The shadows were where it belonged. Where it thrived. Hidden from the sight of most mortal creatures, a beast slumbered. The corpse of its most recent kill sat well within reach, sitting uneaten as a warning to its fellows. This was its lair, and it wouldn’t tolerate intruders.
Of course, for every beast, there was something it feared. Something more menacing, more tenacious, more deadly. It lived in the shadows of the lair of one such creature. Ten times as large as it, this fearsome beast delighted in nothing more than tormenting those smaller and weaker than it.
“Opal, it’s time for your bath,” a voice sing-songed.
Case in point.
Opal’s eyes shot open as waves of sheer terror ran through her. Bath time. She scanned around her, looking through the holes between the legs of the sofa she had chosen to hide under. She ignored the mouse—Rarity could deal with that when it began to stink, Opal had decided—in favor of keeping watch for her owner.
Suddenly, a dull pressure washed over her, and her hidey-hole began to glow a faint blue. She had been found! Captured! The cat began to thrash about in a vain attempt to escape Rarity’s magical hold.
“Don’t struggle so much, Opal. You’re only making it worse for yourself,” Rarity said in a half-bored tone, dragging the cat out from underneath the sofa and floating her into the air. Rarity waited until Opal’s struggles waned to a dull thrash before continuing, “We do this every week, and you’ve never once escaped. Just give in, get it over with, and then we’ll all be happier, okay?”
Opal answered with a hiss. Give in to bath time? Never! In addition to redoubling her efforts to escape, Opal also began to claw the air around herself, hoping for a stray hit on her tormentor.
Rarity sighed and started bringing her cat to the wash basin, ready to be covering up scratches like she did every week.
A loud knock at the door pulled Twilight Sparkle from her reading. She wiped her eyes, hoping that action would ease the weight of marathoning an entire series on the potential applications of Griffonian plants from them. It didn’t work. She groaned as she stood up on stiff legs, half-stumbling over to the door of her library. “It’s a public building,” she mumbled, “but they always seem to knock.” She opened the door, taking a second to process that the mass of white and purple in front of her was in fact Rarity. “Good,” she paused to look at the sky, “morning.” She did a double-take. “It’s morning already?”
“It’s past morning,” Rarity replied. “It’s probably close to ten or eleven. Did you sleep at all last night.”
“Yes,” Twilight said decisively.
Rarity cocked an eyebrow.
“Maybe,” Twilight amended.
Rarity smiled slightly.
“No,” Twilight finally admitted. “Not a bit of sleep last night.”
“What were you reading that was so fascinating that you didn’t sleep?” Rarity asked.
“Well, most of it was about the magical and mundane effects of Griffonian plants,” the librarian said. “At the beginning, I was reading a book of prophecies whenever I needed a break from studying a thousand-year-old spellbook that Princess Celestia gave me. Nopony’s touched it in centuries, and she wants me to get the whole thing read by this time next week. However, it was just so complex that I had to take a break. At some point in the night, I got all the way through the prophecy book, so I grabbed other books at random until I found one I hadn’t read yet. It was just so fascinating, and I grabbed the next one when I was done instead of the spellbook.”
“Well, let’s take a look at this spellbook of yours,” Rarity said, stepping past Twilight into the library. “It seems like it could be interesting, and you have a bit of catching up to do.”
“No, you were here for a reason,” Twilight said, following at the other mare’s heels. “I’d hate to burden you when you have other things to do.”
“I was just checking in on a friend,” Rarity said. “I hadn’t talked with you for a few days, so I figured a visit was long overdue. Besides, this spellbook sounds fascinating.”
“It’s just a bunch of jumbled words,” Twilight grumbled as they approached a table in the center of the library. A large tome sat open, the current page barely away from the cover. “I wouldn’t even know that they’re spells if the Princess didn’t tell me herself.”
“Then you should look at them differently,” Rarity said. “How long did you spend on these first few pages?”
“A couple hours,” the other mare grumbled. “They just don’t make any sense to me.”
“A fresh pair of eyes can sometimes see things that were missed before,” Rarity commented. She scanned the open book, frowning more and more as she got farther in. “What language is this written in? These are obviously Equestrian letters, but they’re not in any order that I know of.”
