There, They're...

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapterr Too
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Chapter 1

“Oohh…where is it?”

Spike ducked as hardcover novels, sheaves of research notes and a pair of weighty math textbooks went flying past. “Maybe you left it in the-“ he started, but cut himself off as a quill flew past with lethal force, the sharpened tip embedding itself a full inch into the solid oak of Twilight’s workbench.

The dragon settled for resting his elbow on a discarded stack of spell tomes, tapping his claws against his chin and watching with resigned disinterest the mess that Twilight was making of her library. The lavender unicorn had herself worked into a full-blown panic searching for some obscure theory textbook, as happened roughly once a month.

Spike himself had formulated several possible theories as to why this happened, fortified with some misinterpreted and out-of-context theory taken from several of Twilight’s books. His current favourite was that all matter naturally and spontaneously fell into a higher degree of disorder. Twilight, being obsessed with organization, contradicted this rule, and every so often, needed to make a complete mess of things to get the tendency toward disorder out of her system.

Unfortunately, no matter what theories he came up with to explain her behaviour, he was still stuck with cleaning up the mess while Twilight trotted happily away, all anxiety forgotten, the book in question hovering beside her.

It usually took about fifteen minutes for her to pull nearly every book off the shelf and fling them around the library before finding the one she was looking for on a table or something. However, this particular episode had already gone on for nearly twenty minutes, and showed no sign of stopping.

In fact, if she didn't find it soon, she might literally attempt to turn the library upside down -

Spike yelped in terror and dropped to the floor as Twilight's prized bust of Tim the Enchanter came hurtling past and out the nearest window in a cacophony of shattering glass. A loud bang from the center of the room implied that Twilight had now flipped over the round, solid ironwood table that she sometimes used as an impromptu workbench. The dragon winced as he imagined the kind of dent that thing would have just put in the floor, and rubbed his claws against his temple as he felt a familiar stress-migraine coming on.

He snuck a quick glance over his protective wall of books, to find that the unicorn was now frantically digging through the small filing cabinet beside her writing desk, as if a thousand-page hardcover book would even fit in there.

Spike sighed and hunkered back down behind the pile of books, taking some comfort in the fact that she was no longer hurling heavy objects around any more. The files would probably last her a couple minutes, giving him some breathing room to try and find the book himself.

A cursory examination of the room quickly turned up the tome she was looking for: a hardcover, fully annotated version of A Field Study on the Regenerative Capabilities of Hydras, Volume III, propped up against a wall. It had probably been flung there by her initial, explosive panic attack, as usually happened in these situations.

The dragon darted out from behind his shelter and scooped up the book. Not a moment too soon, either; Twilight had just picked up the filing cabinet with her magic and was carelessly dumping the contents onto the floor. When it was empty, she gave a frustrated groan and flung it aside, where it landed an inch from an antique Germane armchair, and instead demolished the matching end table.

Spike managed to get to her just as she was attempting to rip her desk out of the floor; thankfully, due to the delicate equipment she kept in the drawers, Twilight had had the foresight to rivet it to a block of concrete buried a meter below the floor. But it was still painfully clear that it wouldn't hold for long, and so Spike wasted no time in leaping onto Twilight's back, yanking on her mane as hard as he could, and jamming the book in her face.

The unicorn paused, eyes scanning the title, mouthing the words emblazoned on the cover in gold leaf. Then she gave a satisfied "Ah!" and wrapped the book in her magic, trotting off to her workbench, which, apart for the quill embedded in the wood, was remarkably untouched.

Spike let out a sigh of relief, and grimly surveyed the interior of the library. Luckily, the force of the ironwood table's upending had been cushioned by several of Twilight's first editions, and the hardwood floor seemed unscathed. Unfortunately, the first editions themselves didn't seem quite so lucky. The side window had been completely obliterated by the bust, the filing cabinet was now sporting some nice dents, and the antique end table...well, calling it kindling now would have been generous. At least the nine-and-a-quarter inch catadioptric telescope, which had set them back nearly two thousand bits, had been spared.

Twilight, of course, was completely oblivious to the mess she had just created, and was happily poring through the field study, making occasional notes on a scrap of paper with the quill that had recently been embedded in the desk. After a moment, she frowned at something in the book, and started flipping through a sheaf of notes. "Spike," she asked, "Could you fetch me that copy of Cell Anagenesis? Something here doesn't really make sense."

The dragon directed a morose look at the book in question - which was currently being crushed under three hundred pounds of ironwood. "I'll...uh...get right on it."

Twilight looked over, spying the copy, and chuckled. "I know what you're thinking, Hercules. Don't even try it." A purple aura surrounded the table, and it flipped back to its proper orientation and position.

Spike bent over and picked up the book, frowning at the crushed spine. To be honest, he wasn't thinking about moving the table at all. In his current temperament, he was more inclined to just burn the thing.

As he walked over, book in claw, Twilight looked around, seeming to notice for the first time what a mess she'd made of the library. "Wow," she said, chuckling nervously. "Looks like I really went to town this time."

She smiled awkwardly at Spike, who had folded his arms across his chest and was tapping a foot impatiently. "I know. I'll help you clean it up this time. I promise."

Spike sighed. "You owe me some turquoise for this," he grumbled, slamming the book onto her workbench and going off to retrieve the bust.

Twilight flipped the book to its appropriate page and started reading. From outside, she could hear Spike grunting and biting back a string of extremely colourful obscenities (she had to have another chat with Rainbow Dash about her language) while he tried to extricate the bust from where it was lodged in the burrow of a very irate badger.

A pang of guilt touched her heart as she turned another page. Spike shouldn't be saddled with cleanup duty. It was her mess, after all.

Twilight turned around and surveyed the library. The absolute least she could do was get that filing cabinet straightened up. As for the end table...well, she'd never liked that old thing anyway.

She quickly swept up the papers she'd shaken out of the filing cabinet, and began shoving them into their respective folders. Invoices and bills went in the blue folder, future checklists and notes to self in the red folder...

The unicorn smiled as she brought together a bundle of copied friendship reports. She'd begun collecting them after the Discord incident, after inventing an enchantment that transcribed what Spike was writing on a separate piece of parchment.

She quickly scanned over the most recent one, which she (or rather, Spike) had written the previous day. It detailed her account of a minor incident in which Twilight had assumed all griffons had personalities and temperaments similar to Gilda, who ended up being a less-than-sterling example. Rainbow Dash, who happened to have known several griffons other than Gilda, had...well, she hadn't been impressed, to say the least. Thankfully, Rarity had been present at the time and was able to mediate the situation before it came to blows.

Dear Princess Celestia, the letter read.

Today, I learned that you can't judge an entire group based on what you've seen from one individual. I made the mistake of assuming all griffons were like Gilda, and ended up paying for it. There actually quite nice, and...

Twilight frowned. Something in that last sentence looked off. She quickly reread the passage again.

There actually quite nice -

For a moment, she could only stare at the parchment, her mouth hanging open in shock. Finally, she found her voice.

"SPIKE!"

Outside, Spike jumped as Twilight's voice tore through the air. A happy consequence of this was that he finally dislodged the bust from the burrow, much to the relief of the badger attempting to show the dragon the error of his ways by blunting its teeth on his armoured scales. While the badger was convinced its efforts were actually accomplishing something, it was resulting in a severe pain in its lower jaw.

Oh, Celestia, Spike thought, his eyes widening. Did she find those Playmare magazines? I knew I should have gotten rid of those!

He ran to the front door, keeping his face blank. Keep it cool, he told himself. Try to play dumb. Don't give her any ammunition!

"Yes?" he asked, poking his head through the door.

Twilight jammed the letter in his face, simmering with rage. "What is this?" she snapped.

It took the dragon a panicked moment to realize it wasn't a Playmare magazine being held an inch away from his nose. It was Twilight's most recent friendship report. He breathed a quick sigh of relief before responding. "Uh...a friendship report?"

"I know what it is!" Twilight yelled, stomping a hoof. "Read the third sentence in the first paragraph!"

Spike read the relevant passage, frowning. "I don't know what's-"

"There actually quite nice?" Twilight shrieked. "That's the wrong homonym entirely! 'There' denotes a place! 'They're', the correct version, is a contraction of 'they are', and denotes possessive qualities!"

The dragon scowled at her. First she turned the library upside down, and now this? "Twilight, it's a simple mistake."

"Maybe," the unicorn said, turning away and flinging the letter down on a worktable. "But this was a letter to the Princess! Everything I send to her has to be perfect!" She stamped a hoof with the last word, jostling an inkwell on a nearby table.

Spike gently pinched the bridge of his nose between his claws. "Remember what happened the last time you panicked like this? If I hadn't talked to the princess, you probably would have destroyed-"

Twilight gasped. "Of course! Spike, you're a genius!"

"Ponyville," the dragon finished, his voice trailing off. "I'm sorry, what?"

Twilight looked away and began pacing back and forth. "I can send a letter to the Princess explaining that it was a mistake, and then she won't banish me to the dark side of the moon!"

Spike folded his arms. "And where did you hear she might do that?"

The unicorn paused. "Well...okay, maybe that won't happen. But I have to try to reason with her!"

"Twilight, she probably didn't even notice!"

"But what if she did?" Twilight snapped. "What if she's waiting to see if I'll do anything? What if she's-"

Spike clapped his claws over her mouth, cutting her off. "Twilight. Relax."

Twilight sighed. "I'm sorry, Spike. I just get so worked up sometimes..."

"Tell me about it," the dragon muttered.

"But I still need to clear this up. A mistake like that is inexcusable."

With that, she trotted off to her workbench and retrieved a piece of parchment. "Dear Princess Celestia," she said, scribbling with a quill. "It has come to my attention that there was a minor error in my last friendship report. I wish to apologize for said error, and pass along my assurances that it will not happen again."

"Your faithful student, Twilight Sparkle," she finished, signing her name with a flourish. "There we go. Now if you'll just send it, we can put this whole mess behind us."

Spike rolled his eyes and blew out a tongue of flame, sending the letter on its way. "Now, can we get started on cleaning up the library?"

Twilight glanced at the piles of books behind her. "You know...how about you take a break? It's my mess, after all."

Spike frowned. "Uh, Twilight? Are you feeling okay? What about your project?"

"Oh, the project can wait," Twilight responded, picking up a few battered tomes. "It's the least I can do for averting potential disaster."

Spike was about to point out that using the wrong word was just about the farthest possible thing from disaster when he felt a familiar feeling in his gut. Already? he thought with vague surprise, as he belched out a tongue of green flame, from which appeared a sealed scroll.

Twilight's ears perked up. "Gimme!" she squeaked, and snatched the scroll out of the air.

"My dearest Twilight," she read. "I've looked over your last friendship report, but I can't seem to..."

She frowned. "I can't seem to find the error you mentioned. There really wasn't any need to point it out to me, anyway. Everypony makes a mistake every now and then. And besides, I'm sure a minor error in a friendship report won't change it's message at all..."

She jerked her eyes back along the sentence. Won't change it's message...

Her eye twitched.

"Uh, Twilight?" Spike asked. "You're looking all weird again..."

She ignored him, scrubbing at the offending apostrophe with magic, hoping that it was perhaps a fleck of dust that had fallen on the page.

“Twilight?”

That failing, the unicorn scanned the sentence again, hoping she had just missed some sort of context that made it correct. But there was no other possibility. Staring her in the face was the worst sort of grammatical blasphemy; a mockery of everything any literate pony held dear.

“Spike,” she heard herself say, in a tone that seemed absurdly calm to her. “Get me every record you have of my previous correspondence with the princess.”

“What’s that supposed to accom-“

“Spike?” she asked, in that same flat tone. “Please.”

In her mind, something was taking shape. To her knowledge, Celestia had never made an error of any kind. Like Twilight, she praised the written word in all its forms, and regarded any sort of error in that field as inexcusable. But to find one here…it meant something had changed. Not only that, but she had all but ignored Twilight’s admission of a mistake! Surely that sort of thing was tantamount to the highest form of treason!

Wasn’t it?

“I’ve got it,” Spike piped up, carrying a massive armload of scrolls. “But I really have no idea why-“

“Thank you, Spike,” she said coolly, beginning to rifle through the scrolls. It was a massive undertaking, but she had to be sure.

Even after skimming the first few scrolls, her certainty deepened. Every letter was written in her mentor’s familiar, absurdly precise penmareship. The letters flowed with a nitpicking precision that would be nearly impossible to duplicate.

And there wasn’t a single mistake among them.

What was it that Applejack sometimes said? There was a first for everything?

Maybe. But if there was one thing she’d learned, it was that every rule had exceptions.

Without another word, she turned and headed to the door. “Twilight!” Spike called after her. “Where are you going?”

“I need to think,” she replied. “I just…I need to think.”

Spike frowned, but let her go. A moment after the door closed behind her, though, he bent and picked up the scroll from where it had been discarded on the floor. His eyebrows met as he scanned the parchment, and came across the improperly used apostrophe. That’s what she’s getting worked up about? An apostrophe?

He let out a heavy sigh. There was only one thing to do.

A few moments later, Spike tapped a pencil against his chin, wondering how to phrase the letter he was about to write. No point beating around the bush like he did when Twilight realized her latest friendship report was at risk of being "tardy". But he couldn't rightly say that she'd gone stark raving mad again. Mainly because she hadn’t. This was just… a precaution.

Dear Princess Celestia, he finally decided.

Twilight's been acting weird again. I think it has something to do with finding an error in your last letter (you used an apostrophe incorrectly, or something).

The dragon blinked, and his thoughts went fuzzy, as if someone had just thrown a thick, woollen blanket over his brain. For an instant, when viewed from the corner of the eye, it looked like a shadow of some sort was standing behind him: a twisted, spindly thing that was a mockery of the equine shape. Then the moment passed, and it was gone.

Spike frowned. What had he been doing, again? Right.

He picked up the pencil again and continued writing.

Anyway, I'm getting worrried about her. Could you com down and-

He frowned. How many "r's" were there in "worried", again? And was there supposed to be an "e" on the end of "come"?

Spike shook his head. It had to be right. Twilight had spent uncountable hours drilling him on proper spelling and grammar. Maybe it was just the stress of nearly being murdered by an enraged badger. It was messing with his thinking.

Look at me, he thought, finishing the letter. I'm starting to act like Twilight.

The dragon quickly breathed a gout of flame over the scroll, sending it to the princess. Then he turned and surveyed the library. Looked like he was stuck cleaning it all up anyway.

To be continued...

I have never been so self-conscious of my grammar as when I was writing this, for reasons that should be obvious. For that reason, my pre-reader Bronius Maximus gets an extra-special credit.

Chapterr Too

Note: First off, I want to apologize for the obscenely long wait. I could make excuses about how I had things to do, but in reality, it was purely down to laziness on my part. Also, for those of you returning to the story, I've made some modifications to the last few scenes in the first chapter. It might be a good idea to give the last bit a once-over to avoid any confusion.

As always, thanks to Bronius Maximus for the pre-read. Now let's get on with this already. I've certainly kept you waiting long enough.

It would be nice to say that all was quiet in the halls of Canterlot Castle: specifically, the halls directly outside Princess Celestia’s private chambers. Unfortunately, this was not to be the case, as the current Acting-Captain of the Guard was paying the solar princess a not-so-clandestine visit.

And so, the guards outside their princess’ chambers had to stand at attention, fighting to maintain neutral expressions, as the admittedly distracting sounds of the unofficial “meeting” drifted out from behind the doors. In all honesty, just the fact that the two pegasi managed to remain at their posts as the all-too-familiar grunting and slapping sounds echoed through the halls could be considered an accomplishment.

The one on the right was trying especially hard to ignore the sounds and focus on just about anything else. At the moment, he was unsuccessfully trying to distract himself by counting the tiles in the floor’s mosaic pattern. At the very moment that he completed one of the arcs of flame branching out from the stylized sun, a scroll appeared in front of him in a gout of green flame, making him lose his count.

Both guards stared at the scroll for a moment, then looked at each other. Then at the doors to Celestia’s chambers.

“Your turn,” the one on the right said.

“I did it last time!” the other snapped. “Get your facts straight!”

“What about that time I had to deliver that missive while you were conveniently out with the feather flu?”

“I was actually sick!”

After a moment, the guard on the right sighed heavily. “Fine. I can see there’s only one way to settle this.”

“Hoof wrestle?”

“No, you idiot,” the right-hand guard snapped, fishing a single bit out of his pocket.

“Oh,” the other replied, as the guard flipped the coin in the air and caught it deftly on his ankle, covering it with his other foreleg.

“Call it.”

“Heads.”

“It’s tails.”

“Bull. Let me see that.”

The guard snatched the coin from his comrade, and studied it intently for a moment. Finally, he swore, tossed the coin back and snatched the scroll off the ground. “If I get mooned, I’m blaming you,” he said, before raising a hoof and knocking on the door.

A brief scuffle could be heard from inside the room, before a male voice called, “This better be important!”

“Letter for the princess,” the guard responded. After a brief pause, the door opened, revealing a sweaty and flushed Princess Celestia.

“I’ll take that,” she said, wrapping the letter in her magic and levitating it somewhere inside her chambers.

The guard peeked around her, noticing Aspis, the Acting Captain while Shining Armor was on his honeymoon, standing in a corner, as flushed as the princess. “I hope you weren’t too busy,” the guard said dryly.

“Not at all,” Celestia responded. “We were just about to finish our second round.”

The guard made a face, and snuck a pleading glance at his comrade.

“You can watch if you want,” Celestia continued warmly.

“I’ll pass,” the guard replied, his voice shaking.

The alicorn shrugged. “Have it your way,” she said, turning back to the ping-pong table in the center of the room. “What was the score again?” she called to Aspis.

“Ten billion to one, my favor,” the unicorn replied.

“It is not.”

“Then keep track.”

