The Grimoire Discordia Chronicles

by Twigai

Rating: everyone
Tags: Tragedy, Dark
Length: 11128

A tale of good intentions gone bad, strained friendships, forbidden magic, and redemption.

Twilight Sparkle was on top of the world. Jammed in the back of a dusty shelf of the Ponyville Library, she came upon a tome of magic unlike any other. Within its pages were housed spells from every genre, all in the same place – from evocation to divination, thaumaturgy to illusion. Spells designed to grow bumper crops, heal the sick, and deal with any situation she can think of, just by the flipping of a few pages.

Why then, did it turn out like this? Twilight's intentions were only to help her friends and her community, but in the past week, all she's wrought is cruelty. Warping emotional states, tearing apart families, and breeding hatred. No matter what spell she casts, there is always an unexpected side effect, prompting her to return to the book for answers. What's worse, she's managed to accidentally split her own consciousness into two seperate beings! A mare and a stallion, both insisting they are the real Twilight Sparkle, find that they must co-exist together or risk destroying themselves.

As days go by, Twilight quickly finds herself with no time left to end the torment she's unintentionally wrought. At the outset of our story, no less than an angry mob of Ponyville residents has set upon her, calling for justice against the crimes wrought by a mare who only had the best of intentions. Twilight and her counterpart are left with a choice – continue to resist and risk bringing more danger to those they care about, or giving themselves up to their pursuers, and facing whatever fate has been prepared for them. With the appearance of Princess Celestia in Ponyville, who had fallen mysteriously silent in her responses to Twilight's letters of guidance as of late, Twilight sees a faint shimmer of hope. Surely, the princess has the power to set things right, and to make people understand she never meant to hurt them. Finally, the dark days are over. Or are they?

The Grimoire Discordia Chronicles is a multi-part story beginning with events of the present day. The following six chapters beyond the prologue outline past events on Twilight's fall from grace, while the remaining chapters will continue in the present day, on the path to redemption and resolution.

(UPDATE - I went ahead and added a cover image anyway. I don't know who the artist is so I regret I can't give them credit, but this image was helpful in shaping my original concept for the story. I'm still open to artists who might want to consider supplying alternative images I can credit.)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-06-04 19:50:20 UTC

Prologue: The Best Intentions

Prologue: The Best Intentions

The hammering continued.  The beating of a thousand hooves.  At first it was only against the door, but there were too many of them now, and they’d taken to assaulting the walls.  Books clattered from high shelves and spilled open haphazardly onto the floor.  A beaker full of a shimmering purple liquid shattered upon contact with a stool, its contents evaporating instantly in a puff of glittering smoke.

Far worse than that, were the sounds.  The cries of anguish and condemnation, calling for justice.  A mob mentality ruled them, rendering any hope of reasoning with them impossible.  They shouted for recompense.  They shouted for vengeance.

They shouted for Twilight Sparkle.

“This...this isn’t going to hold much longer, Twilight!  Do something!”  The usually plucky voice of Twilight’s assistant, the baby dragon known as Spike, was laden with nervous stuttering.  He had been boarding up windows and doors throughout the Ponyville library even before the mob had caught up with them, and he was now panting with the effort.  Whether or not dragons can perspire is a question for the ages, but the scent of fear radiated prominently enough from him that anypony could have easily detected it.  “M-make them stop!”  He begged.

“I can’t make them stop!” came an exasperated response.  Huddled in the center of the room under a table once meant for studying, the violet form of Twilight herself sought cover, her forehooves covering her head as if she expected the roof to come crashing down on her at any moment.  Several books lay open on top of the table, but the ominous, waving flicker of torchlight held aloft by angry ponies sent a chill down her spine, taunting her with its coming.

“O-of course you can!”  Spike rebutted, “you’re the greatest magician in all of Ponyville!  In all of Equestria!  You can make them go away!”

“Stop it, Spike!”  Twilight growled, ashamed of her own cowering posture.  “You…you just think too highly of me!  This has gone too far!”

“But they’ll listen to you if you’ll just explain—”

“I tried that already!  Nopony will listen anymore!  I tried…but it’s too late now!  I can’t put things back the way they were, I…”  Closing her eyes tightly to choke off a tear, she wailed her feelings aloud, “I can’t do it!  I’m not good enough!  I’m not strong enough, or smart enough, or clever enough to make this all go away!”

Spike paused.  For a moment, the sounds, the lights – they were all gone.  As he focused on his master, he noticed in her something he’d never seen before.  Twilight was often modest, and at times unsure of her own abilities.  But not like this.  There was something there, in the corner of the violet pony’s damp eyes.  Something black.  He bore his gaze into her, forcing her to look at him, but still she shied away.

Defeat.  Raw, true, real.  Not just insecurity that could be remedied by the warm words of a close friend, or the temporary loss of confidence in a pony’s self when a task went wrong.  Twilight was beaten.  Magic wasn’t a part of her vocabulary anymore.  Spike scowled, and a weak clanging noise rang out against the din of shouting and slamming as he threw his hammer to the floor.

“Then what are we supposed to do now?”

Twilight swallowed, the words slipping from her muzzle stabbing her like knives as they moved past.  “Maybe…maybe they’re right.  They want me, and they have good reasons for it.  What happened is all my fault.  I hurt them, you know?  I messed up their lives, and then I couldn’t fix it.  I don’t have the right to do anything else.”

Spike was still an infant.  It would take hundreds of years for him to mature into a great, mighty winged beast that could soar to the highest peaks, defend his friends, and strike fear into the hearts of his enemies with only a well-placed stare.  But even at his age, he could still feel it.  The burning in the pit of his stomach.  The desire to help when he could not.  The desire to make right what he could not correct.  Most of all, the need to protect the friends he cared about in ways that were still beyond him.  The burning churned in his stomach, rising up until he expelled it forcefully in a small gout of green flame.  Twilight looked up.

“A letter from Princess Celestia?”  She asked hopefully.

Spike shook his head.  In his hand he held the retrieved hammer.  It was upside down, and the butt of it was lit up like a torch.  On any other night, the dancing flame could have been a source of peace and comfort.  Twilight had seen one too many torches on this particular evening however, and as a result the presence of the little green fire provided her with nothing more than cause to shrink away a little more.

“The princess stopped responding to your letters days ago.  You know that.”  The torchlight reflected in Spike’s eyes, giving even his diminutive form a nigh-menacing look.  “I’m surprised at you, Twilight.  I don’t care what you say – at the very least, you’re the greatest magician in Ponyville.  Probably more than that.  And you know it.  No matter what you say, you know it.  You saved the town from an ursa minor with your magic.  You believed in Nightmare Moon’s prophecy, even when nopony else did, and your magic became the focal point for the Elements of Harmony that set Princess Luna free.  You defeated Discord, even when everypony else fell under the power of his chaos magic.  Of course your friends helped.  But without you, none of that would have ever happened.  You achieved all that, only to give up now?”  Gruffly, Spike turned to one of the boarded up windows.  Light produced by the angry mob was still showing through the cracks in his quick, messy handiwork.  “Well, maybe you’ve given up, but I haven’t.  I won’t let this happen to you.  I…I’ll…” he swallowed.  Hard.  “I’ll make them stop.  S-somehow.  E-even if you won’t try.”

With that, Spike took to waving his little green torch at the boarded-up window.  As if anypony on the other side could see him through the boards or hear him over the cacophony of shouting, he yelled ridiculous things at them.  He told them to go away, made threats he couldn’t possibly deliver on, and even went so far as to try to explain the situation, for all the good it would do.