“I said it was gibberish,” Twilight pouted. “What can you even get from this?”
sneppah gnihtoN syad emoS
Rucco shtaEd ylemiTnU, sRehto
sevlesmeht etavele NaC enoyrevE
gnirEffus fo eerf level a ot
EcnemeheV htiw rehtona enO evoL
thgin eht otni Af tsal evoL taht ekam
ecneserp ruoy morf eelf livE ekaM
liomruT ni dlrow a ot epoH gnirb dna
“What is even the point of the capitalization?” Rarity asked. “The only time it even repeats is with the word right there.” She pointed to the word “evoL”. She looked at the notes scattered around the desk, finding Twilight had transcribed the capital letters on their own in an attempt to decipher their meaning.
NSRETURNCEEEVOLALEMTH
Return. Important, or coincidental?
Rarity’s face screwed up. “Is this even a language, or is Princess Celestia playing a joke on you?”
“I don’t think she’s playing a joke on me,” Twilight said. Rarity opened the tome to a random page, to find it wasn’t even written in Equestrian runes. “She was really serious when she told me that I had to—in no uncertain terms—learn the spells in this time in a little over a week.”
“Wait,” Rarity said. “Give this a look.”
“Rarity, it took me a bit to understand that I was seeing you at the front door. I don’t think I’m going to be able to pin down letters while they insist on swimming around the page.”
“Well, I found you a spell, so—” Rarity started.
“You found me what?” Twilight exclaimed, jumping up to the book and almost shoving Rarity away in her haste. “How did you find it? It looks like it isn’t even written in Equestrian. A close neighbor-language, maybe, but the runes are all off.”
“I’ll contribute this to you being tired,” Rarity teased as she flipped the tome upside down.
“They’re still wrong, Rarity,” Twilight deadpanned.
“Look at it in a mirror, then,” Rarity said. “It was flipped vertically. Rotate that ninety degrees, and it’s only flipped horizontally.”
Twilight’s horn lit up as a small mirror floated down the stairs, wrapped in a purple aura. She presented the face of the page to the mirror, mouthing words as they became clear to her. “Wow, this is really simple. I think any unicorn in existence could cast this spell.”
“Really? Then teach it to me,” Rarity said. “I’d love to be the first to cast this spell in centuries.”
“It might not be safe,” Twilight warned. “I don’t know fully what all the parts of it do, just the general jist of things.”
“What do you think it does?” Rarity asked.
Twilight lit up as she started talking about magic. “It’s called a ‘save point’ spell. It’s designed so that you can take an image and burn it into your memory, per se. It keeps you from forgetting something, be it a place, event, or idea.”
“How could that be dangerous?” Rarity asked.
“If you cast it wrong, you could seriously damage yourself,” Twilight explained. “Just because you can cast it doesn’t mean you can cast it right.”
“I have you to teach me,” Rarity said. “If you can’t teach somepony how to cast a spell properly, then nopony can.”
After a few minutes of arguing, Twilight agreed to teach Rarity how to cast the spell, given that they both get a few hours of rest. “There’s no reason for either of us to be exhausted when this spell is cast. Less danger that way.”
An hour after noon, the duo went down to Twilight’s basement. “We’ll do this with something you know very well,” Twilight said. “I want you to close your eyes and imagine the perfect dress. See all the frills and laces, and all the other parts dresses have.” At Rarity’s look, she coughed and continued. “When you have that in mind, you need to follow my instructions carefully, or something might go wrong.”
Twilight then led Rarity through the steps of casting the spell. To Rarity, it felt wrong. Every time a unicorn used magic, they touched the fabric of the universe, communing with reality in a primal manner. Even the weakest of levitation spells brought about this communion. The spell Rarity was casting, though, seemed to not touch as deeply, nor for as long. But as soon as these thoughts entered her mind, she felt her connection sever as her spell ended.
“Did it work?” Twilight asked.
Thinking back to the dress pattern she had forgotten about during her musings, Rarity was shocked to find that it was preserved in her mind exactly as she first imagined it. More worryingly, the feeling of wrongness and worry that plagued her mind during the spell were equally as strong. “Like a charm,” Rarity said, masking her nervousness.
“Okay, now try to save the room around you,” Twilight said. “This should be easier. Just focus on what you see and cast the spell. When it’s finished, what you see is what is saved.”
When Rarity cast the spell that time, there was no feeling of wrongness. The spell functioned properly, and she felt herself release a breath that she didn’t even know she was holding.
All of the sudden, her connection snapped, sending pain snapping deep into her brain. Her vision turned white, searing her eyes. Around her, winds arose, sending everything tumbling across the room. Rarity could do nothing but scream as she felt her mind and soul phasing in and out of her body. A separate screaming was heard from all directions, starting low but growing sharply. As suddenly as it started, the effects of the magic stopped, and Rarity collapsed onto the ground of the trashed library basement.
