Strange Alchemy

The magical flames that lit Dee’s study flickered, and light danced across the indestructible stone tablet laid out before him. Its entire surface was covered with print so fine that he often needed a lens to see the detail of it. All of it was laid out perfectly, as if it had been inscribed all at once by some powerful spell without mistake or omission.

Deciphering trihornic was no easy task. Understanding the strange language required one’s mind to read three lines at the same time at different paces to fully understand what they said. In his youth, Dee had established a system of cyphers that required painstaking copying of the letters onto parchment; now, however, he had imbedded a magical version of that same cypher into his mind as a spell, allowing him to read the ancient language with only moderate difficulty.

This particular fragment was not a spell. At least not in a technical sense. It was part of a calculation for a spell. Apparently, it was part of a system designed for calculating the destination for a teleportation spell. Dee could feel himself shaking as he read it. Teleportation was one of several types of magic considered impossible, along with elemental transfiguration and resurrection, among others. According to what this tablet stated, however, it was not only possible but easy under the right circumstances.

Still, something bothered Dee. He stood up and crossed the room, taking down a rolled-up chart with his magic. He unfurled it and set it down beside his notes for the tablet, and considered for a moment if he had been wrong. The tablet concerned the wake pattern of Equestria itself: its imprint in the ether, or, functionally, its mass. It was a concept that Dee knew well, as he had discovered- -or rediscovered- -it. It had been the precision measurements of the wake pattern that had allowed him to move the sun and moon, navigating their own masses past Equestria’s.

What confused him was that the trihorn tablet indicated that Equestria was substantially lighter than his own measurements did. That, and the energy flowed completely differently through it. Dee highly doubted that the trihorns had been wrong, but he knew that his own measurements were not incorrect. The only explanation he could think of was that since trihorn times, something immensely large but unseen had come into alignment with Equestria, binding to it and parasitically feeding upon its energy.

Dee flopped down into his chair. Such a concept was as intriguing as it was unlikely. He looked down at the tablet, and then rubbed his forehead beneath his horn. The trihornic-reading spell allowed a pony’s brain to contort into ways that were meant for a superior type of mind, and even for him they produced a powerful headache. In light of this, Dee decided that it would be best for him to ruminate on the tablet while he went to the kitchen for some hay. Gently, he stood up and crossed the room, this time toward the door.

He pulled it open and suddenly cried out, jumping back. Lurking inches away from the other side was his wife, just standing there in the darkness.

“Fyr’mond!” he cried, putting his hoof to his chest, hoping that his old heart had not stopped. “Don’t do that! Are you trying to kill me?!”

“You said I wasn’t allowed in your study,” she said. “So I waited here.”

“Waited? How long?”

She shook her head. “It’s not important. I just wanted…to talk to you…”

Dee sighed. “I was taking a break anyway.” He looked behind him. “Actually…for this one instance only, I will allow you to come in.”

“Really?” she said, her eyes widening.

“Yes. But don’t touch anything.”

He held the door open and Fyr’mond stepped into the room slowly, even gingerly, as if her presence alone was enough to damage the contents of the room. Despite her unfortunate proportions, she was able to move oddly gracefully.

Her eyes immediately turned toward the tablet on the table. “Oh,” she said, backing away from it just slightly. “You have been studying the artifacts you recovered from the ruin, I see.”

“Yes, I have,” said Dee, pushing the papers off the sand-gray tablet. He gently held it up in his magic and showed it to her. “Do you know what this is?”

She stared at it closely, humoring him, as if she really could read trihornic. “A spell by somepony named Sundershift. Beyond that, I am unsure.”

Dee’s eyes widened. “You- -how did you read that?”

“It’s written in the third language,” said Fyr’mond, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s a room in the castle, part of my father’s quarters. It has different languages written on the four walls, but they all say the same thing. One of them is Draconian, which is easy to read, and one is like that.” She pointed. “I never could understand what it said, but names are easy to read.”

She was just full of surprises, and Dee cursed silently for the Horns having kept that room secret from him. An earlier understanding of trihornic would have saved him years of study.

“It is a spell,” he said, ignoring his anger. “Or rather, part of it. For teleportation.”

“Teleportation?” said Fyr’mond. She looked at the tablet. “So you mean, with that spell, a pony could go anywhere they want, whenever?”

