Marooned at Twilight

Chapters

Headaches
Desires
Illusions

Headaches

Another day, another excuse to down a half dozen Tylenol.

It wasn't because I hated myself. It wasn't because I was a tier three subscriber to Doomerism Monthly. It definitely wasn't because of my terminally online presence (I was told this was a charming part of me, so...). And no, I'm not affected by some life-altering disability or incurable illness either. All I had were these headaches of mine, and they came every morning like clockwork.

This time, however? I felt like God himself had taken a sledgehammer and slammed the damned thing right between my eyes. There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that I’d be able to grin and bear through all of these stabbing and throbbing pains without my head exploding.

Of course, this all could have been another case of the Mondays. Or any other day of the week, honestly. Work, obligations, responsibilities, woohoo. But it wasn’t Monday, Tuesday, or, god forbid, Wednesday. And it most certainly wasn’t Thursday or Friday either; I had meticulously checked my phone every five minutes on company time whenever I browsed the Spacebattles forums or Ao3 to stave off the soul-crushing boredom.

No, I knew today was special.

‘And thankfully, today can wait a bit longer,’ I thought. I knew it wasn’t just a Saturday but a free one, and right now? I was counting my lucky stars that I didn’t need to work on the weekends anymore. I could afford to be lazy today. And perhaps even tomorrow, too, if I was lucky. No plans, no errands or entanglements, no anything but me time.

And with any hope, my pain and exhaustion could give me a dreamless sleep this time. No nightmares, no terrifying monsters, no—

“...honestly forget with the Princess herself breathing down our necks? I changed the IV myself just a few minutes ago; why?”

I winced.

Why did I hear voices inside my apartment? Did I leave my TV on? The headaches prevented me from remembering much of anything about the previous night, and I would rather gouge my eyes out than try to delve into the nightmares that had been haunting me recently.

God seemed to be in agreement, too, as he began drilling a hole directly toward my headmeat. But before my brain could explode like a grapefruit impacted by 7.62, I heard another voice alongside the first.

“...hasn’t been any issues with the feeding tube, and I’ve been monitoring for any signs of intolerance—no nausea or vomiting, and her abdomen is soft. But with her BP on the lower side, we should keep monitoring her electrolyte levels closely.”

“Hmmm. We’ll do another electrolyte panel this afternoon to be on the safe side and make sure everything’s within range. Let’’s also keep an eye on her fluid balance—”

Clop. Clop. Clop.

The sound was so distinct and unnatural, like a tiger in 8-inch heels parading down the streets of Rome. God’s punishment increased twofold for my vile and sinful thoughts, and I was in sound agreement with his plan.

This still wasn’t enough to stave away my confusion.

Of course, I hadn’t expected to have any coherent thoughts or ideas so early in the morning, but this all felt… off? Like I was submerged underwater, and everything was dark and distant. The voices seemed so distant, like whispers, and I could only pinpoint that awful clacking sound because it sounded so utterly alien to me.

More muffled noises bled into my plugged eardrums—They were steady, rhythmic, and somehow familiar. It was white noise, like the static from a TV, but far more distinct.

“It’s been two weeks now... I’m hoping we’ll see some improvement soon, but we need to be prepared for the long haul.”

What the hell had I been watching before I passed out? I could hardly call myself a fan of drama shows compared to my mom—she was the one who binged All My Children, after all. Did I really subject myself to daylight television? Or had I left YouTube to run amok and delve head-first into the YouTube Recommend cesspit?

Were the other tenants going to pound down my door and beat my ass for making too much noise?

I sighed.

Leaving my bed was the last thing I wanted. I knew the moment I got up from my bed sheet cocoon, I’d never fall back asleep, and nursing a headache at the crack of dawn was not something I wanted to do on my first weekend off. What time was it even anyway? Six? I couldn’t feel the sun shining through my window…

“It’s hard to see, but she’s in good hooves. We’re doing everything we can for her.”

…Hooves? I… my YouTube history is going to need bleach, isn’t it?

Subconsciously, I curled my fingers.

…

Consciously, I curled my fingers.

…

My arms shifted in my tangled sheets. Numb. I had just slept on them wrong. I still had my fingers. I still had them. I just—I needed some rest. Yeah, just need some more shut-eye. And some Tylenol. And some Hard Mike's Lemonade. In that order.

“...Stuffed cabbage rolls at the cafeteria today. Want me to grab some for you after my rounds?”

“Hmmm, depends… are you offering because you’re sweet? Or because you owe me after stealing that last slice of pound cake?”

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Grab me an iced tea to go with it, and I won’t banish you to the couch toni—wait.”

The darkness receded, if only a little. Pulled. Something pulled at me. A rope, or a tether inside my head, strung me along and toward the surface of the inky depths. Beep. Beep. Beep. The rhythmic pattern had become clear to me.

I still couldn’t curl my fingers.

“Her heart rate is increasing!” one of the voices said, closer this time. I heard the tension, the concern, and it scared me. He was scaring me. Who was he? Why was he so close to my bed? How did he even get in?