The shame Twilight felt intensified, and began to gnaw panfully at her insides.  She’d tried all she knew, but she was out of ideas.  Maybe if she gave herself up now, the mob would spare Spike, and not torch the library.  Would they really go that far?  She knew Spike could never understand it, but she was considering giving up to save him.  To save all the beautiful books and their priceless knowledge, all around her.  Was it noble?  Was it cowardly?  She couldn’t say.  But despite all that, with all the fear she knew Spike held in his heart, he stood his ground against those blank boards, shouting defiantly at them in her defense.

All at once, a shock of pain reverberated through Twilight’s head.  She winced and nearly bit her tongue, but didn’t cry out.  She was used to this by now, and it could mean only one thing.  “S-spike,” she called out weakly, “…Spike?”

“Huh?”  Spike’s countenance reversed instantly back into her faithful servant.  It was just like him.

“Spike…the pain is back.  Where is he?”

Spike looked around the room.  An instant later he perked up, “oh!  He went into the back, remember?  To board up the windows and doors there.  When the shaking first started I thought it was just him bucking at nails, but I guess—” he cut himself off when he noticed the obvious pain his master was in.  “Is he too far away?  But, wouldn’t he come right back, then?  U-unless…”  Spike’s already cold-blood ran like ice through his veins.  Unless, he thought, they’ve broken in and…they got him.  He eyed the passageway to the back of the library for a moment, knowing the only alternative was to brave the dark corners back there, on a mission that might already be impossible.

A figure appeared in the hallway.  The darkened silhouette of a tall pony was unmistakable.

“Wh-who are you!?”  Spike shouted, “g-go away!  Go away or I’ll…I’ll…”  He’d what?  With no other ideas, Spike brandished his torch at the figure, vainly hoping that it might somehow drive the assailant away.

In the dour green glow, the pony’s identity became known.  Before Spike stood a tall, lithe stallion with a purple coat.  His jaw was square, and in his mouth he weakly held a hammer of his own, that seconds later dropped from his grasp.  “It’s done,” the pony heaved through deep breaths.  “They won’t get in that way.  They can buck those doors and windows back there all night long.

“Don’t go too far away from Twilight!”  Spike barked, “you know she gets those splitting headaches whenever you’re too far away from her!”

The pony frowned, “I know, Spike.  I get them too.  The same way she does.  But it was either that or run the risk that one nail out of place could compromise the security of the whole building.”  The purple stallion sighed and shook his head from side to side a few times, as the throbbing in his own brain subsided.  His dark mane, a bit shorter than Twilight’s, had a shock of pink and purple running through it.  It parted only at his brow, to allow room for the single horn protruding from the crown of his head.  “Is she okay?”

“Ask her yourself,” Spike wandered back towards the front of the room, as if to stand guard.  He’d never cared much for the stallion sharing his master’s colors, who had come so abruptly a week ago to interfere in their peaceful lives.  What was worse, whenever he got a certain distance away from Twilight, she experienced debilitating headaches such that she could barely stand up.  The Stallion complained of the same symptoms, but Spike wasn’t sure he believed him.  As far as the young dragon was concerned, it was some sort of sorcery.  They had no choice but to let him stay at the library along with them.  He ate when they did.  Went where they went.  Thankfully the distance was at least enough that he could go into another room when Spike’s master was sleeping or otherwise indisposed.  That was something, but to Spike it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Twilight,” the stallion trotted into the room with no small amount of exhaustion, approaching the table.  “Hey.  Are you alright?”

It took some time for a reply to come.  When it did, it was little more than, “I’m fine.”

The stallion stuck his head unceremoniously under the table, prying on purpose, “then get up.  You’re making this harder on our assistant.”

“Her assistant!”  Spike corrected, “I’m Twilight’s assistant, not yours!”

With a rustling of discarded papers, Twilight finally brought herself up from under the table.  She shook her head in exactly the same manner as the stallion.  The movement was uncannily similar to the way he had done it, to the point that Spike lost his train of thought.  They were the same color, moved nearly the same way, and thought in a very similar way.  If not for the fact that the stallion was a bit taller, had a deeper voice, and lacked feminine features like longer eyelashes, even Spike would have had to admit it would have been hard to tell them apart.

“Spike, stop it,” Twilight scolded for the second time that evening.  “Twilight is Twilight, and so am I.”  She turned and glanced at the other pony in the room, “and how are you, Twilight?”

“Holding up,” the stallion nodded.  He looked away, “but…I suppose I’m feeling the same things you are.  That seems to always be the way, doesn’t it, Twilight?”

“Oh for—!”  Spike sighed, “can’t we give him a different name or something?  I can’t keep this all apart in my head.  You’re Twilight, he's Twilight…can’t he be like, Guylight or something?  Or Twiboy?  Or purple homewrecker guy?”

“Spike!”  The two Twilights shouted together.  The dragon huffed, but fell silent.

“Don’t mind him,” Twilight sighed, “he’s confused.  You can’t really blame him.”

The stallion nodded, “I know.  Honestly I’m confused too.  I mean, I see you standing there and I don’t mean to be rude, but…” he looked the mare over in the dim torchlight, “but it’s like you stole my body or something.  I’m Twilight Sparkle.  I’ve always been me.  I remember everything about my life that I knew before last week even happened.  But now I’m…I mean…this is so confusing.  And it feels funny.”

Twilight couldn’t blame the stallion for his words.  If they were both Twilight Sparkle, she had to wonder what it would feel like to suddenly be a stallion, and be looking at herself from across a room.  The cutie mark on his haunches was exactly the same as hers.  It had gotten to the point that they were finishing each other’s sentences.  On some magical level she couldn’t consciously understand, she knew the bond with him was strong.  They couldn’t even stand to be away from one another without feeling physical pain.  They weren’t friends.  They weren’t associates, family, or even lovers.  They were the same pony.  Cantering too far away from him made her feel as though she was removing one of her own pasterns or hocks, and leaving it behind.

Unlike Spike, Twilight was inclined to believe her counterpart.  If not for the uncanny resemblance and the sensations she experienced in his presence, then for the manner in which he appeared.  It was only a week prior, but with all that had happened, it felt like an ancient, dusky memory.  She’d rather have forgotten her original intentions when she’d cast that first spell, the one that set everything in motion.  He wasn’t the first unexpected effect, but he came soon after.  As much Twilight Sparkle as she was.  For a time, he even insisted he was the “real” Twilight, to the point that he took offense whenever Spike suggested renaming him to keep things clear.  He’d even suggested they rename her, but she of course felt the same way about the idea that he did.  They were left at an impasse, and had no alternative but to just go on calling each other by the same name.  They eventually had to conclude that there was no “real” Twilight Sparkle between them.  Each of them felt the same magic power, on a level so intimate it could only be the power produced by the horn of one and the same unicorn.

How to undo the curious situation remained as much a frustrating mystery as how to deal with all the damage that followed.  The damage that resulted in this night, where an angry mob of Ponyville residents bucked relentlessly at the town library, calling out for Twilight Sparkle to surrender herself.  Both of them.

“That won’t hold forever,” stallion Twilight indicated at the main entrance.  The comment wasn’t intended as an insult, but Spike huffed again and folded his arms, taking it that way.  The stallion let out a helpless, dry chuckle.  “I guess the game’s up, huh?  It’s not like we didn’t try.  But…even Princess Celestia abandoned us…”

“She did not abandon us!”  Twilight snapped.  “She…she’s…she’s a busy pony.  I’m sure she’s just tied up with something more important, like…I dunno…maybe…”  she trailed off when she thought about how lonely it felt for the princess to suddenly stop communicating with her.  What could possibly be so important?  Was she angry?  Twilight would have preferred Princess Celestia’s anger, over the maddening silent treatment.  Maybe then she could at least atone for whatever trespass the princess had perceived from her.

“She wouldn’t do that,” the stallion replied.  “You and I both know her the same way.  She wouldn’t just stop talking to us, not at a time like this.  She’s a just and kind ruler.  I have total faith and devotion in her, the same way you do.  There has to be another explanation.”