“Perhaps,” said Dee. “But from the expenditure complex, it is unlikely that most ponies would be able to achieve it. Only mages, or those whose special talent is for it.”

“I suppose that would make things easier,” said Fyr’mond. “Ponies would be able to travel faster, and food and medicine could be moved swiftly.”

“Or entire armies could be materialized on the battlefield in an instant.” Fyr’mond stared at Dee, and he looked away. Perhaps that was not the proper thing to say to a sensitive lady. “Well…it’s not even the spell that matters. I care little for what it is used for, or if it is even used at all.”

“At all? You mean you uncovered an impossible spell…but wouldn’t use it?”

Dee chuckled. “Of course. The spell itself is worth almost nothing compared to what it means.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This spell itself is but pieces of something larger, a fragment of the universe. With it, I can learn more about the nature of how the unseen natures of Equestria interact. With the pieces drawn from this spell, imagine what would be possible! To know the definition of objects, the meaning of mass, the contortions of space beyond our mortal vision! And expanding it…what if a pony could move through time as they move through space? What if time itself could be bent to my will?”

Fyr’mond stared at him, and almost seemed somewhat afraid. “So…you only want to know the nature of the universe?”

Dee smiled, and adjusted his robe, displaying his cutie mark. “Do you know what this is?” he said, pointing to the glyph. Fyr’mond just shook her head. “I created this glyph when I was a boy. It represents all things in the nature of the universe. If the glyph could ever be completed, a pony would transcend mortal existence. It is my only purpose to discover that nature.”

“But what about using the magic to help ponies?”

Now it was Dee’s turn to stare. He sat down in his chair. “What do you mean by that?”

Fyr’mond looked away, and stretched one foreleg with the other. “I was just thinking…you are the most powerful of our people, the pony who raised the sun and the moon at his will. Could not magic be used to help ponies? I mean…for example, to invent spells to cure diseases, or to make the land fertile. Or to grow crops by magic.”

“It is not our province to grow crops. That is the job of earth ponies. To use our magic for such would be a waste, when the magicless can do the same job so easy.”

“But it isn’t easy! Ponies, they’re starving. They’re sick, and poor. Couldn’t we help them?”

“You mean like Ward Kelley?” said Dee, his eyes narrowing.

“No, I just mean- -”

“There is no point in doing what you ask. Those who grow sick are fated to die. Those who starve were simply too mentally inferior to grow proper crops. There is no point in wasting magic on such trivial matters. Those who become ill or fail to produce are simply weak or lazy, and deserve what comes to them. Their poverty is a direct result of their nature itself; it cannot be changed, not unless we want to become their slaves.”

“But it isn’t trivial!”

“But it is unimportant! Don’t you understand? Look at what I am doing, this work! I am uncovering the secrets of the universe, the nature of all things, the pure verities! Yes, I could devote my life to creating a cure for the sniffles, or a way to knit broken bones faster- -but what point would that have in comparison to this noble quest?”

“But they’re in pain…”

Dee stood. He felt angry, but he remembered that Fyr’mond did not mean to insult him. She was simply ignorant, unable to comprehend what he was doing. He calmed himself, and put his hoof on his wife’s shoulder. “It is not that I don’t care,” he said. “When I discover the secrets of the universe, I will be able to create a new land, a better one. Reality will be mine to contort. I will end sickness, pain, poverty. But right now I can’t waste time on treating the diseases of earth ponies, or making their jobs slightly easier.”

“But that stallion in the square…he could cure them…”

The anger that Dee had strived to suppress suddenly boiled over, and he brought his hoof against Fyr’mond’s cheek. Her eyes widened as her face was slapped to the side, and she was nearly knocked over by the force.

“Don’t mention that filthy con artist in this house!” bellowed Dee. “What he does is nothing more than trickery, an insult to our kind!”

“You…you hit me…”

“And I will again, if I have to! Now get out!”

Fyr’mond stood, and took a breath as she regained composure, assuming the blank stare of royalty as she suppressed her internal status. A red bruise was already forming on the side of her face, and Dee felt a twinge in his heart- -he knew that he had gone too far, taking his anger toward Kelley out on his otherwise innocent wife. She had only wanted to help the weak, and even as misguided as that was, she had not deserved to be slapped.

Before he could apologize, she turned and galloped out of the study. Dee was left alone, and he flopped back into his chair. He looked down at the tablet before him, but somehow, all the excitement about pouring over it had left him.