Mirror: Book I - Mind

Seated patiently on the side opposite to the Alicorn, David felt his weight sinking into the tiny chair as Twilight flipped her way through one reference after another. His sights hovered up and along the divisions in the shelves leading up to the crystalline rafters, cautiously eyeing the shadows lingering about, as he knew a certain goat-headed god of chaos was waiting just as patiently as the boy was. David served a passive glance to the outdoors, seeing that the skies had traded its hues of blue for a fresh coat of orange. His attention was drawn back as the pony sighed and slapped her book shut, a sure sign of failing to identify the parchment before them.

“I’m sorry, but there isn’t anything within these sources that matches this artifact’s description.” Twilight traded sights between the boy and the parchment. “Where exactly did you find this thing?”

“I, uh…just stumbled across it.” David answered cautiously. “Whilst on a stroll, with Starlight.”

He wanted to slap a palm over his forehead, but suppressed the urge to do so. Soon after, the Alicorn was giving him an estranged once-over.

“The only fairly accessible area I can think of to possess such artifacts, aside from the antiques store, would be the Everfree ruins.” Twilight sunk into silence, looking back up wide-eyed. “Don’t tell me you actually…?”

The boy hung his head with guilt, shoulders shrugging and dropping. “Guess I played myself into this one.” He admitted.

The pony slowly leaned back in her chair, fret flooding her eyes. She closed them again and shook her head. “What were you thinking?” Her tone hovered shakily. “You could have been killed.”

“But this is it, Twilight.” He leaned forward. “This is the key to solving this whole memory problem. And, dare I say it, quite possibly my ticket out of here.”

“And how do you know that?” She questioned sternly, searching his eyes. “You said you had no idea what this artifact was, hence why you brought it to me in the first place. Why are you really here?”

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me how to use it.” He quavered.

A pause of tension filled the room, stagnating the air as the boy found himself on the losing end of a harsh, staring duel. Twilight opened her mouth to speak again, but instead another voice bounced off the walls of the chamber, deep and dreadfully familiar to her as it was.

“The poor lad does only what he expects of himself.” The thum answered. “Give pity, your majesty.”

“Discord…” Twilight growled, as usual. “I should have known better than to let you run amok.”

“Pray tell, what would have been your remedy this time around?” Discord fluttered gently towards the floor. “A kick in the hindquarters from a stream of blinding rainbows would’ve seemed a little out of season, don’t you think?”

“I mean it, Discord, our business ties into classified affairs.” The Princess warned. “If you continue to dabble then I may be forced to address these matters with Princess Celestia herself.”

“Ah, but what good would tattling to your “highchair highness” do in light of the fact that her and I have had a most peculiar relationship, even since before you were born.” The serpent played a deep grimace.

The Princess played another jaw-dropped pause, words hanging upon the tip of her tongue, but the better of her thought to say nothing in reply and instead let the silence weigh in the answer. It would give her ample time to think about what the draconequus had just said, and Discord knew she was already overthinking its implications. The boy in the chair remained stagnant to the quick yet witty conversation, timid at the words yet smart enough to know that words of his own would do no good in this situation. Satisfied, the serpentine beast hovering above the two slithered down to their level as he uttered along.

“But before I say too much, I thought I might fill you in on that nifty bit of paper I found for our dear protagonist here.” Discord snapped his talons, appearing before the two with a getup reminiscent to that of the esteemed Daring-Do book franchise. He sprawled an old, archaeologist’s map over the table and brought his magnifying glass over the big, red “X” marked in the middle of the forest. “I do admire the intuition, your highness, this is indeed an artifact that I managed to salvage from the rubble of the Everfree. Just a silly strip of paper, laying among a pile of books collecting a thousand years worth of dust and decay. Who knew?”

“You planted it.” Twilight dead-panned.

“Mmm, good guess.” He twirled his magnifier. “No, not me. But somepony did.”

“Then how did you know where to look?” She probed.

