Finished. It’s finally finished. Spellhart the unicorn could barely believe it. He’d spent years writing and rewriting this one single spell, the project that had swiftly become his obsession. It was a marvel of thaumaturgy and spellcraft never attempted by anypony in all of history. “Not that they would”, Spellhart muttered under his breath. He was the only one with the talent, the vision, and the drive to even conceive of such a grand ritual let alone actually finish it. Magic was in his blood, his mark, and his very name. When Princess Celestia herself had asked him to instruct the new generation of unicorns in mastering their innate magical talents, his first thoughts had been of unimaginable gratitude and joy. His second thoughts had been on asking her to call it "Spellhart's School for Gifted Unicorns" instead. It took all of his self-control to avoid actually saying that.
None of that matters now. Not now that I'm so close. He trotted over to the only table not buried under piles of books and began to go over his research notes one final time, his horn glowing pale blue as the pages magically ordered themselves on the table. He wasn’t worried. He’d checked and rechecked the calculations a thousand times, compensated for every variable, considered every kind of interference. Nothing less than perfection would suffice, there would be no “acceptable deviations”, no “good enough”. When the forces he was planning to wield could shatter the heavens themselves, "unforeseen consequences" was tantamount to "total failure".
Spellhart had been born during the Age of Chaos, when Discord ruled the land and his madness reigned supreme. He had weathered the storms of insanity that took so many. He was there when Celestia and Luna wielded the Elements of Harmony to banish Discord and restore order. He had seen them seize control of nature itself and bend the sun and moon to their will. He was proud. Proud to live in the Equestria they had rebuilt, where nopony would ever have to fear Discord’s depredations again. But most of all, he was jealous. Jealous of the powers Celestia and Luna commanded with such ease. Compared to them he was like a colt struggling in vain to magically turn the pages of a book for the first time. He may have been perhaps the greatest mortal spellcaster alive, but the two princesses were more than mortal. They were gods. And, more than anything, he wanted to be one too.
This is where the Ritual of Alicorn Ascendance came in. It had taken Spellhart the better part of his life to develop it, but it would all be worth it. He had been working blind, considering no one except Celestia and Luna themselves really knew how alicorns worked. Sometimes he wondered if even they truly understood it. There was very little written on the topic of alicorns and most of it was contradictory. Some scholars painted them as unicorns with wings and long life spans: the earliest references actually called them "pegasus-unicorns", which left out earth ponies entirely he noted. Other lore portrayed them as nigh-invincible gods with powers that broke reality into pieces. Spellhart had seen their power for himself, however, and knew they were so much more than winged unicorns. For the longest time he struggled with the concept of transforming into something without understanding exactly what it was. The breakthrough, he was proud to admit, came from one of his students: a young unicorn filly with a bright future in magic ahead of her. She had reverently suggested that an alicorn was a fusion of everything good from everypony, earth, pegasus, and unicorn alike. Though simplistic it made perfect sense. Since he was obviously already the exemplary unicorn, he set off to create a spell that would graft the traits of both earth ponies and pegasi onto his own spirit. The celestial powers clearly came later, an innate trait of the alicorn state, as the heavens themselves acknowledged the new alicorn’s supremacy. His mind often wandered, dreaming of what his own power would be. The sun and the moon were already taken after all. Perhaps he would become the avatar of Magic itself? The idea appealed to him. And, of course, the immortality. He often heard other ponies speak in awe of the Princesses’ fortitude, how difficult it must be to soldier on despite knowing you’ll outlive all of your friends and family. To the moon with that he always thought. Immortality would be the best part of being an alicorn! Spellhart very nearly salivated over the thought of how much he could learn with thousands of years at his disposal. He could spend decades alone in the Canterlot Archives, pouring over every tome and scroll gathered there. A hundred-year sabbatical to study dragons would be a relaxing vacation! Yes, out of all the gifts of the alicorns, it was the immortality he desired most of all. And soon, I’ll have it.
The chimes of the wall clock snapped him out of his fantasy. But not right now. Divinity could wait: he had students to teach. After all, what kind of avatar of magic would he be if he ignored his students to focus on his own transcendence? He gently stacked his notes in a neat pile, released the telekinetic hold, and trotted out his front door. He walked down the streets slowly; he was in no hurry and often took time out to admire the scenery. Canterlot was a truly beautiful city built, if you believed the legends, long before the time of Discord by the original three tribes that came together to found Equestria. While the historical accuracy of such a tale was questionable, there was no denying Canterlot was as old as it was beautiful. Nodding to the ponies he passed, he stopped to gaze at the currently under-construction structure of Canterlot Castle. The Princesses had decided to relocate the capitol of Equestria to Canterlot in no small part because the old castle in the Everfree Forest was simply too small. Canterlot Castle certainly wouldn’t have that problem. It was difficult to tell where the city ended and the castle began and he suspected they’d be nearly indistinguishable when construction was finished. As he passed his favorite bookstore he stopped to gaze at his own reflection atop the neatly-stacked books. His black mane was as bedraggled as ever, a stark contrast to his fine azure coat. No matter what he did it never seemed to stay straight. Perhaps being an alicorn will fix that, too. Celestia knows nothing ELSE will.