“There is,” Twilight swallowed, “the explanation that what we’ve done is so bad, she’s decided we deserve the punishment we’re going to get for it.”

Another heavy book smacked heavily down from a high shelf.  Both ponies were too lost in the implications of that last statement to pay it any heed.

Stallion Twilight began, “then we don’t have a choice.  We should…”

“…open the door and fess up,” Twilight finished the thought.

Spike looked down.  He wanted so badly to come up with an answer, but as much as he pushed back against inevitability, it never let up.  He knew what was coming too, he just couldn’t bring himself to say it.

All at once, the noises ceased.

No more banging.  No more shouting.  The flickering lights were still there, but they were now stationary.  It was like waking from a bad dream.

“What happened?”  Stallion Twilight spoke up.

“I don’t know,” his counterpart added.  “Are they tired?  Maybe they’re going to take a break, or wait us out?  I don’t really have much food in here…”

Spike lit up like a lightbulb, “tired?  That’s perfect!  Now’s our chance!  Twilight, if they’re calming down, maybe this is our chance to explain things to them!  If you go out on the balcony now and address them, maybe—”

WHAM!!

With a single sound rivaling all the earlier bucking noises put together, the thick planks nailed to the front door exploded forth from their places, banging up against the back wall with enough force to shatter them into splinters.  The door itself followed suit, and everypony took cover to avoid the resulting shower of debris.  Whatever power had caused the blow, it was far greater than the force any resident of Ponyville was capable of.

Before the dust settled, several large, stocky stallions marched into the library.  They all bore coats of white; adorned identically in resplendent golden armor, plumed helms, and shoes that gleamed even with the lateness of the hour.  Two by two they came, marching in line until they made a perfect barrier between the center of the room and the door.  On a single barked order from their captain, they moved as one – coming to right face and standing stoically at attention.  They were an impenetrable equine wall, and their majestic wings suggested they could deploy effectively against any pony that sought to circumvent them.

Neither Twilight dared oppose them.  The presence of Canterlot's own royal guard could only mean one thing, and without speaking to one another, their hearts both skipped a beat as they each drew the same conclusion.  The door could be replaced.  Destroying it was doubtless nothing more than a show of powerful magic, designed to calm the angry mob in one fell swoop.  Instinctively, each Twilight took a knee before the figure who entered a moment later.  Spike did the same.

The humble library was graced by the regal presence of Celestia herself, Crown Princess of Equestria.  For a time, she stood before her palace guards and merely viewed the scene before her.  None, not even the unruly mob, dared utter a word.

Twilight kept her eyes closed and her muzzle submissively diverted downwards, but she could not help but smile.  Finally, it was over.  Fear, anguish, frustration, and despair – they all congealed into a dark morass before the princess, whose very presence was enough to expel them from Twilight's mind in a gentle wave of peace.  Her teacher; her mentor.  Princess Celestia.  When the princess spoke, ponies listened.  When the princess decreed, ponies obeyed.  Twilight still felt shame for not being able to handle the situation by herself, but with the princess finally in Ponyville, everything would turn out okay.  She would make them understand that what had happened was not intentional.  Of course, Twilight knew she would be made to work to undo the chaos she had wrought, but she was more than eager to make amends.  She just needed them to listen to her long enough to allow her to work.  The princess would see to that.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia finally pronounced, “my student.  Come forward.”

Instinctively, both Twilights cantered to within a few hoof-lengths from their sovereign and returned to kowtowing before her.  They spared but a single, flashing glance at each other – both wondering who among them the princess would consider to be the “real thing”.

“I would hear your words,” Celestia stated flatly.  The statement was not a request.  Twilight spoke first.

“Princess Celestia,” she began, “you grace us with your presence.  I've attempted to inform you of the circumstances surrounding recent events in Ponyville, but I'm uncertain if my messages were received.”  Realizing how that statement could be taken, Twilight recovered, “th-that is, I'm certain my messages were received with due diligence, and am equally convinced that your highness has had important matters of state to attend to elsewhere.  As a result, I've taken it upon myself to deal with the situation at hand, but—”

“Thank you, my student.”  Celestia turned her elegant muzzle in the direction of Twilight's counterpart.  “Now, I would hear the words of this Twilight Sparkle.”  The look in the princess's eye was inconclusive.  The evenness of her tone was unsettling, but not unknown, especially in the presence of so many of her subjects.  From outside, ponies crowded in the doorway, each trying to get a glimpse of the proceedings.  Twilight gave her counterpart another sidelong glance.  The princess had gone as far as to use Twilight’s own name when referring to him.  Celestia always knew more than she let on, but never before had Twilight felt such a strong desire to brush decorum aside and confront her about it.

Twilight’s counterpart cleared his throat.  It was a guttural noise, and the voice that followed sounded like a recording of Twilight’s voice, played back an octave lower.  Female in diction and word choice, but male in tonality.  “Your Highness,” stallion Twilight began, “it is very much as my counterpart stated.  I—we—encountered difficulties resulting from complications of a magical spell.  We made attempts to contact the palace to request assistance, but we were not successful in obtaining a response…” stallion Twilight faltered, falling into the same potential miscommunication trap that Twilight had a moment before, “th-that is, I mean to say that we took the silence as an affirmation of Your Highness’s faith in our abilities to handle the situation ourselves.”

Celestia nodded.  “Go on.”

“Y-yes well,” the violet pony cleared his throat again and flattened his ears against his head, looking for the right words.  He glanced at Twilight as if to ask her permission for what he was about to admit.  She could only stare back at him, but he knew she was thinking the same thing.  He touched his muzzle to the floor, “my princess, we…we regret to inform you of our failure.  We’ve pushed ourselves to the limit of our understanding of the arcane, but to no avail.  As your students, we beg your forgiveness for our shortcomings and ask for your intervention, to correct our grievous error.  As it stands—”

Celestia held up one hoof.  The room immediately became quiet.  For a full minute, the Ponyville library was without even the sounds of tired breaths from either side of the main entrance.  The litany of silence was broken only by a long, deflated sigh from the princess herself.  It was not a sound anypony assembled was used to hearing from their sovereign.

“Your grievous error,” Celestia repeated the words.  Her gaze moved back and forth between both incarnations of Twilight Sparkle.  They both knew her well enough to pick up on the minute, barely noticeable change in her expression from steadfast to troubled.  “Then I must ask you formally, my student.”  She nodded to a guard, who stepped forward and retrieved a particularly large, heavy book that was laying spine-up on the floor.  He closed it, placed it face up before her, and returned to his place in line.  Celestia tapped the book sharply with one of her perfectly groomed hooves.  “Do you know what this is?”

The Twilights looked at the book, then at one another.  Again, Twilight herself spoke first.  “A book of magic, princess?”

Celestia’s normally patient, knowing smile was nowhere to be found.  “Not just any book of magic.  A book of discordian magic.”

Murmurs rose from the crowd.  The name ‘Discord’ traveled throughout the crowd like a cancer, infecting minds and turning them towards immediate fear.  Again, Celestia rose one hoof to silence them.

“Be not afraid, residents of Ponyville.  Discordian magic is an ancient art from the time of the three tribes that make up our history.  The being called ‘Discord’ was named for it because of his nature, not the other way around.  They are unrelated to one another.  However,” Celestia paused, her words seeming to come to her with difficulty, “discordian magic has no other purpose than to cause havoc.  It was used as a weapon during the times in which our forbearers fought against one another.  Its practice has been firmly outlawed in all of Equestria since the time of our nation’s founding.”

Twilight’s eyes went wide, and she found that she could no longer remain silent.  “B-but, how can that be?  I’ve been studying pony history all my life…how can I never have heard of this before?  A-and that book,” she indicated it with a rude dipping of her horn, “it’s full of all sorts of magic spells, from every discipline I can think of.  Some of them are for minor pranks, but most of them are helpful spells, like making crops flourish or even healing the sick!  How can it be outlawed?”

