12 years before...

The still young rays of a rising sun streamed through an open window on the upper floor of a relatively small, ancient building, casting a harsh yellowish light on the silhouette of a pony lying awkwardly in a nest of blankets and other fabrics. Despite the bright sunlight, Twilight dreamily peered out from her perch of colorful material to look out the window. You could hear the chirping of some birds nesting on the roofs of the surrounding houses. A long, soft yawn escaped her as she stretched her limbs reaching in every direction.

Once again, she stayed up late into the night, reading books on various topics and taking notes in bed. The evidence for this was scattered all over the room. Half-written scrolls and broken quills lay scattered around her figure and tangled on the floor. Inkblots stained the crumpled sheets, a clear sign that she had fallen asleep while writing. It has become a bad habit. The sight made her groan internally. Ink stains meant another covert trip to the laundry room.

"Great," she muttered under her breath, annoyed at the extra chore.

Well, that was simply the price of studying late into the night. But, spoken in her defense, she had no other choice but to stay up late, at least if she wanted the opportunity to read any books without getting in trouble. It was a sacrifice she had to make.

It wasn't that reading was outright forbidden, but it would raise the question of where she got all the books. As a child from an orphanage in the city's poor district, even the ability to read was unusual. If someone caught her holding a book in her hoofs, even more, a new and well-cared-for one, she would have to explain how she could put her hooves on it and where it came from. If the truth came out about how she snuck over the stone wall in the fourth adjacent district to steal from the old closed library there, her days of late-night reading would be over very quickly.

It's actually a miracle that Twilight discovered her passion for reading and learning at all. Ponys who are so poor only sometimes have the opportunity to look into a book. Here they try to prepare the foals for more "practical" work and regard books as a pure luxury. A few years ago, there had been a program set up by a noblemare to teach the less fortunate to read and write, offering orphans like Twilight a rare chance at education. But, for reasons unknown to Twilight, the effort was discontinued five years ago. At least some of the older foals have benefited from this.

She shook her sleepy head awake and slowly unraveled herself from the self-made nest of old rags and blankets she seemed to have made provisionally in her sleep. She was careful about this in an ongoing attempt to remain quiet and not wake anyone in the house, but as she stretched extensively and looked out the window at the sky, a sudden sense of panic spread through her mind. If she remembered the date correctly and the sun was already this high in the sky, that could mean only one thing - oh no.

She overslept.

Without another thought to remain as quiet and unnoticed as possible, as she had tried to do earlier, she raced through her admittedly small and sporadically furnished room, tucking all sorts of empty scrolls and books hidden under the bed into a small canvas bag. Hopefully, no one in the orphanage would stop her or try to peek inside.

Next, she grabbed the clothes she had folded neatly on a small stool the day before. A pair of tight black pants and a lavender shirt, made of linen, awaited her. In a ridiculous pose, she hastily pulled the pants over her hind legs, the loose-fitting shirt over her unkempt hair, and finally, over her up-to-now naked body. It was not unusual to walk around naked. Instead, the opposite was true. However, it had become customary to dress accordingly on special occasions to clarify that it was not commonplace.

Twilight always felt like someone else when she put on her clothes. Like somepony who didn't belong in a place like this orphanage. Like she was somepony important. A thought that others would probably smile at best and scold at worst. Reality always caught up with Twilight in the end. She was no one special. These few rags were nothing more than a mask. A lie you put on to make others feel less bad for you in their presence.

Her clothes were among the End Twi's most valuable possessions, at least in pure monetary value. Nobles always see this as an excellent opportunity to polish their image thoroughly and donate their no longer usable possessions to orphanages in the region. As it happens, every noble in the kingdom thinks their old, worn-out clothes would make a perfect donation.

And so it came to pass that every orphan in the orphanage, and probably in every other similar institution, was furnished with more or less fine textiles. Those nobles had no books or anything like that to give away was, of course, obvious. Who needs something like education?

Once Twilight was ready and had gathered her things, she yanked open the worn wooden door of her room. The faint morning light filtered through the narrow upstairs windows, casting long shadows as she hurried down the creaking hallway. Her steps echoed off the stone floor, and in no time, she reached the stairs.

When she ran down the steps, skipping every other one in an ongoing attempt to move faster, she nearly toppled over due to her admittedly small stature. From a distance, the scene must have looked ridiculous. With each of her jumps, the old wood of the stairs protested with an almost unbelievably loud creaking, as if the steps wanted to draw extra attention to their dilapidated state.

Swirls of dust danced in the rays of light that crept in through the broken windows as Twilight continued her way down.