Celestia was just about to launch into a fierce rebuttal, but her Acting Captain cut her off. “What’s the letter?”
The alicorn frowned. In all honesty, she hadn’t even looked at it. It was likely some notice from a noble, demanding an audience or something equally tiresome. With a heavy sigh, she retrieved the scroll from where she’d flung it carelessly into a corner, loathe to spend even a moment away from her game.

However, the moment she took a closer look at the parchment and noticed the slight charring around the edges that was indicative of dragon fire, her yearning for a good game of ping-pong was driven from her head.

“Another one?” she said, puzzled. “Why would she-“

Aspis moved toward the door, recognizing the expression on Celestia’s face. “Shall I take my leave, then?” he asked, all stiff formality once again.

Celestia took a moment to finish reading the letter before responding. “Yes. I’m sorry, Aspis, but I’m afraid I have to cut our match short. Shall we call it a draw?”

“Something wrong?” Aspis asked, stiffening. “I can deploy a contingent of heavy cavalry if you-“

“That won’t be necessary,” Celestia interjected. At least, I hope not. “My pupil just needs some… well, let’s say she needs some guidance."

Her acting Captain nodded in understanding. “Shall I prepare a carriage?”

Celestia smiled and flared her wings. “I do have these, Captain.”

Aspis sighed. “You know I can’t let you go without an escort, Your Highness.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to sneak out, then,” Celestia replied, launching off the ground and diving through an open window before her Acting Captain could even say a word. By the time he opened his mouth, all there was to chastise was a single white feather bobbing on the eddies of air.

Spike glanced up from his book as the door swung open. “The library’s closed,” he called out.

“It’s me,” Twilight said as she walked through the door.

The dragon frowned, glancing outside. The sun had barely moved. “Uh… you’re back already? It's been... what, five minutes?”

“Something wrong?” Twilight asked.

“No!” Spike replied. “It’s just… You said you needed to think. And I thought…”

Twilight smiled. “Oh, Spike. There’s nothing to think about! I just needed to clear my head. I barely even went around the block!”

Spike blinked, momentarily stymied. If he knew Twilight at all, a grammatical error from her mentor should have sent her into a state of complete panic. It had sent her into a state of barely restrained panic.

“I was getting myself all worked up over nothing,” Twilight continued, reshelving a biology textbook that Spike had missed, mainly due to it having slid under a table. “So, I decided to just take a quick walk to focus my thoughts, and I realized just how silly I was being.”

“So…” Spike ventured, “You’re okay with Celestia making a mistake?”

Twilight surprised him by chuckling. “Oh, Spike. She didn’t make a mistake! She never makes mistakes. Once I realized that, there was only one logical answer.”

Alarm bells immediately started ringing in Spike’s head. He knew she was being too calm. Any second now would come the wild, illogical assumption, and then the-

“She must have been in the middle of her weekly ping-pong match with Captain Aspis, and just dictated the letter to someone else. She didn’t make a mistake. Whoever transcribed the letter did!”

It took a moment for her words to register. “Uh…” Spike managed. That… actually made sense. In a bizarre, grasping-at-straws sort of way, but as long as she wasn’t convinced her fundamental understanding of grammar was incorrect…

“I’m just glad I realized what I was doing before I embarrassed myself,” Twilight finished, still grinning. “So… how about we keep this between us?”

Spike chuckled nervously. “Yeah… about that…”

Twilight ignored him and strode over to the window. “You know, I can’t even imagine what the Princess would think if she knew I freaked out about something as silly as that. Magic kindergarten might be a little far-fetched, but I can see a whole lot of annoying psychological evaluations coming out of that.”

A frown crossed her features at that last sentence. It seemed that wherever she went, there was some so-called professional yapping at her about “delusions,” or “obsessional behaviour,” or some other such nonsense. It was downright irritating at times.

Spike, meanwhile, swallowed nervously and wiped some sweat from his brow. “I guess,” he said, forcing a laugh.

The forced chuckle trailed off as he detected movement through one of the windows. Something large and white had just landed in front of the house. A moment later, there was a knock at the door.

“Oh! Now who could that be?” Twilight said, refusing to let anything disrupt her good mood.

Before Spike could even wince in anticipation, she’d opened the door. “Good after-“ she began. Then she saw her mentor standing before her, and her expression instantly flashed to horror as she made a dozen connections at once. To her credit, she managed something that sounded vaguely like “Gah!” which, depending on the language, could be interpreted as “One moment please,” before slamming the door and wheeling on her assistant.

“Spike,” she asked quietly. “Why is Princess Celestia at my door?”

Spike winced. “Well… I may have gotten a little worried, and sent a letter asking her to come down here…”

“You WHAT?”

“I thought it was a good idea!” Spike protested. “You were acting funny again, and I thought it would be best not to take any chances!”

Twilight took a deep breath, her mind racing. “Okay,” she said. “This might not be all bad. Maybe I can convince her you were just inviting her down for tea-“

“I specifically mentioned that it was because you were acting strangely,” Spike replied.

“Spike…” Twilight moaned, putting her hooves over her eyes.

A series of knocks sounded from the other side of the door. “Twilight?” Celestia’s voice called.

Dear Harmony, I just slammed the door in Princess Celestia's face! Twilight suddenly realized. Okay, focus. You can fix this. Maybe I can pretend nopony’s here? No, that’s ridiculous. She already saw me. And every second I wait just makes it worse… Maybe I can convince her that it was a mistake?

Twilight took another moment to plaster a smile on her face, and swung the door open. “Why, Princess Celestia!” she said warmly. “What a pleasant surprise! Can I get you anything?”

Celestia blinked, unamused. “Is there any reason you slammed the door in my face a moment ago?”

Twilight’s smile cracked. “I… uh… thought you were somepony else! There’s this door-to-door salespony who just doesn’t take a hint, and I… uh… thought you were him, and…”

To her immense relief, the Princess seemed to buy her pathetic explanation.

“So,” Twilight said shakily. “What brings you out here?”

Celestia looked past her into the library. “Spike sent me a letter saying you were getting worked up over something. He seemed to think it was serious enough to require my presence.”

“Did he?” Twilight said nervously, forcing a laugh. “Oh, that Spike. What a kidder. Ha ha…”

Celestia frowned. “I didn’t get the impression that he was joking.”

“Well, you know dragons,” Twilight replied, a bit too quickly. “Sometimes, when he’s had too much amethyst…”

“Is everything all right?” Celestia asked, cutting her off. “You look nervous.”

“Nervous? I’m not nervous!” Twilight scoffed, unaware that her right eye had begun twitching violently. “Well, you can see that there’s nothing wrong here, and I know you have important things to be working on-“

Twilight left her mouth on autopilot, her mind racing. She’s not buying it. This isn’t working. But I can’t back out now without looking like an idiot! I should have just explained what was going on. Stupid!

“Twilight,” Celestia said sternly. “I’ve known you for years. I can tell when there’s something bothering you.” An edge of steel entered her voice. “Or when you’re lying.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Twilight squeaked. “I wouldn’t lie to you! What a silly-“

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Spike howled. “Make it stop!”

Both Twilight and Celestia turned to him, the former frantically making “shut up” gestures, the latter frowning in consternation.

Spike took a breath. “All right. Yes, I sent you a letter because Twilight was acting strangely. No, there didn’t end up being a problem. And if she’s acting oddly now, it’s because you’ve showed up completely unannounced, and she's terrified of making a bad impression. Now can we please just forget about this and turn it into an ordinary visit?”

Silence reigned in the library for a brief moment. That's it, Twilight thought, cringing in anticipation. I'm dead.

Celestia turned to her. "Is this true?"

Twilight nodded shakily, not trusting herself to speak.

The alicorn was silent for a long, agonizing moment. Finally, she turned to her pupil. "Well, Twilight... you've left me no choice."

She paused for a moment longer, almost as if for dramatic effect. "We'll just have to pretend this is a scheduled visit."

"I'm sorry!" Twilight burst out. "I'll do anything you want! Just don't-" She cut herself off as Celestia's words registered. "Huh?"

"You're not in trouble," Celestia said, a hint of laughter in her voice. "You can relax now."

Celestia's words were the very definition of redundant. Twilight was, at that very moment, doing her best not to sink through the floor in relief. If such a thing were even physically possible, she was sure she would be doing that. But as it stood, she had to settle for a barely audible sigh.

"Now if I might ask," Celestia said, "what kind of behaviour was Spike so concerned about?"

Twilight blushed. “Oh, I don’t think we need to go into that…”

“Why not?” Spike said. “It’s actually pretty funny when you look back on it.”

“Fine,” Twilight said, stifling a chuckle. Now that she thought about it, it was a little funny. Of course, she had no way of anticipating what was about to happen. If she had, she likely would have clapped both hooves over her ears and begun loudly singing “Waltzing Matilda,” regardless of what immediate consequences that would have resulted in. In reality, every instinct was screaming at her to change the topic and move on. Unfortunately, her brain was so drowned in relief that everything seemed to have been resolved that her instincts were little more than a distant fly buzzing in her ear.

“I thought you’d made a mistake in the letter you sent me a little while ago,” she said, giggling. “Which was ridiculous, because you never make mistakes. Funny, huh?”

Celestia cocked her head. “Which one? You mean that letter I penned about an hour ago?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes! That one! Which was about a mistake Spike made, in fact. Isn’t that iron...” Her voice trailed off as Celestia’s words sunk in. “You penned that letter yourself?”

“Of course I did,” Celestia replied, puzzled. “You’re my pupil, after all. Having one of my scribes pen a letter to you would be downright insulting.”

“But…” Twilight sputtered. “That means…”

“That means what?” Celestia asked, frowning. “Is there something wrong? You’re starting to sweat again.”

Twilight shook her head, forcing her features to remain neutral. “Oh, nothing. Just… one of those hot summer breezes. Heh heh…”

“Tell you what,” Celestia said. “How about you show me this letter? We can lay both our concerns to rest.”

Spike was already there with the scroll in his claws, eyes flicking nervously toward Twilight. “It’s here,” he said cautiously.

“Ah,” Celestia said, unrolling the scroll. Her eyes quickly scanned it for a heart-stopping period, at the end of which she shrugged. “I see nothing wrong.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. “But… look here!” She thumped her hoof down on that infernal ‘it’s.’ “The apostrophe shouldn’t be there!”

Celestia peered closely at it for a moment. Then she laughed. “What do you know? You’re right. I didn’t even think about that.”

“But…” Twilight sputtered. “But…”

“But what?”

“You never make mistakes!” The unicorn protested, staring at the glaring error in the letter. “How could you…”

Celestia laughed musically. "Twilight, I penned that letter immediately after a very intense round of table tennis. I think I can be forgiven for an apostrophe in the wrong place."

"I guess," Twilight mumbled.

"If it makes you feel better," Celestia continued, "I was losing the game you interrupted quite badly. I had some difficulty focusing."

Twilight's ears went flat as a surge of guilt swept through her. "I interrupted your weekly match with Aspis? I-if I'd known, I wouldn't have–"

"Don't worry," Celestia replied. "I said I was losing, didn't I? Now, was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Not really," Twilight said without really paying attention. For some reason, she couldn't quite shake the nagging suspicion that something was off.

"Well, then," Celestia said. "If you'll excuse me, I have a match to get back to." Her expression soured for an instant. "And a thirty-point stretch to make up."

She paused for a moment, noting that Twilight still seemed distracted. "If there's anything you need to talk about, I'm here for you. Just remember that."

"Sure," Twilight replied, holding the door open. "Don't let me keep you."

After the Princess had left, Twilight turned to Spike. "Well... that went better that I thought it would."

The dragon folded his arms. "What were you worried about? The town's in one piece, both of us are in one piece, and the issue that had you worked up wasn't an issue at all."

"That about covers it," Twilight admitted. "And you're right. I had nothing to worry about." Her light expression dissolved into a frown. "I just can't shake the feeling that something's not right."

"Relax, Twilight," Spike replied. "You're overreactinating. Or whatever that word is."

"Overreacting," Twilight corrected offhandedly. She turned and peered closely at her assistant. "Are you all right? You've been looking odd ever since I got back."

"It's nothing," Spike replied. "Just a bit of fog in my head. I might take a nap later on, actually."

"Do that," Twilight said. Once again, she had the overwhelming feeling that something was wrong.

She shook her head. Look at me. Getting stressed out over nothing again.

And so a unicorn continued with her life, putting aside her concerns. A princess returned to her nation's capital, satisfied.

And a force, dormant for so many years and only now stirring, reconsidered its plans. Reconsidered, and resolved to watch closely. To see what the lavender unicorn would do next.

End of Part 2
To be continued...

Chapptere Frë

Just so none of you have to deal with discontinuity, I'll inform you that I have once again edited the previous chapter. I've gotta stop doing that. Hopefully this'll be the last of it.

Darkness. It pressed in on all sides, barely held back by the small circle of illumination her horn cast. Primal instincts flared within Twilight’s brain, bringing back memories of being trapped in the crystal caves beneath Canterlot…

With a sheer effort of will, Twilight pushed them back. It was important that she keep going. She couldn’t quite remember why, but quickly decided that small detail didn’t matter. Sucking in a quick breath and ignoring the burning in her lungs, she set off down the dark corridor again, galloping at full tilt.

Must go faster, she thought to herself.

Almost as soon as the thought went through her head, she rounded a corner and skidded to a halt. A massive library stretched before her, shrouded with dust and cobwebs. Twilight slowly stepped between the shelves, jaw dropping in awe. Such a vast repository of knowledge… forgotten. Wasted.

Twilight reached out and brushed the pages of a book that had fallen off the shelf and lay open on the stone floor. The ancient papyrus crumbled to dust. This is centuries old, she thought. How many hundreds of years has all this just been… sitting here?

She looked up, trying to decipher some way the library was organized. She had to find something. A book?

Of course it’s a book, she chided herself. Why would I go to a library to find anything else? Yet, for some reason, she felt like it wasn’t a book she was looking for. It was, but at the same time…

A rapid thumping sound echoed through the library. “Twilight? Are you there?”

Rarity? Twilight thought, confused. What’s Rarity doing–

She jerked her head up from her pillow, blinking wildly as Rarity knocked on the library’s door again. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she squinted at the clock on her windowsill. Almost noon. Wow. I know I sleep in on weekends, but this is a little ridiculous.

Yawning, she flung herself out of bed and made for the door – and almost immediately tripped over something. The world flickered and went white for an instant as her chin cracked against the floor, and a bolt of pain lanced through her head. “Spike!” she yelled.

A loud crash emanated from the kitchen, punctuated by a series of bitten-off obscenities. A moment later, her dragon assistant’s head poked up from the stairwell. “What?”

Twilight clambered back to her hooves, scowling at the books littered over the floor – including the rather heavy volume she’d tripped over. “Spike, what did I tell you about leaving books lying around? You know how moisture seeps up from the floorboards.” She glanced around. “Come to think of it, what are these books doing here in the first place?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Uh… you grabbed those off the shelves last night. Said you had some reading to catch up on.”

Twilight picked one of the books off the floor, frowning at the title. A Beginner’s Guide to Binding Spells? But I’ve already read this one fourteen times.

“And when I tried to move them, you said to leave them where they were,” Spike continued. “You looked like you were getting really into it, so I figured I’d leave you be.” He cocked his head. “Are you feeling all right? You’re looking a little odd.”

Twilight snorted. Hadn’t she asked him that exact question the day before?

Knocking again resounded from the door, reminding both that Rarity was still outside. “Twilight? I can hear you. It’s impolite to ignore a pony at the door, you know.”

Twilight shot Spike a desperate glance. “Look, forget what I said last night. Get these organized and re-shelved. I’ll make you a gem cake,” she added when she noticed his grumpy expression.

Spike grinned, setting himself to gathering books without a word of protest. Twilight took a breath and quickly ran a brush through her mane, wincing as it snagged on several knots. All right. That’s enough stalling. She raced to the door and flung it open, smiling widely. “Rarity, hi! How’d that trip to Canterlot go?” The fashionista had been away on a business trip of sorts for the past few days.

Rarity ignored her for the moment and gave her disorderly mane an appraising look. “Oh, dear me. Did I wake you up? Why, I feel positively awful. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have¬–”

“It’s no problem,” Twilight cut in. “Really. I was about to get up anyway.”

Rarity didn’t appear convinced. “Are you feeling all right?” she asked. “I don’t recall you ever sleeping in this late. Well, except for that time Rainbow Dash led you to believe that particular barrel of cider was non-alcoholic.”

“I’m fine,” Twilight cut in, her cheeks growing warm at the memory. “I just had…” She glanced back in, at the pile of books Spike was clearing up. “It was a rough night,” she finished, turning back to her friend.

“Anyway,” she said a moment later, breaking the awkward silence. “What brings you by?”

Rarity brightened. “Why, yes! The most amazing thing happened while I was in Canterlot.”

Twilight’s smile slipped. However much she liked Rarity, matters of fashion had never interested her.

Rarity seemed to catch her expression. “I admit, Fluttershy would probably take a bit more interest in this, but she’s out at the moment. And I just have to tell somepony.” She batted her eyelashes. “You’ll humour me, won’t you?”

Twilight rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Sure I will,” she said. "What are friends for?"

Rarity mistook the motion for genuine reluctance. “Come now, Twilight. It’s not all dresses and celebrities, you know. Now come along. I brought back some tea that I think you’ll quite enjoy.”

"And then I said, 'Puh-leaze. That gown looks more fit for a funeral than a ball.' And you'll never believe what happened next!"

"What?" Twilight asked, absentmindedly swirling the cup of tea Rarity had promised once they got to the Boutique. She’d said it was some kind of imported variety, with a weird name. Apparently, it was quite expensive. Not to mention completely wasted on her. The stuff tasted like a particularly pungent variety of roofing tar.

Twilight blinked, realizing she'd just completely missed what Rarity had said. "I'm sorry. Zoned out for a moment. What happened?"

Rarity scowled. "I said, he agreed with me. I essentially gave advice to Hoity Toity himself!"

"Uh..." Twilight said, at a loss for words. "I take it that's a... big deal?"