Celestia didn’t skip a beat, “though unicorns are the magic-users of Equestria, at one time all of the tribes had some understanding of the arcane arts, at least so far as to recognize the nature of spells they came upon.  Discordian magic was literally the practice of adding very subtle alterations to otherwise benign spells, to pervert their effects into something abominable.  It became a finely-honed technique, prized by many of its day as a sort of artform.  Any literate pony, no matter their ability with magic, could make use of it.  Due to its obscurity as a result of long standing disuse, and the fact that its subtle role kept it from being recorded in the lay versions of our histories, it is expected that most ponies alive today would not be aware of its existence.”  Her eyes again fell upon the two ponies kneeling before her, “be that as it may, I remain surprised and dismayed that my student, with her impressive knowledge of the histories of all of our peoples, would not be aware of these facts.

Twilight was shocked.  It made no difference to her what other ponies knew.  She was an expert historian.  Other than perfecting her own skill with magic, it had been her life’s work to commit to memory as much of pony history as possible, in hopes of someday using what she knew to educate others.  A pony who does not learn from history is doomed to repeat it.  Equestria was founded on a multitude of important life lessons in friendship, caring, and mutual trust.  Most everypony knew that already, but Twilight had hoped she might one day take it to an even higher level.  How then, could she not be aware of such a significant challenge ponies of the past had overcome?  And what was worse, how could she have let herself be fooled by what was basically trickery?

“Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia continued, “you have stated before the residents of Ponyville this night that you have committed a ‘grievous error’.  I must ask you – have you made use of discordian magic?”

“I…we…” Twilight whimpered, “…we didn’t know…”

“Answer me.”  It was not in Celestia’s nature to shout, but her words came with an implosive force sufficient to siphon all other sound from the room.

Both Twilights looked away.  In unison, they spoke.  “Yes, Your Highness.”

The cries of condemnation began anew from the crowd outside, though none of them dared to test the guards blocking the main entrance.  Phrases such as “what about my foals” and “how could you” ran rampant.  Before silencing the crowd again, Celestia let out another deep, disillusioned sigh.  Though she already knew the answer, she had hoped against hope that somehow, her student would have an ironclad alibi proving her innocence.  It was not to be.  When the noise died down, she forced her next words out, making a significant effort to keep from mixing them with emotion.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Celestia announced, “discordian magic is an ancient art, and all of its practitioners have long since passed away.  As a result, even I do not possess the knowledge to dispel it.  Those who have suffered from its effects in Ponyville may very well be stuck that way for the rest of their lives, as a result.  Given the severity of the crime, I cannot accept ignorance of the law, even an archaic law that is not well known, as a defense.  You leave me no alternative.  By the power vested in me as Crown Princess of Equestria and ruler of this land, I hereby find you guilty of the crime of practicing outlawed magic.  You are now under arrest, and will be extradited immediately to Canterlot.  Guards…” Celestia paused before turning abruptly away and moving towards the door, “…take them into custody.”

Twilight’s counterpart straightened suddenly and moved as if in his own defense, but he was quickly surrounded by half a dozen well-armored royal guards.  Twilight herself gave them no trouble, as her fore and hind legs were respectively clasped into two pairs of iron shackles.  The mare and the stallion, aspects of the same pony, were put into line and marched from the library.  Spike was not taken, but he followed along anyway.  It was more than owing at least that much to the master that hatched him.  It was out of fear and concern for his closest friend.

A dull rain had begun to fall.  Most of the torches had been snuffed out, but the moon was still high, and the luminescence of Celestia’s mane brought all eyes to her.  When Twilight appeared, the cries commenced.  A rotten apple hit her in the side of the head, but she didn’t even flinch.  Were her friends out there, in the crowd?  She was afraid to look.  After what she’d done to them, it was possible they might be, and she didn’t think she could cope with visual proof.

The apple didn’t matter.  The mud getting on her hooves didn’t matter.  Nothing mattered anymore.  Failure was a bitter taste, but far less so than the overwhelming emotion that she had detected in every word, and every movement, of the princess.

Princess Celestia had been let down.

Part I: The Fall | Chapter 1: Rainbow Dash

Part I: The Fall | Chapter 1: Rainbow Dash

“Look out below!”

Through the air sailed a wave of watery pigments, from every color in the spectrum.  For a few seconds, the prismatic spray seemed to hover against the backdrop of a clear blue sky – a rainbow hued knothole in the trunk of the heavens.  Its payload delivered, the bucket from whence the concoction came dripped with remnants of color as the rest of the paint splattered all over one particularly unlucky mare.

Applejack hacked and spat, taking a moment to clear her nostrils before staring at the sky with her eyes narrowed, “tarnation!  Dangit Rainbow, you better watch yerself, or ah'm a come up there and show you what fer!”

The cyan Pegasus named Rainbow Dash, infamous for a good prank, floated in place and cackled merrily, swinging the bucket and stretching her wings, “oh yeah?  What're you gonna do, huh?  Borrow that weird flying machine thingy Pinkie had that one time?”  Unabashedly, she laughed harder at her own words, “oh man, that'd be awesome!  Applejack flying around on a bicycle with a propeller, showing off the latest fashion trends from the distinguished Rainbow Dash line!  You've so gotta do it!”

Applejack had the brim of her hat in her teeth, and was wiping it clean with one hoof.  The top of her head had been protected by the garment, but her shoulders, back, rump, mane, and tail were a myriad of emulsifying reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, and violets in primary shades.  She wiped furiously at her favorite hat until she realized all she was doing was mixing the colors around even more.  With a snarl and a huff, she gave up and hurled the hat as hard as possible into the air like a Frisbee, targeting her assailant.

Rainbow Dash dodged the projectile easily, which fluttered back to the earth.  She snerked again, “Aw c'mon, don't be like that.  Everypony knows today is April Foal's Day!  It's your own fault for not being on your guard!”  She folded her forehooves and grinned, “besides, they're just watercolors.  They'll come right out after a bath.  Geez, some ponies just got no sense of humor.”

“Ah'll show you humor, ye dang pest!”  Applejack shook her hoof in the air, but Dash was already flitting away to reload and seek out another potential target.  Applejack blinked hard, chasing a running drop out of the corner of her eye.  “Darnit, ah'm plumb soaked with all this junk.”  She let out a sigh, “guess ah'm just better off goin' back to the farm and gettin' cleaned up.”

“Oh I don't know darling,” from nearby, Rarity, still gleaming white and untouched by any collateral spray, smirked a bit, “maybe she's right.  If you walked around town like that, you might just start a new trend.  It seems your color is, well...every color!”

Rarity and Twilight, who was also nearby, shared a hearty giggle.  Maybe it wasn't the nicest thing they could have done, but Dash was quite right – it was April Foal's Day.  The two of them had been on their guard, and they'd both quickly hopped out of the way the moment they heard the warning from on high.  It was all in good fun.

Applejack, Rarity, and Twilight had run into each other by chance in the shopping district of Ponyville, each running different afternoon errands.  In that time they'd dodged traps and outsmarted the tall tales of various fillies and colts looking for a laugh.  It was only a matter of time until one of the three of them tripped up.

All in all, it was a pleasant afternoon.  The streets were lively, everypony was going about their business, and the three friends took the time to enjoy lunch together and take in the pleasant view of irises and hyacinths arrayed for the season outside of the florist shop.

Twilight took in a deep, refreshing breath of clear, fresh air.  She'd been spending more time than usual cooped up in the library, and though her instinct was to return as soon as possible, her legs appreciated a good stretching.  “Mmm, I love days like this.  It's almost like you can taste the crispness of such a nice spring day.”