“That didn’t go as planned,” Twilight muttered as she picked herself up from the ground. “I didn't even know the spell could do that. Are you okay, Rarity?” She paused for a second to let the mare respond. “Rarity?” Another pause. “Rarity?”
Rarity had a headache. Of that, she was sure. Before she even opened her eyes, she was spiked in the head with an icepick. She groaned as she turned over in bed, pulling up the sheets farther and burrowing her head under her pillow in an attempt at running from the pain. When that proved insufficient, she flopped onto her back and set her mind on sucking it up and getting on with her day. She may be a lady, but she wasn’t about to let a simple headache stop her.
She rolled over, finding the edge of her bed far sooner than she expected. After a short drop, she landed with a yelp, the landing exacerbating her headache. Rarity rubbed her head as she opened her eyes. "This isn't my room," she mumbled to herself.
The room she was in was definitely not her room. It was far too small, painted a dull white, and was sparsely adorned. A curtain to each side of the bed kept her from seeing most the room, but from what she could see of the far wall, her section was the middle third of it. The door placed in the center of the wall opened, and Nurse Redheart walked in. The hospital, then. Why was she in the hospital? She didn't remember being sick.
"Are you okay?" Redheart asked, trotting up to the fallen Rarity. "Twilight told me what happened—let's get you on that bed—and it sounds like you're lucky."
Rarity, now on the bed, was silent for a moment as the events of the night before (she thought) rushed into her head. "Is Twilight okay?" Rarity asked. "I don't know what happened with that spell, but it didn't seem to go to plan."
"Twilight's fine," Redheart said. "It's you we're worried about."
"Me? You said I wasn't hurt," Rarity said.
"I said you were lucky," the nurse corrected, wheeling over a mirror. "You might want to brace yourself."
"What, did I—" Rarity lost her train of thought as she beheld the mirror. No matter what she was thinking, this was a hundred, no, a thousand times worse. It would take weeks for her to recover from this, if she ever did.
"Rarity," Redheart started when the mare in question didn't respond for a minute, "it's not really as bad as it—"
"My mane!" Rarity cried, as she fully comprehended the tangled mess on top of her head. "I just had it done!"
Redheart blinked. "Your mane."
"My mane!" Rarity confirmed with a wail. "Look at it! It's tangled, and there's split ends, and I can see knots in it! This is worse than I thought!"
"If I can be frank with you?" Redheart asked, planting her hoof in her face. "Your mane is the least of your worried right now. Look closer."
Sniffing in indignance, Rarity looked past the glaring error that was her mane. Eyes? Fine. Face? Beautiful as ever, if she did say herself. Ears? Nope, they were fine. "What am I—" right as she started to speak, she saw it.
From the tip of her horn down to the very base, thin cracks spiderwebbed down.
"My horn's cracked?" Rarity asked quietly. "But I use magic for my job. I'll go out of business without it."
"I'm sorry, Rarity," Redheart said. "There's nothing we can do but wait and hope it heals."
Rarity sighed as she lay back in bed. "How long am I in here?"
"You're welcome to leave at any time," Redheart said. "Just avoid trying to use magic, it'll make it worse, and then it might not heal at all."
"I'll make sure to not do that," Rarity said.
As Redheart was leaving, she paused, turning to Rarity. "Sweetie Belle showed up about half an hour ago, asking about you. She's in the waiting room."
"Thanks for telling me," Rarity said. "I'll be sure to not try to sneak past her."
At least her couch was comfy.
Rarity mused this as she lay upside-down in her living room. Not being able to use her magic was already killing her, and it was only a few hours into Monday. Not only could she not work at all, she couldn't even drag over her emergency couch if she felt the need to be dramatic.
"It could be worse," Sweetie Belle said as she carried in a simple breakfast—barely burnt, she worked extra-hard on it—on extravagant plates, "so you don't get to act like it's the end of the world. It's bad, sure, but you'll make it through."
"But Sweetie Belle, how am I supposed to function without magic?" Rarity asked. "I can't make food, I can't make dresses, I can't even work doors by myself!"
"Ask Applejack," Sweetie said calmly, pouring Rarity some of her favorite tea. "Or Rainbow Dash. Fluttershy. Pinkie Pie. Scootaloo and Apple Bloom. Me. A full two-thirds of the population doesn't have magic, and more can't use as much as you can, yet you don't see them starving to death or being unable to open doors."
Rarity was silent as she took the teacup in shaky hooves, lighting up like a Hearth's Warming tree. She hadn't even thought about that. "I guess it could be worse. Plus, horns heal eventually, right?"
