The Grey Path of Arcane Gears

Age 13

Arcane’s eyes opened as her hand shot up to cup her mouth and force back a bitter taste. Vertigo and nausea made her world teeter and sway as a familiar nightmare began to fade into the morning haze. Her legs cramped and muscles tugged at their own tendons. Her guts fluttered. Her pupils dilated, flooding her eyes with a blinding light.

She rose slowly and carefully. Both hands held yesterday’s edamame salad down as her limbs jerked painfully. The seven paces from bed to bathroom may as well have been a mile with how small a step she could manage without toppling over into a puke covered mess.

Arcane gripped the edge of her toilet as she stood bent in half. She hovered there waiting for her guts to calm down. Legs twitched randomly yet not quite as rapidly. She just stayed in position and let the aftershocks play themselves out. She closed her eyes and felt out every fiber that made her calves and back. She imagined the microscopic velcro-like strands releasing. Energy pumping into the muscle to release, opening channels.

“Open flow. Breathe. Feel the warmth.”

She muttered a mantra her physical therapist taught her. She repeated it between deep breaths. Heat slowly began to run through the veins and arteries in her limbs. The quivers began to settle as she regained control.

A weary feeling replaced the anxiety and pain just moments before. The aching aftermath was welcome in comparison, oddly relieving. When she felt good enough to stand straight she moved to face her bathroom mirror. A white mare with wavy pink hair gazed back at her. Her blue eyes were sunken and puffy, but she otherwise looked cute. If she could get a good night's rest she would get more attention from stallions and mares. Eh. She preferred insomnia over that.

Arc lacked interest for romance in spite of the chemical and mental assault that was puberty. She was the rare thirteen year old that held no desire to skip ahead five years and be considered an adult. Her body was taking on the demands of a mare and a stallion, yet this was not the worst of it. To Arc, puberty took a back seat to “The Marks”.

They went by several names. Cukze, Cutie, or even the mystical sounding ‘Fate Sign’. Call them what you will, but their significance is always the same. Whatever magic was, it read your story and wanted to give you a little spoiler. Her marks began a year ago as vague blotches along the knuckle-side of her forearm, calves, and thigh. The first four were still little more than light grey blobs that barely contrasted her white fur, but the ones on her hips had spots of purple and orange.

Arc looked down at her wrist and noted how the huff of her pink pajamas was well below her wrist. Her body was growing rapidly and soon her old clothes had to be thrown out. Peeking from the cuff was a shape clear enough to easily make out. With a tug on her sleeve more of her forearm came into view. In light grey fur was the image of eight gears of varied types and sizes assembled into a diamond shaped cluster.

“Okay, that's not a huge surprise.”

She thumbed the waistband of her bottoms to look at her thigh. It was still out of focus yet she could make it out. A hollow gear with sixteen teeth along the inner edge and eight out. Within the hollow gear were two smaller ones. One bore the red-yellow Sun of Dusk, the other was the Purple and white Morning Star. They also happen to be the marks of her nation’s two princesses in line for the throne.

“…Fuck…”

“Maybe I’m going to be a royal mechanic? Do Queens even need one?”

Arc thought out loud as she tended to her hygiene before returning to her room to dress. To her left were bookshelves spanning that entire wall. One section was filled with leather bound tomes written by her mother and her mother’s mentors. Another section contained spy and sci-fi novels with Pegasus Protagonists.

She turned to regard her collection. Among the books were her dad's creations. A miniature grandfather clock, several horizontal Pendulum clocks, some miniature automatons, and even just a few bare gears she helped cast. The centerpiece of her gadgets was her “flashlight”. When she was seven she observed how passing a particular kind of crystal over the other let out a tiny arcane spark. She then crafted a mechanical gyro onto a handle, a series of small rings that rotated around a central point. She put the larger of the two crystals in the center and the smaller one in the center ring. When it turned on, the smaller stone flew around the other in wild random paths. The result was a blinding light that singed her fur. Her father gracefully let her take off school for a month while her fur and hair grew back. In the meantime she tweaked the rotation of the gyro so the energy output went in one direction. She now uses it as a welding torch, but perhaps it could be a saber of some sort if the need arises.