"More than that!" Rarity exclaimed, too caught up in her story to catch on to her friend's lack of enthusiasm. "Afterwards, he wondered aloud why I didn't have more business. And I replied that because I was in Ponyville, I was a little out-of-the-way. And then he offered to display some of my designs in his Canterlot stores!"

Now that Twilight understood the significance of. "Wow. I'm sure that'll help business some."

"Oh, it most certainly will," Rarity replied. "Not that I really need it, of course. But, then again, I'm sure I can find a few suitable charities that do. And I suppose some can go into Sweetie Belle's education fund, of course."

Twilight sipped her tea, fighting not to gag at the vile taste, and allowed her mind to wander as Rarity prattled on.

A brightly coloured banner near the back of the boutique caught her attention. A chill shot through her. "Rarity, I hate to interrupt," she spoke up, "But what's that for?"

Rarity followed Twilight's gaze. "Oh, after I got back, I had a burst of inspiration, and needed to clear some room. So I'm going to have a sale on some of my more modest designs." She smiled ruefully. "Honestly, I'm counting myself lucky that I've had any inspiration at all. Shortly after I set out for Ponyville, my head went positively foggy. Did you know that I forgot what I was doing in the middle of a new stitching pattern? I had to go back and look at my sketches to remind myself."

"Uh huh," Twilight replied, listening with half an ear. "You do realize that banner says 'sail', don't you?"

Rarity frowned, glancing at the banner again. "Of course it does. Why would I advertise a sale without calling it a sale?"

"No, not a sale-sale," Twilight protested. "I mean a sailing sail."

Rarity blinked, uncomprehending. "I'm not sure what you're getting at, Twilight."

"A sail," Twilight said. "As in, the sheet of canvas you hang from a mast. A ship's sail."

Understanding blossomed on Rarity’s face. “Oh!” She glanced at the banner, and blushed furiously when she noticed the mistake. “My, that certainly would have been embarrassing. Can you imagine the scandal if I’d hung that outside the store?”

“That’s not the point,” Twilight cut in. “You know that letter to Celestia that Spike wrote a couple days back?”

“Oh, that little mishap,” Rarity said, chuckling. “You know, ponies around town have taken to calling it the Noodle Incident.”

“How was I supposed to know macaroni stuck to–” Twilight cut herself off and took a breath. “Anyway, I happened to notice that Spike used the wrong version of ‘they’re’.”

Rarity blinked. “Um… how… horrendous?”

Twilight scowled. “When I found it, I panicked and sent a letter to Celestia explaining it. Her reply used the wrong form of ‘its’.”

“I really don’t see how–”

“And now you’ve misspelled a banner!” Twilight finished. “Three ponies… well, two ponies and a dragon… who, I might add, have a near-flawless record where grammar is concerned, making blatant errors within a couple days? Are you going to tell me that’s not the slightest bit suspicious?”

“I’m sure it’s all coincidental–” Rarity started.

“And,” Twilight continued, “You were complaining about a foggy head earlier. Spike mentioned yesterday that he had trouble thinking straight. Come to think of it, the Princess even mentioned she couldn’t seem to focus when she visited yesterday! Is that a coincidence?”

Rarity’s jaw dropped. “Princess Celestia was here? Yesterday? Oh, my, if I’d known, I would have–”

“You’re missing the point!” Twilight shouted, slamming her hooves down on the table and knocking the saucers over. “I was only suspicious yesterday, but now I’m sure. Something fishy’s going on here, and I’m going to figure out what.”

Rarity said nothing, staring at the puddle of tea on her table. “That was imported oolong,” she said in an odd voice.

“Are you even listening to me?” Twilight snapped. She instantly regretted the harshness of her tone. “Look, I’m sorry,” she began.

Rarity’s blue eyes snapped up. “No, Twilight. You listen to me. You are overreacting. I don’t know where you got these ideas from, but they are thoughtless, fanciful and utterly unfounded. I would have thought that you would have thought this through before jumping to conclusions, but it seems I was mistaken.”

She looked back down. “And now you have spilled my tea. How am I supposed to enjoy my biscuit now?”

Twilight looked away, contrite. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I’ve just been so worked up lately… I wasn’t thinking.”

“Good,” Rarity said, smiling. “Now, hopefully we can put this entire embarrassing incident behind us. I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”

Twilight was shaking her head. “Something wrong?” Rarity asked.

“You are,” Twilight replied. “Wrong, I mean. You might not believe me, but I know something’s going on. Remember what happened with Cadance?”

Rarity let out a heavy sigh. “You’re not going to let this go?”

Twilight scowled at the misspelled banner. “Not a chance.”

Silence reigned for a long moment. Rarity glanced uncomfortably at the banner, emotions suddenly warring over her face. “You just reminded me of a rumour I overheard. I didn’t investigate, of course; always assume rumours are false. But…” She paused uncomfortably. "I… heard that the new issue of Canterlot was two days late in publication.”

“This is unusual?” Twilight replied, raising an eyebrow. She’d never read the magazine. Heard of it, certainly, but any publication that didn’t include peer-reviewed articles didn’t really appeal to her.

“Unusual?” Rarity asked. “I’ll say. Thousands… no, tens of thousands of ponies subscribe to that magazine. It’s the biggest regular publication in Equestria! But the lateness of the issue’s only half of it.”

Twilight waved a hoof, after the pause had stretched for longer than it should take to draw a breath. “Don’t stop there.”

“It was for dramatic effect,” Rarity said, scowling. “Which you obviously have no appreciation for.”

She took a moment to compose herself. “The real scandal was that the magazine’s title was misspelled. I didn’t get a look at the issue in question, but there was an extra ‘t’ at the end of ‘Canterlot’. As you can imagine, the entire issue was recalled as soon as the mistake was noticed.”

Outwardly, Twilight kept her face neutral. But inside, her thoughts were a turmoil.

Rarity leaned forward, lowering her voice. “That magazine’s editing staff alone numbers in the hundreds,” she said. “I can see that getting past one pony. Maybe two. But hundreds? Not only that, but I heard that their most popular column writers have decided to go on an extended sabbatical, claiming an inability to focus. I didn’t think anything of it while I was in Canterlot, but now…”

After another moment of silence, “Twilight, if you’re right about this…”

“Then what?” Twilight snapped, in sudden ill temper. “What happens then? Do I convince Princess Celestia that the entire population of Equestria’s been afflicted with some kind of mental illness that causes them to make constant mistakes? I’d be laughed out of the palace!”

She shook her head. “I already panicked about this once. I’m not doing it again.”

Rarity frowned. “What happened to not letting this go?”

“I know what I said,” Twilight replied. “And I’m not. But I’ve gotten myself into trouble too many times by acting too quickly. I need solid facts before I act, and I can only think of one place to get them.” Sneaking into the restricted section of the Canterlot Archives would be difficult, but it was something she'd managed before.

Movement at the back of the boutique caught her attention. Twilight narrowed her eyes. “Isn’t Sweetie Belle still with her parents?”

“Well, it’s rather difficult to predict where she goes,” Rarity replied. “But I can’t think of any reason for her to be here at the moment. Why?”

“I thought I saw… never mind.” For an instant, it looked like there was somepony standing in the corner. It’s probably just my imagination. Nothing to worry about.

“And I’m telling you that’s not what the schedule said! I know what I read!”

“Oh, do you? How about I go find a copy and we put that to the test?”

Celestia frowned as she walked around the corner, glancing at the two arguing guards. “Is something the matter?” she asked.

Both guards jumped, spun, and snapped shaky salutes. Unfortunately, the one stallion’s rapid movement knocked over his lance, which had been propped against a wall. The weapon fell over, into a suit of armour, which toppled onto the floor with a crash roughly equal in volume to that of an entire marching band flinging their instruments onto a marble floor. Which, Celestia had learned from rather regrettable experience, was quite loud.

The princess winced, her ears ringing, as the two guards began stammering apologies and clumsily gathering up the antique suit of armour. “Leave that,” she said, lighting her horn and grasping the pieces with magic.

The two stallions stood glumly to the side as the suit of armour rose into the air and reassembled itself. “It’s all Sarissa’s fault,” one spoke up.

“I heard you arguing,” Celestia said, looking the guards over. After a moment, she realized they were the two guards that had been guarding her quarters the previous day. “What was the quarrel about?”

Sarissa glared at his comrade. “I was assigned to guard the east corridor from zero-six-hundred to zero-nine hundred. Brightsteel here was supposed to relieve me. But he ‘misread’ the schedule and didn’t show up until eleven hundred hours! I hadn’t even had breakfast yet!”

“Well, it was your fault for not eating before your shift,” Brightsteel retorted.

“I didn’t misread the schedule!”

“You didn’t bother eating!”

“Guards!” Celestia yelled, before the two came to blows. “Did you misread the schedule or not, Private Brightsteel?”

“Well… maybe,” Brightsteel said weakly.

“Ah ha! So you admit it!” Sarissa crowed.

Celestia gently rubbed at her eyes. This was the last thing she needed. After visiting Twilight, she’d come back filled with a vague sense of foreboding. And she couldn’t get over the feeling that it was somehow connected to her foggy thoughts of late. She’d slept badly the night before, before she approached Luna and asked her to give her a dreamless night.

“Say you misread it!”

“Get your hoof out of my face!”

“I’m not touching you.”

“Get it out of my–”

“Still not touching you!”

“Both of you, shut up!” Celestia snapped. The guards fell silent.

The princess closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I don’t care if Brightsteel misread the schedule or not. He was not at his post when he should have been.”

She looked over at Sarissa. “It’s commendable of you to have remained at your post even without relief.” The corner of her mouth turned up. “So it’s only fair that you return the favour. You can take the rest of the day off.” She turned her gaze to Brightsteel. “And you can cover the postings Sarissa here would have.”

If Brightsteel was annoyed, he didn’t dare show it. Missing a guard posting would have earned him a month’s guarding some tower in the middle of nowhere at the very least. He was getting off light.

She continued on, leaving the two guards behind her. Misreading the schedule. Of all the silly ways to miss a posting…

A frown creased her features. That reminds me. I need to look over those budget reports. With a heavy sigh, she diverted from her planned path to the kitchens and headed to her quarters. She could send for a meal, but it was always just slightly cool when it got to her. Something she’d have to put up with, she mused, until she finished those reports.

Ah… I remember when I’d be occupying a command tent, in the pouring rain, with nothing to eat but whatever grass I could forage. Now look at me. Complaining about my Colton Bleu dinner being three degrees colder than I like it and going over financial reports. How the mighty have fallen.

The stack of parchment waited on her desk as she entered her quarters. With a groan of resignation, she settled herself before the acacia desk – a gift from the sultan of Saddle Arabia – and pulled the first sheet of the stack toward her.

It was a full minute before she realized that she’d read the entire page and still had no idea what it said. Blinking, Celestia looked over the page again. After a moment's concentration, she could extract meaning from the words and figures, but it quickly made her brain ache.

Celestia snorted and tossed the page to the side, where it landed atop some of the more recent letters from Ponyville. I’ve been staring at these blasted forms for too long, she thought. What should I expect? Staring at these things all day can't be good for anypony.

Grumbling under her breath, she rubbed her eyes again. Maybe she’d take a walk in the gardens, to clear her head. Harmony knew, it could use it.

Celestia suddenly lowered her hoof, blinking. She could have sworn she’d seen…

“Hello?” she called.

Nothing. Celestia settled back, uneasy. “Just my imagination,” she said without conviction.

Far beneath the castle, in a long-forgotten library, something chuckled. The sound was alien in a place that had experienced silence for centuries. Until something shifted. And a new power stirred.

“Yes, Princess,” the being said. “You believe that.”

It looked back toward a series of books laid out on the floor. Everything was falling into place. There was but one last piece that needed to be moved into position.

The library’s lone resident cast its awareness outward, focusing in on a purple unicorn in her library. "It's almost done," he whispered, unable to keep from chuckling. "After all this, it's almost over."

His laughter rose, echoing off the crumbled stone and ruined shelves. He didn't notice, but as he laughed, tears ran down his face.

End of Part 3.

To be continued…

Cahppter Phoøuré

Twilight groaned, shifting uncomfortably on her bed. Her blanket had fallen off, and the air was cold. To top it off, her mattress felt like it had hardened significantly. With an ill-tempered grunt, she forced her eyes open–

And blinked in bewilderment at the almost-familiar sight of shelves of books stretching into the darkness. What am I... she started to think, and then memory crashed home.

This is a recurring dream, Twilight thought, staring at the shelves in surprise. I can’t remember having one of these since... well, years ago.

Unbidden, a passage from a psychology textbook she’d read years back floated up in her mind. Dreams are peculiar methods of communication. They represent the bridge between the realm of the conscious and the subconscious. Often, a vivid dream may bring a sense of premonition, as if your inner mind is trying to tell you something you are simply too awake to see...

Shoving the errant thought aside, she set off down the endless aisles at an easy trot. No time to go psychoanalyzing herself. That sense of needing to find something was still there, although precisely what she needed to find remained maddeningly elusive.

Her ears pricked up at a sudden sound behind her. Heart pounding, Twilight spun, channeling magic through her horn. Harsh lavender light flowed from it, illuminating a wide area around her. Books, shelves and bits of crumbled stone presented themselves, but that was all.

Twilight looked around warily, casting light into the gaps between the shelves, and peering down adjacent aisles. Still nothing. Maybe it had just been a piece of masonry falling off some long-collapsed support–

The sound came again. There was no mistaking it this time. It was definitely the clink of a hoof on stone.

Twilight wheeled toward the source of the sound, pumping even more magic into the light. “Hello?” she called into the shadows, and immediately regretted opening her mouth. Her voice echoed off the rows of shelves, until it distorted into a high-pitched cackle.

Fighting the urge to panic, she moved on. If anything, the light made things worse. Everything outside her circle of illumination was left in stark shadow, and she was left with an uncomfortable feeling of being watched.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw something. It was only a flicker of movement, but it was enough to send her heart into her throat and spur her legs into a racing gallop. In her panic, she lost her grip on the magic, and her light around her horn sputtered and fell away, leaving her in pitch-blackness.

Twilight backed up until her rump met a unyielding stone, fighting the urge to panic. The dark pressed in, as if it was a physical being, striving to suffocate her with its crushing black embrace.

She blinked, suddenly realizing the darkness had faded some. Far off, she could see some kind of soft light. Without hesitation, she raced toward it. Light meant safety. If only she could get to it...

Now, silhouetted against the light, she saw him. A stallion, his back to the light. His features were left in shadow, but enough light caught his frame to make it clear that he was beckoning.

Heart soaring, Twilight galloped on. This was what she’d come to find. If she could get to him, everything would somehow be okay. If she could just get to him...

The light behind the stallion became blinding, and he seemed to recede, moving back along an endless corridor. “No!” Twilight cried, forcing a little more speed out of her burning legs. “Don’t go!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” came Spike’s voice, laden with tones of confusion.

Twilight opened her eyes and blinked, looking around wildly. The library was gone, replaced by her bedroom. “There was a library,” she stammered. “I had to get to...” She frowned. Her recollection of the dream was already draining away.

Spike rolled his eyes and stepped back. “If you were dreaming of a library, it’s no wonder I couldn’t wake you up. I was about to grab some water when you started muttering.”

Twilight looked over at the wall clock with bleary eyes. “Six o’ clock?” she moaned. “Spike, why would you wake me up this early?”

“Because you told me to,” Spike replied patiently. “Remember? You need to get up early if you want to catch the train.”

The train? Twilight’s eyes snapped all the way open. Right! The library’s book order was available for pick-up. Normally, it was delivered straight to the library, but she needed an excuse to go to Canterlot.

The last few days had been spent performing an exhausting amount of research on linguistics, psychology, and anything else that could be possibly related to grammar. So far, the results had been discouraging. And so, the previous day, she had decided to head to Canterlot and scour the Depository, a secure storeroom of rare titles and first editions that was kept on the other side of the palace from the Archives. If those who stood on the shoulders of giants couldn't tell her anything, then perhaps the giants themselves could.

Being caught in there without permission would bring her a tongue-lashing from the Princess she wouldn’t soon forget, but... the tomes in that section would hold answers she wouldn’t be able to get anywhere else, and Celestia would never let even her in on such short notice. A part of her hated having to sneak around behind her mentor's back, but she could see no other way. She needed answers, and she needed them now.

Twilight nearly threw herself out of bed and began dragging a brush through her mane with magic. “Could you pack some spare parchment and quills in my saddlebags?” She bit her tongue in anticipation. Hopefully, Spike would take it in stride, and not wonder why she needed–

“Already done,” Spike replied. “I figured you’d want to head by the Archives.”

Right at that moment, Twilight could have kissed her draconic assistant. Looked like she wouldn’t need to explain anything after all. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around. Think you can hold down the fort for the day?”

Spike waved a claw. “Piece of cake. I know where most of the books are.”

Twilight scampered downstairs, and flung her waiting saddlebags onto her back. “Twilight?” Spike called, stopping her in her tracks.

She looked back upstairs, where Spike waited with an odd look on his face. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he said gravely.

Twilight’s breath caught. Does he know? How could he? “I won’t,” she replied cautiously, hating the taste of the lie on her tongue. “I’m just going to do some looking around. There might be a book in the Archives that could help me out.”

“Just promise me,” Spike said with uncharacteristic intensity. “You probably won’t, but... I have a really bad feeling about this.”

Guilt flaring in her chest, Twilight forced herself to meet Spike’s eyes. “I promise,” she said levelly. I’m sorry, Spike, she thought. I’ll make it up to you somehow, but I just can’t risk anyone knowing.

Spike gave a small nod, apparently satisfied, and left Twilight to be on her way. She all but fled the library, unable to face Spike for a moment longer.

Frowning, Spike watched Twilight until she passed out of sight, then closed the door. For some reason, he didn’t believe her promise at all, and hated himself for it. Come on! he yelled at himself. Why would she lie to you? Still, that vague sense of foreboding lingered. And, along with that, a good bit of drowsiness. The worst part about Twilight getting up early was that he invariably had to miss out on precious sleep to wake her up.

