“I can't let you in, Princess Twilight,” the guard insisted, “Princess Celestia only just returned a few hours ago and is still resting. She cannot take visitors yet, not even you. I'm sorry.”

Twilight gritted her teeth, making no effort to hide her scowl from the guards. They were plainly nervous by this unusual display of aggression, but Twilight didn't give a damn. She turned and began running for the library.

The guards on duty there immediately snapped to attention at the sight of her, but spread out their wings to prevent her from entering.

“Whoa there, Princess. You know the library is off-limits. You have no business in there.”

“Yes I do,” she told them, “And I have every right to move about as I please. Now move before I make you.”

The guards recoiled at her words, but did not stand down.

“The library is not the proper place for a princess,” the other one insisted.

Twilight took an offensive stance, ready to put those few combat spells she knew to work. The pegasi cringed, horrified by the little monster their princess had become.

At that moment a new voice rang out.

“Princess Twilight!” the newly arrived guard cried, “I've been looking everywhere for you. Father Watcher has instructed me to escort you to his office this instant.”

Twilight gave one last sour glance at the pegasus guards and followed the newcomer. She couldn't imagine what Watcher wanted with her, but Princess Twilight had mentioned that he was supposed to be a powerful magician. Maybe she could swindle some information out of him that she could use.

♦ ◊ ♦

Watcher stood outside the door his shadow had brought him too. Though the hallway was dark, he could feel the shadows themselves skirting as far away from the door as they possibly could.

Princess Twilight was probably already being escorted to his office, so he'd better be quick.

He tried the door handle with his magic, but it didn't budge. A spell to unlock it made no difference.

“Fine then,” he muttered, summoning up all his magic.

He grabbed the door and pulled with all his might. A loud groan filled the air, followed by the sound of splintering wood. With one final grunt, Watcher ripped the door off of its hinges and threw it to the side, exposing the doorway into the dark room.

The shadows shrank back even further. With a contemptuous snort, he cast a quick spell that lit the room up like a thousand suns.

The cause of the shadows' discomfort was immediately obvious. Watchers scanned the discarded brace, boots, and Illumination Stone, but quickly turned his attention to the mirror.

Whatever it was, it was old, and it was radiating magic at an unprecedented rate. The room could have been filled twice over with the magic it gave off in the minute Watcher was in the room. It should have bled through the walls and filled the castle. It should have been noticeable from the moon!

He didn't have the faintest idea what it really was, or how it could so blatantly disregard the Law of Conservation of Magic, since all that magic it gave off could not simply just vanish as it seemed to. And as a well-traveled master sorcerer, he was stumped as to what kind of magic it was even using. He'd seen dark magics up close, felt it pump through his very arteries, and yet this was entirely new.

“And you're old,” he added out loud, reaching forward a hoof and stroking the glass. There was no reflection, and it took Watcher a moment to realize it was because this was not reflective glass. The mirror had no back; he should have been able to see right through to the other wall. But beyond the glass was just a dark, hazy area.

“You're not even really connected to our world, are you?” he asked. The mirror made no reply, but Watcher smiled anyway. He turned to leave, finishing with, “And I think I know what that means.”

♦ ◊ ♦

The guard opened the office door for her and told Twilight to wait inside. She obliged, glad to be away from these other ponies.

Watcher hadn't arrived, allowing Twilight an opportunity to glance around the office freely. A lot of her anger dissolved as she did. This was not an office. This was a place of science. There were burners and beakers and scrolls upon scrolls all loaded up on the wall-to-wall shelving and cubbies. Tables were laid out across the expansive floor where experiments had been set up for study.

Why hadn't she spent any time in here?

Maybe there was something in here that could help her. If nothing about the mirror itself, then maybe something about portals or alternate dimension theories. Just something!

There was no obvious method of organization. Scrolls were thrown into cubbies seemingly at random. The first cubby she came to had three scrolls, one about enchanted staves, one about a population boom in the city of Slippery Rock (Odd name, she thought), and one about the study of old medications. If she tried to go through each cubby one at a time, she would never get through. There must have been over a hundred scrolls. Maybe if she had perfected her scroll-sorting spell, but that was what she got for not staying diligent in her studies.

The desk maybe. She ran over, pushing the chair out of the way, and pulled at one of the drawers. It was jammed; it even resisted her unlocking spell. The next one she tried simply had some metal equipment in it, and the one after that was empty except for a bit of gemstone jewelry. Magic seemed to pour out of the gems and spill out of the drawer, causing her to shiver. She quickly closed that drawer.

Next Twilight climbed up onto the chair so she could see the top of the desk. There was a calender lying out next to a pile of letters. A sealed envelope was pushed to the side next to the candle, but nothing else of interest.

“Nothing,” she sighed, “Nothing at all.”

She jumped down, landing next to the drawer she could not open. She hit her hoof against it in anger, only to hear something rattling around inside. So she grabbed the handle in her magic and pulled as hard as she could. It would not open. She told herself this was pointless, but kept pulling.

Just as she was about to give up, Twilight gave the handle a firm jerk, smiling in satisfaction when the drawer flew open.

Okay,” she said eagerly, glancing in. There were a number of scrolls inside. She pulled one out and began reading.

Disappointment flooded her as she realized this was just another letter. But when she scanned the contents, her heart skipped a beat.

Father Watcher:

Celestia's choice to train a student concerns us greatly. You have done well in finding appointment as her caretaker. Ensure that she does not become a threat. We have come to far over these past thousand years to be foiled during our hour of triumph.

On a related note, the council has agreed to your proposal. In nine weeks we will send you a fresh container of the Vile which you may use over the course of the next two years. If you have made significant progress by then, more will be sent to continue the process.

May the Dark One rise again.

The letter was dated several years ago and signed with a name that Twilight didn't recognize. She threw that scroll away and picked up another. It was much more recent, just a year and a half ago.

Father Watcher:

Our mutual friend has informed the council that Celestia is having a private doctor flown in from the Demarchatic States to check on her health. Our friend insists that his particular field of research, magically-instigated illnesses, may suggest that Celestia is at least partially aware of what we have been doing to her. Your usual methods of hiding the truth may not be enough, if this doctor really knows as much about dark magic as we've been told.

In four days a young stallion shall be arriving in Canterlot with a few new spells we have created that we believe you can modify to better disguise the true cause of Celestia's illness. We are already working to stall the doctor.

May the Dark One rise again.

Twilight's stomach turned, and the fur on the back of her neck stood up.

She quickly grabbed another scroll and began reading. This one was a short list of spells. It wasn'tspecified, but it was obvious from the descriptions that these were dark magics.

At the very bottom of the drawer was a small book. She pulled it out, only to drop it with a small shriek. The book was bound in what looked to be some kind of tightly-stretched animal skin.

She almost lost her lunch.

Shaking, Twilight threw open the book to read the first page.

The Samoyed Bible, the first page read, Property of Father Watcher.

Twilight's mouth was dry and she was shaking in fear.

“He's a cult member,” she breathed.

“Not quite.”

Author's Note

The Samoyedic people are actually a group of people in Siberia. The name refers to the languages they speak. They are not actually an evil cult, and surprisingly not even all that evil (for Russians, at least). The reason I bring it up in this chapter will be made evident in the next.