Blessings and Bewilderment
If there was any man who enjoyed more to wrestle with the delicate intricacies of magic than Dagen, he had yet to meet them.
His tower was filled with scrolls, books, ornate symbols and crude carvings embellished in materials otherworldly and mundane. It was in quite a state of disarray, in all honesty, writing instruments and enchanted oddities scattered about all over the place. Lines of shelves were filled to the point of overflow with ancient tomes and his own writings alike. The only things that were free of the clutter were his wardrobe and bed, everything else had been infected by messiness.
He, like many mages before him, didn't know the first fucking thing about organisation.
But Dagen didn't care about being organised, he cared about the grin that was threatening to split his face as he kicked shut the door behind him, rushing into the room with an unchecked haste.
In the midst of a particularly boring and mandatory conversation with the castle's steward, Dagen had had an epiphany. For months he had been wrestling with the thought of interdimensional summoning—ferrying objects and creatures from other worlds—but every time he had attempted to put his theories concerning the matter to paper, he had come up short in one way or another. He'd been a hair's breadth away once, but the hare he brought into existence then was breathless all the same.
Dagen was a powerful mage, but he couldn't just will something to occur and then expect it to be so. There was a process to magic, especially new spells, one that required a great deal of forethought and planning, that ensured that nothing could go wrong in the process of casting...
But now, Dagen recognised the issue he'd been facing, the reason he'd been failing in every attempt thus far, and it was infuriatingly simple, so incredibly obvious that it made his face crack with a pained, euphoric smile. He hopped over an upended table and brought himself to the centre of the room, levitating writing materials over to him with haste. How could he have been so blind before now?
Fervently, he scrawled at parchment with a quill that was dipped in ink twice as often as it needed be, his writing hand refusing to remain inert. Frustrated with his shaking, he began to write with magic, quickly filling the page as more and more gaps in his previous formula were ever so satisfyingly slotted into their correct places. There were still areas that were nebulous concerning his spell, but it was an intense breakthrough all the same.
Dagen paused to take a breath, scrutinising his scribbles, searching for any fallacies or miscalculations that might have been apparent on a second read, a third, fourth. Still, he found nothing worthy of note, and at once his pulse rose as he realised that this dream, for so long distant, might finally become a reality.
Dagen was about to do something so amazing, so significant, that there was a chance it would be marked as the most notable magic achievement in the last century: he had surely unravelled a secret of the universe.
However, all of it meant nothing if he couldn't get it to work. He could share his findings now, and he was sure that with the rest of the fourth circle by his side, and most likely, the fifth, he would find everything he was looking for and the spell would soon be optimised. But no, the thought made him shudder. He had worked for this, him alone, others had given up on the thought before he was even born, yet he had sought to make it a reality.
He would be damned if he was going to share credit for his accomplishment.
Which meant testing it alone. If luck was on his side, he'd have instant success and be able to report his findings to his council and queen within the week, but if not?
No, it wasn't worth it to think of failure. Dagen had already come up short too many times, he wouldn't entertain the idea of another failure. He was sure this time, absolutely certain it would work.
There wouldn't be a repeat of the dead livestock incident this time, nor the time he managed to summon half a goat. People always asked which half, and neither answer relieved them—he'd tried both.
Time to push negative thoughts from his mind. Then, he hadn't known what he was doing, he'd been experimenting with polarities and frequencies without any constant to attach them to. Now? Now he had a strong understanding of the ethereal lines that flowed without perception, joining his world, his universe to so many others, parallel and near as they were far, intersecting in the dark.
And all he had to do was travel through the connection, reach out, and take something from the other world. Bolster it with enough magical energy, balance it so the creature survived the transport, and make it appear on the other side. With board and chalk, Dagen got to work on constructing a rune in the centre of the room, the design intricate and imbued with ancient Cyrillics that would guide and maintain the spell.
He worked in silence, but he could hear his breath quickening as he looked between his notes and his sketch, shaping the rune faster and with more flourish as his confidence grew, the knowledge of his progress bolstering his spirit and leading him to overconfidence. He had this, he knew he did.
When the rune was finished, he scantly reviewed it, impatient and eager to continue. An enchanted locket on his bedside table flicked open with a spoken command, and he glanced it over to make sure it was in good proximity. The device had been one of his colleague's design, created to measure magical output and analyse eldritch flux. He'd use this to record any data that might escape his eye, his pen.
Now, time to cast. A niggling moment of doubt was caught in his throat, but he quickly swallowed the lump. He had no failsafe besides cancelling the spell and he knew that, but he wasn't about to wait a moment longer. It was impulsive and hardly rational, but Dagen told himself that his hurry was for the greater good of his country. Justification, an excuse for only him to hear, and he wasn't buying it.