***
Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns was nestled in a tower of its own near the center of the city. The two pegasi royal guards flanking the entrance nodded as he approached, and he slipped into a quick bow in return. It seemed he was early; even with his constant daydreaming, he had still beaten every one of his students to the classroom. Another quick spell retrieved his lecture notes from the desk. Let’s see what we have for today. . . ‘Effects of solar and lunar eclipses on spellcasting’? Spellhart rolled his eyes and grinned for a moment. They’re just foals. I need something . . . lighter to keep their interest on a beautiful day like this. Which gave him an idea.
***
“Good afternoon class.”
“Good afternoon, Professor Spellhart” came the standard ‘I'm bored and don't want to be here’ chorus from the benches.
“Now, today I’m supposed to be teaching you about the thaumaturgical effects that eclipses can exert on your spells and how to compensate for them. . .” There was another collective groan from his adolescent audience. “But!” he interrupted them, raising one hoof, “I’m not going to do that today.” A few of them raised their heads, perking up at this deviation from the regular class. “How would you like to learn to fly instead?”
***
It had taken a while for all the students to calm down and follow him outside to one of the many gorgeous parks in Canterlot. An orange pegasus was waiting for them there, lounging on a small cloud she’d no doubt towed along with her.
“Everyone, this is Tangerine Rush. She’s in charge of keeping the sky around the castle construction site clear and-”
“Who wants to learn to FLY!” she cried, springing off the cloud and into a loop before landing again.
“Right. Tangerine here has graciously agreed to lend us a cloud for today’s lesson and I think you’ll find-“
“I thought you said we were going to fly? What do we need a cloud for?” asked a mint green unicorn. It was Emerald Breeze, the same filly who had unknowingly provided his breakthrough on the nature of alicorns.
“One step at a time, one step at a time. Before we move on to actual flight, I thought we’d start with something a littler simpler: cloudwalking.” He saw the disappointment in their faces, but was determined to recapture their interests. “Now, walking on clouds is something pegasi can do naturally, but for unicorns like us it takes conscious effort expressed through sheer willpower. Otherwise known as. . . “
“Magic!” the students cried in unison.
“Very good! Let’s start with the spell itself. Form a picture in your mind…”
***
It took time, but by the end of the class most of the fillies and colts had managed to at least stand on Tangerine’s cloud without falling through. They’ll be flying in a few weeks at this rate, Spellhart thought to himself as he trotted along the rapidly-darkening streets under the dimming glow of Celestia’s sun. He reached his home with a few minutes to spare until true darkness set in (good thing, too, as it was starting to rain) and immediately began the preparations for his masterpiece. Soon. Everything was in its proper place. He’d done everything he could to ensure success. There was nothing left to do but leap. . .
“My ascendance begins NOW!” Spellhart the unicorn called upon every ounce of his magic, his horn burning bright white with the raw force of it all. Just like he had taught his students, he formed a picture of the desired results in his mind and poured the magic into it in an attempt to force it to manifest. The fundamentals never changed, just the level of effort they required to manifest. He braided the strands of raw magic with the strength and durability of an earth pony, wove them with the speed and grace of a pegasus, and stitched the whole thing to himself. The effort of controlling that much magic was straining him like nothing he had experienced before. Once again, he felt like a young colt struggling to turn a page. He had shut his eyes to block out any external interference but, opening them now, realized he still couldn’t see past the blinding white glow that now filled the entire room. A sharp pain in his back almost made him lose his concentration; he turned his head and squinted through the light. Wings. The beginnings of feathery wings were just starting to tear themselves through his skin and reach the outer layer. There was pain, more pain than he’d ever experienced before, but he dug his hooves into the wood floor and refused to lose concentration. The wings (his wings) had fully emerged now and feathers were sprouting from them like a budding plant sped-up. He could feel himself growing, stretching into a larger figure. His vision was blurred, just a field of white with tiny blue stars: probably sparks from his horn.