Discord gave a huff of irritation. “Did you actually believe that I spent a thousand years imprisoned in stone, doing absolutely nothing? How else did you think I managed to displace the Elements-?” The draconequus paused, peering between the boy and the pony. “Now I’m really saying too much.”

Once again, the mare opened her mouth, but David raised his hand. “Hang on, Twilight.” He cautioned. “I got this.”

The boy did his best to ignore the uncertain daggers piercing the side of his face as he warily turned to the draconequus with motioning sights, rather uncertain of where to look. His words came steady as ever.

“So, big guy, this is it.” He started. “This is what you promised me, and now that the cat’s out of the bag, you gotta tell me what this thing is and how I’m supposed to use it.”

Discord twirled about with delight, hanging a limb over the boy’s shoulder. “I’m so glad we have someone here who has enough common sense to get straight to the point. I could tell from the start you and I would be on the same page.” The serpent snapped his talons again, dropping a “user’s manual” into the boys hands. Strangely enough, it had the same weight and style to that of the Wii’s user manual, as the human could vaguely recall.

“You may want to take notes for this, Princess.” Discord grinned across the table, turning back to David. “This, my boy, is a memory talisman. It’s title is exactly what you think it is, a special artifact equipped with the application of helping one’s mind recall upon a memory lost to the depths of their maze they call a brain. The talisman won’t just call upon any memory, but a core memory, one that is crucial to the construction, or rather the reconstruction of their mind.” He clicked his talons again, and the pages of the manual flipped to a crude diagram of a human raising the old piece of paper to a pony’s forehead. “In other words, this talisman when used will act as a web, mending together the pieces lost and broken within the receiver's memory. There’s just, uh…there are a few…side effects-” He snapped his talons a final time, the pages flipping to one wall of text after the other. David looked around for the magnifier to attempt and read the words. “-a few side effects, to mention. Or not, I suppose.”

“I take it you tested it yourself?” The boy wondered.

“Tested it myself?” The beast stifled a laugh. “I went through more effort than you may realize searching for that relic. That talisman is restricted to a one-time use and a one-time use only. I trust you will strain yourself to practice as much wisdom as possible in using it. Try not to pop a vein.”

David reached forward and took the object into his grasp, letting the artifact hover over his palm as the implications and potential consequences swarmed about his mind. He attempted to think of any setbacks or tricks the mischievous serpent might have been plotting, but then again there would simply be no benefit if the effort he had gone through to obtain such a relic was indeed true. For whatever purpose the beast sought to help him, whatever he was trying to make him see, the boy simply could not fathom. All he knew now was that an answer had finally come upon his doorstep, and there it hovered in finger’s reach.

“David.” Twilight hummed carefully, drawing his attention. “Whatever it is that you’re planning to do next I have no right in stopping you, but please do not forget what I told you.” She looked on longingly. “Sometimes, the best thing one can do is to wait. Think about what Apple Bloom would want.”

His eyes hovered aimlessly about the room finally coming to rest upon the draconequus with a knowing gaze and a beckoning claw. The boy eased himself off of the chair and stood, chest puffed out and shoulders fixed. Twilight already knew his response before he could even utter it.

“I’m not going to forget what else you said.” He reminded. “’You’ve only failed when you’ve given up on finding an answer.’”

David delivered the Alicorn one last apologetic glance and subtly nodded to Discord as he turned, tucked the talisman into his pocket, and pushed past the library doors.

Sweet Apple Acres rested patiently upon its spot on the horizon, evening striking across the sky in streaks of orange and red, much like the leaves of the trees lining the path up to the farm. David rested his palm over the pocket he had placed the talisman in for the entire trek up to the orchard, certain the relic was still there, determined on getting it to the one and only filly whom he believed needed it most right now. He barely paused at the threshold of the gate, marching up the dusty road to the great, red barn. As though on queue, a flash of white light sprang from the patio at the front door. Discord wore a typical southerner’s getup, gallon hat over his eyes and boots kicked up on the porch railing.

“Last chance, partner.” He warned. “Are you sure about this?”

