The Mindtap Spell

I called off school the next day. I told them I wasn’t feeling well.

It wasn’t a lie, really.

I spent the day lying in bed. The blackout curtains kept the morning, noon, and evening sun to a dim halo on the ceiling above the windows, and I only knew the time by the glow of my alarm clock whenever I happened to roll over.

The darkness made it easier to see Luna in my mind’s eye: the pain in her eyes, her jaw clenched tight as she pulled away from the kiss, her struggle to hold in the Nightmare.

Why did she do it? That question had played on repeat, was written on the walls and ceiling, thumped in every heartbeat as I tried not to feel or think anything at all.

I rubbed my arms for warmth at a sudden wave of goosebumps. I could still feel the disappointment in Twilight’s voice crawling over my skin like scraggly fingers.

So, you’re just going to walk away? That’s… that’s not like you.

She was right, but I couldn’t help how I felt. I couldn’t help what Luna—what Nocturne—did to me or how this spiraled so wildly out of control. All I could help was what I did in the face of it all. And honestly, I couldn’t trust myself in this situation.

The thought of even seeing Luna terrified me. I knew what she was capable of, what she could do again if the whim struck her. All the lies, all the broken promises.

All the promises she could keep…

I shut my eyes and rolled over. I wasn’t going down that train of thought.

Instead, I focused on Twilight. I didn’t let anything else into my head but her. Her silly smile and geekish overenthusiasm. Of all the people in this world and the ponies in the other, I trusted her above everything, including myself.

She was the one who pulled me out of my rage, helped me see the light—what I was and what I was doing. All the people and ponies I had and would have gone on to hurt.

I rolled onto my back to stare at the ceiling again, raised my hand, spun it around, waggled my fingers.

People changed. I knew that. I was a prime example.

But was Luna still Nocturne? That nagging feeling never left me. She very well might have changed for the better, just like I did. Or she might not have.

I rolled onto my stomach and leaned my head over the foot of the bed. My boots lay on their sides, the way I had kicked them off the day before. They seemed to stare up at me, their shoelace holes like judgmental eyes. Maybe it was my conscience finally doing its job, but the longer I stared back the less I could deny Twilight’s words.

I still didn’t believe Luna had changed—not fully, at least—and everything about this screamed that I shouldn’t get involved. But more than I trusted my gut, I trusted Twilight.

She deserved the chance to be right about Luna. After everything we’d been through, I owed her that much.

And if I knew anything about Twilight, she’d try fixing it herself, with or without me. If something happened to her because I ran away from this, I didn’t know what I’d do. If nothing else, better me than her.

I sat up and put my boots on. This was going to be an awkward apology.

• • •

Twilight was busy chalking up a diagram on a reversible blackboard when I stepped through the portal. The sound of the portal’s magic drew her out of whatever thought spun circles in her head, and she sighed before setting down her chalk.

She turned toward me, the look on her face unsure if it should be a frown or a smile. Eventually, she settled on a smile and took a step closer.

“I’m sorry,” I said before she could say anything. “For the way I acted. I just…”

Twilight’s smile got bigger, and she flicked her ears back and forth. Without a word, she came over and wrapped me in a hug.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Everypony makes mistakes.”

“Yeah, but not quite like this.”

Twilight pulled away and gave me a smug grin. “I vaguely remember somepony trying to brainwash a bunch of teenagers in order to create an army capable of taking over Equestria. I’d say that not apologizing for being angry isn’t quite as bad.”

I sighed, but followed through with a smile. “Still, I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

“Well, consider this apology accepted.” She turned back toward the chalkboard. “Now, would you mind making good on that apology by double-checking this for me?”

I followed her over. I hadn’t seen graphs and mathematical equations like this since CSGU, but I recognized a Mindtap Spell when I saw one.

“Trying to get inside Luna’s head?” I asked.

“That’s the gist of it.” Twilight pulled out a retractable pointer and snapped it to an equation in the upper left corner. It didn’t look like anything I remembered studying, but with joules for units, it wasn’t hard to guess it had to do with magical input or channeling.

“I’m currently having some trouble with maintaining the spell,” she said.

“How so?”

