Time is a burden. A mold that penetrates through layers of tissue and bone to infect even the most innocent of souls. A macabre celebration of progress, tragedy, and ...
Moondancer looked down at the page in front of her. Her manuscript. She sighed to herself and leaned against her desk. The actual content of the book was easy. Why was the introduction so hard? Her mane had a slight oily sheen to it and its strands were splitting at the ends. She took off her glasses and massaged the bridge of her snout.
"There's still just so much," she muttered to herself.
She stared off at a window of her private study, gazing out at the dimly lit streets of Canterlot. She expected the sun to be down and for the lamps to be on, but not that there were no ponies traveling the streets. It was a Friday evening. There should at least be some young stallions and mares trotting about looking for a fun time.
She closed her eyes, a bitter malice forming a familiar flavor on her tongue. She could feel her jaw tense at the very thought of those ponies.
"So stupid," she muttered. She should open her eyes and keep working on the book in front of her. Her newest magnum opus. A dissection on the ethics of time magic and its effects on our current permutation of reality. Years of work, research, spell-weaving, and dissecting the arcane had come to this very moment.
For now, she could allow herself a few seconds of rest for her eyes. Her mind wandered to what meal she could stir in a bowl, put in an oven, and keep writing. Then how long she could keep writing until she required sleep. She could then allow herself five... no, four hours of sleep before jumping back to action.
The book had to be done. It had to be done. It had to.
"That's long enough," she murmured. Her eyes begrudgingly opened and she pushed herself away from her work. Snatching a book, she opened it to a marked spot and held it aloft with her magic as she moved to the kitchen.
Chapter 8: The Realities of Publication
So you've done it. You've made your first big novel. Congratulations! The next big step in your literary career will be to begin to send your manuscript to publishers or agents to become a signed author. Many independent writers never become 'signed' due to the costs of keeping a agent, but the end goal is the same. Publication.
Moondancer's eyes drifted absently from the page to the opened cabinets in front of her. She realized she didn't remember walking to the cabinets or opening them. Only that she entered the kitchen. When she looked back to the page, she realized she wasn't even on the same page that she was before, but a few pages ahead. She set the book down and rubbed her eyes once more.
"Focus," she muttered, grabbing a package of instant potatoes, throwing it in a pot with some water and turning on the stove. She flipped the pages back, and found her spot once more.
Every writer's dream is to see their book published. Publishing means having your book on store shelves, reviews of your work from other major establishments such as the Canterlot Times, and of course, residual checks.
"They missed the most important part," she said, lifting a spoon and stirring her meal.
She flipped through the pages, trying to find anything that would help her, but no. Just another book talking about how publishing gets you fans. Public appearances. Possible series deals. Or research grants. A research grant would be wonderful. Then the highlight of her week wouldn't be the sour cream and chives instant potatoes.
She closed the book and threw it onto the kitchen table with another stack of books on publishing.
Her mind drifted lazily to a different line of thinking. What would her writing idols say? Not Starswirl of course. She had made the poor mistake of meeting him after he was returned by Princess Twilight.
A prickling static made its way up her throat and she clenched her teeth to force those feelings down into her churning stomach. There was no point thinking of Twilight, or Minuette, or any of the other friends who hadn't reached out to her in the last eight months. There's a certain point where you need to step back and realize that they'll reach out to you if they really care. You can only be turned down or ignored for so long.
Besides, it gave her more time to finish her book.
The dust from the package of instant potatoes turned from a slurry of flaky hash into a slop of white mush. She set it off the burner, stuck a big spoon in it, and carried it back to her desk.
She sighed, looking down at her manuscript once more. Her magic raised a quill, and she returned to work.
... loss. It's natural that the unicorn tribes began searching for a way to fight or alter the effects of time since the era of the two princesses, but research or conclusive findings had been sparse. Even those who had became proficient in time magic would whisper about its effects in hushed tones or would refuse to comment. One unicorn, who will be elaborated on later in this text, named Starlight Glimmer, had accomplished one of the most daring feats of time magic of our modern era. However, she has gone even so far to publicly denounce time magic and its use.
However, the effect and purpose of time magic is not to change time, but to fight it. To fight the effects of this poison which taints reality. Most unicorns had performed time magic in order to change an event in the past or to alter the flow of how they are able to act in the present. While most are able to accomplish their desired effect, the consequences of their actions can create rippling Butterfly effects which have the power to change the present, or future. This is also discussed in a future chapter
"This is stupid," Moondancer said to herself. She snatched the page, pounded it into her hoof, and threw it somewhere in front of her beyond her reach.
Her head again inclined to the desk in front of her.
"It has to be perfect. It has to. Or I'll never get signed and-"
Moondancer forcibly stopped herself.
"And what?" the quiet voice in the back of her head chimed.
Moondancer rose from her chair.
"I'll tackle it again tomorrow," she said to an empty room. "I'm not going to get anything done like this."
Her muscles were straining under the weight. Tomorrow she had to go to the library to research for four hours, then file paperwork at the post office, call the publishers again, then get this chapter done. It had to be done.
"Or what?"
She moved into her bedroom, where clothes, books and discarded letters, parchment, and scrolls covered the floor. She kicked them lazily out of the way as she let her body collapse to her bed. The strain in her muscles, the tension, the anxiety, slowly began to melt and take liquid form as it sloshed across the sheets. However, she didn't feel more relaxed. If anything, she felt empty. She felt cold. A shiver ran through her bones as she pulled the covers over her. With a blink of magic of her horn, the lights in her home turned out, an untouched dinner waiting on her desk for time to corrupt.