With a heavy sigh, he turned away from the door and examined the shelves. At least she hadn’t decided to study some random books in the middle of the night again. And an odd bunch of books, at that. A couple volumes on binding spells, one on the nature of consciousness, another on ancient libraries... it didn’t make sense.

His musings were cut off as a hoof rapped against the library’s door. Spike wheeled around and glared at the door. The sign outside said quite clearly that the library wouldn’t be open for another two hours. Two hours that he could have put to good use sleeping. “Someone better be dying,” Spike muttered, pulling open the door–

And dove to the side as Rainbow Dash barged in, panting. “Aw, man!” she said. “Am I glad to see you! Do you know where Twilight is? I thought I saw her getting on a train on the way here, but I wasn’t sure.”

“You were right,” Spike replied. “She’s heading to Canterlot to pick up a book order. Why? Is something wrong?”

Dash shook her head. “I don’t know. I was hoping she’d be able to tell me, but... horsefeathers! I should’ve chased the train.”

“Why?” Spike asked. “What’s so important?”

Rainbow gave Spike a look of such sorrow that he wanted to give her a comforting hug right there. “I can’t read,” she said morosely.

Spike blinked. “What do you mean, you can’t read? What about Daring Do, and all those other series Twilight got you into?”

“I could read!” Dash replied. “But now I can’t! I mean, I know I’m looking at words, and letters and stuff, but they just don’t make any sense. Did I...” She lowered her voice. “Am I having a stroke?”

It was only with a great effort that Spike prevented himself from groaning. “You’re not having a stroke,” he said. “When did you notice you couldn’t read?”

“About an hour ago,” Dash replied. “I stayed up all night reading that Hoofbert Jordan novel, and all of a sudden my head went all foggy, and...”

“You ever think it might just be because you stayed up all night?” Spike said icily.

“No way! I’ve pulled all-nighters before eight hour shifts with no problems. I never stopped being able to read before!”

Spike pulled his claws away from the bridge of his nose. “Well... I don’t know,” he snapped. “I think you should just get some sleep, and try again. I know I could use a couple more hours.”

Rainbow’s face fell so far, Spike wouldn’t have been surprised if it came off entirely and shattered on the floor. “You’re sure there’s nothing you can do?”

Normally, Spike would have felt bad, but he was too annoyed. “Positive,” he grumbled. “Just go take a nap on a cloud somewhere. You should feel better after that.”

Rainbow slumped dejectedly. “I guess I could try that,” she mumbled. “But I don’t think I can sleep without knowing what happens next.”

“It’s worth a try,” Spike replied, his patience fraying. “Now go on,” he said, herding her toward the door. “I saw a nice, fluffy cumulus when I let you in. Go do your thing on that.”

As soon as he’d pushed her out the door, he shut it. Yes, it was rude, but so was barging into the library before opening hours with a problem that silly, and he was past caring besides.

With a happy sigh, he flopped down in his bed... and growled in anger when he realized that he’d well and truly woken up and the desire to sleep had passed. Throwing his blanket to the side, he stomped over to an end table and rifled through the drawers, coming out with a comic book whose cover depicted a machete-wielding pony slamming a griffon against a wall. Twilight would have had a fit if she’d seen that, but he’d hidden it well. And, since she wasn’t here, he had a perfect opportunity to read it.

He’d just flipped open the first page when he realized something. The letters had turned into meaningless squiggles. At first, he thought he had a misprint, but after a moment’s concentration, he could recognize letters. Shaking his head, he focused on them with every ounce of concentration he possessed. That shape looked like it could be an “e”, and that one could be a “d”...

Gasping, Spike leaned back, unaware that he’d brought the page closer until his nose was touching the paper. What the hay? he wondered. Why can’t I...

His eyes widened. “Uh oh...”

Twilight’s hoofsteps echoed off the marble walls as she made her way down one of the castle’s less-used corridors. Her book order – a collection of volumes on the Third Gryphon War – was safely stowed in her saddlebags. For some reason, there had been some confusion at the bookstore. The mare at the counter had been unable to find the package in question at first, despite it being clearly labeled, and then had taken about three times longer than she'd supposed to while writing it up, all the while becoming steadily more flustered.

Probably just her first week or so on the job, Twilight told herself again. She'll get it all figured out soon enough.

All that remained was to sneak into the Depository. It seemed simple, when she thought of it like that. Just sneak into a restricted storeroom of irreplaceable books and have a nose around.

Ordinarily, the Depository was kept locked and guarded by alarm wards at the entrance. Permission to enter came in the form of a key that Princess Celestia kept in her chambers. A key that, of course, Twilight didn’t have, and rarely received. This would have been a complication had she not found a way around it years before.

The corridor she was walking down just so happened to run parallel to the east wall of the archive. In fact, had she a way to unobtrusively tunnel through the wall to her left, she would have found herself among the tomes deemed too valuable for casual viewing.

Twilight glanced at the tapestries decorating the walls, frowning. If memory served, it should be right...

She stopped, grinning, as she saw the tapestry she was looking for. It had been specially commissioned for the palace from some famous artist – the pony’s name escaped her. Art had never been of much interest to her. But it wasn’t the tapestry that was important, in any case. It was what lay behind it.

Twilight had found it about three years before being sent to Ponyville. She’d been exploring the palace – or, more accurately, wandering aimlessly with her nose in a book, having become so absorbed in it that she’d completely forgotten she was walking. Through an unhealthy amount of luck, she’d managed to avoid slamming face-first into any walls – at least until she walked into the tapestry. Instead of ramming into unyielding stone, her tender nose – and more importantly, the spine of the book – only met the cloth of the tapestry.

Twilight twitched that same tapestry aside, smiling in relief. The rough-cut entranceway was still there. Maybe the builders of the palace had intended for there to be a doorway there, or maybe they simply got lazy and left a gap. Either way, the entranceway led into a dark corner of the Depository, behind a bookshelf and covered at either end by a tapestry, where it had remained almost undiscovered since the palace had been built. She’d been using it to expediently sneak rare books out of there whenever curiosity drove her to.

Swallowing past a sudden lump in her throat, Twilight strode into the restricted wing, channeling a small light through her horn. The less time she spent in there, the better. Hopefully, she’d find what she was searching for quickly.

A broad, easy grin plastered itself across Spike’s face, but inside, his thoughts were a turmoil. Whatever you’re doing, Twilight, he thought, I hope it’s important. “Everypony, just calm down,” he said aloud. “Twilight should be back any time now, and she can tell you what’s wrong then.”

The crowd gathered in front of the library milled angrily. “Yeah, and what are we supposed to do until then?” a stallion shouted out. “How am I supposed to sell sofas if I can’t read the prices?”

“And how am I supposed to write my column?” a mare with a press cap called. “I can’t even figure out what letter’s what on my typewriter!”

The crowd of ponies all began shouting out their complaints, and Spike forced himself to listen, despite however much he wanted to cover his ear slits and scream at them to shut up. It was at times like this that he regretted being an assistant to a pony with a reputation for being capable. It meant that whenever there was a problem, every pony in town was suddenly knocking on their door.

“Where is Twilight, anyway?” another mare called while the crowd paused for breath. “Wouldn’t she notice this before anypony else?”

Maybe she did, Spike thought. Aloud, he said, “Last I heard, she was off in Canterlot. I don’t know when she’s getting back, but until then, just try to make do.”

In a perfect world, the ponies in front of the library would accept this sage bit of advice and go about their business, albeit in a slightly different manner. Of course, this was far from a perfect world, and if anything, Spike’s attempts at consolation just made them angrier. Shouts continued to fill the air.

Far above, Rainbow Dash rolled over on her cloud, trying vainly to stop up her ears with it. It was a cruel twist of fate that it almost worked. The noise from below just barely seeped through at a level that was impossible to sleep through. Finally, her patience snapped.

Throwing her head over the side of the cloud, she directed a wild growl at the crowd below, and pushed the cloud downwards. A sharp buck created a peal of thunder that did an excellent job of shutting the complaining ponies up.

“All right,” Dash snarled. “What the hay is so important that you guys have to interrupt my nap?”

The crowd went silent, ponies awkwardly looking at each other. “You tell her,” one said, nudging the stallion beside him.

Rainbow eyed the crowd sourly, trying to think. What would irritate the townsfolk enough to gather at Twilight’s door, but be too embarrassing to say outright without a crowd of angry ponies at your back? After a moment, it suddenly came to her. “You guys forgot how to read, didn’t you?”

Heated blushes and averted eyes gave Dash her answer. She blinked slowly, trying to process this new piece of information. “Oh,” she finally said. “So... it’s not just me?”

Mutters ran through the crowd. That had been the wrong thing to say, evidently. “Tell you what,” Dash said, trying to defuse the situation. “You’re not getting anything done here. How about you all go home, and see what happens? This might not last more than a day or so, anyway.”

Grumbles floated out from the massed ponies, but they started moving. “Thanks,” Spike muttered from the side of his mouth. “For a second, it looked like they were about to start throwing stuff.”

Rainbow glared down at him. “Just lack of sleep, huh?”

“Not you, too!” Spike groaned. “Look, when I sent you off, I didn’t know how bad it was! I didn’t even notice I couldn’t read until later!”

“Hey, relax,” Rainbow said, putting a comforting wing around him. “I won’t hold it against you.”

“So what do we do?” Spike asked. “Wait for Twilight to come up with something? That must be what she went to Canterlot for.”

Dash stood. “You think I’d leave this for Twilight? Heck, no! You and me, we’re going to Canterlot, and anypony else we can get.” Her eyes flicked toward the library. “And... maybe it wouldn’t hurt to bring the Elements along. Just in case.”

“I don’t think this is something the Elements can fix,” Spike replied morosely.

Dash’s features settled into a grim line. “Well, let nopony say we didn’t try.”

With a groan of annoyance, Twilight jammed a cloth-bound tome back onto the shelf. Nothing! None of the books on curses, hexes, malign influences or even the most ridiculous superstitions had turned up anything that would hurt a pony’s grammar. First editions, recalled misprints, original manuscripts, several sheaves of notes by Star Swirl the Bearded himself... none of it turned up anything useful.

The first time Twilight had found herself in the Depository, she had been amazed at the wealth of knowledge those books had contained. These were the true giants that the scholars of today had stood on the shoulders of. Now, though, after a fruitless half hour poring through archaically written tomes, they seemed almost a waste of space. Almost.

With a muttered profanity, Twilight slammed another book shut. Useless! And the title had seemed so promising, too. She suddenly stopped, peering at a nearby shelf. Her movement had blown some dust off one of the books’ spines, revealing faded gold leaf. A Catalogue of Illnesses and Maladies of the Mind Most Foul read the ornate, looping script. Heart leaping into her throat, Twilight snatched the book and opened it to a random page.

Through careful experimentation and observation, it has been observed that the mind can indeed be affected by magic, effecting a more useful method for deception than simple illusion or compulsion...

Twilight frowned, flipping ahead a few pages. Intriguing, but not particularly relevant.

Such magic is extremely difficult, only to be attempted by experts or by those with a particular affinity toward that field, as the slightest mistake can have crippling consequences for the subject...

Too far. Twilight flipped back a page, scanning the last paragraph.

With a slight manipulation of the language centers, the subject was made to be capable of speaking an entirely new language with no training or practice. Cognitus noted that as an unusual side effect, the subject lost the ability to speak, read and write in his original language until the spell was ended...

Twilight frowned. Cognitus? That wasn't a name she was familiar with. She turned the page, scanning through and finding another dozen references to the same pony. Seems like this Cognitus guy made a name for himself, she thought. Why haven't I heard of him before? She had just turned the page when she heard a loud thunk from the front of the darkened room. A moment later, she felt a tingling sensation in her horn as the wards guarding the room’s main door were deactivated.

There was no time to think. Stuffing the book in her saddlebag and extinguishing the light from her horn, Twilight leapt up from the floor and moved as soundlessly as possible toward the hidden hallway. At least, she tried to, until she became disoriented in the sudden darkness and smacked into the wall with an audible “Oof!”

“Is somepony there?” Celestia’s voice called from the front of the room. The sound of golden horseshoes against stone rang out.

Twilight only had time to flatten herself against the tapestry blocking the hallway when golden light flooded the archive. She froze, flattening herself against the wall. If she ducked through the tapestry now, she would definitely be caught. She had a better chance standing still than moving; the eye tended to slide over an unmoving form.

Through the gaps in the bookshelf, she saw Celestia stride into view, peering around suspiciously. “Hello?” the Princess called again. Twilight fought the urge to shrink back further as Celestia’s eyes tracked toward her – and swept past without stopping.

After a moment, the Princess seemed to relax, and began scanning the shelves for something. Except something was odd about the way she did it. She peered at the spine of every book with what seemed to be intense concentration for a good few seconds, then shook her head and moved on to the next. Then she did it again with the same row of books, muttering to herself under her breath. Most of it was lost, but Twilight caught something that sounded like “should be here.”

Twilight fought the urge to gasp. That was the shelf she’d taken the book of mental maladies off. Could Celestia be looking for that very same book?

After a long moment, the Princess got up again and cast an inquisitive eye around the room. This time, though, her eyes stopped on Twilight’s hiding place. A frown crossed her face, and she took a tentative step forward, peering closely.

My eyes, Twilight suddenly realized. The light’s reflecting off them! Despite her every instinct to the contrary, she shut them, praying that Celestia would just leave...

After an agonizingly long time, Twilight finally opened her eyes. She caught a glimpse of Celestia’s multihued tail just as it passed out of sight, the golden light fading behind her.

Fighting the urge to breathe a sigh of relief, Twilight retreated out from behind the tapestry, the stolen book heavy in her bag. If she was right, then it would all be worth it. If not... well, she’d deal with that when the time came.

At that precise moment, she heard the exact thing she was hoping not to.

“Why, hello Twilight,” Princess Celestia said warmly from behind her. “What brings you here?”

End of Part 4
To be continued...

CkHaPPtü RRe πhî5√

Rainbow’s hooves clunked loudly against the library’s wooden floor as she paced back and forth anxiously. “Are you sure you sent them those letters?” she asked Spike for the umpteenth time.

Spike sighed in ill temper. “I’m sure,” he said, fighting the urge to snap. “They probably just have something else that they’re doing. Or maybe they just couldn’t understand them.”

Dash snorted and glanced out the window, her wings flaring unconsciously. There was actually a fair chance the letters’ meaning had escaped their recipients. Seeing as both her and Spike had lost the ability to transfer words to a page, they’d had to make do with pictures. And neither of them was particularly good at drawing.

“We both agreed that what we drew looked like the library,” she protested. “I mean, how many other trees have been turned to houses around here?”

“Zecora’s hut, Fluttershy’s bear friend’s place...” Spike started, ticking them off on his claws.

Dash groaned. “You’re right. I should have just gone to find them all. This was never going to–”

She was cut off when someone banged on the door. Dash sprang up, grinning widely. “There we go!” she exclaimed. “I told you it’d work!”

Spike just rolled his eyes as the pegasus mare raced to the door and flung it open. Without preamble, Applejack, Fluttershy, Rarity and Pinkie Pie filed in.

“So you figured it out okay?” Dash said breathlessly. “I know I’m not the best at drawing, but I figured it was close enough to the library, and...”

Applejack and Rarity exchanged an amused glance. “Well,” Rarity replied, “we really... couldn’t tell what that... ahem... rendition was supposed to be.”

“Ah honestly thought it was some kinda giant mushroom,” Applejack cut in.

“But since it really just appeared out of thin air, we were able to reason out where it came from.” Rarity scowled at Pinkie. “Mostly.”

“What?” Pinkie replied. “There’s totally a bunch of giant mushrooms around here! You just have to know where to–”

Applejack cut her off with an upraised hoof. “Anyway. We’re here now. Where’s Twi?”

Dash shifted. “Well, that’s the thing. Twilight’s not here. She left for Canterlot early in the morning, according to Spike. She said it was to pick up a book order, but now I’m thinking that she’s there to do some research on this problem everypony’s having.” She looked around. “I mean, you’ve all forgotten how to read too, right?”

Rarity gasped. “Rainbow, you can’t just ask somepony if they can read or not. At least pretend at some semblance of propriety.”

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Put a sock in it, Rare,” she snapped. Ignoring Rarity’s indignant glare, she went on. “No. None of us can read or write any more. However much some of us migh’ refuse to admit it.” She shot a pointed look at Rarity, who looked away, her cheeks colouring. “So, do you have a plan?” she asked, returning her attention to Rainbow.

The pegasus puffed her chest out importantly. “You bet I do!” she exclaimed. “The way I see it, the Elements of Harmony can fix basically anything, as long as we hit the source with them. So, since Twilight’s probably busy finding the source of all this, we just bring the Elements to her and let some good, old-fashioned rainbow-death-wave-thing do the rest!”

She looked around, seemingly disappointed at the lack of applause. “What? Is that not a good plan, or something?”

“No, it’s an excellent plan,” Rarity replied. “It’s just... well...”

“You ain’t exactly known for thinkin’ things through,” Applejack supplied. “We were just surprised, is all.”

Rainbow frowned. “What’re you talking about? I put plenty of thought into things. Like that time when... uh... okay, but there was that...” She paused for a long moment. “Okay,” she finally burst out. “So I’m not very good at planning. That still doesn’t mean this is a bad plan!”

“There’s one problem, sugarcube,” Applejack said. “Twilight’s all the way over in Canterlot, and we’re here. And last I checked, there’s no train there for a couple days.”

Dash grinned, flapping her wings. “You think I haven’t thought of that?”

Applejack blinked a couple times, and her eyes widened as she abruptly understood. “Uh-uh,” she said, shaking her head. “No. No way! There is no way Ah’m going...”

“Is it just me, or was this actually a good idea?” she asked Rarity a few minutes later, as Pinkie Pie’s hot air balloon lifted off the ground. Ahead of them, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy were checking the knots on their tow ropes.