“Well, the issue is mainly energy input. As I’m sure you know, a Mindtap Spell is relatively simple, but it requires both parties to be actively participating.” She snapped her pointer to a diagram that seemed to compare the differences between a willing and unwilling Mindtap. “Because Luna is unconscious, she isn’t a willing participant when it comes to establishing a connection. We’re reaching in, but she can’t reach out. And without the input from the host mind, the magic required to maintain the spell almost quadruples.”

“That’s, uh… Spellbound’s Law of Confluence, right?” I stared at the ωγ symbol longer than I should have. I always hated that equation. “Directionality of magical currents is either multiplicative or divisive, or something like that.”

“Exactly. I mean, not to say it couldn’t be done, but that would take at least four powerful unicorns all channeling the spell at once for it to work.”

“Well, you’ve got you, me, Starlight, and… And…” My throat closed up at the thought of Celestia. The last time I saw her… all I could see was that look of utter disappointment in her eye.

“I’ve already talked to Princess Celestia,” Twilight said. She lowered her head and traced circles on the floor. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know when someone sensed bad blood. “She’s, um… she’s organizing things in Canterlot and—”

“You mean she doesn’t want to see me,” I said.

Twilight flicked an ear, and her eyes had yet to meet mine. “She’s… formulating contingency plans. In case this lasts longer than we think.”

Yeah. Contingency plans. What a load of horse shit. I didn’t doubt she had plans, but it was awfully convenient, given how widely her social nets reached, not to mention the legions of soldiers at her command and the brilliant minds at the university she could call upon at a whim to do exactly those things for her.

“Well, if Celestia isn’t coming, doesn’t Starlight have a friend in the Crystal Empire?”

Twilight let a smile shoot to her face. She wrestled with it for a moment, finally eking out a sigh and finding it again somewhere amidst the thoughts in her head.

“Sunburst is definitely talented enough,” she said. “But we can’t exactly uproot him at a moment’s notice. Not with his duties to the Empire and my brother and Cadance.” If her concerns in our previous line of conversation hadn’t already been put to bed, the way her smile got ten times bigger sure said it was now. She practically had stars in her eyes.

“But I do know of another unicorn that isn’t busy managing the Crystal Empire’s history catalogues!” she added.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Aaand who might that be?”

Twilight danced on her tippy toes and flared her wings. “Star Swirl the Bearded!”

My mind went blank for a moment. Star Swirl the Bearded. A cold tingle ran down the back of my spine as my brain tried processing that information. I blinked back to reality and shook my head. Thankfully, Twilight seemed too excited to notice.

“Star Swirl the Bearded?” I asked. “The real Star Swirl the Bearded?”

She shot me a classic Applejack eyebrow. “No, the fake Star Swirl, Star Swirl the Clean-Shaven— Yes, the real Star Swirl!”

She was all bouncing up and down and excitedly fluttering the tips of her primaries, much the way I would have imagined Fluttershy when asked about her favorite animal.

“H-how?” I asked.

“I…” She blushed and cleared her throat in a vain attempt to hide her overenthusiasm. “Well, it’s a long story, but the short version is that we saved him and the other Pillars of Harmony from Limbo, defeated the Pony of Shadows together, and now he’s out and about exploring Equestria.”

“Limbo…?” My mind careened off track again, but I yanked it back onto the rails before it had a chance to follow that line of thought. “You’re being serious. You’re not lying to me.”

“Totally serious! I already got in touch with him, and he’s on his way from Trottingham ‘as fast as a restless falcon,’ he said.” She giggled.

“Wow,” I said, half laughing at the suddenness of it all. My legs got feather light, and I felt boxed in despite the size of the room. “That’s… that’s crazy. The real Star Swirl…”

“Right!? I still can’t believe we were able to save him and the other Pillars.” She poked me in the chest. “Which is why I need your help making sure this spell is ready. Star Swirl used to be Celestia and Luna’s mentor when they were younger, and he’s just as sharp as you’d expect. He’ll no doubt want to get started the moment he gets here.”

Celestia and Luna’s mentor. My heart squirmed in my chest hearing those words. I took a breath to wrestle it under control and keep it from showing on my face. If I gave those thoughts an inch, they’d take a mile, and I couldn’t do that to Twilight now.