At the end of the hallway, the warm morning light streamed through the large gates, casting bright lines across the cool stone floor, and for a moment, the otherwise dull walls seemed to glow with an unusual radiance.

Unfortunately, Twilight didn’t make it more than twenty feet before a rough, familiar hoof clamped down on her shoulder, forcing her to slow. "Well, well, what's the rush today? Usually, at least in the mornings, we’re spared from your presence," came the mocking voice at her side.

Twilight's muscles tensed instinctively as she spun around to face the source, only to be greeted by Silver Gleam's cocky grin. He loomed over her, his broad shoulders casting a shadow that blocked the sunlight. He was three years older and towered over her, easily a full head taller, with a solid, muscular build that made her feel even smaller.

"Dressed to impress, aren't we? It looks as though you have something important going on," he said, stepping closer to her with a confidence that filled the space around them. His unwavering grin never left his face.

She took a hesitant step back, deliberately increasing the distance between them, and put on a tentative brave grin, but the subtle quiver in her gaze pierced through the facade. "Oh, nothing really important," she stammered, barely hiding her urge to flee. "I just wanted to take a walk. I'm already leaving," she added, her voice trailing off, "and won't bother you further." She spun around, her hooves barely touching the ground, as she attempted to exit the foyer as quickly as possible and resume her hurried sprint through the city to her destination. Yet, before Twilight could start running, she was grabbed roughly by the same hoof on her shoulder, pulling her back with force. Her heart dropped like a stone in her chest as the realization settled in. There would be no easy way out of this.

Hold on a minute," he started. "Believe me, nothing would make me happier than for you to go away for a while." he let his words hang in the air as if it was a complete statement. "But come on, you're not seriously going to tell me you got all dressed up just for a little walk," his grin widened even more. "Besides, don't think I didn't notice the bag you're clutching so tightly. So, what are you hiding?" he teased, his voice dripping with mock concern.

Twilight felt a knot form in her stomach, her grip on the bag tightening reflexively. She fought to keep her expression neutral, aware that any sign of weakness would only encourage him.

"I... uh..." Twilight stammered. Her voice barely escaped her throat. Her breath hitched, and her heart hammered incessantly in her chest, echoing like thunder in her ears. SShe knew exactly what Silver was up to. He didn’t like her, that much was clear. He was always looking for a way to make her day difficult. Truth be told, Twilight didn't care what he or anyone else thought of her. She had long ago dismissed the significance of other ponys opinions, focusing on the worlds hidden within her treasured books, far from the scornful glances and whispered judgments.

In the eyes of the others, she was already written off anyway. She was an anomaly. This one dissonant note that didn't fit in with the rest of the harmonic symphony. The freak. A label forced upon her by those who couldn't or wouldn't look past her quirks. But who needs the recognition of others? They only distracted from the essentials anyway.

Still, Silver Gleam’s mockery cut deeper than she wished to admit, invasive and relentless. He had made her six years in the orphanage a living nightmare. Twilight recalled a day when she had sprinted through the echoing corridors, heart racing as his menacing hoofsteps pursued her. The chase ended at the old laundry room, where he had mercilessly thrust her into a vat of icy, soapy water, holding her down until her frantic struggles ceased.

Another grim memory surfaced. Silver had once trapped her in a suffocating closet, its stale air thick with mustiness, leaving her to endure the night in terrified isolation. And there was the time he had chased her onto the roof of the orphanage, threatening to push her off. Silver probably would have done it too, but it had occurred to even a brute like Silver that he wouldn't get away with it unnoticed and had left it at, scaring Twilight with the prospect of the fall.

The house's matron was seldom seen, too overwhelmed with the amount of foals she has to look after, so Silver had been given many opportunities to bully Twilight in any way he could. But probably the cruelest thing he had ever done to her occurred a few months ago on her sixth birthday.

Twilight's gaze met Silver’s, and the grotesquely twisted grin on his face resembled a cartoonish caricature. A wave of bile rose in her throat, anger mixing with disgust. His gaze, coupled with the imposing manner in which he loomed over her, stirred up painful memories she had fought so hard to bury deep in her thoughts and forget.

As she squeezed her eyes shut, the harsh reality of the orphanage’s foyer began to fade, replaced by a vivid scene of a small, dimly lit wooden chamber in which Twilight was hiding.

Author's Note

Here is a new chapter. It was originally planned to be one long chapter, but I decided to split it into 3 parts for a better narrative structure. The next chapter should be published tomorrow. With bad luck sometime next week.
The next chapter is almost finished.

Otherwise feel free to write me your opinion, thoughts and suggestions for improvement English is not my first language and I'm still a beginner, so feedback on the language and narrative is welcome.