“What did you think?” Rarity asked with a raised eyebrow. “Rainbow was just going to fly us to Canterlot on her back?”

“What if Ah did?” Applejack snapped. That was exactly what she’d been thinking, but there was no way she’d admit it with Rarity there. In all honesty, she’d completely forgotten about Pinkie’s balloon.

Rarity said nothing for a long moment, looking away. After a moment, Applejack realized she wasn’t thinking of a reply. She was just trying her best not to laugh.

“Laugh it up,” she muttered, glaring at a nearby cloud. “Let’s just hope Twi hasn’t run into any trouble.”

Twilight froze, trying to will the blood back into her face. Just stay calm, she told herself. If you look nervous, she’ll know something’s wrong.

Easier said than done! her instincts shrieked back. You have a stolen book from a secure archive right there in your saddlebag! Just run!

Crushing the urge to flee, Twilight turned around, forced her mouth into a pleased smile, and looked her mentor in the eye. “I was just looking around,” she replied. “I wanted to find...”

She faltered for a bit, when she saw Celestia’s face. The warm smile was still there, but it seemed strained. “Is something wrong?”

The Princess’ eyes betrayed nothing. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just surprised to find you here, and not in the Archives.” She directed a pointed look at Twilight’s saddlebags. “That’s why you came here, is it not?”

The stolen book seemed to become a few hundred pounds heavier. Twilight forced herself not to wet her lips. “Actually, I’m picking up a book order for the library back in Ponyville. I stopped by at the palace to...” She glanced around, covering it with a cough, trying to think of something as close to the truth as possible. Her eyes lit on the tapestry she had just come through. Perfect! “I wanted to examine some of the tapestries,” she continued. “I was wondering if the ones in less-used corridors lasted longer, or not as long.” There. If that’s not airtight, I don’t know what is.

Celestia glanced at one of the hangings. “Well, I suppose I can save you some time. The tapestries are protected by simple, self-sustaining wards that prevent them from decaying. They don’t even need to be cleaned.”

“Really,” Twilight replied, trying to act surprised. In truth, she’d found out the answer nearly a year before leaving for Ponyville.

Celestia kept eyeing the tapestries, an odd expression on her face. Twilight followed her gaze, her heart leaping into her throat as she realized her mentor was staring at the tapestry she had come through. In her frantic flight through it, the hanging had gone slightly askew, and the edge of the hidden doorframe was just visible around the side. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Twilight said frantically, hoping to attract Celestia’s attention, “Were you looking for me? I mean, it seems like a bit of a coincidence that we’d both be down here at the same time.”

Celestia glanced back at her, smiling ruefully. “No, I wasn’t looking for you. I wasn’t even aware you were in Canterlot. I was simply searching for a book I thought was stored in the Depository.”

“Did you find it?” Twilight asked cautiously.

Celestia shook her head. “I was sure it had been stored there, but it seems I was mistaken. It was just a passing fancy, in any case. Nothing important.” Her eyes started to move back to the tapestry.

Desperate to draw her attention away, Twilight blurted out the first thing that came into her head. “Who was Cognitus?”

Celestia’s face smoothed into an unreadable mask. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said coolly. “Where did you hear that name?”

“I read it somewhere,” Twilight replied vaguely.

The Princess’ eyes narrowed a fraction. “Did you?”

Twilight wet her lips. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry. Stupid! she berated herself. What if that was the only book Cognitus was mentioned in? You might have just told her you stole it!

“Now that you mention it, I might recall something,” Celestia said carefully. “It was... stars, has it really been that long? I had thought that name forgotten.”

Twilight relaxed by a hair. “So you know who he is? I’ve never encountered a mention of him before, and he seemed to have been held in high esteem.”

“I knew him,” Celestia replied. “Quite well, in fact. As well I should. He was a personal pupil of mine nearly six hundred years ago.”

She looked back at Twilight, who was gaping openly, with an expression of mild amusement. “Don’t look so surprised. You and Star Swirl weren’t the only students I’ve had over the years.” A shadow swept over her face. “Cognitus, on the other hoof... well, some things are meant to be forgotten.” She gave herself a shake. “I suppose Cognitus wasn’t one of them. Follow me. We should discuss this in a more comfortable setting, I think.”

Twilight followed the Princess silently, her mind racing. Cognitus. When just reading it, it had just seemed to be another name. But hearing it aloud... something resonated. Like a half-faded memory, just on the edge of recollection. For a moment, she’d remembered a darkened library, rows of toppled shelves and books that turned to dust at a touch – and then it was gone. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the name was somehow important.

What did you mean, Princess? she thought. Why was he supposed to be forgotten?

The balloon’s gondola lurched as a sudden updraft caught the balloon. Applejack groaned in tandem with the creaking of the ropes, trying to curl herself into a tighter ball and clutching her stomach. “Did we have to fly here quite so fast?” she moaned.

“Just focus on breathing,” Rarity replied. “It helps if you stand, really. Keep your eyes fixed on the horizon.”

Applejack poked her head over the gondola’s rim, just as it lurched again. With a nauseous belch, she sat down heavily and put her head in her hooves. “Ah like it better down here,” she moaned.

“Just hold on for a little bit longer, AJ” Pinkie called from where she was perched on the balloon’s frame. “We’re almost there!”

The gondola gave another jolt as it met the paved streets near Canterlot’s train station, and then was still. Pinkie leapt onto the ground, holding a length of rope in her teeth, and proceeded to secure it to a nearby lamppost. Applejack followed a moment later, and began frantically kissing the ground. “Ah’ve never been so glad to be somewhere in all my life,” she gasped between kisses.

She glanced up at Rainbow Dash, who’s face had turned a curious shade of purple. “What in the hay are you lookin’ at?”

That was too much. The pegasus’ knees collapsed and she pounded on the street, laughing helplessly. “No wonder you never wanted to hang out in Cloudsdale!” she choked. “You get airsick!”

“Maybe Ah do,” Applejack said, recovering most of her composure now that the surface she was on no longer moved. “But keep in mind, Ah know where you live. And Ah don’t think it’d be too difficult to use for target practice.”

Still giggling, Dash clapped her friend on the shoulder. “Your secret’s safe with me, buddy.”

“I hate to interrupt,” Rarity chimed in, “but aren’t there usually more ponies here?”

Rainbow frowned, looking around the square. The only thing that could have made it seem more empty would have been a tumbleweed. “Are there? I dunno.”

“This isn’t exactly a peak travel time,” Rarity replied, peering into the empty ticket booth. The sign on the door simply held a crudely drawn picture of a clock and a question mark. “But there are usually a few ponies here. And at the very least, someone in the ticket booth.”

“There aren’t any birds here,” Fluttershy suddenly said.

Rainbow glanced over at her. “Flutters, you’re my pal, but what does that have to do with anything?”

The yellow pegasus have a squeak and hid behind her mane, mumbling something.

Abruptly, Rainbow flicked an ear. “Anyone else hear that, or am I just losing it?”

“Ah hear it too,” Applejack said, frowning. It hadn’t been noticeable a moment before, but now a distant roar echoed off the empty buildings, growing steadily louder with each passing heartbeat.

“I’m gonna go check it out,” Rainbow started to say, but before she could dart out, a mob of ponies emerged from one of the streets and flooded across the square. The five friends froze, dropping into defensive postures – well, Fluttershy hid behind the gondola – but the mob ignored them and stormed into another street.

“Was that...” Rarity started.

“An angry mob? Looks like it,” Rainbow finished for her.

“Where does a pony even get a pitchfork in these parts?” Applejack wondered out loud.

“More importantly,” Rarity interjected, “Did they look like they were heading to the palace to you?”

Rainbow blinked. Then blinked again, her eyes widening. “Oh,” she said. “Oh. That’s bad.”

As Twilight followed her mentor and the silence stretched, her mind began torturing her with questions. Had Celestia’s suspicions been roused at all? Why had she asked about Congitus anyway? What did it really matter? It was just the name of some long-dead pony. Finding out who it had belonged to wasn’t worth the risk of being discovered!

She continued berating herself until they reached a nondescript set of oak doors that Twilight recognized as the ones leading to Celestia’s private study. Tucked away in a secluded corner of the palace, its location wasn’t known to most of the palace staff, and served as a place to let the Princess think without distraction.

“We will talk in here,” Celestia said, opening the door.

Twilight hesitantly followed the Princess in, taking a seat on a cushion at Celestia’s gesture.

Celestia ignored the tidy stack of cushions next to her desk and settled herself down on the floor. “Cognitus,” she finally said, “is a chapter of my past I’m not altogether proud of. He was not only a former student; he was the last pupil I took on before you.”

Twilight shivered. For some reason, the thought of Celestia teaching other ponies, the same personal tutoring she’d received... it just felt odd. Like learning of a stallion’s previous marefriends.

“He didn’t show your promise, of course,” Celestia continued. “In fact, his magical strength was relatively weak, on a level similar to your friend Rarity’s, in fact. But he showed a surprising aptitude for magic concerning the mind. He couldn’t quite see into other ponies’ heads, but some of the things he could do were... well, taking him on was more a matter of necessity than because I saw potential. Those kinds of talents can be easily misused, and I wanted to make sure he took them in the right direction.”

“What was he like?” Twilight asked.

“You would have liked him,” Celestia remarked, glancing at her pupil. “His love for books was almost a large as yours.” Her lips curled in a smile. “Almost.” Faint heat rose in Twilight’s cheeks.

“He was a brilliant student, surpassing all my expectations. Before long, I learned that he was pursuing his own research alongside the tasks I set him. I should have intervened, but pride clouded my judgement, and I let him continue. Then, one day, he vanished.”

“He ran away?” Twilight asked.

Celestia shook her head. “He had locked himself in his rooms for a week, refusing to come out, and not letting anyone in. He said he was close to something, and that the slightest interference would undo months of work.”

She closed her eyes, and was silent for a long moment. “I’m sorry,” she said, after a deep, shuddering breath. “I have... difficulty telling this. I had thought the pain would fade, after all this time, but...”

“You don’t have to go on,” Twilight said, guilt flaring in her chest.

“No!” Celestia replied with unexpected vehemence. “You need to know.” She took another breath to compose herself. “The first day he didn’t respond, I thought he’d exhausted himself and needed rest. The second day, I began to worry. The third day, I forced my way into the room, and...” She squeezed her eyes shut, as if she was trying to hide from the memory. “He was gone. There was not a mark on him, but he’d been dead for just over three days.”

Twilight shivered. “What happened to him?”

“I never found out,” Celestia replied. “I never even found out what he was working on. He was very protective of his work, and encoded all his notes with a cipher that I was never able to crack. But whatever he was looking for... I’m fairly certain he found it. And whatever it was should have remained hidden.”

She let out a heavy sigh. “I ended up keeping those books found with him in his room. To remind myself of my pride, and what came from it, and to protect others from a similar fate.” She chuckled mirthlessly. “A couple years after that, an earthquake struck Canterlot. Several major structures, the old Archives included, collapsed into the crystal mines under the city. Over twenty thousand books were lost, including several volumes Cognitus wrote himself, but those few books I had kept were left untouched. It’s as if the land was mocking me for failing to keep him safe. Ridiculous, I know, but I couldn’t help it.”

She looked over at Twilight and smiled. “Don’t worry. I am not blaming myself. Cognitus likely knew full well what he was getting into, and pressed on regardless. But let it serve as a lesson to you. Knowledge is power. But never doubt that it can be dangerous. There are some things that ponies simply aren’t meant to know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Twilight said faintly. Stars above! I can see why Celestia doesn’t go telling everyone who’ll listen about that. Who’d want it known that one of their students got themselves killed? "Did you at least get an idea what he was working on from the books he had?"

"I pored through all of them," Celestia replied. "The closest thing they had in common was that most mentioned theories on melding two consciousnesses into one. Nothing but wild suppositions, of course. But no, I never found out what it was that killed him."

Twilight swallowed. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be," the Princess cut in. "It was well before your time, and you had no way of knowing who he was. The last thing I want is for you to feel guilty."

The stolen book weighed heavily on her side. Despite what her mentor had said, or perhaps because of it, guilt flared deeply inside her. I lied to her. She confided in me, and I lied to her face. "Celestia," Twilight said, licking her lips. Her mouth had suddenly gone dry. "There's something I need to tell–"

Celestia glanced at a clock on the wall. “Oh, my. It seems I’ve lost track of time. I’m afraid I’ll have to cut our discussion short.”

Twilight blinked. "This'll only take a–"

"No buts, Twilight," Celestia said, cutting her off. "I'm running late as it is, and I'm sure you have matters requiring your attention. We'll continue this at a later time."

Twilight rose unsteadily and bowed. “You’ve given me a lot to think about,” she said.

“Just remember what I said,” Celestia replied as Twilight turned to leave. “Oh, and Twilight?”

Twilight looked back. The corner of Celestia’s mouth turned up in a smile. “Make sure to put that book to good use.”

The unicorn froze. “I’ll... I’ll...” Without further response, she all but fled the study, heart pounding. She didn’t stop until she was outside the palace.

Celestia watched Twilight go, smiling sadly. I am so proud of her, she thought.

Off in the corner, a bookcase rippled and vanished, and Princess Luna stalked out of the shadows. “Are you sure this course of action is wise?” she asked. “Even we do not know what she will face.”

“She has an idea,” Celestia replied. “It’s better than what we have.”

“And Cognitus,” Luna said. “Why did you tell her about him? ‘Tis in the past!”

“Why do we learn history, sister?” Celestia asked. Without waiting for a reply, she continued. “We learn it because it repeats. The names and faces may change, but those too foolish to learn the lessons of the past make the same mistakes. I will not allow Twilight to suffer that fate.”

Luna fidgeted. “I feel... tense. Like something terrible is about to happen.”

Celestia chuckled mirthlessly. “Your instincts are not what they used to be, sister. It’s already happening.” She cast her eyes over the books sitting against the wall, and over the meaningless symbols that now covered their spines. If anyone knows what’s going on, it’s you, Twilight, she thought. For my sake, and for yours... don’t let me down.

End of Part 5
To be continued...

Author's Note

So, this took a little longer than it should have to put out. Sorry 'bout that. In any case, I know where this is going now, so it should proceed a fair bit faster. Should. Hopefully. Probably not.

In any case, I'll offer a belated thanks to Alphacat for providing another opinion to Chapter 4, as well as to Bronius Maximus for his primary editing services.

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Libraries were usually such warm, welcoming places. No matter how crowded the shelves might be, they were always well lit so scholars could read a book pulled straight off the shelf. Even a shelf of books coated in dust seemed welcoming in its own way. Instead of appearing neglected, dusty books spoke of mystery. What was in this tome that had lain undisturbed for years?

Of course, over it all would lie the distant buzz of muted conversation, as scholars muttered to themselves while choosing a book or quietly discussed their finds with their colleagues. Every so often one would see a pony walking past, gesturing madly, clearly trying to keep his voice down as he detailed some new discovery.

This library had not experienced that in some time. The only light was the faint glow put out by the large crystals in the cavern. The only sounds were that of water dripping through the rock, or the deep groan of tons of stone settling.

It was through this that a stallion walked looking out over the toppled shelves and rubble of what had once been a grand library. His hooves made no sound as they touched the uneven stone floor, and no dust stirred in his wake.

Abruptly he stopped, feeling something tugging at his mind. The bindings were too strong. This was as far as he could go.

The stallion longed to explore the rest of the library, but he turned back. There was no use trying to fight it. Besides, he could feel her coming. She was getting closer with each passing moment.

With nothing else to do, he settled himself down to wait. Some might say that he’d be quite good at it, with all the practice he’d had.

If only I could see the sun one last time before she comes, he thought. Just one, final glimpse.

But what could he do? Nothing, save wait.

And so he patiently waited, in the darkness. Knowing that soon, very soon, it would all be over.

No matter how much animosity existed between members of the Royal Guard, they always agreed on one thing: guarding the portcullis was undoubtedly the worst duty they could possibly be saddled with. They were expected to stand there with perfect posture, staring straight ahead, for four straight hours. When there wasn’t any traffic into the palace, the job became unbearably boring. And if anything, it was worse when there was traffic, simply because every tourist that passed by could never resist the temptation to try and eke a reaction out of the guards.

It was easy to understand that any guards stationed at the portcullis would rather be anywhere else. Especially if the palace was being practically besieged by an angry mob.

Sarissa dodged to the side, biting off a stream of curses, as yet another cobblestone flew past. Of course there had to be a large pile of the things right outside the walls from the previous day’s construction. Brightsteel remained at his post, safely covered by the portcullis’ arch, although his face had gone even paler than his white coat would make seem possible.

“What in the hay is taking Aspis so long?” Sarissa complained, nervously eying the crowd outside. So far, the wrought-iron portcullis was doing an excellent job of holding them back. It wouldn’t last long once they thought to bombard it with loose cobblestones, but for the moment it held.

“I have no idea!” Brightsteel snapped. “Maybe he decided to go to the Princesses before committing a hundred guards to the gate. That ever occur to you?”

Outside, the mob began chanting again. “LET US IN! LET US IN! LET US–”

“Shut up!” Sarissa bellowed through the gate. His voice was lost in the tumult. Groaning, he rubbed his forehead with a hoof. “You’d think losing the ability to read and write wouldn’t be something to riot about.”

“It’s not what happened,” Brightsteel retorted. “It’s the fact that it happened. I mean, we’re supposed to protect them from stuff like this, remember?”

“We’re not perfect!” Sarissa protested. He stomped angrily. “If Celestia had released a public statement or something, they wouldn’t be as scared!”

“How was she supposed to know? This happened practically overnight! You didn’t even mention it until this morning!”

“LET US IN!” the crowd howled.

Sarissa glanced out at those faces. Some were angry. But most were wide-eyed and desperate. They were frightened out of their wits.

Why did it have to come to this? he thought. Why couldn’t we stop it?