"Why do you want this book so bad?"
Moondancer shut her eyes, placed her glasses on her bedside table, and rolled herself into her sheets until they held her together, forcibly keeping the pieces of her body contained.
"I'll get this published and then everything will be worth it."
"Why?"
She hated that voice. The voice of that purple unicorn. No, alicorn now. The on again/off again friend.
Maybe it was her that was the needy one, not Twilight.
Moondancer sighed and shook her head. She began to count up, starting from one as loud as she could in her head. As she did, her limbs began to settle. Her mind began to ease. Her eyelids grew heavy. She thought by not thinking. And right as she was about to forget what number she's on and drift...
"Do you really think this book is going to make your life worth living?"
Eyes shoot open. Her vision grew blurry as she pulled her covers closer.
"I can fight time," her voice whimpered. "A book will live on for forever. Then it doesn't matter if I've died or lived. I've made a difference. I've made the world better."
"Oh, you really think so?" she said. "Sweetheart, there's a few problems with that. First, ponies have to care what you think or say."
"Shut up," Moondancer whispered.
"Next, even if you do get published? People have to buy the book. Then? If you're lucky? You'll be put on a shelf to collect dust."
"My book is educational. And it will help shape future generations."
"Even better! A bargain bin text that the library sells because it was never checked out. Canterlot University literally loses it and doesn't even try to collect fees. Nopony. Cares."
"I care."
"You care about proof that you did something worthwhile. That all of those nights spent inside weren't wastes of time. That you didn't waste the time you had."
Moondancer took deep breath and rolled over.
"One. Two. Three."
"You just want to be remembered."
Moondancer closed her eyes and covered her face with a pillow.
"How many days do you think it would take for them to find you?" The princess asks. "A day? A week? Or would it be the smell?"
Moondancer ripped the covers off of her and leapt out of bed. A fire roared to life on a candle as her magic tore the candle stick off the table and moved back to her desk. She too a brand new parchment and yankeda quill with her hoof.
Dear Twilight,
It's been a long time. I need someone to talk to. Could you write me back as soon as you can?
Moondancer
A blast of energy, the paper is enveloped in green flame and then is gone.
Silence.
The only light that filled the room is the dancing of the small flame on the walls. She watched the way the fire flickered in the stagnant air of her home.
"Something worth remembering," she whispered to herself.
The minutes tick by like hours as she watched the flame swirl and breathe. She knew better than anyone what would happen if she changed back now.
She laid her head on the desk once more, her eyes flittered closed, and her world faded to black.
When she awoke the world felt like it was moving... fast. Too fast. She was hit with so many stimuli at once that her brain couldn't process the facts. The first thing she realized was that this was not her home. This place had too many crystals. Too many machines. The air was different.
"Moondancer," the familiar voice said, the words fast and chaotic, but strung together familiarly. "How long were you under that spell?"
Her eyes moved from the unfamiliar ceiling to a purple pony beside her. Pegasus. No, Unicorn. Both.
"Twilight?" Moondancer asked. "It felt like years."
"We just talked last week," Twilight said. "Moondancer, I begged you. I asked you not to keep working on time magic."
"But the book is almost done," she replied weakly. "The Slowness spell let me write the whole book in a week. Sixty chapters, Twilight."
"The body isn't made to handle this sort of spell, Moondancer," Twilight scolded. "I need to watch your recovery from the effects of spell, but then after that, Celestia will need to see you."
"Celestia? Why?" she asked, trying to sit up in bed. Her limbs jerked wildly, but refused to respond like she wished. Everything was exaggerated. Too fast. She couldn't process it all fast enough.
Twilight stuttered, then closed her mouth, she looked outside to the bright blue sky, then back down to her friend.
"I don't know how to tell you this," Twilight muttered. "Your home was on fire last night. The flames caught to several other homes beside yours. There were families inside, sleeping. Now there's nothing left."
The room remained silent as Moondancer looked from her friend, to the ceiling once more.
"I can go back and get it," Moondancer said flatly. "Stop the fire, and everything will be fine."
"No, you won't!" Twilight growled. "I'm not going to let you. I-"
"Twilight, are we still friends?" Moondancer asked, interrupting Twilight.
Twilight's eyes opened in shock, then looked to the floor. An unspoken tension filled the air.
"They saw the fire was from a candle. But... Was killing those ponies really an accident, Moondancer? Be honest with me."
"Of course, Twilight," Moondancer replied. "I never meant for anyone to get hurt."
Twilight looked away from the pony lying on her bed.
"You kept working on the time magic, even when I asked you not to. I told you what it does to ponies, but you did it anyway. I'm beyond upset with you, Moondancer. But we're still friends. I just... I need some time to forgive you for that. For those ponies... I don't know. "
"That's all I needed to hear, Twilight. Thank you," Moondancer replied. Her horn glowed brightly, and it filled the room a blindingly white light.
And then the world was black, except for a flickering flame that danced on the walls of her apartment.
"I'm not alone," Moondancer whispered. "And there's still plenty of time. And I will be worth remembering."
With a quick breath of air, the flame went out.
"How many times do you have to burn that family alive until you believe it?"
Author's Note