"Of course," Sweetie said, not sure herself. She sat down by the couch, waiting should Rarity need any help. Not a minute later, she caught the teacup as Rarity dropped it. Sweetie managed to keep the tea inside from getting all over her when she caught it. The carpet on the floor was not so lucky.
"Darn it," Rarity said quietly, starting to stand up.
Sweetie gently pushed her back into the couch. "I got it." She started trotting to the hall closet to get cleaning supplies.
"I'm an adult," Rarity huffed indignantly. "I think I can clean my own messes."
Sweetie stopped and turned around. "You just got out of the hospital—"
"I was only there for a night and a few tests," Rarity argued.
"—you're not used to working without magic yet—" Sweetie continued as if she was never interrupted.
"There's no better time to learn than now," Rarity interrupted again.
Irritation seeped into Sweetie's voice when she resumed. "—and at any other time in your life, you'd love to be pampered like this. You're just against it because of—"
"I should think that—" Rarity started.
"Rarity!" Sweetie snapped, shocking the mare into silence. "Stop with your dumb pride for five minutes and let me do nice things for my sister!"
Rarity hung her head and sank into the sofa. Sweetie huffed, half at herself, and trotted to the closet, grabbing the cloth that Rarity was one-hundred-percent convinced was magic, despite Twilight herself finding no magic in it. With a bit of pressure for a few seconds, the tea was out of the carpet before it could stain.
The two sat in silence for a few moments. They each grumbled internally, one about dang sisters and always wanting to do the best for you, the other about dang sisters and always wanting to do things themselves. "Rarity?" Sweetie said.
"Hmm?" the mare replied, looking up from her almost-finished meal.
"Why don't we go to Applejack's after you finish eating. Have her teach you to do things without magic?"
"That's a great idea," Rarity said. "I'll help you cl—" She faltered at Sweetie's look. "You know what? I'll sit here while you clean up breakfast."
"I'm afraid I'm a mite bit busy," Applejack said to the unicorns in front of her. "Remember that big storm that passed buy a few days ago? We're still cleaning, even with weather ponies helping clean." She shrugged. "We just don't have enough ponies around for—"
"Hey cuz!" a stallion called out from the farmhouse. "Am I allowed to help yet? I can be useful!"
"Ya were sent here to keep you from working, Braeburn!" Applejack called back. "I ain't making Granny mad by disobeyin' a direct order."
"But there's so much to do, and I'm just sitting on my butt!" he whined. "Why am I here to not work?"
"Because we're normally in slow season!" Applejack replied. She turned to the sisters in front of her. "I'm sorry, but I got to get working. Wish I could help."
Sweetie looked between Rarity and Applejack, a smile forming on her face as an idea formed in her mind. "Aww, that's no trouble at all, Applejack," she said. "We'll just get Braeburn to teach my sister how to use her hooves."
Applejack opened her mouth to reply, but couldn't come up with an argument. Help a friend while helping her own peace of mind? Sure! "I don't see how that could be an issue," she said. "If he complains, tell him it's a direct order from me, under Granny's authority."
Rarity smiled. "Thanks, Applejack. I appreciate it."
"Not a problem, sugar cube. Just remember, he's slightly," Applejack paused in thought, "different."
"You've got the hang of it now," Braeburn said as Rarity carried a tray full of eggs on her back. It wobbled nearly enough to fall, but stayed on. "And to think that almost a week ago you couldn't even carry just the tray by yourself."
"This is more difficult than you all make it look," Rarity said for the hundredth time.
"We all got a lifetime of muscle memory from the when we started to where we are now," he replied. "It ain't like we just up and figured this out one day, out of nowhere."
They were out in a part of Sweet Apple Acres that had already been cleaned. By that point, a little over half of the farm was in workable condition, attributing to the amount of damage caused by the storm and the sheer size of the Apples' orchard. Apple trees were planted in uniform rows and columns as far as they could see in any direction, save for an empty spot here and there from when a tree was too damaged to be salvaged.
Rarity sighed as she remembered what tomorrow was. "It's almost bath day," she groaned.
"I'm sure that the nice ladies at the spa would be more than happy to help you out there," Braeburn said. "That there's one thing you have to figure out for yourself, I'm afraid."
"For my cat," Rarity clarified.
Braeburn winced. "Sorry to hear that. Maybe Fluttershy could help. She's good with animals, right?"
The sound of approaching hoofsteps heralded Applejack's approach. "That'll have to wait, I'm afraid. Twilight's gatherin' us up. Celestia wants to see us."