…Her? Who are they referring to?

My throat was too dry, my mouth unable to form words. The beeping quickened.

“Can you hear me? Squeeze my hoof if you can hear me,” The second voice urged. Her voice was calm but insistent as it grabbed and prodded my hand. I felt her hand grasp mine and winced. Her fuzzy glove was softer than the fur of my pet Schnoodles.

I didn’t notice the discrepancy in her words until a few moments later.

Hoof? Why did she say that? Doesn’t she mean hand?

I tried biting my lip, but I could only taste copper.

“Doctor, she moved!”

Another curveball. She. Hoof. Hooves. What the hell was going on?

“Stay with me,” the woman pleaded, her grip on my twitching hand firm. The panic in her voice matched the fear clamping down on my chest. “You’re doing great. Just keep trying.”

I heard more clopping, more voices. I focused. Anchored myself. The fog dissipated slowly.

Blind. Bright. I winced, but kept pushing, kept trying to reach the voices. I needed to know what was happening, what was going—sterile. I could taste the disinfectants and plastics that assaulted my nostrils and burned my throat.

I blinked.

God disapproved.

His displeasure once more became known, and my eyes burned like steaks on a grill. And unlike ordinary, god-fearing nine-to-fiving Americans, he preferred his meat well done. The degenerate.

My eyes fluttered. Tears streamed down my overgrown facial hair, and I wanted nothing more than to take a pair of electric shears to my face. After I had my questions answered, of course. That, and down a bottle of Tylenol because fuck everyone and everything right now.

Especially that incessant beeping, which was somehow more annoying than my alarm clock. That, in itself, was a rare feat. Christ, how had I been able to hear my own thoughts with off-brand Skrillex blaring in my ears?

The answer is simple. Because I'm me, and my willpower to withstand the dishwasher's unabashed tunes was a detriment to God's plan. Screw Drake and God, they're getting my medical bills later. The room was still too bright, but I immediately spotted two indistinct, fuzzy shadows leering down at me.

“She’s waking up,” the male voice said, throwing me for a loop again.

I blinked again, trying to focus on the hazy shapes hovering over me.

Their faces swam into view.

My breathing hitched.

“Welcome back,” something whispered, her voice trembling slightly. Tears glistened in her green dinner-plate-sized blue eyes, and I could only stare back in utter revulsion and fear.

At that moment, I knew true and well God was dead… because even he wouldn’t have stitched together something so utterly repulsive and uncanny as this. This… thing wore the face of a horse that had its face rearranged by a toddler trying to draw one on an etch-a-sketch. The angular ridges and features one would expect to find were sanded away and rounded out, while a human’s mouth was grafted below its muzzle. Its fur was as bright as the orange juice God went to buy from the store before being mugged for his wallet.

I opened my mouth to scream, but my voice had been stolen by its unwavering gaze. This thing… should not be. It should not exist.

“Can you hear me? Tw—” the other… creature asked, its stethoscope dangling from its neck. It, too, had an off-putting fur coloring: sky blue with a mop of green concealing a spiral horn and his naked shame, along with a lab coat that looked more like a costume I’d have my dog wear for Halloween. “—ink if you can hear me.”

I blinked once. It was all I could muster. There was too much whiplash, too much happening at once, and everything was suffocating me. The solid white marble walls were closing in, my blankets tightened their grip on my torso and limbs, and if the looks on their forward-facing eyes were any indication, they were ready to pounce.

An uneasy silence fell upon us for a moment, but I didn’t dare look away. I knew they would be all over me the moment I did. But what could I do? How could I get out of here? Where even was here, and why did they—

“Good,” the creature cosplaying poorly as a doctor said, softer now. “You’re doing great. We’re gonna take things slow, okay? You’ve been through a lot, but you’re safe now.”

Safe. The word echoed in my throbbing skull. Safe. Safe. I didn’t feel safe. I was trapped in a place I didn’t recognize by beings ripped straight out of Grimm’s Fairytales. Worse, my body was aching to move, to break free from whatever was holding me down.

The Make-A-Wish(™) nurse still held my arm in her vice-like grip. If she was trying to be warm and reassuring, she would have gotten an A for effort and an F for execution. “Can you squeeze my hoof again?” she asked gently. “Just like before.”

I tried to pull away. Tried, was the keyword. Her motherly smile faltered as I failed to adhere to the script they were playing out. I concentrated, focusing every bit of strength I had left on my hand, willing it to move.

The pointed end of my hand twitched underneath the sheets, but not my fingers. It was as if they had never existed in the first place—no ghost pains, numbness, or spasms. Nothing. My fingerless hand still curled regardless, barely a grip but enough for her to feel.

Our entangled arms escaped from the bedsheet a moment later.

“There you go,” she said, her voice full of encouragement as she smiled again. “That’s it. You’re doing amazing!”

…

I screamed in a stranger's voice.