“You’re the one who’s been encouraging me.” David reminded. “Why back down now?”

“Perhaps you’ll see what I mean soon enough.” Discord swept his paw, motioning the door ajar. “She’s inside waiting for you.”

The boy mustered up all the confidence he could and marched up to the threshold of the house. A second later, Applejack appeared to slam the panel right on his nose. The poor human stumbled backwards and held his nostrils, fearing another nose bleed.

“Oh, and so is her sister.” Discord threw his head back and cackled to the roof. “Don’t have too much fun, now. I’ll just be waiting out here.” He snapped a banjo into his claws and began yodeling.

David grunted and shook his head to stifle the pain, approaching the door once more with a sturdy, steady knock. There was no answer, but he knew she was still there, at the very least barricading the door with her back. He knocked again.

“Applejack, will you let me in?” He called.

“You got a lotta’ gull comin’ up and askin’ that, ‘specially around supper time.” The mare within snarled, swinging the panel open again. “I’ll give ya’ ten seconds to explain what you’re doin’ on my front porch, and why I shouldn’t buck ya’ back to whatever Celestia forsaken planet you came from.”

“If you did, then your sister might lose her one and only chance at being her old self again.” David answered boldly.

“I don’t buy it.” Applejack crossed her hooves.

“You don’t have to, just let me help.” He pleaded. “It won’t hurt to give it a shot.”

“David…?” A little voice sounded from within. “Is that you?”

Flat as her tone may have been, the voice undoubtedly belonged to the filly he was looking for. The boy rose and attempted to step inside, but the pony at the door blocked his path and did her damnedest not to lash out or break any of his bones. Another lecture from Twilight wouldn’t look too good on her schedule.

“Seems t’me the boy’s got an awful itching to tell us sumtin’.” Granny Smith came lumbering down the hall. “Step aside, Jack, be a gentle-mare for once.”

Though daggers had skewered their way through his skull, David did everything he could to look back at the mare with the setson in the most grateful manner he could muster. Craning his head beneath the frame of the door, the boy stepped inside and took in his surroundings for a brief spell. Every member of the orchard rested within the dining area, save for Applejack at the door, whom begrudgingly ushered the boy further in and presented him to her younger sister. Apple Bloom’s eyes had been locked onto the boy ever since he had entered, and with as cautious of a motion as ever, he knelt down before the little pony with a welcoming smile.

“I’m glad you remembered me, Apple Bloom.” He began. “I’ve got something for you.”

“For me?”

“Something that will help you with your memory.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled the relic forward. “This is a memory talisman. It has a special power that allows a pony to remember something they might have forgotten.”

Apple Bloom eyed the talisman floating above the boy’s hand, wonder and uncertainty in her gaze. She blinked and looked back to the human, unsure.

“Don’t you understand what this is?” David went on eagerly. “You can go back to your old self again, you can go back to the way things were. With your family, with your friends…all you have to do is accept the talisman.”

“It’ll help somepony remember something…” The filly thought carefully. “Something they’ve forgotten?”

David nodded, holding the relic forward.

“But…” She wavered. “You forgot something too, haven’t you?”

“Huh…?”

“When I woke up, I knew there were a lot of things I had forgotten, but there was something I remembered. That something was about you.” Apple Bloom explained to him. “I remember what you told us at the school house, when you spoke in front of the class that day. You were taken from your home, away from your planet, and you don’t remember why or how you got here. You said that if you did remember, then maybe you could find a way back? To your home, I mean.”

“Well, yes…that might be true, but-” David shook his head. “Apple Bloom, I came here to give this to you.”

“But you might need it, too.” She considered. “Don’t you?”

The boy paused, finding difficulty in speaking any further. Her thoughts and words had suaded him to consider a whole knew path of questions and consequences, just as the draconequus had predicted. David knelt there, frozen, as the little pony went on.

