An hour? Fifty minutes? It had to have been forty. Each hallway looked identical to Twilight. She’d been searching for something recognisable. Anything. Most of the windows she’d come across were boarded, and one look at the rest told Twilight they weren’t designed to open. Studying her surroundings to keep herself occupied, she’d at least determined it was dawn or dusk from the ghostly ribbons of sunlight creeping inside.

The walls were considerably old stone, adorned by disheveled heraldry. Debris littered the floor beneath gaps in the ceiling, and she’d come across multiple cross-sections offering barricaded doors, if not sloping rubble. This place looks like it's been hit by an earthquake, she mused. Her head still throbbed. Her hooves still ached. The dusty air irritated her nostrils, but as she went to rub her snout, she smelled something sweet and strong. Something familiar.

She followed the scent down the hall, around the corner, down another hall, then another, the odor getting thicker, until Twilight spotted a speck of colour. The smell was coming from a thin trail of pink puddles, and she began pursuing them further into the gloom.

The trail of liquid eventually turned into a room. Twilight peeked her head through the doorframe. The torchlight danced over more dusty furniture and crates riddled with mold, as well as a hole in the roof. She trotted inside; it would be nearly impossible to reach. Glancing at some crates, though she wasn’t a heavy mare by any stretch of the imagination, she didn’t fancy her chances atop the rotting wood. Her horrid migraine dissuaded her from trying any levitation spells, either.

A large chest sat open in the corner of the room, a torn cobweb at the hinge, and she caught sight of a spider repairing the damage. There was a clammy aroma in the air, too, but she was cold and dry as a bone. Twilight wandered through a door that hung open in the corner, and wooden floorboards creaked beneath her hooves for once.

Metal candelabras hung from the ceiling, and there was a small burner in the corner of the room. More pages were torn up and thrown across the floor. Even in her state, she hoped it hadn’t come from any pricelessly old documents, or any primary sources, Faust forbid. That’s when she noticed a warm light fluttering across the paper. There was a stool standing next to the burner, and on the stool was a candle and an open book, and the candle was lit. Twilight gasped.

‘Hello?’ she called out, ‘is somepony there?’

Something vibrated. Twilight raised a hoof as she looked around the room. It seemed no worse for wear. A rumble now. She backed away from the burner. The items on the shelves started to move. Pillars of dust slipped from the ceiling and candelabras wobbled from side to side. A couple of books fell from their bookcases and crates tumbled off one another. Twilight made for the centre of the room as it began shaking. Her back hoof jolted upwards as a box was thrown from atop a shelf behind her, splintering against the floor. Then the shaking weakened. Then it stopped.

'Sweet Celestia...’ Twilight placed a hoof on her forehead. 'Maybe this place really did get hit by an earthquake.'

How had she been searching this long without seeing anypony? Just how large was this place? The cold nipped through her coat, so she sat down with a huff, taking the fallen box, tossing the pieces in the burner and lighting them.

‘This is hopeless,’ she sighed. ‘I have no clue where I’m going, and that’s if I’m going anywhere... I clearly can’t keep wandering these tunnels. Think... c’mon, Twilight, think.’

Her tail swished excitedly as she did exactly that. This place is huge, she thought, looking about. It must be a castle. Judging by the age of the stone in those hallways... medieval era?

‘Because that narrows it down,’ she said aloud. She glanced at the candle's bronze base, gilded by the fire’s glow.

Alright... the windows indicate I’m not underground, but I’ve seen no beds, chairs or bathrooms anywhere, so this is probably a storage area. The living quarters must be somewhere else. Above me, probably... that’s it.

‘That’s it!’ She sat up with a proud smirk, warmed and determined. ‘Now to find a way to the upper floors...’

Yet more bookshelves were filled with bottles, books and papers in the next room. Some saddlebags leaned against a desk across from the door, on which was another lit candle, and scientific equipment any sorcerer might have recognised.

‘A laboratory of some sort? With contemporary equipment! At least I know somepony still lives here.’The papers and documents sat collecting dust. Some were so old Twilight could barely make out words. She took one that looked semi-intelligible.