Rarity ran her roof over Twilight's right flank, testing it like one might test an Armani suit between a thumb and forefinger.  She raised an eyebrow, “oh dear, you would say something like that.  Look at you.  Boarded up in that moldy old building for hours on end, all day long.  Is your coat losing its color, dear?  You look a bit pale.”  She made a face, “and just look at this mane!  Why, you simply must come to my boutique later, darling.  I positively cannot just sit idly by and allow a friend to trot about with such odious split ends!”

Applejack stared intently at Twilight's mane from the other side.  “Eh, I dunno.  Ah think she looks just dandy.  Ain't nothing wrong with that windswept look.  Just means y'put in an honest day's work.”  As she spoke, Applejack's muzzle wormed through Twilight's personal space, her eyes focused wholly on their subject, “might peckish though.”

“Uh...yeah, anyway,” assaulted on both sides in a vice of critical admirers, Twilight trotted out of range and whirled around to meet her friends.  She shook her head and glanced down from the corners of her eyes at the tips of her mane as they spilled out over her neck.  It was hard to make much of anything out from that angle, but she couldn't blame herself for trying.  Maybe they were right...maybe she was spending a bit too much time pouring over the written word, but she couldn't help herself.  “I know, I know, but lately I've been so excited!  I found a new book in the library you see, and—”

“Another new book?”  Applejack interjected, “landsakes girl, by now I figured you knew that old library bettern' I know red on an apple!  Maybe y'just read so much, y'pushed the old stuff out of yer head and ye're comin' around for a second pass!”

Everypony laughed, even Twilight, in spite of herself.  It wasn't that her friends didn't appreciate books – they just had their own interests.  That's what made everypony in Ponyville unique, and kept things interesting.  Still, she thought it might be nice once and awhile to have somepony else to discuss her findings with at length than just Princess Celestia.  Letter writing was personal, but not quite as dynamic as pony-to-pony contact.  Before she could finish absorbing Applejack's words, she noticed a cyan blue pip in the sky, that was closing in on them rapidly.

“Uh-oh,” she shrieked, “looks like somepony else is coming around for a second pass, too.  Everypony duck!”

This time, Twilight and Applejack proved a hairsbreadth quicker than Rarity.

“Flyby!”  A familiar voice cried with glee, “head's up!!”

BLOOOSH!!

In the turning of a second, Rarity's perfectly groomed white coat and swirling lavender curls were blemished with random patterns of garish rainbow vomit.  She glanced at her reflection in a store window, and nearly swooned from the shock.

“M-my...my hair!!  And my beautiful coat!  I spend three hours every morning grooming it to absolute, tip-top perfection!!”  Gritting her teeth, she snarled at the retreating divebomb jet in a very unmarelike fashion.  “Incorrigible ruffian!  Enemy of fashion!  I hope your mane falls out at the roots!”

Rainbow Dash's retreating laughter was her only response.

Applejack's lip turned up in a sly grin as she retrieved her colorful hat, “ohh, so that's how it'tis, ain't it?  What'sa matter Rarity?  Every color just not yer color?”

Applejack and Twilight enjoyed yet another hearty bellylaugh.  Their companion did not.

“My word!  Some ponies simply give no consideration to tact!  If you please girls, I have a date with a long bubble-bath!”  With that, Rarity began to trot away.

Twilight had to choke down her laughter enough to permit speech, “oh, come on, Rarity.  We're sorry.  You have to admit though, it is sort of funny.”

Rarity made a 'hmph' noise and didn't break her stride for an instant.

“Hey wait!  It's just watercolor paint, right?  And it's April Foal's Day!  It's all in good fun!”  Twilight's calls reflected off of a wall of stubborn indignity.

“Aw,” Applejack interjected through a chuckle, “just let her be.  Y'know how she gets, all with her hindparts in a wad and such.”  She glanced up at the brim of her hat.  The extremely thin paint was already starting to evaporate under the heat of the afternoon sun.  “Ah guess it ain't so bad.  It's like y'said yerself, today's s'posed to be about havin' a good time.  All in good fun.  Granny Smith'd be ashamed of me if'n I couldn't take a little funnin' about every now and then.”

Just then, a light went on in Twilight's head.  Deviousness spread over her features like molten lava seeping from a crack in the earth, and her voice became low.  “Wanna get her back?”

“Who-whatnow, girl?”

“Her.  Rainbow Dash.  She thinks nopony will ever catch her up there, so she can prank away all day and have nothing to worry about.  The best part of that is she won't be expecting it, so...do you want to get her back?”

Applejack grinned, “girl, you done gone and called my cattle in fer breakfast.  What'cha got in mind?”

****

Back at the Ponyville library, Applejack was washing the remaining pigment off of herself while Twilight was in the main chamber.  The violet pony had been silent for nearly half an hour, and her orange companion was getting a bit bored.  “Hey there,” Applejack called, “you still out there, or did ye pass out like pickin' too many apples on a hot day?”

“Just a minute,” came a distracted reply.

Applejack shrugged and walked back into the main room.  Twilight was at her usual place – digging her muzzle into the spine of an old book.  “I still say we just lasso her outta the sky, roll her in some glue, and stuff her in one of Pinkie Pie's windows.  Why, she'd come out with so much glitter on she'd blind the neighbors!”  Applejack laughed at her own joke.

“Oh, no no no,” Twilight grinned, smacking a page with one hoof, “I've got something much better.  Check this out.”

Applejack trotted over and glanced down at the page.  There were a bunch of words in a strange script she couldn't read, and two pictures.  Both were cross sections of a Pegasus wing, but in the second image, the primary feathers looked docked.  Applejack blinked, “you wanna give her a book to read, an' then lasso her, roll her in some glue, and stuff her in one'a Pinkie's windows?”

“No, no!”  Twilight smugly declared, “this is that new book I was trying to tell you both about earlier.  This thing is amazing.  I've never seen a book of magic that covered more than two, maybe three spheres of learning tops.  This one covers them all.  I swear, there's a spell for every day of the week in here, maybe every day of the year!  I bet Starswirl the Bearded himself didn't have anything this cool!”

Applejack knitted her brow.  “Um, alright.  I'm proud for ye.  But what's that got to do with what we're talkin' about?”

“Be-cause,” Twilight sang the word, alight with fillyish giddiness, “we can use this spell to prank Rainbow Dash!  And she'll never see it coming!  It's perfect!”

Applejack looked down at the pictures again.  “What do ye plan to do?  Turn her into a hummingbird or something?”

Twilight puffed up her chest and stood on her hind legs, always pleased to be given an opportunity to explain something.  “Not at all.  This is a lesser transformation spell.  It shrinks the primary feathers of a Pegasus wing just a tiny little bit – just enough to prevent flying.  She won't know what hit her, but will she ever be in for a surprise when she tries to get away the next time she pranks somepony!”

This time, only Twilight was giggling.

“Hey now,” Applejack took a step back from the book, “are you sure about that?  I mean, she's rough around th' edges an' all, but Rainbow lives and dies by those wings o'hers, you know?  I think that might be goin' a bit too far.”

“Oh, it'll be fine.  It's a very low power spell.  The effect only lasts an hour.  After that, the affected feathers return to their normal size like nothing ever happened.”  Twilight ran her hoof over the page a few more times, “it's nothing but an April Foal's Day gag.  Rainbow Dash is our friend – I'd never do anything to really hurt her.  Knowing her, she'll think we never had it in us and we'll all have a good laugh together.”

Applejack wasn't convinced.  “Just why would somepony go and make up a spell that does somethin' like that in the first place?  Sounds kind of offensive, it does.”