Stranger’s, because it shared nothing in common with my voice—the pitch was wrong, the tone, the gender. It wasn't the result of helium or laughing gas messing with my vocal cords, either. This… this was genuine.

This voice belonged to me, but it wasn’t mine.

I didn’t know how or why. This was all wrong. Wrong. Wrong!

My chest tightened as fear mixed with white flashes of memory.

“Sunshine, Sunshine, ladybugs awake! Clap your hooves—”

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! Hey—”

“Looks who’s awake, my little star!”

“...You don’t understand how proud I am of you, my dearest student!”

“...if you listen closely, you’ll hear the crashing waves of tomorrow outside your door…”

The two horse creatures crowded around me, but I couldn’t focus. My eyes were glued to my purple-furred limb stump, and it took me ages before I was brave enough for my gaze to trail upward to my equally furry chest.

“—you feel the blanket under your hoof? Or the bed beneath you? Focus on that feeling—it’s real. It’s right here, and you’re ok,”she replied soothingly, placing her orange arm on my shoulder and breaking me out of my trance. “I know you’re feeIing scared and confused, but that’s alright. You’re in the—”

My lungs sucked in a gulp of air down my too-long throat, which felt like the most natural thing in the world. I would have never made the connection if I had been blindfolded beforehand, blissfully ignorant of everything that’s happened and everything about me that changed.

My memories were the only thing that allowed me to notice the differences.

Mouth? It was the wrong shape, and every single tooth was flat. Head? My eyes were far more sensitive, and my vision had been massively exaggerated and stretched, like the max field of view settings in Titanfall 2’s PC port. Legs? Too small, and not a single finger or opposable thumb in sight. Even my knees were wrong—they were too high up and bent awkwardly at all the worst possible angles.

“We’re going to give you something very light to help calm your nerves…”

My wrongly placed heart continued to pound in my mis-shapened chest as I continued to squeeze the creature’s arm. I felt something drip into my arm before I even noticed or recognized the IV drip inside my other one.

Green sparks glittered in my eyes not a moment later.

“...placing a cool cloth on your forehead—can you focus on this for me? This will help you feel more comfortable.”

The world spun briefly, and darkness crept from the edges of my vision as something grasped my hair and gently tugged me back into my hospital pillow's gentle embrace.

“...hurts,” I managed to breathe out between my fits of hyperventilating. Thankfully, my heart was no longer cosplaying as a chestburster waiting for its cue, and I greedily took in a second deeper breath and then a third.

Coolness enveloped my aching skull not a moment later. This, along with whatever drugs they just pumped me with, was enough to take the edge off of my stress. My soul wasn't being prepped for express shipping directly to Jesus—he was content with being shipped to him in five to seven business days.

“What hurts, sweetie?” the female creature’s motherly voice reminded me of my old elementary school teacher, whom I had embarrassingly called mom on more than one occasion.

“Head,” I grimaced. My overriding fear had been able to suppress the worst of it, but now? I could hardly begin to even describe the sensation. I felt like someone had stabbed a knife into my forehead and scooped out bits of my brain through the open wound.

And it wouldn’t stop. Throbbing.

“We can give you something for the pain, but I need you to answer a few questions for me first, ok?”

I nodded hesitantly.

“Are you feeling any discomfort in your horn? Do you feel like you pulled a muscle in it at all?”

…horn?

My blurred gaze shifted upward.

The cre—nurse? Whatever she was hadn’t been lying or gaslighting me—there was an honest-to-God spiral tumor jutting out from my head too, and of course, I had to pull the old “geriatric missing his glasses on his head” trick on myself at the ripe old age of 24.

“Y-yes,” I replied, my voice too high-pitched. “Th-throbbing, too.”

“That’s an average side effect of experiencing mana burn; just try to take it easy on the magic for a week, and we’ll give you some acetaminophen for the pain. Are you feeling any numbness in your head as well? Any discomfort or tingling in the neck?”

I squirmed squeamishly. There were plenty of things fucked up about this situation, and I was not and would never be ok with having my body stolen from me, but I could at least thank whoever did this to me had at least the tiniest bit of empathy to not leave me a vegetable too.

“No.”

“Ok, sweetie. Could you quickly tilt your head?”

“Either side? Both?”

“Both, I know you’re still in pain, but—”

Left. Right. Left. I kept my gaze on Orange Juice’s emerald eyes as I craned my too-long neck. Up. Down. Up.

“Thank you.” Orange Juice raised her… wing and nudged Dr. House’s furry oc while whispering before turning to face me again. “Is there anything else bothering you? Anything that feels off?”

“I- uh…” My eyes were glued to the pair of wings fused to her spine, which was apparently completely normal and totally not more proof that the farm equipment had evolved, rebelled, and sent their owners off to the glue factory. The worst part? I couldn’t tell if her freakishly large wings or Dr. House levitating a bunch of equipment off in the corner of the room with his mind scared me more. “Queasy, mainly. Stressed.”

“No other symptoms?” Orange Juice raised a brow and cupped a clipboard with her wing. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Orange Juice was about to open her mouth when Dr. House butted in, sliding over into my view. “Do you remember what happened?”

“It happened too fast,” the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could even mull things over. “And everything about it felt like a fever dream…”

Orange gave me a look I couldn’t quite place, and I quickly looked away and toward the windows at the far wall. My stomach tied itself into knots over how wrong her wings looked—how they acted like a colony of fingers that were dexterous enough for writing notes down on a clipboard. All of this stress was clearly messing with my judgment, especially with how I was pulling all of these ideas out of my ass at light speed.

“What are you able to remember?”

“If it's all the same with you, Miss Pumpkin Patch… I don’t want to talk about this right now. Not yet.” I bit my lip as I focused on the droplets of rain splashing against the windows. “Can you at least tell me when I’ll be getting out of here? You know how much I love the food here…”

How did I know her name? Who did—who the hell did I brain-jack? Are they still inside? Trapped? Was this hornache ever going to stop making me contemplate suicide?

I wanted nothing more than to run for the hills, but I doubted I’d make it ten feet before I got dogpiled by a horde of mutant horsies, assuming my supposed injuries would even let me step off the bed. Not to mention, it wouldn’t take long for me to be promoted from patient to lab experiment if they figured out I was a sheep in wolf’s clothing.

No, I needed to keep my cool. Stay calm, smile, and pretend like everything was hunky dory until I could mosey on out of here.

“At least a month, possibly two, give or take.” Orange—err, Pumpkin Patch crinkled her nose playfully, but I could still see that look in her eyes like she knew I was bullshitting her. “Oh, don't feel so down in the dumps, sweetie! You’ll be out of here before you know it, and you can put this whole thing behind you when you do.”

“Can’t I be released sooner? Is there nothing I can do here? The headache is the only—”

“Now, now there, I know you must be dying to return to your studies with the princess, but I’m not letting you off the hook until I know for sure you’re in tip-top shape. So, no funny ideas this time! Capiche?” Pumpkin’s green eyes bore into me, and I slunk further into the mattress from the shame.

Princess? Studies? I’m… I’ve had enough schooling for one lifetime. I don’t need to suffer through high school and college debt a second time!

…

“F-Fine,” I shakily breathed out. The damp cloth had thankfully taken off the edge of the migraine, but I couldn’t tell if having my thoughts unscrambled had made things worse, especially with the gravity of the situation kicking in like a hangover—wait, a hangover… “Hey, could I at least have something to drink? Water, preferably.”

“Sure thing, and we’ll make sure you get something nice from the kitchens in a little while, too. How do stuffed cabbage rolls sound?”

Yuck. “That sounds great. Thank you.”

“Alrighty then! But before we do that, Doctor Brain Wave and I need to run a few more tests to ensure everything is okay.”

Doctor ‘Wave’ strode over to the heart monitor and flipped a few switches with his magic as he spoke. “You’ve made excellent progress so far, and it seems like your body is recovering much faster than I anticipated…”

“I’m sensing a ‘but’ here,” I swallowed nervously. The skin under this purple fur was prickling like static on a carpet, and I had to stop myself from clawing toward the opposite edge of the bed and away from this witchcraft.

“We’ll need to run some scans to check your brain activity and resonance frequency. You’ve been out for a while, so we want to rule out any potential issues before we proceed with physical therapy…”

Pumpkin Patch smiled reassuringly at me before adjusting the blankets around me. “Which might just be sooner than you think. We’ll be taking you down to imaging in a few minutes, so just relax, lay back, and we’ll handle everything for you.”

Brain scans and X-rays weren’t things I was ever terrified of before. Adding magic to the mix, though? Spells and incantations? Absolutely not. Nope. Not a chance. The jig would be up before faster than I could blink, and they’d know—they’d all know—exactly what I am.

Pumpkin and Wave’s ears twitched.

I gritted my teeth.

The heart rate monitor tattled on me, screaming incessantly.

They looked at me. Afraid. For me. No. Of me? I couldn’t breathe. My pulse thundered in my ears, screaming alongside the heart rate monitors. Time slowed. The rain stopped its pitter-patter, halting as if the air had gone still. Their eyes were on me. Dinner plates. Wide.

Stop looking at me! STOP!

In a heartbeat, everything shattered.

The world twisted. The room spun. My head burned.

No sound. No smell. No light. My gut was wrenched from my body, and then everything else after. Pumpkin and Waves’s frozen faces were gone now. The desperate hum of machinery was an afterthought. Gone, like ashes.

Time resumed.

I slammed into the cold, hard floor of an empty hallway.

Desires

Marble.

Marble walls, floors, ceilings—there didn’t seem to be anything in this hallway that wasn’t made out of the stuff. It all felt too surreal… liminal? Like the expanded lore that ruined the mysteriousness of the backrooms, only this wasn’t just some render of an abandoned palace hallway made in Blender. A render of a marble floor couldn’t feel cold and smooth to the touch as it pressed against this body's furred shoulders and belly.

Surprisingly, I wasn’t turned into a bruised apple from the force of the impact. Instead, I could only stare incredulously at the white ceiling seemingly twentyish feet high above (I didn’t have a yardstick to check), wondering how I hadn’t broken anything important.

Falls from only a few inches could kill people if they landed wrong, and I knew my name would have ended up in an obituary had I been human during this whole farce. So, how was this any different? How was this body so robust?

Horse thing or not, this body was still made from flesh and bone. I… I should have died on impact. Or at least wish I had, right?

…

That headache from earlier still persisted in bashing my forehead, and the marble walls and ceilings weren’t excellent conversationalists. I plucked my head from the comfy floor and sighed. My hooves tingled as I attempted to upright myself, but the shakiness in my legs told me how angry they were that I was trying to stand up.

Words couldn’t explain the fear that was squeezing at my insides like a crushed soda can, but the fear of being caught had overtaken my fear of this cursed body. I was wanted now. A runaway, delirious patient. That alone was enough justification for them to hunt me down like a rabid dog, and that’s before they dropped that proverbial bomb on me.

A simple “cure” for my amnesia wouldn’t be enough. They’d poke and prod me, pump me with enough drugs that would make a Benadryl addict afraid, and wipe my consciousness and replace it like it’s a USB flash drive. I was, or rather, this body was important to royalty. A princess.

For all intents and purposes, I was a ghost needing to be exorcized. They’d never stop pursuing me, if only at the princess's behest for stealing one of her toys.

This fear was enough to get me to my knees. A small mercy.

Walking, however…

It was as easy as breathing, somehow. But anything else? Even if I had the manual for this horse, it might as well be in a completely different language. Before I even thought of moving at all, I found that my left hind leg was already brushing against the foreleg ahead of it. The front leg bounced in place, eager to be let off its leash.

I let go.

The image in my mind was clear, even with the headaches.

Clop. Clop.

I winced as my hooves clanked against the marble floor. Not just from the sound, which I doubted I’d ever truly get used to, but everything else. My hooves felt like hands, and no amount of skull-smashing pain or dissociation would stop me from noticing the similarities. If I tried hard enough, I could feel myself flexing and gripping at the stone tiles, just like I had before with Nurse Pumpkin’s hoof.

Clop. Clop.

Different verse, same as the first.

Left legs. Right legs.

Slow and unsteady quickly became the opposite as I reached the end of the corridor. A foal at birth was supposed to be able to bolt as soon as it left the womb, and this scenario felt eerily similar. I made a right at the intersection ahead, bounding down another corridor.

Silence still reigned supreme in these empty halls as I passed yet another almost identical hallway, and I quickly lost track of how many I had trudged through after the sixth or so. The headaches were slowly fading into the monotony, at least.

More time passed. Minutes? Hours? Was I going in circles?

Cautiously, I peeked inside a few doors and found nothing apart from cramped supply closets and dusty storage rooms. Had I not been turned into a mutant horse, I would have assumed that I had been teleported directly into Dracula’s castle from all the cobwebs and spiders that hung in the far corners of the room undisturbed for countless years.

Again, I moved on. More empty hallways. More—

My ears twitched. A door opened behind me in the distance, and the sound was loud enough to wake the dead in the silence. Voices? Conversation?

Foot…hoofsteps. Closer. They’re coming closer.

Faster. I gritted my teeth, fleeing from my imaginary pursuers. There hadn’t been any hide or hair in this marble maze, but I wasn’t keen on sticking around to find whoever was rich and pretentious enough to have this monstrosity commissioned.

That was the plan, at least, until I tripped.

Thankfully, there was no one around with a smartphone to catch me planting my face into the ground and hiking my ass in the air like an ostrich. And also, thankfully, the red carpet I had stumbled into wasn’t musty and stained with hoof prints and literal horse shit. Instead, I was greeted by a dark and cloudy sky.

I clambered up to the window with my forehooves, hoping that it was at least at ground level as I heaved—

—and immediately curled up into a ball and held my breath.

The rain hadn’t stopped, but that didn’t matter to the dozens of golden horse soldiers that manned the walls and towers that stood imposingly on the other side of the glass. Thankfully, and by thankfully, I mean thank you, Jesus, Buddha, and whatever other gods had taken a moment of pity on me, as they were all looking in the opposite direction.

There weren’t any marching down the yellow cobblestone paths and grassy fields to dogpile my ass, but I knew I couldn’t rest easy yet. I was trapped on the wrong side of these walls, and I didn’t need to rub more than two brain cells together to realize that I was trapped in this palace with a possibly irrational royal family.

I hunched over and crawled down the hallway, and my imagination exploded as it concocted tracers that shattered the glass windows and impacted the walls to my side. I could almost taste the gunpowder on my horse lips as I saw gun-toting horsies bursting through the ceilings and walls like a pod of Kool-Aid men in my mind’s eye.

None of this happened, of course. Despite the EKG and other modern machines I had noticed in the hospital room, they seemed more of an outlier than anything else. This was all archaic in comparison, and I was starting to doubt if I was even in the same building or time period as that circus act I escaped from.

This thought settled my frayed nerves, if only a little.

My legs carried me off into the bowels of the palace, almost as if on autopilot, despite my constant spine-tingling and erratic ear twitching from every noise and shadow. I should have kept a mental note of where I had been or tried to note how many turns I made and where, but I allowed instinct to guide me through the winding halls, down a flight of spiral stairs, and to a solitary wooden door.

The chilling air was crisp, almost sharp, scraping against my body. Purple clumps of matted fur stood upright as I hesitantly pushed my right arm into the squeaking wooden frame, and I could feel sparks of electricity shoot through it like static as it slowly gave way.

White tarps and stacks of crates jutted up toward the ceiling like outstretched arms, and I almost felt nauseous from the non-Euclidean size of the room, which seemingly stretched out three times larger and taller than any other room before it. I bit my lip, bele—knowing that it was all a matter of perspective due to my smaller stature.

Surprisingly, there was a distinct lack of dust and cobwebs for me to sneeze at as I cautiously stepped forward. My footsteps echoed through the room, bouncing off the many crates and piles like a ping-pong ball as my eyes locked upon a specific white tarp at the farthest end of the room.

Instinct pushed me toward it, and I fell forward as my purple stumps clumsily clutched at the smooth fabric. Thankfully, the purple-rimmed mirror underneath didn’t even flinch as the tarp fluttered to the floor like a falling leaf.

My heart still stopped all the same.

Hazel eyes stared back at me.

Human eyes. Warm, sun-kissed pale skin with a coating of a light tan. A mop of brown hair that desperately needed a buzz cut.

I stood up, reaching my right foreleg toward the reflection until it brushed against the cold glass.

The reflection in the mirror reached out with its left, its fingers splayed out as the palm pressed against the invisible barrier separating us. Their hand retracted as I pulled my stump away with a somber expression.

This was my reflection. This… was me. The real me.

It took all of my willpower to not smash into the mirror at full speed. I didn’t have a way to breach the barrier or crossover to the other side, assuming this wasn’t some enchantment or mirage. The idea crossed my mind that I’d see this reflection in every mirror—taunted by the fact that my old life and any sense of normalcy were just out of reach.

My gut instinct told me otherwise. This mirror was special. It was my ticket out of this nightmare, and I needed to figure out its secrets and what made it tick. I just needed to keep looking; there had to be a spell or artifact that would let me through. Something, a ritual or sacrifice, anything!

My reflection stared back at me with wet and puffy eyes.

Doubt crept into my thoughts, snuffing out the small ray of hope I desperately held onto. It was too good to be true. A scam. For all I knew, it was enchanted to show my deepest desires like the Mirror of Erised, and I’d wither away and die while staring at my reflection, wondering what could have been. I’d never see my family again. My friends. They’d never know what happened to me or how I didn’t choose to abandon them for this.

Even if it wasn’t, I still had no idea how to cast spells or how magic works. I didn’t know how I’d get back to the mirror if I escaped the castle.

I turned away, no longer able to look myself in the eye.

“...makes you think we’ll find anything here? The ward was tripped all the way back in the west wing!”

The sound of clanking armor and clopping hooves rushed down the stairs, and I immediately bolted for cover behind a row of unmarked wooden barrels. Barely a second later, I could feel the air grow heavy and hot, almost as if someone had cranked up the thermostat by fifteen degrees.

“I honestly don’t, but can you blame me for wanting to stretch my legs a bit longer?”

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” I hissed as I curled into a ball on the floor. There was no way out but through them! What the hell was I supposed to do now?

“I want to agree with you, I really do, but the Captain’s gonna chew us out again if we decide to take the scenic route back.”

“The Captain is gonna chew us out for coming back empty hooved.”

“...Touche.”

The door opened with a bone-chilling creak.

“See? Told you so,” a male voice spoke out, and I winced as their armor clanked and shifted with each step they took. “Empty.”

“I never doubted it wasn’t,” a female voice responded mirthfully. Orange light spilled into the room a few moments later, casting shadows across the marble walls. “But it never hurts to be thorough in your duties, private.”

“Ugh. Hopefully, somepony else will have some good news for the Captain then.”

“Don’t you mean chewed out first because this was a complete waste of time?”

“Hmph.”

I pressed myself tighter against the floor, almost hoping I’d melt into a puddle. My heart was beating like thunder in my ears, but I held my breath, praying they wouldn’t come any closer. An agonizing moment of silence followed, and my lungs burned inside my chest with each passing second.

“I say we call it,” the male soldier muttered impatiently. “There’s nothing here.”

“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” the woman asked playfully. I could hear her shift her weight from the slight rustle of fabric as she tilted her head. “Unless you’re that eager to stand at our post for another four hours…”

“No, I’m not—”

“So let's just take a quick peek then, ok? It’s not like we have anything else to worry about right now.”

“What about the alarm?”

“What about it?” The woman horse’s clopping hooves echoed loudly enough in the room that my entire body felt the vibrations. I didn’t need to peek around the barrels to know her gait was slow and aimless, like a bored teenager waltzing through a local Walmart. “If there was an actual intruder skulking about, they would have tripped every alarm on their way out of the west wing, assuming they aren’t already upchucking whatever they ate for lunch from the perception and dilation wards.”

“They could have found a way around them, couldn’t they?”

“You mean the very wards and spells hoofcrafted by the hornheads under the crown’s employ? The ones that the Princess spares no expense for? Please, you’d be more likely to rediscover the lost Crystal Empire before anypony could brute force their way through them.”

“I don’t know, Candle. This doesn’t feel like a fluke or some false alarm, ya know? My gut is telling me that something’s up.”

Slow and deliberate. The air in my burning lungs eased out of my too-long throat and into the air like a plume of smoke as my paranoia ate away at me. It was a cliche horror movie trope, but I couldn’t stop my mind from racing to the worst conclusion—that my pursuers were waiting for me to look up before snatching me.

“Listen, Swifty. You know better than anypony else that I’m as vain as the rest of them in the guard, but I know you well enough to know that something is eating away at you, and it doesn’t have anything to do with this wild goose chase. What’s up?”

“I’m not sure now’s the best time—”

“Horseapples!” Candle, I’m assuming, barked. Her tone no longer had any of the playfulness that infested it before, and I felt like I was suddenly listening to a script reading for a medieval reboot of All My Children: Abominable Horses Ahoy. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? You’ve been jumpy for weeks now, and I know it has nothing to do with the stick lodged firmly up the Captain’s plot.”

“I…” Swifty hesitated. “They’re just dreams, Candle. I hardly remember them half the time, but you shouldn’t work yourself up over this. Believe me, I’m fine.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Swift,” Candle insisted. “You do remember them, don’t you? That’s probably why you’re so on edge lately.”

“Candle…”

“Tell me I’m wrong. Or better yet, tell me what’s in these dreams that have you so spooked.”

A pregnant pause hung in the air, and I could feel my furry face drenched in sweat as it trickled down my forehead.

“Scratching… tapping,” Swifty elaborated. “I can hear it in the walls every time I close my eyes for bed, and… look, I know this all sounds absolutely silly and everything, but this place just gives me the creeps, ok? I can’t escape this place even in my dreams—I’m always stuck here, no matter how much I want to think about anything else.”

“It's not silly.” Armor jingled and cloth rustled as she embraced her scared comrade, or at least from what I could gather from huddling behind my little slice of hell. “Look, I get it. This place can mess with your head even after being whitelisted for the perception wards, but I want you to do something for me, ok? Stop worrying about the palace, the Captain, the nobles, and just… breathe.”

In. Out. I let myself breathe slowly and steadily, matching the tempo of the guards until I took the edge off my paranoia. I was still terrified, but a burgeoning hope swelled in me. I just needed to be patient, and they would be gone in a few minutes.

Everything was going to be ok.

“...Thank you. I-i’m fine now.”

“Just hang in there for me, alright? We’ll grab a few drinks after our shift, and you can forget all about—”

The darkness evaporated.

I didn’t scream, couldn’t if I wanted to. There hadn’t been any time to react; only that one moment, the whole room was shrouded in mostly darkness, and then I saw Sauron's eye sweeping over my hiding spot the next.

“Candle? Candle! What’s wrong?”

Orange light spilled over the mirror afterward.

…

“Celestia… eugh! It’s just that damned mirror!”

“Mirror?”

“I won’t bore you with a history lesson, but just a heads up? Don’t touch it. Don’t stare at it. Just pretend it doesn’t exist,” Candle’s authoritative tone brooked no arguments.

“Why? It’s just a gaudy-looking mirror, isn't it?”

“Swift.”

“The princess wouldn’t leave dangerous artifacts lying around here—”

“Swift.”

Silence. My borrowed spine tingled.

Something was burrowing inside me. Was it a presence? A feeling? A stray thought? This time, there were no flashes of clarity behind it, no memories of a past life I never lived. It was almost an absence of feeling, and nothing in the English or Equish language could begin to describe this thing.

My borrowed legs pushed against the floor—against my… our will.

My head peeked out of cover, horn first.

A pair of hazel plate eyes blinked back at me.

“I’m only looking out for you, kiddo. You know that, right?” Candle sighed, and her spell evaporated with her exhale. As quickly as our eyes met, she turned, brushing her tail against the clueless guardpony beside her. How didn’t he see me? “Let's get out of here… unless you want to stare at your reflection all day.”

“...You’re the bossmare,” Swift nodded, turning to follow her up the narrow staircase in a seemingly blind stupor.

I didn’t move an inch until they left.

Author's Note

If you'd like to preread or edit for newer chapters coming out in the future, feel free to let me know! Soaring does a fantastic job, but some guy in a Godzilla costume broke into his house and ate his kidneys :(

Make sure to share your condolences and well wishes with Soaring on his fimfic page!