And he also didn't care. Dagen could feel energy rising in his body as he cast out his consciousness, focussing intensely on the rune drawn before him. He traced the lines in his mind, as if he was connecting dots, and slowly, as more of the wordless incantation was fulfilled, the rune began to glow. It was illuminated, line by line in a beautiful, ghostly light, seeping out and lifting throughout the rest of the room. Dagen's breath caught—it always did during a difficult spell—and he felt a light warmth radiating throughout his body as he poured more and more of his power into this miracle of his own design, praying that it would bear fruit.
For a long time, nothing happened, and there was only the glow of the rune as the entire room remained stagnant and Dagen began to feel as if he was pouring his magical depths into a hopeless void. He'd brushed against it, the other side, he was sure, but nothing was coming of it, and he was beginning to wonder if he could expend any more energy.
Then, just as hope was about to fail him, just as he moved to sever the connection and mark the experiment as a failure, there was light. It was a soft, irridescent thing, dissimilar to the glow from earlier, radiating and pulsing in the centre of the room.
If Damien wasn't paralysed by concentration, he would have jumped in excitement. That had never happened before, not in all of his efforts, and he was desperate to know what would come next. Without forethought, he focussed on bringing something through that opening, whatever he could latch onto first. Once he had creatures in his grasp, he could focus on the section of the spell that required precision—bringing them through alive.
And it didn't take long for him to find one, two, three marks of consciousness, floating in the aether of an invisible world. He reached out to them, and felt no barrier or resistance from any. He couldn't picture them, he couldn't feel what they were, but he knew they were alive from the ebbs and flows of their spirits in his mind's eye. Now, it was a matter of modulation. With great care and precision, he dragged and pulled each of them simultaneously, and again felt little in the way of resistance.
After so much difficulty, so many setbacks, it was finally working. The creatures were travelling without a hitch, and their consciousnesses were whole and uncut. No deaths, no half-goats this time!
Dagen could only wonder what he was in the process of summoning. Another universe was like a tombola in this sense, he stuck his hand in but had no clue what he would find. Keeping his eyes shut, feeling his heart slam against his chest as he pushed out shallow breaths through the sear creeping its way up his spine, he continued to deplete his arcane reserves, exertion piercing his muscles and willing him to give up.
But he knew he was close now, so close. If he stopped, the transition between worlds would cinch, and the creatures he'd found would be lost. His teeth grit as he made a final push, falling to a single knee as all around him lights shone through the peripherals of his closed lids. There was a presence with him now, a second, and a third. Two were similar, but one was unlike either.
And they were right in front of him, waiting for his eyes to open.
What he found next certainly wasn't what he expected. There were three of them, as there should have been, but they were equine in shape and... much smaller than the average horse. They were completely inert, and in a panic, Dagen rushed forwards to check their vitals. No, they seemed frozen in some way, but they were still breathing, eyes closed.
If that wasn't strange enough already, one of them had wings! If this hadn't already been a monumental success, Dagen was sure he had discovered an entirely new species! Their dormant nature allowed closer examination, and as he took in the sight of the three, quelling his pants, he found that another had a horn. But that couldn't be... the unicorns were said to have all died out millenia ago, banished from existence. Other worlds had their own?
The horse in the centre, the cream coated one, she was the only without any extra appendages, and for all purposes and functions looked like a normal, but strangely small horse. Dagen leaned forwards, peering into each of their eyes in turn, and upon further inspection found them to have some form of branding on their flanks. Diamonds were embedded on one, a stormcloud on another, and a feathered hat on the third.
Marks of their owners, perhaps? Rushing for a scroll, Dagen began to record their likenesses, sketching each of them in profile before walking over to reach for his locket, a hearty chuckle escaping him as his step springed. He had finally managed to do it! After so long, so many trials and tribulations, he'd managed! Picking up the locket and snapping it closed, he moved to place it around his neck.
His giddy reverie was broken by a shout of "What the fuck?!"
Then, a lot of things happened at once.
The blue, winged one zoomed straight at him with a face like thunder, looking as if she was fixing to split him in half. The horned, white one emitted some kind of ray from her horn, and Dagen could feel the magic in the air, threatening him. The white one was the only of the summoned creatures to remain still, only venturing to turn and look at him, eyes lingering.
Dodging a collision with the winged pony, Dagen fought to remember the druidic words for calming wild beasts. He had read them so long ago, and his mind was so at odds with trying to recall them that the shout from earlier had already slipped his mind. He barreled to the centre of the room, cloak billowing about him as the blue pony collided with one of his bookshelves, sending it tumbling down and knocking scrolls, books, and trinkets all over the floor.
The white one emitted a beam of light, and the books were caught in blue auras, suspended in midair.
It was like nothing he had ever heard before, a unicorn being able to command the forces of magic. He didn't get long to marvel at the discovery, though, as the books were soon being hurled at him by the same spell. He threw himself out of the way just in time, but left his stance wide open for the blue one to crash straight into him at breakneck speed.