Twilight smiled, “it's a party trick.  Totally harmless.  It's listed under a chapter specifically focusing on April Foal's Day jokes.”  Her touch on the open page was turning into a caress.  This book was beyond incredible.  Not only did it have a whole chapter for something as trivial as April Foal's Day gags, but she opened right to it.  As a matter of fact, no matter what topic she was looking for, this book always had a chapter on it, and she always opened right to it.  A magician must know her tools well.  “But to cast it, we need a strand of Rainbow's hair.”

Applejack inspected the towel draped around her neck, which she had been using to get the pigment off of herself.  “Ain't no problem there.  Looksee.”  On the towel was a single strand of pony mane.  It was long, and boasted no less than all seven colors of the primary spectrum.  “Reckon that can't belong to nopony else, right?  If it were one o’mine, it'd be washed clean by now.  It prolly came off her when she was mixin' up a batch o'that pretty cow patootie she tagged me with back there.”

Twilight was too deep in thought to laugh.  Her horn shimmered with a faint glow, and the strand of hair lifted from the towel by itself, floating through the air until it came to rest outstretched on the table before her.  With her tongue sticking slightly out of the side of her mouth, Twilight took several minutes of deep concentration to look back and forth between the book and the table, scooting the hair this way and that by a matter of mere centimeters.

Applejack watched for a time, but eventually began to get antsy with boredom again.  Finally, she felt the need to break the silence.  “So how's all this here gonna work, huh?  Are there some kinda magic words or hocus-pocus in that book?”

Twilight didn't look up.  The pattern of shimmering light from her horn had changed, and it began to flare up and dim down in long and short strokes, almost like morse code.  “Hm?  No, nothing like that.  Magic is inherent to the pony – you can't just say some words and expect something to happen.  The spells in this book are like any other spells.  You just have to...get...the timing...and the pattern...just...right...”  She paused, lost for a moment in deep concentration.  All at once, the light emitting from her horn flashed in a brilliant, blinding glow.  Applejack shielded her eyes from the phenomenon.  When it cleared, Twilight was standing before the book and the hair just as before, with a bright smile on her face, “...done!  Just like that.  Perfect.”

Applejack looked around.  “That's it?  How c'n ye tell it worked?”

“Oh,” Twilight grinned, “it worked.  Trust me on that.  The magical aura emitting from the strand of hair is exactly how the book says it's supposed to be.”

“So ye don't have to slap her on the butt with it or somethin'?”

“Nope.”  Twilight flipped the book closed and trotted over to the main entrance of the library, leaving the hair where it lay.  “But it won't be so satisfying a gag if we don't go see it in action, right?  Let's take a walk.”

The blonde country pony followed her companion out the door and back into the warm luminescence of the midday sun.  For a time, she contented herself with chewing on a blade of grass she'd nabbed by the roadside.  Eventually, a thought that was mildly disturbing enough to give voice to struck her.  “Twilight, uhm...how do ye know Rainbow wasn't in midair when you cast that spell on her?”

Twilight was silent for too long a time to suggest she had a clear answer for that question.  A minuscule shiver ran down her back.  She quickened her pace, but only slightly – just enough so as not to arouse suspicion.  “Uh, that is...I just know.  Don't worry.  It'll be fine.  Let's go see.”

Applejack nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response.  She had no reason not to be.  They were friends, and friends don't lie to one another.

Right?

****

The two mares cantered around town for a solid three hours.  There were still a lot of ponies enjoying the afternoon, and they were distracted by idle conversation and other pleasant pursuits more than once.  They wanted to know what had happened to Rainbow Dash, but just as before, it was just a gag, and all in good fun.  It was enough to know that neither of them had been subject to a flyby “Dashing” since they left the library.

Shadows grew long with the hour, and the number of ponies going about their business began to wane.  Eventually, it occurred to the two spry mares that they'd been neglecting their target for some time.

“Hey,” Applejack eventually spoke up, “what about Rainbow?  Y'think we'd ah heard somethin' by now, right?”

“Well,” came her reply, “clearly she's not out pranking ponies anymore.  Unless she got bored and went someplace else to do it.”

Applejack sniffed the wind, tasting a bit of freshly hewn grass blowing in from some far-off field.  “Naw.  She don't never get bored a'prankin' folks.  April Foal's Day is like some kinda holy passover for her, an' you know she goes after her friends, first.  If she were out an' about, you an' I woulda been lookin' we done got stampeded by a herd o' Skittles by now, toot-sweet.”  She chuckled dryly, “taste th' rainbow, ye know?”

Confusion was evident on Twilight's face.  It was too rude a thing to say to a close friend, but she had to admit, there were times she just couldn't follow Applejack's heavy accent.  The constant colloquialisms and country banter were such that she found herself often guessing at their meaning, or just smiling and nodding.  This time it was the latter.

“Twilight!  Twilight!  Come quick!!”

A panicked whinny caught the wind and carried to the ears of both ponies, prompting them to stare down the road.  A familiar yellow Pegasus was closing the distance to them at a gallop, a look of sheer dread marring her usually agreeable features.

Applejack spat out the grass she was chewing, “Fluttershy?  What's she doin', whippin' down the street quick as fleas on an' old nag's back?”

“Twilight!  Twilight!”  Came the same piercing call, “come quick!  Come quick!”

Fluttershy came to a halt just in the nick of time.  Another leap, and they all would have been involved in a three-pony pileup.  She was panting as if she'd been running for a long time, and several ponies along both sides of the road turned their attention to the spectacle.

“Fluttershy?”  Twilight was instantly concerned, “what's the matter?  You look exhausted.”

Fluttershy took in great gouts of oxygen as she spoke, hampering her words, “hahh...I've been looking all...hahh...over for you...hahh...please...hahh...th-that is, please, if you don't mind...hahh...would you come to my house...?”

Twilight was perplexed, “sure Fluttershy, of course we can.  But what's wrong?  You look terrible.  Did one of the animals get hurt?”

“Ah'll get a blanket and some water.”  Instantly turning serious, Applejack trotted over to one of the roadside stands.

“U-uhm, no, but,” catching her breath, Fluttershy reverted to her usual subdued tone, “it's, well...it's hard to explain.  But I think it's just terrible.  You've got to come and help!”

At that, Twilight's thoughts all turned to the possibility of an emergency.  Fluttershy's sweetness was an enviable quality as far as she was concerned, but it had the side effect of giving the sunny-hued pony all the presence of a gnat.  If she was running around town doing something as likely to draw attention to herself as shouting, there had to be a good reason.

“Did you call for a nurse?”

“Um, well...no.  I, uhm...w-well I...I don't think a nurse would be of much help.”

Twilight raised her eyebrows.

“Please, can you please just come with me?  Quickly?  You can see for yourself.  I promise I'm not trying to April Foal's you.  Okay?”

The thought of another prank never even crossed the violet pony's mind.  Fluttershy just wasn't capable of it.  Even hardcore pranksters like Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie wouldn't dare mess around with the delicate glass ceiling that was Fluttershy's emotional state.  Applejack returned with the supplies she'd mentioned, and the three ponies set off at a gallop towards the hollowed-out tree that their friend called home.

The inside of Fluttershy's home was uncharacteristically dark.  It seemed as though even in the bleakness of winter, mother nature and her demure, winged agent were so well in tune that the latter always managed to surround herself with the bounty of the former.  But now, the shutters were closed, and the blinds were drawn.  Great lengths had been gone to, to bathe the room in a Stygian repose.  To call it unusual was an understatement.

Twilight and Applejack looked around Fluttershy's open-air floorplan with feelings of bewilderment.  The unicorn spoke first.  “So, what's this all about?  Is somepony hurt?  Are you sure you shouldn't call for help?”  She blushed slightly, “I mean, I really appreciate your faith in me, but I'm not a medical professional—”

“Over there,” Fluttershy indicated.  A corner of the room was cordoned off by a gathering of blankets that had been erected like a fort.  It was abnormal interior decorating to say the least.  “I really don't think a nurse pony would be able to do anything.  I just can't explain it.  I thought maybe...maybe you might have heard of something like this before.”