I looked her in the eyes, and I latched onto the happiness I found there. Just focus on her. Give her a smile, and I was me again.

“Sounds like a good enough reason to me,” I said. “So what exactly do we need to do next?”

Twilight flipped the board over to reveal a laundry list of laundry lists: chemical catalysts, potions that could ease the process of channeling magic, spells meant to focus the spell itself, and more.

“I’ve been brainstorming ways to streamline the process,” she said.

“It wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” I said. We shared a laugh before I continued: “So, do you need more brainstorming, or thoughts on narrowing it down?”

“Narrowing it down. But if you think of something not on the list, please feel free to share.”

I rolled my eyes. I had already skimmed everything on the board. It was like Twilight assumed she hadn’t already thought of everything.

“Well, where’s Starlight?” I asked. “I’m sure she’d be helpful with this, too.”

Not that that was a lie. Far from it. Really, though, I just wanted to see her again. Aside from the short stint in the portal room yesterday, I never actually got to see her, see her.

When I went into the library looking for Twilight, I hadn’t expected to meet Luna face-to-face so suddenly. Or… alone. I’d had enough practice throwing on a brave face to pull one off automatically, but after I left the library “looking for Starlight,” I spent the next ten minutes throwing up in the bathroom, which, embarrassingly enough, was where Twilight found me.

“I sent her out about half an hour ago to pick up a few of the less expensive things on the list,” Twilight said. “She should be back—”

The door swung open, and Starlight trotted in with a large paper bag floating beside her.

“Right about now,” Twilight finished, smiling.

“Sunset!” Starlight said. She carelessly tossed the bag onto a nearby table, much to Twilight’s annoyance, and then tackle-hugged me to the floor.

Man, I could have stayed there for hours. I didn’t even care that we were lying on the floor or that all her weight was on my gut. I hadn’t been hugged like that in a while, not even by Pinkie Pie. Sometimes I forgot how nice it was to just have that closeness with someone, even casually.

“I knew you’d come back,” she said.

I blushed. “Yeah, I… yeah.”

“So you got everything on the list I gave you?” Twilight asked, carefully emptying the bag and sorting its contents by type and size.

“Everything but the kitchen sink,” Starlight said, helping me up.

“I didn’t have a kitchen sink on the list,” Twilight said idly. She blinked, staring off into space for a moment, having just realized what she said.

I snorted before busting out laughing. I had to lean on Starlight to keep from falling over.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing she didn’t get you one,” I said.

Starlight elbowed me in the shoulder. “Yeah, could you imagine using a kitchen sink to enter a pony’s dream?”

Twilight frowned at us. “Yeah, okay. You two laugh it up. I’m going to get started.” She huffed and grabbed a little green crystal from the table before heading over to Luna.

That crystal… Oh, man, I’d seen one of those before at CSGU. What was it again?

“She’s been worried sick about her since you left,” Starlight half whispered to me. “She hasn’t slept yet. Been working on that chalkboard formula since last night.”

A pang of guilt shot through me. She had stayed up all night working on this? Because I had to go and pitch a fit?

“Is she alright?” I asked.

Starlight shrugged. “Well, you know Twilight. She’s fine until she isn’t, and you see that coming from a mile away.”

Well, yeah. That sounded like her. Still, it didn’t feel right knowing she pushed herself because of me.

“But really, we should help her.” Starlight jerked her head toward Twilight and headed over.

“Yeah.” I followed and sat down beside Twilight, who busied herself with the little green crystal between herself and Luna.

“You want a stand for that?” Starlight asked Twilight, stepping up beside me.

“Please, actually.” Twilight didn’t move, except for a slight twitch in her left wing.

Starlight trotted out the door. With her gone and Twilight focusing on her spell, I was left to the quiet windchime sound of Twilight’s magic.

“What do you need me to do?” I asked.

Twilight slid herself closer to Luna. “Right now, nothing. I just want to get a quick glimpse of what we’re up against.”

I frowned. Sitting around doing nothing while others worked was not my style. I was about to say something when Starlight returned with one of those three-legged crystal ball stands.

She set it down beside Twilight, who shifted it between herself and Luna.