She was small, but her velocity made her pack a punch, and he stumbled back as she began to throw hooves at him. Already, this radical success had turned into a total shitshow. He was almost too caught by academic curiosity to stop them, curious to see what else they could do, but his wonder was quickly broken as one of the pony's hind legs narrowly missed his testicles.
Right, time to put an end to this. Reaching out with a spell, he grabbed ahold of each of their essences and bound them in place, and even though the magical one struggled with her own spells, they were eventually still.
Take this opportunity to breathe. Remember which words can be used to calm the horses, and then—
"So hey, like, what the heck's your deal?"
Hold on a minute.
"Like, are you an evil villain planning to take over Equestria, or an evil alien that eats ponies, or an evil vil—uhh... yeah, what are you?"
The blue one suspended in front of him. She was talking. Using words. Actual intelligent speech. This couldn't be happening.
"Yes, dear, we've been through this routine before, so it really does save us some time if we know your motives in advance."
Anddd, that was the white one. These ponies could talk.
"Just don't do the whole evil monologue thing, because that's really tiring. Give it to us in a couple sentences or less, yeah?"
The cream one just 'eep'ed, no sign of human intelligence yet. She also really seemed keen on staring. She was wide eyed, looking Dagen up and down... and biting her lip?
"Hey, dark and handsome! Over here, speaking to you. Wings are starting to cramp 'n' stuff. You gonna let me down and explain what the heck's going on?"
"...I think I need some form of explanation, too."
"And I'm sure each of us will be happy to provide, darling, so long as you pose no threat, but holding us in magical chains like this hardly seems conducive to a healthy discussion, hmm?"
Dagen looked around his half-ruined bedroom/study/library. "Neither does throwing books around and attempting to dive bomb me."
The white one's cheeks turned a shade of scarlet. "Yes, well, we couldn't be sure whether you were friendly! All we know is that one minute we were in my boutique, and the next you're towering over us, all large and imposing and attracti—ahem, excuse me."
Boutique? This unicorn owns a boutique?
"We still can't be sure, Rares! The hot ones always have an agenda, trust me."
The unicorn turned to look at her companion, eyes glinting as she giggled. "Oh, as if you would know, Rainbow Dash."
"Well as a matter of fact, I do! I mean, I'm pretty hot, and I've always got an agenda, so—"
Dagen could barely keep up. Ten minutes ago, he had been finalising a spell to be chiefly used for transportation of livestock and utilities, one that he projected would have applications in warfare, resource gathering, logistics, and many other avenues.
What he had instead received was two talking ponies bickering in the middle of his trashed study, and a third who seemed to be in the process of fucking him with her eyes, still yet to speak up.
Sometimes the simplest solution is to just ask. "What manner of creatures are you?"
And sometimes the simplest answer is already right in front of you. "Well, we're ponies, duh. What do we look like, flamingos?"
"And you can talk."
"Gee, someone went to school."
"Don't mind Rainbow Dash, she isn't usually this flippant. Her mood has been a tad sour today, I've noticed."
"Well maybe it's got something to do with us being whisked to Celestia knows where by this... thing!"
"Oh, don't lie to me, it's because I've had you modelling my spring line all day and you know it."
"The floral patterns on the last one really accentuated the tones of your mane," said the cream one, finally electing to speak. All eyes feel on her in that moment, Dagen's included, and she turned back to him with a muted 'hi', and an awkward attempt at a wave.
An attempt that almost sliced through his magical barrier. Just how strong was this pony?
"So, you ever letting us go? Telling us what this is all about?"
Dagen was considering his options. He could send them back right now, and he'd no longer be at risk, but all the progress he could lose was driving his mind in circles. Keeping them around and letting them loose could spell disaster, but he didn't feel comfortable with the idea of keeping intelligent creatures captive for the sake of research either.
Time for a happy medium, it was the best he could do right now. "I'll let you loose, but under two conditions." Rainbow's ears perked, but she said nothing. "One, you aren't to leave this room. I summoned you to this world, no one else knows that creatures such as you exist. Hell, I didn't until moments ago. Being discovered could place all of you in immense danger."
They took a few moments to process this, but all of them agreed soon enough. "And the second thing?"
"Stop knocking over my stuff and trying to hit me."
A grumble, a sigh, and acceptance.
Dagen released the spell, and Rainbow Dash tumbled to the ground in the least graceful manner possible before jumping up like she'd intended to do so all along. "So, I suppose I should explain to you all how you've come to be here. I'll start at the beginning."
The three of them leaned in to hear his tale, stretching and adjusting to the feeling of freedom returning to their bodies, but Dagen could swear that they all seemed more focused on his lips, his hair, his jawline than the words that were coming out of his mouth.
Curious creatures, they were. What to do with them? Well, it was becoming rather obvious what they desired to do with him.