And then the stars collapsed on him. He felt the spell slipping away a few moments before it actually happened, giving him just enough time to realize what was about to occur. There simply wasn’t any more room in his spirit for all that magic. It was beginning to bleed out of him, tearing at the edges of his consciousness. And it needed somewhere to go. Celestia forgive me…he had ignored one of the most important rules of magic: Never attempt to absorb an energy field bigger than your head. He had to do something before the spell lost cohesion and caused who-knows-what kind of damage to the city. With one last thought spared for his students, he forced the magic to collapse on himself and directed the energy inward.
The explosion that happened shortly afterwards was felt throughout all of Canterlot. In fact, it knocked several of the newly-constructed scaffolds off the castle. Spellhart felt himself let go and slip away. If this was death, it really wasn’t so bad.
***
Just as suddenly, he felt himself coming to. It felt like hours had passed but, judging from the still-smoking ruin of his home, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. A crowd of ponies, some clearly angry at being woken from an early sleep and standing in the rain, stood in a circle around the ruin, their faces twisted into shock. He strained to block the spinning in his eyes and by chance caught a glimpse of himself in a nearby puddle. He still had the wings, except they were misshapen and ragged, feathers falling from them wildly. Still had the same cutie mark, an unfurled scroll surrounded by lightning, on the same azure blue flank. Still had the same mane, midnight black and somehow more unkempt than usual, although it was now too small for his larger frame. What he didn’t still have was his horn. It was broken off at the base, a jagged stub sprouting from his forehead. He saw it lying on the ground in front of him and desperately tried to levitate it back into place, but he couldn’t produce so much as a single spark. His magic wasn’t weakened, it was simply gone. He felt a void inside, a greater sense of loss than any he’d experienced.
“PROFESSOR SPELLHART!” a loud voice called from behind the crowd. It parted to reveal a contingent of royal guard soldiers in full armor. “Your presence is required at court immediately. Come with us!”
He wouldn’t have resisted even if he had the strength.
***
Head bowed low, Spellhart followed the soldiers to his awaiting doom. He was morbidly curious what the Princesses were going to do to punish him for his hubris. Maybe Celestia will turn me to stone, like Discord. At least I'll have company. At this point it didn't really matter to him anyway. Nothing they could do to him could possibly be worse than the loss of his magic. Of his horn. Eternal stasis might even be a mercy.
The silent procession wound through the streets of Canterlot, rain still falling from the black sky. They weren't headed to the Castle. It would be a few more months at least until it was fit for holding court, let alone habitable. Strangely, neither were they on the way to the old amphitheater that had served as the royal court since the move to Canterlot. He was somewhat relieved: This way, Celestia could turn him to stone in private and spare him the embarrassment of falling from grace in front of everypony he knew.
I'm still doing it. My life's work literally blows up in my face and I'm still as vain as ever. He was disgusted with himself. Looking back, the kind of phenomenal arrogance required to even attempt such a spell had doomed him from the start. He had never even considered that maybe he wouldn't be able to contain so much energy. If he hadn't held on for those last few seconds the spell might've escaped and destroyed more than just his lab. He put everypony in the city in danger all for his own insane ambition.
The guards around him had closed ranks into a tighter circle sometime while he was lost in his own thoughts. They were nearly on top of him now, the rear guard watching him like a hawk. What, do they expect me to fly away or some- Oh. Right. Wings. He could feel them twitching slightly now that he was paying attention; maybe that's what was making the guards so nervous? Experimentally, he tried flapping them. It was an awkward feeling, like having a fifth hoof that he couldn't entirely control. One wing flapped a bit too hard and brushed one of the guards, a pegasus, across the face. Spellhart turned his head, readying an apology, but was totally unprepared for what he saw: The guard had a slight grin on her face. It was Tangerine Rush, the pegasus he had asked to help with teaching his students earlier.
"They stop doing that eventually. Give it a few weeks," she whispered, winking one eye at him.
"My students..." His briefly-uplifted mood sank again as he realized how much he had let them down. For all his talk of wanting to be avatar of magic he had left them without a teacher. He hoped Celestia would at least let him say goodbye and ensure they received a new one, who kept their best interests at heart better than he had.
***
The procession arrived in a large park surrounded by high towers. Spellhart wasn't familiar with it but immediately noticed how beautiful it was, even compared to the rest of Canterlot. Flowers of all colors bloomed in neatly-organized rows. The rain had stopped at some point and a light breeze shook droplets of water from the flowers. They're probably even more beautiful from above, he thought. His gaze wandered until it fell on something that shook him to the core: A stone statue of a twisted, serpent-like creature with stubby wings and a mad grin. Discord. They were in the Canterlot statue gardens.
Celestia and Luna stood at the other end of the garden as regal as ever under the bright light of the full moon. The soldiers all stood at attention. Spellhart simply bowed his head even further. Whatever well-deserved fate the Princesses had planned for him, they couldn't have picked a more scenic place to deliver it.