“Something like what...?”

“I-I don't know!” Fluttershy boldly interjected.  “She said she didn't want to be seen by anypony but me.  She kept saying it's because we're the same.  She was...she was so despondent, I don't really understand what's happening, but...I...I just...she asked me not to tell anypony, but I can't just...”

Nopony tried to rouse Fluttershy from her dilapidated reverie.  While Applejack looked on, Twilight approached the fortress of cotton and down.  There was no use asking any more questions.  The fact that Fluttershy was upset was enough.  Behind the wall of fabric could be anything – a pony in distress, a wounded animal...or even a would-be highwaypony or thug.  Her horn shimmered.  Taking a deep breath and readying herself, she thrust back the thinnest later of blanket-curtain with great and sudden force.

There, curled up in a pitiful ball on a modest box-spring, was an all-too familiar, usually jovial cyan pony.  Her mane and tail were all the colors of the rainbow, but seemed faded and lackluster, just like the cutie mark of a colorful lightning bolt on her flank.

Where her wings should have been, there was nothing but two deep, jagged scars.

Twilight let out a sharp gasp and recoiled a step in horror.  Applejack was at her side in an instant, but she too reacted the same way.

“Wh-what,” Twilight stammered, “...what in Equestria happened here?”

Fluttershy was babbling.  “I just...she just...she just came to me and...and she was like that...I asked her...what...what happened, but...but...she just...she just came to me that way...she won't say much...she just...she just—”

A flash of adrenaline surged through Twilight, and before she could come back to herself, her hoof shot out and caught Fluttershy right across the cheek.  The shocked yellow mare was stunned to silence.

“What in Equestria is going on!?”  Twilight shouted.  “Fluttershy!  Rainbow is hurt!  Can't you see that?  By Celestia, I mean...this...this is hideous!  Terrible!  How can you not have called for a litter to the hospital immediately!?  Did she lose any blood!?  Do you even know when it happened or where she's been?  Or even what caused it??”

“Twilight!”  Applejack superimposed herself between the hysterical magician and the target of her berating words, “calm yer wagons!  Caint' ye see th' poor pony don't know?  I'd be shocked straight outta mah horseshoes too, if'n a friend showed up on mah doorstep lookin' like this!”

Fluttershy sunk to the floor and put her forelegs over her head, whimpering.  Twilight stared long and hard into Applejack's stern eyes.  Within them, she found a path back to her own senses.  She closed her eyes for a moment and took a long, hard breath.

“I-I'm sorry, I...” Twilight glanced back at the prone form of Rainbow Dash.  She was clearly alive at least, judging by the rhythmic rising and falling of her flank.  She was laying on her side, staring blankly off into space.  There was no sign of blood loss, or for that matter any other physical duress.  If not for the disfiguring wounds where her wings should have been, one might conclude that she was just exhausted from a long day of work, and hadn't yet fallen asleep.  “But why call me?”

It took some time for Fluttershy to call up the courage to speak again.  She didn't rise from the floor.  “She just showed up at my house like this.  Of course I asked her what happened.  She said she was taking a nap on a cloud, felt a painful ripping sensation, and before she knew it, she was flat on her back in the dirt...just like that.  I...I did think of a hospital Twilight, really.  But she insisted she didn't want anypony to see her like this.  She said that I'm her closest Pegasus friend, so...I'm the only one who would understand.”

“Understand what?”

Applejack butted in, “mebbe suddenly losin' her wings?  I ain't no Pegasus mahself, but I suppose bein' one all yer life and suddenly not havin' yer wings anymore would be a lot like you wakin' up one mornin' and not havin' yer horn, right Twilight?”

Twilight couldn't help but nod.  For a Pegasus, suddenly not having wings was probably the same as tearing off a leg and throwing it away.  How could anypony understand that but another of one's own kind?  And all the moreso for Rainbow Dash.  She took a love of flying to the next level, even for her own tribe.  Twilight could probably count on one of Spike’s hands the number of instances she ever saw her airborne friend actually use her legs to trot on the ground for more than a few minutes.  It was very much like having your horn cut off, specifically for somepony who identified with magic as much as Twilight did.

Swallowing against a lump in her throat, Twilight reached out and prodded Rainbow Dash lightly in the shoulder with one hoof.  “Rainbow?  Rainbow Dash?  Hey...are you okay?”  What a dumb thing to ask, she thought.  Of course Dash wasn't okay.  But Twilight wasn't sure what else to say.

“Go away,” came a flat, baseless reply.  Rainbow Dash had barely blinked the whole time the trio of mares had laid eyes upon her.

“She sounds a’right, anyways,” Applejack interjected.

“She walked in just fine,” Fluttershy added.  “I mean, if not for…th-that, well…a-and her mood, she really doesn’t seem hurt…”

Ignoring the speculation going on behind her, Twilight stubbornly prodded at Dash a second time.  “Rainbow, please…can you tell us what happened to you?  Do you remember anything?”

“Go away.”  Rainbow Dash’s brain spat out the message again, like a computer.

Twilight kept her voice as calm and soothing as she could.  She was no nurse, but she’d read plenty of books on the subjects of triage and emergency care.  Raw knowledge alone would have to do.  “Please Rainbow,” she repeated, “please, can you stand up for me?  If you’re feeling well enough to stand up, I could get a better look at you.  M-maybe see if I can help…”  As she spoke, the tip of her hoof accidentally brushed lightly over one of the long, maleficent scars.

“You leave me the hell alone!!”

Twilight staggered backwards, nearly plowing into Fluttershy and Applejack.  As if a switch had been thrown, Rainbow Dash sprang to her hooves, removing any doubt of an identical scar on her opposite flank.  She truly was totally wingless.  In her amethyst eyes, the three mares saw a ranging tsunami of anguish, held back from spilling over only by a great steel chasm of unfettered rage.

“B-but—”

“Don’t look at me!”  With that scathing, penetrating shout unleashed through the once tranquil halls of Fluttershy’s home, Rainbow Dash tore a blanket down and buried herself under it, quivering in a mass of cotton thread fibers.

The remaining mares eyed one another, as if wondering what to do next.  Their non-verbal communication was as much at a standstill as their words, and none of them moved again until their nerves calmed enough to allow it.

“M-maybe…s-s…something to drink…” hiding behind a poorly-crafted excuse suggesting a mundane calling by visitors, Fluttershy retreated from the scene.  Applejack said nothing, but the look in her eyes made it clear she was expecting Twilight to finish what she started.

Twilight took a deep breath.  “Rainbow Dash?”

Silence.

“Alright…fine then,” she offered, “it’s okay if you don’t want to say anything.  Just listen to me.  You’re injured.  You need help.  If you can walk, we’ll escort you to the hospital.  If not, I’ll call a litter for you.”

“N-no…no, noooooo…”  The pitiable mass underneath the blanket sloshed about like a tub of Jell-O.

Twilight didn’t let up, “why not?  I—we, your friends, think this is the best thing for you.  Really Rainbow, we’re not trying to hurt you.  If you’ll just come out from under there—”

The whisper that came in response was laden with deep-seated, damp despair.  “No…they’ll see me…ponies will see me…no…”

“...see you?  Who will see you?”

When there was again no response, Applejack nudged Twilight in the shoulder gently.  “Cain’t just leave her like this, y’know that.”

Twilight looked down.  The last thing she wanted was to make what could very well be the most traumatic day of her friend’s life even worse, but she was logical to the last.  Fluttershy couldn’t care for Rainbow Dash by herself forever.  She nodded weakly, and took in a breath, flexing her neck.