“I’m not saying it would be a waste if you used it on me, I’m saying it would be a waste if you didn’t use it on yourself.” Apple Bloom spoke mundanely. “Trust me, I know what’s going on here. Here I am at home, on my own planet, and that means I’ve got hundreds of opportunities to rebuild the life that I lost.” She looked upon the talisman in the boy’s hand, and looked back up. “That right there, that’s the only opportunity you have to rebuild the life that you lost.”

David blinked and slowly leaned back, astounded by the impact this little pony’s words were dealing upon him. He traded a wary glance to the other family members watching on in anticipation, their looks changing to that of uncertainty and sorrow. Granny Smith took a heavy step forward and spoke.

“I may not be too sure what all this jibber jabber ‘bout talismans and artifacts are all about, but this old mare’s got a way of knowing when somepony is tellin’ the truth.” She rested a hoof to her granddaughter’s back. “If’n you’re sure this ain’t the right time…”

“I’m sure, Granny.” The younger spoke back diligently, and turned back to the boy. “Can you do something for me, Mister David?”

“Anything.” The boy nodded back.

“I want you to think long and hard about how you want to use that talisman.” She said. “Think about your family, think about your friends. Think about everything you left behind at home. You’ll do this, won’t you?”

His words stumbled, head bobbing on. “I…I will.” The boy mumbled. “I’ll do it for you, Apple Bloom.”

“No.” She shook her head. “You’ll do it for yourself.”

As David took his leave, he stepped out onto the front porch of the barn house and gripped the railing, gazing solemnly out unto the sunset. The lasting light of the day reminded him dreadfully of his first day on this planet, the very day he had been brought to Equestria. He knew himself much less knowledgeable of this world back then compared to what he knew now, and still the answers had not arrived just as he hoped they would. He damned himself for not considering that Apple Bloom might feel different about the situation than he did, he cursed himself for not listening to the advice that others had granted him. For that, he had encountered yet another wall, his knuckles already bruised as could be for tearing through every other one that had come before. He flehmened with irritance as the presence of another invaded his senses.

“Step out, Discord.” He commanded.

There was no answer.

“C’mon, spill it!” He gripped the railing harder. “What am I supposed to do here? What do you want me to do?”

There was another stroke of silence before the beast finally decided to hum a reply. Uncertain of where his voice was coming from, the boy nonetheless listened.

“I expected that you would have figured it out by now.” Discord started. “But I suppose you’re not as intuitive as I thought you were.”

“What does being intuitive have to do with it?” He splayed his arms. “You said the talisman would work, you said to take it to her.”

“And what? You expected her to accept it right then and there?” Discord’s form seeped from the porch’s awning, the beast finally revealing himself as he oozed into formation, his eyes strong and stern upon the boy. “You may have the antidote, but she doesn’t have the appetite. I’m afraid it’s a little more complicated than that, my boy.”

The boy raised a single finger and opened his mouth, but the words failed to arrive. Discord applied a trumpet to his ear in anticipation, only for the human to step back and reconsider his approach. He began to pace and ponder, hand beneath his chin and the other arm tucked under his pit. The boy was mumbling to himself again, that tiny, little, bumbling noise drawling from his lips, Discord hated that sound. He wanted more than anything to snap his claws and sew a zipper across the boy’s lips, which he could very easily do, if it weren’t for the strange sensation of patience he felt he should ensue ever since he had met this human. Strangely enough, vivid thoughts of Princess Twilight would invade the serpent’s mind as he practiced this odd ritual.

“There’s something I’m meant to do…” The boy mumbled on. “Before I can escape the dream…”

Discord rapped his claws impatiently, arms crossed and face tight.