‘On hiring guards,’ it read, ‘visiting the nearby townships yielded little results. I decided to look to the cities, Canterlot first, and thankfully the castle didn’t fall apart while I was gone.’

Some sort of diary entry? Twilight wondered as she rubbed her chin with a hoof. She skipped ahead - while she certainly wasn’t comfortable poking about somepony else’s home, their diary might at least tell her where she was.

'She seemed to restrain herself from squabbling as we sat down and spoke over a glass of Manehatten white – fine vintage, perhaps from her own stores of wine.'

The hoof-writing was elegant. Hope I didn’t pass out in some noblepony’s castle... I wonder who he’s talking about?

'She of course mentioned the experiments and made certain to remind me of the reassurances I'd made, which I had to give more of to change the subject.'

Twilight raised an eyebrow and straightened the paper.

'Nevertheless, she was kind enough to give me information regarding a stallion who once served as a commander within her royal guard; a captain by the name of Bronze Valour, with a handful of loyal lieutenants. She even referred me to a tailor, some friend of a friend (I forget the name) who'd help me restore some of my garb. I suspect she wants to see more of me. A change in me at least. My work can’t afford the Canterlot elite poking around.'

She frowned when she found no signature or date, only a large smudge of ink. He wasn't talking about Princess Celestia, was he? She turned, and the torchlight flickered in mahogany swirls, colouring a pile of scrunched up paper on the desk. She unfolded the one closest to her; its writer had stopped halfway through, scribbling out the words. The second closest was scribbled out as well. Then the third. Then the fourth. The fifth, the sixth, until Twilight gave up. 'For Faust's sake,' she groaned, rubbing the side of her head.

The scribble pattern is jarring. Whoever wrote these got frustrated... frantic, in fact. She squinted at the ink. The quill had been dug deep, and the words were clearly penned with great effort. It looked like her own hoof-writing when she was a filly. As she turned away, she stepped on something, and eased the saddlebags aside. Lying below the desk in another pink puddle was a small flask, and one more note. She didn’t need to smell the container to know it was the scent’s source. The note wasn't dated, but it was fully written at least.

'You're likely wondering where you are. It's fading so quickly. I don't have enough time.'

‘Don't be afraid, Twilight.’

Twilight blinked. ‘Is this addressed to me?’

‘I can’t keep going. I HAVE to forget. This did not happen to you without reason, I promise. I hope you can understand.'

She looked down at the puddle. 'An amnesia mixture...’

'The castle you're in is Brennenburg. I don't remember what distance it is from Ponyville but it's north, or north-east. I don't know. It's in the Everfree forest'.

Twilight frowned. That didn't make things any easier.

'The baron is Alexander. Avoid him and avoid his servants. Don't trust him if he finds you, don’t trust him no matter what and don't listen to a single word he says. He’s a monster!'

Alexander of Brennenburg... odd name for an Equestrian baron, she thought. It lingered in her mind as if she’d dreamt it, although she could have sworn she’d never heard it before. Furthermore, it wasn’t lost on her that she’d found a note written by a pony who had, or was in the process of, forgetting everything. She dismissed it as convenience, but then why had the note mentioned her name?

Dread twinged in her stomach; her idle mind had manifested a troubling notion. She took in a shallow breath through her muzzle, glancing down at the bottle, then read on.

'You'll laugh at this, if it’s all gone. I would.'

'Don't say that!’

'There’s a Shadow. It’s been following me, which means it’s going to follow you, it probably is already. I don't know what it is or where it comes from, but it’s a living nightmare and you can’t fight it or outsmart it so just run! It sounds insane but trust me and run! I BEG you!'

A relieved sigh escaped her. Now she was sure the note's author was insane. Shadows follow ponies all the time, she thought to herself, though something was off about how they had written the word. 'Shadow' - capitalised, like a name.

'There's only one pony who can help you; an earth pony with a caramel coat and a brown mane. His name is Savvy Venture.’