“Royal Mechanic.”, she said with just a little more certainty.

She stepped into the upstairs hallway now fully prepared for another day of school. A white blouse, pleated black skirt past her knees, black female necktie, and leather book bag. Yes, it was a frumpy uniform fitting for the most conservative of private schools, but at least it hid away all her marks from prying eyes. Fate gave her frikkin royal symbols on her hip. Other kids would think she’s a snob or worse.

She let out a tiny sigh as she made her way to the stairs upper landing, the red runner carpet on dark stained wooden floors keeping her hoof-falls silent. Once at the landing she could see out into the living room. It was cozy but the ceiling was tall with a dome made of stained glass. The morning sunlight gave life to the display of crystalline stars in a dark indigo sky.

Near the living room was a curved nook with bookshelves carved onto the thick walls. Her mother labored away at her desk within that nook. Several old books levitated nearby, all bathed in the soft lavender light of mom’s magic. From the starburst shaped mark on mom’s forehead a transparent horn stood proud with etched spirals. Even now Arc wondered how a Unicorn and a Pegasus could give birth to an unremarkable filly like herself. Magic and flight giving birth to ‘mud’.

She made her way downstairs quietly. Arc carefully moved around her fathers favorite ottoman and the carved oak coffee table. Mom remained obliviously at work writing on plant-based vellum pages that would eventually be bound into a future Unicorn’s spellbook. Arc looked on in wonder with a tiny smile on her pink lips. It was both awe and jealousy. How would it be to command magic like that? What sort of respect could she get? Legendary mage? Well… she supposed being the Queen’s grease monkey would have to do, assuming she was right.

She grew close enough to touch her mother’s shoulder when something caught her attention. That ghostly lavender horn danced with some odd distortion. Lines of faded lavender just a shade darker etched themselves around her horn in an ascending spiral, only to fade away and be etched again. They were angular symbols like runes, but unlike any runes Arc had seen before. Their patterns were nothing special and yet wholly strange, like a shape she never considered before seeing it with her own eyes.

There was something about these symbols that bothered her. Imagine glancing at a sentence written on a wall. The moment you read “Ben was Here” your inner voice says the words. It’s almost like the letters themselves force your mind to make that sound. These symbols didn’t force Arc’s mind to make sound, it forced her to envision a pocket of space folding, a three dimensional dimple in space desperate to be filled. She imagined making smaller dimples in space to manipulate an object. Holding a book, turning the page.

“Oh Goddess! Arcane! Arcane, look into my eyes. Honey, can you hear me?”

Arc’s mother was shaking her by the shoulders. Those books were messily sprawled on her desk and that horn was gone. She had no idea if it had been minutes or hours. One moment she was ready to get her mother’s attention and the next the older mare was standing before her.

She looked about in a daze. Her mother’s chair was on it’s back and a knocked over inkwell dripped black onto the wooden floor. It was only then Arc realized how bright everything was. Her eyes were fully dilated and now finally relaxing.

“I’m going to call the Doctor.”

Her mother began to turn before Arc reached out to touch her shoulder.

“No, no mom. I just need to sit down. I wasn’t having an episode, I just saw… something in your horn. It was so strange I couldn’t look away. Dimples in space?. Something more.”

Arc stepped away and fell back into the old overstuffed sofa in her living room, her body oddly drained now. She tilted her head up to shift a sinus pressure into the back of her throat, the space between her eyes throbbed and teetered dangerously close to a migraine.

“Dimples? Gravity wells used to manipulate objects? As in basic telepathy techniques?”

Arc’s mother spoke as she hovered over her foal with concern. Her eyes moved from Arc’s pupils to her limbs, searching for any sort or temor.

“Maybe for you. Most Unicorns use the energy envelope approach these days.”

Mom scoffed as she took a seat, falling heavily backwards next to her daughter. “The Envelope method lacks any strength. Did you know your mom once crushed the tread of a tank? In fact, that’s how I met your d-“

“I’ve heard that one, like, fifteen times. Also, I think you answered the question of why they don’t teach the gravity method.”

Arc Laughed and Mom joined. All sense of worry had left them both at this point, but her Mother remained close. When Arc lifted her head and met the older mare’s eyes she knew a few questions remained.

“Your marks have developed.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah! Take a look.”, Arc leaned up in her seat, deflecting the serious tone her mother used. With a tug she exposed her hip and the bicycle shorts under them. The leg of her shorts hid two thirds of the gear symbol, but it was enough to show off the Sunset and Twilight insignias. “Dad’s going to flip when she sees this. Imagine me as the mechanic to royalty!”

Mom didn’t share the same enthusiasm. A moment of silence grew thick between them as Arc’s excited smile melted onto matching concern.

“Dear, those symbols are older than Twilight or Sunset.”

“Well yeah, I read all your books, and some of your competition's.”

“And so you know what they mean, miss smart plot?”

“The Star represents beginnings, the Sunset represents resolutions. They’re also the fundamental forces of fate, the ones that turn the wheels of creation. The grand transitions. Etcetera, etcetera.”

Mom gave a little nod but didn’t respond. The look in her eyes and the silence was her way of encouraging a deeper answer. Arc’s brow furrowed before raising her left eyebrow.

“Mom… no. That’s ridiculous, and it’s actually a little narcissistic. I’m supposed to be some goddess? Alpha and Omega?”

Mom scoffed and gently hit Arc’s shoulder, “No, No. Arcane, remember when you showed me that spark between the stones? The one that led to you inventing your ‘flashlight’? Arcane… crystals don’t make sparks. At least, nobody has ever seen that but you.”

Arc gave a small laugh and shook her head. She looked off to the side at nothing in particular.

“No. Mom, you know what I am. That’s ridiculous.”

Her mother tilted her head curiously.

“And what is that?”

Arc unbuttoned one cuff of her blouse and slid it down along the back of her forearm so the light grey mark could be seen. Her eyes grew that dim white shade. She wasn’t quite on the verge of tears, but the heat behind her eyes began to sting.

“Limb marks, mom. I’m an Earth type. I can’t use magic. I may as well be the most talented armless violin player in all of Equestria.”

“That’s not entirely true. Every pony has some telepathy.”

“Turning a door knob and flipping the page of a book isn’t really that impressive, mom. If I had finger pads instead of these hoof caps then it wouldn’t be necessary.”, showing off the polished and buffed last five centimeters of finger.

“It’s a far cry from ‘bending a tank tread’.”

Arcane tried so hard to sound upbeat, but the longer the subject lingered the more bitter she felt.

Her mother let out a little sigh of frustration. Sometimes her daughter could be so bull-headed. Definitely from her side of the family.

“You saw something just a few minutes ago, didn’t you?”

“Maybe…”

“And what about the beach? You saw something then, too. Sure, you can’t cast magic like your mom, but the level of insight you have can lead to amazing discoveries. Most of what I do is just heavily educated guesswork. I’d arm wrestle a Taurus for that kind of power.

Arcane, imagine what you could contribu-“

The young mare stood up and buttoned her cuff.

“Well, fuck me sideways. Look at the time!”, moving to the door with her best attempt at a forced smile. Remember, it's my turn to make dinner!

“Arcane Gears, we are not done!”

Arcane slipped out of the front door without another word. Her body quivered with rage. The feeling was so ugly, so cold. She didn’t want to think about screaming in her mother’s face but that’s what she wanted to do. The idea of being some Unicorn’s walking dictionary made her feel more like a thing than a living creature.

More importantly, she wanted to feel it all herself. Watching magic was like being able to smell a delicious meal, maybe even help cook it. Then, while your stomach is growling, you’re expected to stand by as someone else eats.

Age 3

She leaned forward on her knees digging into the damp sand, hands scooping large mounds of beach into hills. With smooth tipped fingers she carefully etched the shape into turrets and conical roofs, a courtyard, and arches. After watching sand castle competitions on tv Arcane obsessed with the pastime. Her little finger tips ran over rounded walls carefully adding spaces between bricks, even adding subtle crags with her finer hoof control.

On occasion she focused on the fingertips themselves. Tiny dots of pink light would surface in no more than two columns of three, often a random number of dots missing. When she described it to mom she said that was a language for blind creatures called Braille. She said the language was read by feel. That made a lot of sense because the words weren’t like normal words. Instead of making sounds they made feelings, and not like happy or sad. Actual feelings like ‘hard’ or ‘hot’.

She began to play with the dots and discover more ‘words’. She touched a butter knife and learned the word for ‘edge’. She pushed a door open to learn the word for ‘push’. She accidentally burned her hand on a stove and learned ‘hot, but she wasn’t able to make her hand as hot as the stove without it hurting a whole lot. Earth Pony magic wasn’t like mom’s magic. She could make fire without getting burned, which must be why no other earth pony played with the dots like she did.

She fell back onto her bottom to admire her perfect recreation of Queen Luna’s castle. Never mind it had only two turrets and a large dog house for a dragon on the other side. She believed the Queen of Night would still love it.

From the corner of her eye she could see her mother reading another of her musty books. This one read “The Dangers of Artificial Ascension: A confession from Lady Sunset Shimmer”. She huffed and rolled her eyes.

“I break a vase and get a spanking, she breaks a Castle and gets to be a squire.”, muttering to herself sourly.

Arcane turned her head fully when her mother was eclipsed by a shirtless stallion running past. Her eyes locked on the male and the comet shaped marks over his shoulder blades. Of course she didn’t care for boys, but this one had some weird squiggly lines dancing over his marks. They looked like some kind of cursive, but nothing she had seen before.

She was on her hooves before she knew it. It was those lines. Like the Dots, they made her mind do things she didn’t intend. The Dots made her sense things like the texture of wood or the smell of ripe apples, but these lines made her heart beat faster. Looking into them made her feel a mixture of fear and joy she only felt when going as high as she could on the playground swing.

She took off running in her little pink swimsuit, her bare hooves kicking up sand as she fought to keep up. She imagined the series of dots that felt like “Push” and put it in her feet. Her body shot forward making every stride worth one and a half, but even this allowed her to barely keep up.

“Arcane!”, her mother’s voice was faint but she could hear it. Still, that amazing feeling. It was more than just emotion, it was a clear and casual reaction to everything around her. This stallion ahead of her reacted to bumps and dips along the trail as it came to an incline. Grass was gradually replacing sand.

“Arcane Gears! Stop!”, mother’s voice was right next to her for a few minutes, then faint again. She couldn’t stop herself. She could barely think of stopping or listening. Her entire world was the stallion’s exhilaration and she wanted more.

She didn’t see the end before it was too late. The stallion took a running leap off a high cliff as light burst out of his marks. Two wings of cyan spread out and carried him off into the distance. Arcane, unfortunately, didn’t. She flailed in the air as jagged rocks below grew rapidly close. Her eyes shut tight as she screamed. Arms wrapped around her and she crashed into the… sand?

Her eyes opened and darted around to see the beach again, her mother’s toppled umbrella and towel not far. It was good to have a Unicorn Mother who was an expert with teleportation spells.

Arcane Quill squeezed her foal tight before leaning back and checking little Gears. No scratches, no bruises. Mother let out a heavy sigh and thanked the Goddesses a moment too soon. Her daughter’s blue eyes were huge. Arcane Gears stared up at her mother’s transparent horn with a quiver that grew into spassims.

Jagged lines. A weird writing that danced over mom’s horn. This wasn't a sensation nor an emotion. It filled her little mind with things she couldn’t possibly know yet. Quantum tunneling, passing through empty space only to appear elsewhere. It was logic, knowledge, concrete thought. Inside her young mind neurons fired and rapidly formed the patterns of would-be memories copied down from her mother’s magic, though most of this would blur and twist. Like an overburdened machine something had to give.

Arcane Gears’ eyes rolled back into their sockets as foam filled her mouth and ran down her neck. Everything went black. The last thing she could remember was her mother’s scream.