“Maybe I missed a step?” He supposed. “Maybe there’s a pony I forgot to talk to? A place I forgot to go to? An item I forgot to pick up?” He tapped his temples. “What is it? What is it? What is it-”

“Oh, for the love of-” Discord sprawled and stomped to the floor with the force of an infuriated manticore. His eyes filled with a deep, sinister red, and his voice burst from his lungs. “I should have known that a boy too caught up in his pointless, rampant actions couldn’t bare the cognition capable to recognize his own faults! Do you want to know what it is you’re doing wrong? Use your listening skills for once and I’ll tell you what it is.” He took a mighty breath. “Time and time again you have asked and wondered when the answers to these dilemmas that you face are ever going to come, but the reason you never find them is because you don’t think! You don’t listen! You don’t take but a single, measly hour out of your day to simply lay still, relax, and allow yourself to absorb the knowledge that is being offered to you. Do you want to know where the answers have been hiding this entire time? I’ll tell you where they’re at.” The serpent raised his claws, brought the boy forward, and drilled a single talon towards his head. “There! Right there! And I’m not the only one who knows that, as I trust Princess Luna had already shown you where to look, long before I decided to invade this horrendous, disgusting, unbearable fan-fic you call a story!” Finally, the beast was beginning to calm down, if only a little. “I implore you, I beg you, I beseech you, O chosen ‘‘‘hero’’’ of Earth, to just shut up, go to your room, and read a book!”

Thus, his thum came to a hollowed and haunting close, the ambiance all around the two beginning to settle as the sun took its final set beneath the horizon. Streaks of purple and blue accompanied the deep red and orange painted across the sky, putting the boy’s mind at ease, his thoughts to a stand still. Something about the way this draconequus had just spoken to him triggered a strange memory from the pits of his consciousness, a memory from Earth. Someone had spoken like that to him before, and in that time he was undoubtedly at fault with the odds that he had been facing back then. It told him that he indeed needed to take a moment to wait, to learn, to listen.

Listen. He told himself. Just listen…that’s right. I remember, back on Earth everyone used to tell me I was a good listener. Maybe now, that might have better use here than it did there.

Not a word escaped his lips as he strode past the draconequus, ignoring the stinging glare that stuck to the nape of his neck. David trekked lightly down the path, stopped in the center of the field, and turned with a final phrase to the serpent on the staircase.

“You remind me a bit of my dad.” He pinched an imaginary grain between his fingers. “Just a little bit.”

As Discord watched the boy go, he glanced down to his claws and mimicked the human’s gesture. The beast snorted, snapped his talons, and disappeared.

“But that’s besides the point.” David declared. “I know I’ve got to look for answers, but I don’t know where to start, how to utilize my research skills, connect on thing with another.” He cautioned his sips of tea, resting the cup to the coaster and sighing drearily. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is, I’m lost. And I suppose what I’m trying to ask of you is…I need your advice.”

With a pause, the boy veered his attention back to the board laying before him. He chose a pawn he hadn’t touched yet, skipping two paces ahead. The poor little piece had already been thrown into harm’s way, and no plan was set before to compensate for its loss. Ignoring the vulnerable pawn, Cozy Glow chose her knight, and moved it into a peculiar position.

“Trust me, I’ve been there more times than I can count.” She lifted her cup to her chin. “Although, I never had anypony I could discuss it with.”

“I take it was very tough for a filly your age?” David considered.

“Nine.” She answered quickly, as though proud to do so.

“Wow.” He nodded politely. “How did you manage?”

“Being an only child was never easy. It may seem like you’re getting all of the attention, but that’s only from the adults.” She watched his fingers brush over his bishop. “There was nopony around my age to talk with, so that’s why I always felt like I needed to hold in all of my personal feelings. I needed to put on a brave face for my elders and superiors.”

“Speaking of which, how come I’ve never seen them?” He asked. “Your parents, I mean?”

Cozy Glow paused, staring at the boy.

“Unless, that’s a personal thing-”

“They abandoned me.” She admitted, her expression like stone.

David felt a chill run over his body. He could only nod a simple “I see” as he went to quiver another sip of his tea. “Sorry to intrude.” He mumbled.

“Don’t sweat it.” The filly smiled back. “I did say that I only hold back my feelings around adults, didn’t I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The boy chuckled, peering down to find that his bishop was no longer on the board. He hadn’t even seen her make the move.