As she galloped along the corridor, Twilight’s mind raced furiously. Celestia knew she’d stolen the book. There was no denying that. And for some reason, she hadn’t minded. That could mean one of two things. Either one of the nation’s diarchs had suddenly become okay with her personal protégé bending the law to suit her needs, or she thought Twilight could do more good with the book than she.

There’s no other answer, Twilight thought. Something has to be attacking ponies’ literary skills. I don’t know how, or why, but Celestia wouldn’t have let me go if it wasn’t!

She stopped herself short. But if it’s bad enough for Celestia to know, why am I not being affected?

She shook her head. It wasn’t important. She’d been offered an opportunity, and she was going to take it.

Luna shook her head as she stared after Twilight. “She still doesn’t know,” she said in tones of disbelief. “How could she not know?”

“Somehow, she wasn’t affected,” Celestia replied. “And therefore, she is the only one capable of stopping it.”

“How? If even we fell victim, how could she resist?”

Celestia shook her head. “I don’t know. But it means that she’s the only one capable of stopping this attack.” She smiled wryly. “For centuries, I defended my country against every foe I could imagine. And yet this one slipped right past. I almost admire it.”

Luna frowned. “There is one thing I still do not understand. If Twilight does not know what’s happening, why did you not tell her? Would she not work better knowing what is at stake?”

“Twilight is capable under pressure,” Celestia replied, “but she has a tendency to break suddenly, and unexpectedly. If she knew the true extent of what was happening, she’d panic. And just like that, we would lose our last hope.”

Frown deepening, Luna looked around the room. “I still think–”

Her thought was cut off as Aspis burst through the door, chest heaving. “Your Highnesses,” he gasped, bobbing his head in a perfunctory bow. “Forgive me for the intrusion, but we have a situation. There’s a mob at the castle gates, demanding to see you. Fortunately, the guards stationed there had the quick thinking to lower the portcullis, but...”

“A mob?” Celestia snapped. “When did this happen? Why was I not notified sooner?”

“They arrived minutes ago,” Aspis replied, leaning against the doorframe. “I would have told you sooner, but... to be frank, your quarters aren’t exactly close to the gate.”

Celestia turned away, mind racing. “Should I deploy additional guards to the gate?” Aspis asked.

“No!” Celestia said. “The ponies must be scared out of their wits, to riot like this. Deploying additional guards will only make them more violent.” She directed a cold stare at her Acting Captain. “I would rather we make it through the day without bloodshed.”

Aspis wilted before that stare. “As you wish, your Highness,” he said, gulping. “I apologize. I should have seen...”

Celestia ignored him. She had just felt something she hadn’t expected. Her eyes snapped up, and met her sister’s, which were also wide with surprise. She felt it too.

“Those naïve, ignorant, careless foals,” she said. “They brought the Elements here.”

Aspis frowned. “The Elements are here? Is that a bad thing?”

Celestia barked a laugh. “Actually, I might kiss those ponies when I see them.” She glanced at Luna. “Bring them here. Keep them safe. We have to get them, and the Elements, to Twilight as soon as possible. Go now. Don’t argue.”

Luna opened her mouth as if to contest the point anyway, but then nodded and backed into the shadows. A moment later, she was gone.

Celestia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had always been good at planning. Most everything that had ever befallen her nation had quickly fallen into traps and pitfalls she had prepared long before. Now, however, everything was happening too quickly. There was no time to plan. “Prepare my regalia,” she said to Aspis.

“Princess?” he replied, brow furrowing in confusion. “What are you going to do?”

Please let me be doing the right thing, she thought fearfully, gazing toward where she sensed the Elements. The last time she had been unable to plan, it had ended with her sister trapped on the moon for a millenium. “I’m going to give the ponies outside exactly what they want,” Celestia replied. “I only hope I can stall for long enough.”

“Are we there yet?”

“No,” Rainbow Dash said to Pinkie, peering around a corner. The street was deserted. Heaving a sigh of relief, she stepped out from the alleyway, trying to peer in every direction at once.

They had encountered three more mobs since the first one. The second one, apparently recognizing them as the Element bearers, had then proceeded to chase them into Canterlot’s Old City, hurling bits of stone and abuse in similar volume. Whatever had whipped the populace into a frenzy, they seemed to think that those in a position of power or authority were at fault. So, upon seeing the third and fourth groups, the five friends had simply hidden in an alley and waited for them to vanish.

“All clear,” Rainbow called behind her.

“You know,” Applejack said as she emerged from the alley, “you ain’t exactly the best pony to be scoutin’.”

“What makes you say that?” Rainbow shot back.

In response, Applejack looked pointedly at Dash’s seven-hued mane. “You ain’t exactly, uh... inconspicuous.”

“Nopony saw me, did they?” Dash snapped.

Applejack shrugged. “Ah’m just sayin’ there’s a risk. My eyes are just as keen as yours, an’ Ah blend in a mite better.”

Rainbow snorted. “You’re awfully confident for somepony who was painting the ground with her lunch a little while ago.”

“Ah get airsick!”

“Girls!” Rarity snapped, startling the two. “I understand that we’re under a small amount of stress, but now is not the time to start taking it out on each other!” She glared at Applejack, who had adopted a nakedly sheepish expression. “Yes, Rainbow isn’t exactly a master of camouflage, but if she is spotted, she can escape quickly and easily. Therefore, she is more fit for that duty.”

“Who died and made you Princess?” Applejack shot back sourly.

“What do you mean, escape?” Rainbow snapped at the same time. “You think I can’t fight my way out?”

“Are we there yet?” Pinkie asked.

“NO!” all three shouted, turning back to her.

“If you intend to attract every rioting pony in the city, you’re doing an excellent job,” Luna said dryly, stepping out of the shadows and fixing the four ponies with a bemused stare.

“Nobody asked you,” Dash spat, casting a brief glance over. “Now I’ll have you know that I can...” She trailed off, her face going white, as she realized what she had just done.

“Thine tongue is as sharp as ever, I see,” Luna remarked, looking the four ponies over. “You have the Elements, I gather? No, do not ask how I know. My sister and I sensed them as soon as you entered the city.” She glanced over them again, frowning. “Was there not another of you?”

“Girls?” a soft voice said from the alley. “I heard yelling, and thought something might have–” Fluttershy cut herself off, skidding to a halt as she saw Luna standing in front of her four friends. “Oh my,” she said quietly, before giving a squeak of fear and ducking behind a small pile of refuse.

Rainbow heaved a heavy sigh and walked over to where a quivering pink tail was still visible. “Come on out, Flutters. Luna’s not scary any more, remember?”

“Hold on,” Rarity said to the Princess. “How did you get here? I didn’t sense any magic.”

“You see shadows,” Luna replied. “I see... something different. Doorways, I suppose you could call them. Now follow me. There is no time to lose.”

With a heavy sigh, Twilight looked up from the book she’d stolen from the Depository and rubbed her eyes. Yup, she thought. There’s no doubt. Something’s definitely causing this.

The book had made several more references to spells influencing the brain’s language centers, all apparently developed by Cognitus. Princess Celestia wasn’t kidding, she mused, flipping back to a rough explanation of one such spell. The spell itself didn’t require much magical power, but magic was arranged in a hideously complex web. The mental focus required for something like that would be unbelievable.

“But what does it mean?” she muttered, slamming the book shut. “I know it’s possible to make a pony illiterate with magic. I think that’s what’s happening right now. But what do I do about it?”

She rubbed her eyes again. She’d been staring at those yellowed pages for so long that her eyes were starting to go foggy. Even wresting meaning from the words required intense concentration now. Groaning, Twilight got up and began to pace around the deserted library. A small part of her wondered why there weren’t at least a couple ponies scanning the shelves. Then again, if this illiteracy had spread as much as she thought, what point would anypony see in walking around a library?

She shook her head, trying to dispel a sudden image that had popped into it. Every time she thought of a library, she always had that strange half-memory of rows of shelves, surrounded by broken stone. Where have I seen that before? she thought. It was right there, at the edge of her memory, but frustratingly out of reach. All she knew was that it was somehow important.

With a heavy sigh, Twilight sat back down at the table and closed her eyes. “What am I supposed to find?” she asked the empty room.

Of course, nothing responded. Shaking her head to clear it, she opened the book again, hoping to find some clue she might have missed. Maybe the half-remembered library had been mentioned in there somewhere.

Suddenly, she blinked, staring at the pages in confusion. The words looked... different, somehow. They didn’t quite seem to make sense like they did before. Frowning, she flipped past a few more pages, a sick feeling rising in her throat. Every page looked the same as it had, but at the same time, it looked different enough that reading it was impossible.

No, she thought, continuing to turn the pages. No, no, not now! Not when I’m so close!

Frantic, she slammed magic into the page, weaving by instinct, hoping to force the words back into their proper shapes. For a brief instant, it looked like it was about to work... and then the magic sputtered and died. Twilight slumped back, panting, sweat streaming down her face. It was sweat. There was no way those were tears. She had no time for tears now.

Scrubbing at her cheeks, she looked at the book again, hoping to glean something, but she knew it was no use. Whatever it was in her head that let her make sense of the words was gone.

I never actually believed it, she thought. All this time, all this research, and until now, I didn’t actually think I was right. I guess I was hoping to be wrong.

“And now it’s too late!” She slammed a hoof against the table in frustration, ignoring the bolt of pain it sent up her foreleg. No! She would not give up now! This was nothing but... an inconvenience! She could still look at the pictures, right?

Twilight stared straight ahead for a moment, and then sank to the floor with a groan. “Dear Celestia, I can’t do anything.”

Her ears suddenly pricked up. Were those voices she heard? Hadn’t the library been deserted?

The heavy doors at the far end of the library banged open, and five very familiar faces poured through. Five pairs of eyes met hers at the same time, and expressions of glee appeared on each of those faces.

“See?” Rainbow Dash crowed, doing a celebratory backflip. “I told you she’d be here! Once an egghead, always an egghead.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Applejack muttered. “Don’t go rubbin’ it in. Ah still remember that time you got stuck in that tree, and Ah had to go and–”

“No need to go into that,” Rainbow said hurriedly, cheeks colouring. “I’ll admit, you had the idea a second after me.”

“How is the research going, Twilight?” Rarity asked, eyeing the book on the table. “If you have need of the Elements, we have them with us.” She frowned. “Twilight? What’s the matter?”

Twilight looked around at her friends. They all looked toward her, confidence shining in their eyes. They’d follow her to the ends of the earth, and maybe beyond. They had brought her the one thing she was missing, her final ace up the proverbial sleeve.

And she could do nothing.

So she did the only thing she could. She threw her head back and laughed until tears ran down the sides of her face. Her friends all went silent, staring at her with concern, but she didn’t care.

At least we’re all in this together, she thought bitterly.

“Princess Celestia, permission to speak freely.”

“Permission denied,” Celestia replied curtly.

Aspis bristled. “Well, I’ll speak anyway. Your Highness, this is a terrible idea.”

“I am perfectly aware of that,” she replied, never slowing.

“You haven’t seen the mob out there! Those ponies are scared out of their wits, and they’re out for blood, immortal or no! All it takes is one stray brick, and it’s all over.”

Celestia laughed. “Aspis, I have faced dragons, minotaurs, and the demons of Tartarus. Are you suggesting that after all that, I hide from an angry mob?”

“At least let me give you some guards! No more than fifty. What monarch is seen without an honour guard, especially in a situation like this? I can–”

“What need I fear from my own ponies?” Celestia asked quietly. “An honour guard will only tell them that I fear them. These ponies expect me to pull a solution out of my mane, Aspis. What will they think if they see I am afraid?”

“What will they think when they realize you have nothing to tell them?” Aspis shot back. “We have nothing! We don’t even know who, or what is doing this!”

“And that’s where you’re wrong,” Celestia replied, smiling. “I have made my decision, Aspis. Please don’t make me forcibly relieve you.”

Her Acting Captain drew himself up, and saluted with far more stiffness than was really necessary. “As you command, Princess,” he grated.

Celestia took a deep breath, and opened the palace’s main door. Sunlight flooded in, and with it the roar of the mob.

There was no turning back now.

“Uh, Twilight?” Applejack asked, taking a tentative step forward. “You all right?”

Twilight shook her head, trailing off into quiet chuckles. “No,” she said. “No I’m not.”

“Were we not supposed to come?” Fluttershy whimpered. “I’m sorry! It was all Rainbow’s idea!”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Knew I could count on you, Flutters,” she said dryly. “Whaddaya mean you’re not all right?”

“Is it the same for all of you?” Twilight asked. “You know what I’m talking about.”

A pregnant pause hung in the room for a long moment. “How long?” Applejack finally asked.

“I lost it right before you came in,” Twilight replied, shaking her head. “So this is what you felt like. Would you believe I didn’t actually believe anything was really happening until now? It’s just too weird.”

Her friends exchanged confused glances. “You’re, uh... taking this surprisingly well,” Rainbow said cautiously.

“What am I supposed to do?” Twilight snapped, her temper suddenly exploding. “Break down and cry? No! I know when I’m beat. All I can do... all any of us can do is just accept this and move on. We failed. I failed.”

“You’ve given up,” Rarity said, surprise etched into her voice. “Just like that.”

“Like I said,” Twilight snarled. “I know when I’m beat. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to give this book back to Princess Celestia.”

She started toward the table, but stopped as she felt a hoof against her chest. She looked up, meeting Rainbow’s magenta eyes. “What’s wrong with you?” the pegasus hissed. “This isn’t the Twilight I know. The Twilight I know wouldn’t give up!”

She’s right, a small voice in the back of Twilight’s head said. You’ve been through worse. She ruthlessly quashed it. Maybe she’d been through worse. But then, she’d always known what to do. There had always been a way out. Now, there was nothing.

She looked around, at the shelves crammed with books. All that knowledge, useless now. Maybe it would be confined to some forgotten storeroom now. Locked away in the dark, to gather dust...

Something stirred in the back of her head. A memory, suddenly clear, of rows of weathered shelves, gathering dust in the dark. It wasn’t a dream, she realized. It’s a vision of some kind. Could somepony do that? Just project images into your dreams? I guess so. Anything seems possible today, doesn’t it?

Rainbow backed away, having seen a new fire light in her eyes. “Uh, Twilight? Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve there.”

Twilight suddenly realized that she was angry. Burningly so. “It’s not you, Rainbow,” she said, surprised at how cold her voice had become. How dare anything do this? Ponies had worked their entire lives to create what surrounded her. If anything was going to make it all meaningless, it wouldn’t do it without facing her wrath.

But she had to direct it. Temper it. Blind wrath wouldn’t get her anywhere. But a focused blade, like a scalpel... “Tell me. Did you ever hear of an earthquake that struck Canterlot a few centuries ago?”

“I remember reading something like that,” Rarity said hesitantly. “Comes with building a city on a mountain. Seismic upheaval, and all that.” She looked around. “What? You think I find all my gems by luck? I have to know where to look for them.”

“Several major structures in Canterlot collapsed,” Twilight went on. “including the old Archives.” Over twenty thousand volumes, including some of Cognitus’ own works.

“You think whoever... or whatever’s doing this is in the ruins of that library?” Rainbow asked, sounding incredulous. “That sounds a little far-fetched to me, Twi.”

“This morning, I didn’t think you could erase a pony’s literacy,” Twilight replied. “I’m ready to believe anything right now.” She looked around. “I’ll say right now, I’m taking a huge gamble here. The crystal caves are unstable, and half the passages are only still standing because of spit and prayers. Are you still with me?”

To her surprise, Rainbow barked a laugh in reply. “Do you really think I’d let you walk into that alone?” she asked. The others stepped forward, voicing their support.

Twilight blinked, smiling. What did she expect? Hadn’t these very friends followed her into situations far worse? “Let’s go, then,” she said.

She turned and headed out the door, still smiling. Battered she might be, but she was not beaten.

The roar of the mob hit her like a physical blow. But Princess Celestia didn’t falter. The sun never wavered in its path across the sky, and neither would she.

Oh, but it hurt her so to see her ponies reduced to such a state. Rage flickered within her, and was quickly buried. She had to be focused. Calm, collected and serene.

The mob continued to roar as she approached the gate. They hadn’t seen her yet, but when they did, there was no way to predict what would happen.

“Open the portcullis,” she said calmly.

Sarissa gaped openly at her. “Open the... are you insane?”

Celestia said nothing; just stared coolly at him. The pegasus paled, and hurried to do as she said. At that moment, the crowd noticed her, and if anything, the volume of their cries increased.

With a screech of abused iron, the damaged portcullis began to rise, and the crowd surged into the gap.

And then stopped, as if it had met an invisible wall.

Celestia strode calmly through the gate, gazing around at the sea of frightened faces. Several glanced at chunks of cobblestone in their hooves, or held in a telekinetic grip, and quickly dropped them, seeming surprised they were holding them in the first place. As she advanced into the crowd, a gap formed around her as ponies shuffled to give her space. Within moments, an utter silence fell across the courtyard.

Twilight stopped, looking around frantically. “It has to be here somewhere!” she said, glancing around the mountain’s rock face. The cave’s entrance was easy to miss, hidden in a cleft between two boulders. Boulders exactly like the ones scattered all around, the result of centuries of rockfalls.

Her friends spread out, searching the rock face just outside the city. The area was oddly quiet, devoid of its usual birdsong. Twilight looked around, hopelessness beginning to rise in her chest again. How could she even know the caves intersected where the library used to be?

“Here!” Rarity called, pointing toward a familiar-looking pair of boulders, magic sparking around her horn.

Twilight felt a surge of admiration for her friend. Clever. Her gem-finding spell would react to the crystals. She ran over, and looked down into the abandoned shaft. Several others like it existed around the city, but they were capped off. This one must have slipped through the cracks. Good thing, because this was the one she’d escaped through with Cadance.

“Come on!” she called, ducking in and lighting her horn. If this was another dead end... no. She would not consider that possibility.

Still, she couldn’t shake a dreadful premonition of some kind. Relax, she told herself. The caves held when you and Cadance were going through them. They’ll hold now.