‘Savvy Venture. Savvy... why do I recognise that?’ she said, and the relief was gone. ‘Th-That’s enough,’ but she couldn’t bring herself to put the note down. She couldn’t resist now.

‘You have to find him. When you do, look after him. Find him and get yourself home.’

‘Your former self, Twilight Sparkle.'

Now she put down the note.

It couldn’t be true, of course. It was absurd... but then, the hoof-writing did look like hers.

Your former self... no, she thought. ‘No, it can’t be... I-I hate writing by hoof! I only write by hoof when-’

When she had migraines.

The sickness in her stomach chased her focus away. That scent she’d been following, the one she found on her lips... she dropped the torch and swiped everything from the desk, yanking every beaker, vial and burner toward herself. One of the beakers was still wet, and it carried the same scent. Twilight covered her snout, but she could still smell it. No matter where she turned the fumes of the amnesia mixture filled her nostrils. She snatched the paper back and looked for something out of place, something falsifiable.

But Twilight had written the note.

Twilight had written the note and addressed it to herself.

Twilight had written the note and addressed it to herself before wiping her own memory.

Panic clenched her chest and sent a shrill gasp down her throat. ‘N-No,’ she whimpered, losing control of her breathing, ‘no no no no no no no!’ She covered her eyes and sucked in and out and in and out before trembling to hold in a breath. She released it slowly, shuddering as she took air through her nose - in through the nose, out through the mouth, just like before. 'Y-You're-’ she gulped, ‘you’re f-fine, Twilight. You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re gonna be fine.’

Twilight didn’t keep track of how long she sat there; it was as if there was nothing in the world besides that note. Was this some bizarre experiment?... No, she’d never do this to herself, nor agree to it were it somepony else’s idea. ‘A-Alright,’ she said once she’d regained control, ‘what do you know, Twilight? Just f-focus on what you know.’ Still being lost was the obvious place to start, but Twilight brought her previous plan to the forefront of her mind – she needed to get to the upper floors. There she’d be more likely to bump into somepony. More importantly she could find the entrance. The note had mentioned the Everfree, but she’d take her chances if home was a canter’s distance from the castle.

With things thought through, she rolled gently onto all-fours, taking a moment to regain her composure. Her horn was in anguish when she raised the torch, so she slipped on the saddlebags in case she came across anything useful. The bookshelf left of the desk was side-on to the wall, and when Twilight went behind it, she found a square opening that led to an ornate door, and a simple wooden lever next to that. She trotted over to it and smelled the clammy odor from before. Somepony had gone through there.

Of what she’d read, Twilight stuffed what seemed most useful to her in one saddlebag and returned to the opening but, for some reason, she turned back to the note sitting on the desk. She couldn’t fathom what must have happened for her to write those things; after all, there was no use denying she had written them. That said, the plan hadn’t changed, and she was certainly content to ignore it, but when she went to leave the note, she found herself stopping. What was this ‘Shadow’ she’d complained about? What had the baron done to anger her? To make her so scared of him? Who was this ‘Savvy Venture’ and why did Twilight recognise his name?

Twilight had always made a point of being, as she put it, ‘reliably rational’ no matter what, and she was good at it too. Thus, the pony she trusted most in the world happened to be herself (as well as Spike, the Princess, Applejack – her friends were a close, collective second.) Maybe that’s why she couldn’t abandon the note... perhaps it was worth holding onto, at the very least. She picked it up. I’ll think about all that when I’m home, she thought.

Author's Note

A much bigger chapter for you!

Apologies if the sudden increase in word count threw some people off; this chapter was initially way the Hell longer, and after plenty of rewrites and proofreading I did away with a lot of what was essentially Twilight faffing about, and me describing the area from the game - nostalgia is a drug and I'm only human. It is again up to you, the people, whether or not I should post more of this.

Also, if it's not clear, the text in italics (like this) is what Twilight's thinking, and any italicised text in speech marks ('like this') is whatever she's reading. Amnesia: The Dark Descent has a lot of notes that explain the backstory to the player, and I needed a way to distinguish their content from Twilight's inner monologue. It's a little clunky, so I hope it wasn't too confusing.

As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed.