helmet and steps toward you, keeping the spear aimed at your throat. >”You’re weak enough now that I don’t need any fancy monsters to kill you.” >”She’s not the only one you have to worry about,” shouts a familiar voice. >Twilight drops from the sky. >Locked inside her telekinetic grip is a tall, beautiful axe with an expertly crafted head and a smooth wooden finish for the handle. >She lands on Chaser’s left and puts her whole body into the swing, stumbling and ending up on his right. >The sharp steel slices right through the stallion’s throat, taking out a chunk of flesh and coating her in the blood that shoots out of his neck. >He gurgles, choking on gallons of his own fluid as he falls onto his side and dies without a fight. >”Yeah, welcome to Broken Lynn,” she says, her voice laced with anger, yet still almost dismissive. >”It’s Brooklyn,” corrects Innominate, picking her head up. >Months pass by, and you find yourself attending a little ceremony in the center of Canterlot. >The sun shines brightly down on the enormous crowd of cheering ponies. >Entire streets as far as the eye can see are filled with citizens from all corners of Equestria. >In the middle of all of the happiness is a big structure covered in a mossy green cloth. >”Shall you do the honors, princess?” asks Innominate. >You smile and rub the bandaged nub on her head. >”I think you should,” you say, pushing her along. >Her eyes widen, and at your nod, her face lights up and she hops off the tall stage that you, she, and Twilight are perched on. >Traveling through the crowd, she arrives at the blanket and takes it into her mouth. >With a tug, the silky smooth fabric slides right off and reveals a marble statue, taller than any surrounding house. >Anonymous, suited up in the same way Twilight claims he first arrived, stands proudly in Canterlot square. >At his reveal, everybody cheers and throws their caps into the air. >At the bottom of the statue reads the greatest lie you’ve ever told. >What happened all those months ago is known across all of Equestria. At least, a version of it is. >The true events are now the closest guarded secret in the world. >After all, if anybody knew that Blackmane had returned and almost succeeded in killing the goddess of the sun with his own monster grown right under everyone’s noses, the land would fall into chaos. >Instead, it was a disgruntled unicorn who had been banished for one thousand years. >They returned and wreaked havoc on the castle until Anonymous, finding goodness in his heart, fought the evil within himself and used the power of friendship to smite the villain. >It’s a well beloved story now, held near and dear to the hearts of everyone in the land. >It’s become so popular that similar statues stand in most cities across Equestria. >Your false smile warms the crowd as they cheer on. >After a few closing remarks and some waving, you depart from the scene. >Extending your wings, you take to the sky and dart back home. >The castle comes into view, along with the missing wall and trashed gardens. >Everything is in repair, but that’s not what you’re here to see anyway. >You enter through the front door and make way for the kitchen. >There, you gather the necessary ingredients and get to work on a meal. >A delightful smell wafts through the stale air of the castle, and when your food is done, you toss it all on a plate and carry it out. >Once more through the maze of hallways you go, ascending the castle until reaching the second highest points: the princess chambers. >There are two sets of doors. One gold, and one navy blue. >You extend a hoof and push open the blue doors, entering quietly. >Your sister sits in bed, propped up on a few pearly white pillows. “Good afternoon, sister.” >As you sit down in the chair beside her, you lay the plate of smiley pancakes down on the dark wool blanket blanket and take out a forkful. >The princess doesn’t move as you nudge the food against her drooling mouth. >A small bit of whipped cream falls onto her shoulder, so when you’ve successfully gotten that bite into her mouth, you wipe her clean. “Please, sister, try not make a mess.” >Again, you bring some food to her mouth and move her lips so the whole thing can properly fit in. >She doesn’t even blink to break that empty gaze. >Briefly, you follow her stare to the blank wall across her bed. >Your own eyes start to burn. >Closing them, you set the fork down and lean over, resting your head on Luna. >You stay like that for a while, hoping that she might move and hug you or even tell you to get out. >It feels like hours pass before you open your eyes again and see her fur stained with tears. “Oh,” you sigh. “Now I’ve made a mess.”