“Pass out the Elements,” she said anyway. “Be ready for anything.”

Celestia let the silence in the square stretch for a moment longer. These ponies really didn’t mean any harm. She no longer saw malice in those eyes. Fear, yes, and a healthy portion of embarrassment, but nothing truly dangerous.

I should never have let it come to this, she thought as she surveyed those faces.

But she had. And now, she had to make the best of it.

“In the past,” she started, her voice ringing through the square, “our enemies were always known to us. We always had a face, or a name, to rally against.”

She paused a moment to let her words sink in. “Quite simple, when you think about it. Just knowing what it is lurking in the shadows makes it far easier to face. But what do we do when we don’t have a known enemy? Do we create one? Do we turn against our friends, neighbours, or anyone else you know?”

There was an almost collective movement in the crowd as ponies averted their eyes in shame, trying to look anywhere but at the Princess standing before them.

“A few ponies today are doing something far greater than I could have expected from them,” she declared. “They have chosen to face this nameless enemy, the one who has stolen something from us that can’t be measured, and whose worth cannot be estimated.”

Twilight raced through the caves, the light from her horn scintillating off the crystals sprouting from nearly every surface. Her friends followed behind, without questioning where she was going, or how she knew where to go. Their trust spurred her onward. Against impossible odds she might be, but she would not let them down!

“They are heroes,” Celestia said. “Regardless of whether they succeed or fail. Now, my little ponies, I ask you. What are you?”

The assembled ponies in front of her suddenly began milling in confusion. Celestia frowned. That wasn’t the result she was expecting. Then she felt it. A deep rumbling, more felt than heard. One that continued to rise in pitch and intensity, until–

With a bone-jolting, mind-rattling blast, a shock wave rippled through the ground, sending most of the ponies in front of her to their knees. Cracks shot through the cobblestone streets, and the ground itself heaved as if alive. Down the street, windows exploded outwards, sending shards of glass in every direction. A storefront collapsed entirely, filling the air with dust.

All this happened in the space of a blink. There was no time to react. No time to even think. All Celestia could do was look upwards in horror as the massive stone ramparts above her let out a hideous groan.

And then collapsed, sending fifteen tons of stone and mortar thundering down on top of her.

Guided by instinct, Twilight ran on. Her earlier doubts were forgotten. This had to be the right place. She didn’t know why, but she could just feel it.

All around her lay evidence of the caves’ origin. Clumps of broken crystal, pickaxes and minecarts lay strewn through the caves, left there after a series of collapses made the mines too unsafe to continue expanding. And so their equipment was simply left where it lay, forgotten and untouched by time, back from when the crystals had still been sought after for their magical properties. Even now, Twilight could feel the magical interference they put out in their unrefined state, making even projecting light a challenge. Something as complex as teleporting would be impossible.

Normally, she would have wanted to stop and have a look around, perhaps study the crystals a little. Of course, the situation was hardly normal.

“We’re almost there,” she panted, sprinting through a rough-hewn tunnel with a final surge. And then stopped, mouth agape, staring blankly.

The path ended there. After opening up into a large cavern, the tunnel simply lead to a dead end.

Her friends followed her in, but they already knew what to expect from her posture. “It’s all right, sugarcube,” Applejack murmured, clapping her on the shoulder. “You tried. Can’t ask anything more from you.”

Twilight shook away. “No! It has to be here. It has to be!” She began scouring the cavern’s walls, searching for something, anything.

Applejack started forward, but Rainbow stopped her, simply shaking her head.

Twilight felt at a large crystal in front of her, and then slumped. “I was so sure,” she whispered. “I thought...”

“Look on the bright side,” Rainbow said weakly. “We still have each other, right?”

Twilight chuckled mirthlessly. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Start making your way back. I’ll...” she swallowed. “I need a moment.”

She heard them go back through the tunnel, although she knew they’d just be waiting on the other side. I let them down, she thought.

Sudden fury welled up within her, and she slammed a hoof down on the nearest crystal. The spirelike structure wobbled slightly, tapping the one next to it and producing a slight ring.

Twilight looked up. The crystal shouldn’t have done that. It was firmly secured to bedrock. Setting it to the slightest wobble would take more strength than she was capable of mustering, magic or no.

Instead of fading away, the ringing intensified, and began to sound from all around her as other crystals began to resonate. Loose stone throughout the cavern began to fall, dislodged by a deep, bass rumbling.

Twilight’s eyes widened. All of her care, and there was still one thing she’d missed. The birds. The birds had all vanished an hour before.

“Get to cover!” she screamed, bolting for the exit. “Move! Before–”

Whatever she had been about to say was lost as the earthquake struck with the force of a thousand sledgehammers. The ground rippled and bucked, throwing Twilight off her hooves and sending showers of stone down from the ceiling. Crystals broke from the walls and shattered around her in a hail of deadly shards. Belatedly, she threw a magical barrier around herself and another around her friends. Please hold, she thought to the ceiling. Please...

With a shriek like a living thing in pain, the ceiling gave way. An unthinkable mass of stone poured down between Twilight and her friends. Her shield, spared the brunt of it, held, but something unfathomably massive struck the other shield, and the magic was torn away from her.

The rumbling finally stopped.

Twilight opened her eyes, coughing on the dust that now floated through the air. “Girls!” she called between hacks.

Her only response was the clatter of a few more loose stones.

Twilight coughed again. “Girls!”

Nothing. Desperate, Twilight wove magic, and somehow sifted the dust out of the air, compressing it behind her in a large, even sphere. With the air now clear, her heart filled with despair. The far side of the cavern was completely blocked off by a wall of shattered stone and crystal.

Even if her friends had somehow survived, she was trapped.

The night before, Shining Sole had been a cobbler. He had been very proud of his craft. While most others claiming to make “shoes” made do with simple crescents of iron hammered out on a forge by an uncaring smith, he created something far finer. His shoes, crafted using only the finest tools, were genuine works of art, tailored to match his customer’s exact needs. The peddler, who traveled far and wide with his cart of goods, received a sturdy, all-purpose shoe, with added support on the ankles and lined with padding. The acrobat received shoes made from an exceedingly light metal alloy, allowing them to be light on their hooves while still gaining all the advantages a well-made shoe brought.

One of those shoes stared him in the face now, an ornately made piece lined with silver filigree. It was ludicrously impractical and difficult to make, but then it wasn’t intended to be practical. It was intended to showcase his obvious talents, which was why he wore a full set of those shoes wherever he went.

With an effort, he lifted his head, staring around in stupefied horror at the scene around him. The earthquake – it had to be one of those, to have caused such damage – had collapsed storefronts and opened wide rents in the streets. The air was filled with dust and the screams of the injured.

Sole forced himself to his hooves, gasping at a flare of pain from his right foreleg. A glance down confirmed his suspicions: a ragged laceration up the side of the leg, choked with dust. A reddish patch on a sharp piece of nearby stone confirmed where it had come from.

I should be scared, he thought, wavering slightly. I should feel... something.

A slight sound from somewhere nearby got his attention. Without a thought, he climbed over a pile of rubble, and saw a dust-covered hoof protruding limply from under a slab of masonry. Sole quickly reached for magic through his horn and lifted the slab, grunting with the effort, and flung it to the side, sending up a cloud of dust. Even through it, he saw the pair of blue eyes staring at him in wonder. “I tried yelling,” the pegasus mare whispered, “but nopony heard. I thought...” Her voice broke.

“You’re safe now,” Sole said. “Can you stand?”

The mare shook her head. “My legs...”

Sole looked behind her, and spotted the problem. Her rear half was buried under what looked like half the top floor. It would take far more than what he could muster to move that without accidentally crushing her. Desperate, he looked around, seeing movement out on the streets. “Hey!” he yelled, waving a hoof. “There’s somepony in there! Help!”

The ponies outside jerked in surprise, and then ran in without hesitation. “Don’t worry,” he said to the trapped pegasus. “You’re going to be all right.”

They are heroes, Celestia’s last words echoed in his head. What are you?

I’m not a hero, he thought in reply. I’m just a cobbler.

“...ilight! Can you hear me?”

Twilight froze, looking up, as a small shower of loose stones slid from near the top of the cavern. “Girls?”

“She’s all right!” Applejack’s voice called, followed by... cheering?

“What happened?” Twilight called. “I felt something hit the shield, and... I... I thought you’d...”

“You may have saved our lives,” Applejack replied. “That force field deflected the rock just enough that it missed us.”

Technically, a force field was something entirely different, but Twilight was too happy to correct Applejack on the distinction.

“Now just hold tight,” Applejack said. “We’re getting you out of there!”

Twilight froze as a tremor ran through the cave. Somewhere in the dark, a boulder crashed down. There’s not enough time, she realized. “No!” she cried. “Just go!”

“Twilight, this isn’t the time to be a hero!” Rainbow’s voice yelled. “It’ll just take us a couple minutes!”

“And it’ll only take a couple seconds for an aftershock to bury us all!” Twilight yelled back. “Go! I’ll find my own way out!”

On the other side of the wall, Rainbow punched one of the stones, face twisting in anger. “We’re not leaving her!”

“Rainbow,” Applejack said quietly. “She’s right. We have to get out now.”

“No!” Rainbow snapped, digging at the hole, throwing gravel to the side. “We’ll make it out together!” She threw her forelegs around a boulder and heaved. “Don’t just stand there!” she panted. “Help me!”

Applejack shook her head. If Rainbow did manage to dislodge the boulder, it would just send even larger rocks crashing down in its place. After another moment of struggling, the pegasus seemed to realize that and slumped.

“Twilight,” she called through the hole. “You... you’d better come out alive!”

Twilight swallowed and licked her lips. “I will,” she said. “Now get out before something else collapses!”

I said I’d never lie to them, she thought, her heart constricting. At least now they have a chance.

She cast a regretful glance around, and froze. There was a shadow in the cavern wall that she hadn’t noticed before. She tentatively walked toward it, bringing it into the circle of illumination.

When she saw it, she almost laughed. While the earthquake had blocked off one route, it had created another. A monstrous boulder had toppled out of the way, revealing a fissure leading deeper into the caves. It wasn’t much, but it was a way out.

Twilight raced to it and squeezed through, ignoring the sharp stones that dug into her skin. The passage was narrow; she could barely fit through. She tried lighting her horn to see how far it went, but the passage just extended into blackness.

Panic clawed its way into her mind. What if she got stuck? How long would it take her to finally succumb? Would it be thirst that did it, or fear?

Twilight thrust those thoughts down and wriggled past another spur of rock. Just keep moving. Keep moving, and everything will be fine. With an effort, she forced her way past another rock, scraping her flank in the process – and abruptly toppled out into an open space, losing her magic in surprise.

She scrambled back to her hooves and seized magic again, flooding the area with violet light. At first, she didn’t make sense of what she was seeing. Then she blinked as it dawned upon her.

Bookshelves. Hundreds of them. Most were toppled, spilling their contents over the floor, and others were shattered completely, but there was no mistaking what they were.

Twilight raced to the nearest one, peering at a book that had fallen open. The text, of course, was meaningless, but she recognized the sketch on the next page. It was a depiction of Discord, from a book well over fourteen centuries old. The only surviving copy of this book was kept in the Depository, shrouded with wards. Any other copies had been kept in the Old Archives, and had been lost in the earthquake. With a trembling hoof, she reached out to touch the page, and snapped it back when the ancient paper crumbled to dust.

This is it, Twilight thought, stunned. This is the old Archives.

“About time you came,” a voice said from behind her.

Twilight whirled, preparing a series of very nasty spells, and stopped when she saw who had spoken. A pale green unicorn stood there, the light from Twilight’s horn flashing off his cerulean eyes. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” he continued offhandedly. “Follow me. There is much to discuss.”

Twilight let the spells dissipate and hesitantly followed. “Who are you?” she said. “How did you get here?”

“I’ve always been here,” the pony replied. “At least, I’ve been here for long enough. As for who I am... well, there’s no point. You probably won’t recognize the name anyway.”

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Try me.”

“Very well,” the stallion said. “I used to be called Cognitus.”

Twilight laughed. “That’s good,” she said. “That’s very good.”

The stallion blinked in confusion. “I’m being serious,” he said dryly.

“You can’t be!” Twilight replied. “Cognitus died six hundred years ago! Celestia found his body!”

The stallion’s slight smile faded. “Oh.” He swallowed, looking away.

Twilight blinked, suddenly realizing something. The stallion’s voice didn’t echo, despite the open space around them. And, now that she noticed, the light from her horn didn’t quite catch him right. She took a step forward, extending a hoof. The stallion shied away, casting a wary eye at her. “What are you doing?”

Without a response, Twilight reached out and touched the stallion’s chest. Or tried to. Her hoof went straight through, as if there was nothing there. “What are you?” she asked, unable to disguise her shock. “You can’t be a ghost, obviously. There’s no proof that those exist. Maybe an old, self-sustaining spell that was part of the original library? Still, it’s a level of sophistication I’ve never–”

The stallion cut her off. “I am… or was… an ordinary pony. What you see before you is a false projection onto your visual and auditory cortexes. Similar to an illusion, but a little more refined, if I do say so myself.”

Twilight shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. If you’re an illusion–”

“False audio-visual projection,” the stallion corrected.

Scowling, Twilight went on. “ – there still has to be somepony here sustaining it. And it still doesn’t explain who that is or how they got here in the first place.”

The stallion sighed. “I could waste breath by telling you who I am again, but I have a feeling that’s not good enough for you. Come with me, then. You want to know who’s sustaining this projection? I’ll show you.”

Hesitantly, Twilight followed. Whoever this pony was, he was obviously mad. Not only did he insist that he was a pony six centuries dead, he spoke as if he remembered the period after he’d died. Insanity! Pure raving insanity.

Only curiosity drove her forward. That was all. She didn’t believe his preposterous claims for a second! Still, the familiarity with which he’d spoken of Celestia…

The illusion stopped beside a toppled bookshelf no different from the rest, indicating a nondescript tome lying on the floor. “That’s the one projecting this,” he said.

“A book,” Twilight said dryly.

“A book,” the illusion agreed. “Or rather a consciousness imprisoned in a book.”

Twilight bent down and examined the book, gently probing it with magic. “You know what I think?” she asked. “I think you’ve been lying to me this entire time. Because I can’t sense any kind of magic in this book. Now, I came here to investigate some kind of spell affecting everyone I know, and if you can’t help me, then I’d really appreciate it if you left me alone.”

“How long has it been since you stopped being able to read?” the stallion asked.

Twilight stiffened. “How do you know that?”

“Look deeper,” he replied. “The spell’s really quite subtle. Don’t look at the substance of the book. Look at what it represents.”

Clumsily, mind still reeling, Twilight complied, worming her awareness deeper into the book on the floor before her. And then she met it. A vast, intricate web of magic, chaining something in place. The bindings were oddly formed, though, and not in a logical pattern. It didn’t seem like a binding so much as... something that included.Confusing as that might be, it was the only meaning Twilight could wrest out of the weaves.

Twilight looked up, meeting the illusion’s eyes. “How?” she croaked. “This spell… it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen!”

“I wanted it to be a way to literally immerse yourself in a book,” the illusion said. “The mechanism of reading is really quite inefficient, you know. The data has to be interpreted, sorted, and re-interpreted several times before its meaning can be distilled. With this spell, I wanted to remove those clumsy in-between steps. Your only limit would be how quickly you could process the raw information.”

“And instead, it trapped you,” Twilight said quietly. “You weren’t lying. You really are Cognitus!”

Cognitus smiled weakly. “To think that all I wanted was to read a book.”

Another flash of understanding went through Twilight’s mind. “You!” she gasped. “You’re the one behind the reading spell!”

Cognitus’ expression morphed into terror. “Listen,” he said. “I did it out of desperation! I needed some way to get your attention. It was the only way!”

“Get my attention?” Twilight growled, pulling magic through her horn. It blazed around her head in a corona of power. “You erased my ability to read to get my attention?!”

“Please, hear me out,” Cognitus begged.

“Give me one good reason not to blast you into oblivion,” Twilight snarled.

An unexpected grin appeared on Cognitus’ face. “You still haven’t figured it out, have you? That’s exactly what I want!”

Twilight frowned. “You want me to destroy you,” she said evenly.

“What, did you think I wanted to be freed? Even if my body had somehow been preserved, the connections between it and me have been cut.” Cognitus shook his head. “I’ve spent six centuries in the dark, trying to find a way out. If there was one, I’d have found it. I just want… peace. Loose my bindings, and I’ll fade away.”

“And your spell with you?” Twilight asked.

Cognitus winced. “Ah,” he said. “That. The spell… is a little more permanent.”

“WHAT?”

“My powers are limited here,” Cognitus explained coolly. Whatever he feared Twilight might have done, he obviously didn’t worry about it any more. “Too much interference from the crystals. So I had to improvise.”

“What did you do?” Twilight growled. What did he mean, permanent? She’d come all this way for nothing?

“The spell was structured as a virus,” Cognitus explained. “After it finds a host, it propagates itself, and goes to infect others. It’s a simple inhibition of the language centers.” He grimaced. “I had intended for you to find me while it was still reversible. It was intended to infect you first, manifest symptoms, and then burn itself out. But I seem to have designed it too well.”

“You keep referring to me specifically,” Twilight asked, mind racing to think of a cure. “Why me?”

“Your connection with books,” Cognitus said simply. “When a pony such as yourself develops such an affinity for the written word, subtle changes occur in the mind, resulting in–”

“So my mind was easier to access, right?” Twilight snapped, venom dripping from her words. “I was your initial host. Your… disease vector. You couldn’t have just… I don’t know. Told me, maybe? ‘Hey, I’m trapped in a book in the Old Archives. Could you come along and save me?’”

“Sarcasm ill becomes you,” Cognitus muttered. “Truthfully, I thought you were more intelligent than this. The crystals’ magical interference prevents me from broadcasting anything more than suggestions. I tried that, but you proved either too dense or too stubborn to understand them!”