“Thank you.” Twilight set the surge crystal—that’s what it was!—in the stand.

The sudden memory made me smile. I knew I knew what that little green crystal was.

Made from an emerald specially treated to withstand and slow the dispersion of magical energies, it had the distinct property of storing magic for upwards of a few seconds. When filled beyond its saturation limit, the crystal’s beryl structure would shift and release all the stored energy at once, kind of like when a pony wrung out a wet sponge. Useful for overcoming energy input thresholds for catalysts and the like. And Mindtap Spells, apparently.

Chalk that one up to A-chem all those years ago.

The windchime tinkle of Twilight’s magic grew to a dull hum, and her horn glowed brighter than a bonfire as she gritted her teeth. She fired a beam of magic into the crystal, and it turned red hot. It stored up her magic until a tiny, glassy crink signaled the structural shift, and it shot a secondary beam at Luna’s horn.

The light show died down, and as the blaring roar of magic settled back into a quiet tinkle, Twilight slumped her shoulders and her face fell slack. She lay motionless, her horn tethered to the crystal by a thin line of magic no thicker than fishing wire—the Mindtap Spell.

But like she predicted, her tether petered out after maybe five seconds, and she shook her head. She jerked away from the crystal and spread her wings as if ready to scram for the nearest open window, heaving for air like she’d sprinted a mile.

“I, I take it it worked?” Starlight said.

“I saw… darkness,” Twilight said. “And eyes. Large, pure-white eyes, like there was no soul inside them.”

“That’s the Nightmare,” I said.

Twilight stared at me like she could have crawled out of her own skin. “You had nightmares about that thing every night?”

Well, not necessarily. The Nightmare would take many different forms—be it that lion-leopard thing, Nocturne, or anything else that tickled its fancy. Whatever would best fuck with my head that night, but I didn’t really want to go down the train of thought.

“It came and went,” I lied. It wouldn’t do to freak them out before we really started. But I decided to give them a nugget of truth to swallow that pill: “It’s at its worst with the new moon.”

“Well, that would be tomorrow, I think,” Starlight said. “So what exactly did you see? Er, eheh. You already said that. I mean what did you feel, I guess?” She offered an embarrassed smile.

“I didn’t feel anything. It was more… like I was traveling down. Way down.”

“I’ve never heard of a Mindtap Spell doing that,” I said.

“Neither have I,” Starlight added. “Think it has something to do with how the Nightmare might have changed the dream? Or just because it’s Luna’s?”

Twilight put a hoof to her chin. “There’s a lot of variables we still haven’t worked out yet. I have a feeling this is going to take some time. And some expertise.”

“You mean Star Swirl?” Starlight said flatly. The deadpan look in her eye caught my attention.

The mention of his name brought a giddy smile to Twilight’s face. “Yes! Oh, just wait until you meet him, Sunset. He’s just as amazing as the stories say!”

Starlight rolled her eyes. She looked at me with a dismissive frown and shook her head.

I raised an eyebrow and looked between the two of them. The disparity was amusing, to say the least. Definitely a story there.

A story. That was… yeah. I shook off a sudden chill and hid the motion by fidgeting with the surge crystal.

“Well, we could always use more heads to think this one through,” I said. I threw on a hopeful smile. “For now, why don’t we work on creating a stable connection to Luna’s dream?”

Starlight positively beamed at the idea, probably thankful for a reason to stop talking about Star Swirl. She trotted to the table and grabbed a dozen focusing lenses, a hoofful of crystals, and an assortment of the other doo-dads she had bought.

Her reaction brought a smile to Twilight’s face. Slow to start, but sure enough, there it was, that wonderful smile that made it impossible for me to hold back my own.

They dove into a heated discussion on which hypothesis to test first, and the trinkets and baubles started floating every which way, while the retractable pointer snapped all over the chalkboard.

Their passion was all but infectious, but I sat back, watching, listening. It had been a while since the last time I could just sit and listen to my friends do what they love. It was a sight that could warm the coldest heart.

And for me, I felt the warmest I had about my nightmares in a long time.

Author's Note

Onward and Upward!

This story has undergone changes. Some comments may no longer make sense or be relevant.