“Raight then,” Applejack nodded, “on th’count of three.”  She too took a moment to warm her joints up, in anticipation of an expected struggle.  “She’s gonna buck, fer sure.  Get yerself ready.”

Twilight wore a hard stare on her face.  The two of them alternated numbers on the countdown, to be sure they were in sync.

“One…”

“Two…”

Together, they shouted three.  Lunging forward, they each nabbed one of Rainbow Dash’s rear pasterns in their mouths and pulled as one.  Bucking was the least of it.  Dash screamed damnable litanies at them, jerking her body and twisting in every conceivable measure.  The vibrations alone caused a potted plant to tumble off a shelf, shattering into a mass of fertile soil.  As the scene continued, Twilight noticed that the scars on either side of Dash’s body were shifting slightly.  Under them, the muscles at the root of each of Rainbow’s former wings were fluttering madly – she was still trying to fly away from them.

The battle lasted nearly half a minute.  Twilight was no workpony, but even Applejack, with all her strength, was no match in the end when pitted up against a hysterical emotional drive to get away.  Backed into a corner, Rainbow Dash struck.  In one fluid movement, she spun her rear legs, jerked them both out of her friend’s mouths, reared back, and let out a single, mighty buck.  The blow was wild with fury, but nonetheless accurate.  It caught  Applejack in the muzzle and Twilight straight in the throat, sending both ponies sprawling away.

Twilight made as if to speak, but found she could do little more than gag and try to catch her breath.  Rainbow Dash took the initiative.

“Leave me alone!  Go away!”

“Tarnation!  We’re only tryin’ to help ye!”

“There’s nopony here for you to help!  See?  SEE!?”  Rainbow Dash flexed her stump-muscles grotesquely under her coat.  “Nopony!  There isn’t a Rainbow Dash anymore!  She’s dead!  She fell out of the sky and died!  All that’s left is a horrible, bad joke of what she used to be!”

Caught up in the moment, Applejack narrowed her eyes, “h-hey now, just a dern minute!  You’re goin’ off like not havin’ wings is th’end of the world!  I ain’t got wings!  Some o’yer best friends ain’t got no wings, and we’re plumb peachy with it.  Don’t be talkin’ all high and mighty like yer better’n everypony else, and now that y’gotta be the same as us, yer whole life’s over!  Why, I never—mmmph!”

A serving tray clattered harshly against wooden planks, spilling refreshments all over the floor.  In a rare display of forwardness, Fluttershy pressed her forehooves over Applejack’s mouth.  Twilight was around the farmpony’s midsection before she could react.

“Applejack please!”  Fluttershy yelled, “d-don’t say that!  Sh-she’s been through so much as it is!  P-please, you’ll only make it worse.  She’s not herself…”

A piercing wail caused all three mares to stop in their tracks.  Their attention unanimously fell onto Rainbow Dash, their suffering companion.  The chasm of anger holding her emotions back had vanished, and the torrent of sorrow in her eyes was pouring forth liberally.

“It’s not the same!” she shrieked.  “You don’t understand!  You can’t understand!  I am my wings!  There is no more Rainbow Dash!  She’s gone!  Gone!  She went away, and left this horrible rotten husk behind!  You earth ponies and you unicorns think wings don’t mean anything, but they do!  They do!  Go away!  Go away and leave me alone, and don’t come back!  I’m not Rainbow Dash!  I’m just some helpless cripple!”

Rainbow Dash went on until her senses dulled, and she collapsed back onto the blankets in a heap of uncontrollable sobbing.  The visitors both tried to move in to comfort her, but Fluttershy stood in their way.  The look on the shy pony’s face was resolute – something they’d only ever seen from her when the safety of ponies she cared about was on the line.  The expression was somewhere between apologetic kindness, and scolding contempt.

“I-I’m really sorry both of you, but…p-please leave.”

Twilight’s eyes widened, “but…Fluttershy, we were only trying to help.  I swear!  You know we would never—”

Fluttershy shook her head.  She stopped making eye contact with her friends, and it was obvious she was forcing her words.  “I’m sorry.  Please…please go now.  P-please leave my house.  Y-you…you can come back another time.”

With their heads held low, the two would-be April Foal’s Day pranksters had no alternative but to depart.  They moved away from the treehouse at a lazy pace, waiting until the sound of their monotonous hoofbeats against the dirt had drowned out the receding cries in the distance before one of them spoke again.

“Twilight…”  Applejack didn’t want to say it, but she knew she had to.  “Did you do this?”

Twilight stopped in her tracks and stared at her friend.  “Wh-what?”

“Ah said,” Applejack stopped but kept her eyes focused on the road ahead, “did you do this to her?  And a’fore you get th’wrong idea, I ain’t asking if ye did it on purpose.  I know ye didn’t.  It ain’t easy askin’ a question like this, neither.  But I gotta know if ye had somethin’ t’do with what we just saw back there.”

Twilight stamped her hoof, “of course not!  How could you even say such a thing?  Applejack, as Celestia is my witness, I’m telling you right now that I went over every single word in that book, about that spell, enough times to know it like the back of my hoof.  I don’t just throw magic spells around like they were toys, you know!  I do my homework.  I research, I understand, and when I know it’s safe, then I cast.”

Applejack reached down and nabbed a long blade of grass from the roadside.  She wasn’t hungry, but chewing on it felt comforting.  She wasn’t prepared to admit it, but what she’d just seen was deeply disturbing, and she had been wondering since they left the house what it would be like if she woke up one day without hind legs, and could never buck an apple tree again.  Her silence prompted more out of her companion.

“That spell was just a prank.  That’s all.  Something else happened to Rainbow Dash today.  I don’t know what it was and in her current state, I’m not sure we should take anything Fluttershy told us she said as an accurate account.  But I’ll tell you this,” she stared up at the receding sun, allowing it to narrow her eyes for her, “I won’t just let this stand.  I will figure out what’s going on here.  If this was some kind of accident, I won’t rest until we find out the truth.  If it was foul play, then I’ll bring the perpetrator to justice.”

Applejack chewed some more before finally responding.  “Alright.  Yer mah friend, Twilight.  I don’t know much about magic and all that, but I trust you, so if’n ye say ye didn’t do it, well then I’ll take ye at yer word.”

Twilight smiled.  It was a bittersweet gesture, but helpful nonetheless.  “Thank you, Applejack.”

All at once, Applejack’s expression turned dark.  When she spoke again, her tone matched her look.  “Girl, you mind me when I say this.  Ah’m yer friend, but whatever happened to poor Rainbow weren’t no accident.  It don’t make no sense to me that any ‘accident’ could have th’power to do somethin’ so precise as t’rip both wings off’n a Pegasus, but not cause any other damage.  Whatever happened t’her, it was deliberate.”

With that, Applejack took a few steps ahead.  Before she melted into the setting sun, she turned back and finished her thought.

“Now like I said, you mind me good.  Somehow, even though you say it weren’t us, ah still feel responsible for this.  I dunno how, but I do.  Yer a smart mare.  Smartest I think I ever done met before.  So if yer gonna investigate, you c’n count on Apple Acres for help.  But just as sure as I’m standin’ here talkin’ to you…Rainbow Dash is my friend, too.  And I known her longer than you.  You do yer pokin’ around.  But if’n you don’t find nothin’…I ain’t gonna keep mah trap shut about that ‘prank spell’ forever.  Won’t sit right on my conscience.”  She took a breath, “what ah’m sayin’ is, if you don’t never say nothin’ about it – ah will.”  She paused briefly, before offering, “there now, ah said it.  Y’all git yerself home safe.”

Twilight watched Applejack fade into the horizon before starting on her way back to the library.  Magic wasn’t responsible for this.  At least, not her magic.  She would make this right, but in the meantime, it was best to head straight home.  Somepony dangerous might be on the loose.

The lanterns at the Ponyville library burned late into the night.