The dreams, Twilight thought. And the books, that one night.

“So now you understand,” Cognitus snapped. “Finally. My patience was wearing thin. Now you know that this could all have been prevented had you acted sooner.”

“I thought you said the spell was permanent?” Twilight shot back.

“In this state, yes,” Cognitus spat. “Foolish girl. Any self-respecting scholar should know that all processes are reversible. It may work more easily one way than the other, but it applies to everything. It would be a simple matter of simultaneously removing the influence from every afflicted mind. It would have been simple, had you moved quicker. Now, it’s too widely spread. Unless you have one of the Elements of Harmony in that saddlebag of yours, you’re sunk.”

Twilight blinked. “You need one of the Elements,” she said flatly.

Cognitus snorted. “Hopeless, I know. The one thing that might give me a chance to put all this right has been lost for–”

Twilight’s tiara landed on the ground in front of him, cutting off his words. Cognitus’ eyes bulged, and he bent down to stare at it. “Is this…”

“The Element of Magic? Yes.” Twilight smiled. “Now. What were you saying about the Elements?”

“How did you get this?” Cognitus whispered. “These were thought to be lost after the rise of Nightmare Moon!”

“I found them at her fall,” Twilight said. “Now, what were you saying?”

“There’s a slim chance,” Cognitus muttered. “Very slim. May not work at all, in fact. Dear stars, a chance to work with one of the Elements! The things I could do with access to one of these!”

“Do you have a solution or not?” Twilight growled.

“I may,” Cognitus replied, looking over the Element and lighting his horn, although no weaves seemed to come from him. He seemed to merely be probing it. “Forgive me. It helps to think aloud. You see, I’m part of a school of thought that believes the Elements don’t actually have any latent power. They instead serve as focal points for power from every sentient creature in the world. Unicorn, earth pony, non-equine… everything. The power is drawn from the qualities that the Elements symbolize. The Element wielders, while excellent examples of those traits, are nothing much more than channels. You don’t channel power through the Element so much as it channels through you.”

Twilight scowled. Normally this sort of theory would be fascinating, but her well of patience had nearly run dry. “Get to the point.”

“I was almost there,” Cognitus replied peevishly. “Remember, all processes, both natural and unnatural, can be reversed. The same applies to the Elements. If I’m correct and they draw power from every sentient creature…”

“… then you can direct power through them into everyone,” Twilight finished, eyes widening at the implications. If Nightmare Moon or Discord had gotten their hooves on them…

“Now you understand,” Cognitus said. “That’s the chance I’m speaking of. The only catch is that I have to go with it.”

Twilight frowned. “What?”

Cognitus snorted impatiently. “I have to be freed so I can control the spell!” he snapped. “When it’s being spread among so many minds, a spell might unravel completely, or worse, fall into something completely different. If you truly want this to succeed, you need to trust me.”

Trust. Such a simple thing. Twilight trusted her friends, and her mentor. But she didn’t trust the snobbish scholar in front of her one bit.

Cognitus sighed, seeing the look on Twilight’s face. “And here we are, right back where we started,” he grumbled. “Honestly, you mares are all the same. Cast one little spell on them and they won’t give you the time of day.”

Twilight almost laughed. There was no way out of it. And her last hope was an overbearing, pedantic stallion who was at the moment bemoaning the qualities of mares. Stallions are all the same, she thought.

Trust. Cognitus had cast the spell and brought her to the library out of desperation. She had gone seeking him for the same reason. If you don’t have trust, what do you have?

“What do I need to do?” she asked quietly.

Cognitus gave her a blank look. “What?”

“Your plan. What do I need to do to make it work?” She quashed the temptation to add a disparaging comment about the thickness of his skull.

Cognitus blinked, his mouth flapping. “Um… I can honestly say I didn’t expect that.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow, prompting Cognitus to clear his throat and examine the Element. “Well,” he said. “First, I need you to put yourself right on the edge of channeling through your Element. Don’t actually channel through it, mind. It’s a difficult balance to obtain, and it may take some time before you can…”

“Like this?” Twilight asked, putting herself on the edge. It was a strange sensation, with the Element’s magic beckoning just outside her reach.

Cognitus frowned at her for a second, and then chuckled to himself. “Element of Magic indeed,” he muttered. “Now, hold still. This will only take a moment.” With that, weaves of magic began to erupt from his horn… or was it from the book? There was an odd blurring between the two that made Twilight ill to look at.

She quickly averted her eyes, but not before glimpsing something odd. Why were there weaves for including in that spell? Why didn’t I put more time into researching mental magics? she thought. Would’ve been useful here.

“Done,” Cognitus said, and several things happened at once. She detected a wild surge of magic, her Element sent out a blinding pulse of light, and a sudden presence bloomed in her head.

“What did you–“ Twilight started, and stopped when she suddenly lost all feeling in her mouth, and a moment later her entire body. Or maybe that was an inaccurate way to describe it. She could still feel everything, but she couldn’t do anything with it.

Calm down, a voice in her head said. I didn’t tell you about this part because I knew how you’d react to it. To feed power through the Element, I need to be linked to it, and I don’t exactly fit that description. You, on the other hoof, do.

And you had to force yourself into my head? Twilight thought back furiously. I could have done it, you know! Do you even know how dangerous this kind of thing is?

Of course I do, Cognitus replied. But allowing you to perform the spell would be too risky. You don’t know what you’re doing. You might have made a mistake somewhere.

Twilight’s leg suddenly extended, and she began wobbling around the shelf in a drunken stagger. Just getting a feel for the connections, Cognitus reassured her. Relax and let me handle this.

So do it already!

Cognitus didn’t respond, but she felt a surge of magic pour into her through the Element. Twilight shivered, or at least tried to. She was a spectator in her own body.

Cognitus literally had her in his hooves.

Out of breath, Applejack clawed her way out of the caves and hauled herself up onto a lip of rock. Between gasps, she couldn’t help but bark a laugh of elation. “We made it!” she said. “We actually made it!”

She glanced back at Rarity, who was in the process of picking her way up the slope. “And you said the entrance mighta collapsed.”

“I said might, Applejack,” Rarity replied, delicately hopping a little higher up the rocky slope. “You were the one being pessimistic.”

Her mood sobered. “Do you think Twilight got out?”

“You know Twilight,” Rainbow replied, rocketing out of the cave. “It takes way more than a collapse to knock her out of commission!” Her drawn face betrayed her worry, though.

“She’ll make it,” Applejack said with renewed determination. “Ah can feel it.” She frowned. “Ah actually do feel something.”

Rarity glanced down, and blinked. “The Elements!” she exclaimed.

The gems set in the necklaces all glowed with a dim light. They didn’t seem to be doing anything, but they seemed… ready. The air around them crackled with anticipation.

“It doesn’t feel right,” Rainbow muttered, rubbing at hers. “Like it’s… not Twilight. I mean, it is, but it isn’t.”

Applejack cast a worried glance down into the cave. Consarn it, Twi. What’re you doing?

What’re you waiting for? Twilight thought frantically. Magic crackled through the air around them, every drop Twilight could draw, but Cognitus did nothing with it.

Such power, Cognitus thought, as if she wasn’t there at all. The things I could do with this…

Cognitus?

I can take over, he thought with something like wonder. It would be easy. I can see how to do it. I could give myself another chance!

A chill ran through Twilight. Cognitus? Please. What about the spell?

I can find another way around it. Now I can see why I brought you here. I didn’t need an executioner. I needed a vessel.

The chill became terror. Then what? Twilight thought frantically. Will you go and pass yourself off as me? You can’t fool everyone! Just think about what you’re doing!

Cognitus paused. It wasn’t much, but it was something. You won’t be known as Cognitus, she thought, pressing her advantage. You wouldn’t even be given a name. You’ll just be the thing that killed Twilight Sparkle.

Then I will make them know me as Cognitus! the voice roared. The world chose to forget me once. I will not allow it to happen again!

I’ll tell them! Twilight thought in desperation. If you fix this, I’ll tell them everything! My friends, Princess Celestia, anyone who will listen! They’ll know who to thank.

… They would never believe you. They’d think you’d gone mad.

Do you really think that? Twilight replied. Then, she found she really could do something. There was one thing she still had control over.

She bared herself to him. All her memories, all the joy she’d felt since coming to Ponyville and meeting her friends. Her respect and admiration to Princess Celestia, her dreams and aspirations, even the deep-seated love she felt for her friends. All of it, she showed him. Can you look at this, she thought, and tell me that they won’t believe me?

There was a long pause from Cognitus. Friends, he finally thought. It’s been a long time since… I had a friend. Did it really feel like that?

The memories continued on. Convincing Applejack to accept help with the fields, Pinkie’s birthday party, fighting with her friends behind her against the Changelings… until it finally reached the present. Her aching worry for her friends, who might be lost in the caves for all she knew, her concern for Celestia and the rest of Canterlot’s population, who must surely have felt the earthquake just as hard as she had… and the numbing loss of her ability to read.

At that, Cognitus withdrew with an almost palpable horror. It… it never occurred to me just what I was doing, he thought. It had lost all meaning for me. I… I… merciful heavens, what have I done?!

The magic swirled around her, gaining strength and intensity. It grew wild, uncontrollable. It was a type of magic that would destroy them both if unleashed. What have I done? Cognitus wailed again.

Listen to me! Twilight howled. You made a mistake! Don’t make a bigger one now!

The magic surged on unabated. Tell them I didn’t mean to, Cognitus finally whispered. Tell them… just tell them.

I will, Twilight said. I promise.

With a sound like a thunderclap, the magic surged inward, and everything went black.

“Come on!” Shining Sole called, magic sparking around his horn. “We’ve almost got it!”

With a hideous grinding of stone on stone, a huge slab of masonry, lifted by the magic of a dozen unicorns, shifted off the pile of rubble and floated to the side. Sole let it crash to the ground and slumped, sweat streaming down his face. He’d been leading the effort to excavate the Princess’ body for the good part of an hour now. Emboldened by his example, bands of ponies scoured the ruins of Canterlot for survivors.

He looked sadly at the pile of rubble in front of him, barely diminished despite his efforts and those of a hundred other ponies. Nothing could have survived that.

Now that the half-ton slab was out of the way, a group of earth ponies swarmed over the side of the pile, digging through and removing rocks too small for magic to be justified. A mason flitted among them, pointing out which rocks to remove to minimize collapse.

Sole left them to it and gratefully accepted a drink of water from a earth pony filly burdened with a pair of waterskins. He was used to prolonged magical output from working his forge, but this was beginning to prove more than he could handle.

One of the unicorns beside him suddenly frowned. “Anyone else feel that?” she said, glancing around. A couple of the stallions glanced at her in confusion, but Sole felt it too. Magic, and lots of it, coming from somewhere underground.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sole said. “Probably just resonance from the crystals.”

The mare didn’t seem quite convinced, but she turned her attention back to the pile. Sole glanced up at the sun, realizing with some shock that only about an hour had passed since the earthquake. So little time, he thought. It feels like it’s been much longer.

Just like that, something changed in his head. Sole blinked, and looked around, noticing that everypony around him was experiencing something similar. The ponies on the mound stopped, blinking at each other in confusion. “What just happened?” one said.

“Get me something to read,” Sole said, a sudden certainty blossoming within him. “A sign, a brochure, anything!”

The filly with the waterskins frowned, but scampered off anyway. When a grown-up said something in that kind of voice, it was best to do exactly what they said.

Sole searched the square for a surviving sign, something with words printed on it. Following his example, others were doing the same, save those on the mound, who were digging with a renewed fervor. Finally, Sole’s eyes alighted on a store’s sign partially buried in shattered masonry. Best pies in town! the exposed corner proclaimed.

I can read, Sole thought. Just then, the filly appeared again, a dusty novel clutched in her mouth. Sole smiled warmly at her and seized the book in magic, opening it to a random page.

Just a name, the passage read. Would a rose by any other name smell as sweet?

Would it indeed, Sole thought happily.

“I can read again!” one of the other unicorns shouted, scanning the text on the buried sign again. “I don’t know how it happened, but… I can read!”

One of the earth ponies on the mound suddenly cried out, dropping a rock. “She’s alive!” he yelled. “The Princess is alive!”

Ponies swarmed over the mound, digging frantically, but before they arrived, Sole saw what the other earth pony had seen: a few rocks, enveloped in a golden aura. He smiled upon seeing those. This truly was a day of miracles.

Twilight’s awareness returned slowly. Yet even as the blackness retreated from her sight, one phrase kept going through her head. I’m not dead.

For a moment, she hadn’t been sure if Cognitus would do what he was supposed to. Those last moments had been so confused. He’d lashed out with her magic, severing the spell tying him to the book, and then directing a surge of power back into her. It was then that she’d blacked out.

There was only one way to be sure. She forced herself to her hooves and scrambled to where Cognitus’ book lay on the floor, untouched by time as a result of the wards. Without using magic, she opened it to a random page and scanned the passage.

A wide smile spread across her face as the words registered. Cognitus, you wonderful, wonderful pony, you did it!

That still didn’t eliminate the issue on how she was to get out of there, though. She was just about to start searching when she felt something. Or rather, didn’t feel something. The magical interference from the omnipresent crystals had vanished.

Twilight channeled magic through her horn, lighting up the area, and smiled. The crystals surrounding the area were lying in shattered heaps, broken by precise whips of power. Yet another gift from that pony.

She wove the spell for teleportation, but then stopped. She looked around the forgotten library, at all the lost knowledge contained within. The library was almost legendary for those few scholars who knew about it. Lost, nearly forgotten to history, conceivably preserved in the mines beneath Canterlot. It was a figure of romance and mystery, sought after but always just out of reach. Over twenty thousand irreplaceable works, lost to time.

And here it was, an irretrievable ruin. The mystery was gone. Nothing remained, save ancient pages rapidly crumbling to dust. Gone, just like one of the finest minds of his era.

Twilight turned away, taking a deep breath and completing the weave. Save what you can, she told herself. It's all you can do.

Violet light flashed through the cavern, and it was again plunged into silent darkness.

One week later…

The sound of a quill scratching on parchment filled the study. It was lit by only a couple candles, burned low by the passage of hours. The moon was well into the sky, and yet the quill scratched on.

Finally, Twilight put down the parchment and fitted the cap back onto her ink bottle, blowing gently on what she had written to dry it. That done, a violet aura surrounded the page, and it floated through the air to land on a pile of several dozen others, all covered in Twilight’s precise scrawl.

Twilight leaned back, muscles protesting after spending so long in one spot. But she smiled in satisfaction nonetheless. Finally, it was done.

She felt a sudden presence behind her, and turned to face her mentor. “Good evening, Princess.”

Celestia glanced at a wall clock. “Technically, it’s morning.”

Twilight nodded at the bandages that still wrapped her mentor’s legs and chest. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better than a few days ago,” Celestia replied. “I was lucky. If the ponies that dug me out are to be believed, if I’d reacted a hair later I would have been crushed.”

“Holding that much weight above you with magic is still impressive,” Twilight replied. Her cheeks coloured. “I mean, not as impressive as raising the sun, but…”

“I get your point, Twilight,” Celestia said.

“How are Sarissa and Brightsteel?”

“As argumentative as ever. The two were completely unhurt by the collapse, it turns out, but in fact injured themselves while trying to dig me out.” The Princess smiled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they were still arguing over whose fault it was from their hospital beds.”

Silence reigned in the study before Celestia indicated the pile of paper with a nod. “You’ve been hard at work, I see.”

“I’ve been… recounting what happened,” Twilight explained. “As best as I can. Shining Sole especially was hard to track down.”

“I held his award ceremony today. That pony’s actions both directly and indirectly saved nearly three hundred lives. The entire time, he kept insisting he wasn’t a hero.”

“He told me that, too,” Twilight replied, making a note on one of the pages.

“You will have to take full credit, you know,” Celestia said. “All this about Cognitus… they’ll never believe you. Say it was a residual spell that was accidentally triggered, or something to that effect.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I still can’t believe that after all this time…”

“Let it go,” Twilight replied. “There’s no way you could have known.” Her expression hardened. “And don’t try to distract me. I’m telling the truth, and I’m not changing it.”

Celestia grimaced. “It was worth a try. In any case, you know I can’t allow you to publish that.”

“I know,” Twilight replied, tapping the stack of pages on the table to straighten them out.

“You’re going to do it anyway,” Celestia said. It wasn’t a question, merely a statement.

Twilight looked up, meeting Celestia’s eyes. “I have to,” she said. “I made a promise.”

Celestia hesitated before speaking. “Officially, I have no knowledge of this,” she said. “This will have been published without my permission, and I will condemn it as unlawful. Naturally, it will be extremely popular as a result. For your sake, I hope you publish under a pseudonym.”

“I’ve got that covered,” Twilight replied, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards. “And unofficially?”

The Princess smiled. “I’m proud of you, Twilight. I always will be.”

Twilight frowned. “That wasn’t another test, was it?”

“I’ll leave that for you to decide,” Celestia replied, a hint of laughter in her voice.

She turned to go. “Princess,” Twilight said.

Celestia turned. “Yes?”

Twilight proffered the book she’d stolen from the Depository what seemed like years ago. “You never asked to have this back.”

Celestia nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “I didn’t.” A moment later, she was gone in a flash of light.

Twilight stared at the spot she’d occupied for a moment, and finally shook her head. No matter how well she may think she knew the Princess, she’d never fully understand her.

She turned back to the pile of papers. To the side was a note from one of Canterlot’s major publishers, agreeing to unconditionally put whatever she gave them into print. It had required calling in every favour Twilight was owed, but then again, they seemed uncharacteristically generous after having their literacy restored.

Don’t worry, Twilight thought. I’ll tell your story. I won’t let you be forgotten again.

Just before unleashing the magic, Cognitus had said one last thing to her. I think, he had said, that in a different time, in different circumstances… we might have been friends.

We might have, she thought, blowing out the candles. We might have indeed.