Since early morning that day, the local cafe had seen little activity from the nearby residents, and the boy wondered momentarily if it was because of his presence, or if the sight of a human and a pony sitting at a purple mushroom table whilst playing a game of chess on top of it was just too much to bare. For once, David considered the absurdity of the situation, but nonetheless aloud its preposterous premise to drive the motivation he so desperately desired. He even found himself lucky enough to schedule an appointment with this mysterious little pony, this Cozy Glow of all characters. The boy reminisced to his time spent on Earth, watching the television show on his computer, but none of his memories could call back to such a pony. The milky-white bow in her hair, the blue curls of her mane, and the way she batted her eyelashes all the time. The child obviously sought for the compensation of others, but for what purpose? He could not determine.

Most peculiar of all, the boy felt something from this little pony that which he had not with Mikado. She undoubtedly belonged here, in this town, in this reality for that matter. Unbeknownst to him, it provided the human with a subtle yet stronger sense of trust than he even realized. She was speaking again before he could even judge his next move.

“In any case, I’m glad you came to me asking for help. In fact, I’m grateful.” She nodded confidently. “It takes a lot of guts to do the right thing, doesn’t it?”

“What’s that?” He looked up.

“Oh c’mon, you don’t have to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.” She flattered. “You’re the Equerry of Ponyville for crying out loud. If Princess Twilight can see the potential in you, I’m sure everypony else can, too.”

“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, not many agree with that outlook.” He said. “Quite frankly, not even myself.”

“I know what it’s like.” The pony provided. “Sometimes, you just gotta play the bad guy.”

David stopped and looked over the little pony, scanning her carefully.

“We’ve got more in common than we think, you and I.” She folded her hooves. “You have a goal in mind, you desire to help others, and in your pursuit you realize that you need help from others, too. Sometimes, playing the bad guy means you gotta do the right thing. Not because it’s easy, but because you want to. But more often than not, not everyone is on board with doing the right thing, and doing the right thing means doing what you think is right.” She went on. “That’s why we are portrayed in this disdainful, hurtful viewpoint that society has framed us to be in. People don’t want to accept what they don’t understand because that is how their minds and bodies react to fear, that fear being the fear of the unknown.”

“Are you saying there are things I don’t even know about myself?” He wondered.

“Are you saying you haven’t thought about it before?” She countered. “I know I have.”

With that, the boy quietly began to ponder upon his actions in the past. Perhaps there were points in time in which he believed he was doing the right thing, points at which he was portrayed as the villain for doing so. In his efforts to save Sunshower from the fountain statue, the ponies of Ponyville had cast him into debt. When Silver Spanner had fallen victim to Rose Luck’s garden raiding, he had gone out to set things right, only to result in riot and turmoil. Only then did he victimize himself and seek to do better, only then did the cries of others suade his actions so, and even vice-versa. The thoughts plagued his mind as his hands carefully brushed over his pieces.

“Did you want to take that move back?” Cozy Glow offered.

He blinked and looked back down at the board. His king had been thrown out of defense, and was now vulnerable from several directions. The next move the little prodigy planned on making would almost certainly result in checkmate. With a content shake of his head, the boy declined.

“Once you’ve made your move, you’ve made your move.” He proclaimed. “There’s no taking it back.”

“I see.” The filly said, taking a hold of her rook, and placing it to take the king. She gave a confident, knowing grin, and held her hoof forward. “Thank you for playing.”

“And thank you, for the advice I mean.” He shook her hoof and stood from the table. “I think I know what I have to do now. I’ll see you around, Cozy Glow.”

The boy turned and strode into the thick of Ponyville, the pony at the table watching the boy’s back as he went. The filly quietly folded her hooves inward once more and gazed over her rook in line with his king. There was a certain glint in her eye, one that spelt dissatisfaction, one that told a desire for a little more.

Unbeknownst to both of them, in the bushes and brush from afar nested a certain, pink, bubbly and fluffy mare waiting so much more patiently than what was good for her. She knew however, why she was doing it, and whom she was doing it for.

“Don’t you worry, Davey.” The pony hopped away. “Auntie Pinkie Pie is on the case!”