Illusions

I trudged up the staircase and out of that dingy storage room.

Part of me wanted nothing more than to take another few minutes to collect my thoughts and rest, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to pry myself away from that damned mirror if I did. That, and I knew the clock was still ticking. Tweedle Dee and Dum might not have known an intruder was on the loose, but that would quickly change once the alarms started blaring.

So on I marched through the rat maze.

Clumsily, I stumbled through the elongated hallways without a single idea of where the hell I was going. A right down a corridor. A left at an intersection. Empty halls greeted me, making the fur on my neck stand up at attention, along with my new horse ears.

I didn’t see any guards on my jaunt through the empty halls. No castle staff. No ponies at all.

…

Until I did.

White and gold. Blue mohawk hair and tail. Wings. Facing away. Christ. I was frozen on the spot, not daring to even breathe, while I watched them march down another hallway alone. Where was his buddy?

…Was this even the same guard? Swift something?

Bleh. Probably. Doesn’t matter; I’m already in the thick of it, might as well fuck around and find out. I didn’t have any accurate ways of measurement, but I guessed I was about thirty or so paces behind them—my shadow didn’t hang over them like a dark cloud, and my footfalls were dampened by the obnoxious clopping and clattering of their metal horseshoes.

I didn’t have any way of knowing if this was only going deeper into the belly of the beast, but I was at my wit's end. More foot traffic meant more possibilities of finding a way out or at least down a floor that didn’t end up with me in another dead end or supply closet. I remained cautious, however, and kept myself on a swivel for any surprises.

No one was walking behind me. Plenty of doors to dive into beside me. Clueless guard ahead of me. I breathed in deep. I can do this. Focus.

The guard turned right down another intersection, whistling. I looked both ways twice before following. The guard’s head was somewhere in the clouds, which quickly became a detriment as much as a curse from the almost molasses-like pace he was making. Was this intentional? He couldn’t be this clueless, could he? I’ve seen more professional behavior from the guard AI in Dishonored.

Thirty paces accidentally became fifteen, and I had to resist the rising urge to smash them over the back of their thick, stupid skull with each step.

Thankfully, they led me to somewhere that wasn’t the same hallways copy-pasted over, and I watched them disappear behind a set of heavy doors, which shuttered loudly in the silence that followed.

Trepidation filled me. I inched toward the door, pressing an ear against the solid wooden frame. Nothing. No obnoxious metal shoes clanking against the marble floors or whistling in foreign melodies. It was like they had vanished entirely. I pressed a purple-furred stump against the door and pushed.

Instantly, everything was brighter. The marble floors beneath me shimmered, and the purple and silvers accenting the hallway were washed in deep tones of gold. Stepping forward, the warmth beneath tickling at this body’s hooves felt like walking on solidified sunlight, and I briefly felt at peace with myself.

I breathed. In… and out. The exhaustion bleeding in from the edges of my vision slowly receded. In… and out. Breathe.

The air was crispier, too. Toasty and warm despite the moody weather waiting for me outside—perhaps from some bastardized version of a heating system relying on magic. Castles and old-timey palaces were cold and dreary things in real life if I remember correctly. I… why am I doing this again? Going off on these tangents? Focus.

A brief glimpse at the rooms surrounding me showcased dressers, beds, and fluffy, comfy-looking rugs with possibly unethically sourced materials. Guest quarters? I made sure not to poke my head into any more side doors; I couldn’t afford to get into conversations with the locals.

Sway. Swivel. My ears perked up. Whe—

“Oof!”

“Oh—oh my! My apologies, Ma’am! I didn’t see you there!” The pony’s frilly maid uniform was the first thing that immediately stuck out, almost enough for me to ignore her deep blue eyes that began to flash with recognition.

We stood there like deer caught in headlights. The gears in her brain were turning, but I couldn’t even breathe. She knew. She knew who I was pretending to be. The recognition in her gleaming eyes was too hard to ignore.

“Sorry!” I blurted out, my shoulder brushing against the maid’s firm cotton fabric uniform, not linen. Linen was too stiff for the prolonged duties of the castle staff. In fact… wait, what? I returned from that sudden tangent into reality, noticing the grey-furred maid back up a step while their mouth opened agape.

I stared into her eyes—stared into my own reflection. Blue, purple, and hazel colors swirled and glittered in the maid’s overly expressive anime eyes, only for her mouth to snap shut abruptly. Setting her jaw, she plastered a look of utter indifference on herself and stared.

I stared back, unblinking.

I’m no one important. Just walk far away from me. Please.

Sweat trickled down from my forehead, matting my facial fur. It was the only thing keeping me from being immediately set ablaze, but for how long? The air was becoming viscous and thick, and I found it harder to breathe with each passing second. My gaze drifted up to her forehead. Hornless. She wasn’t the one causing this. How—

I blinked. The maid followed suit.

Without a word, she briskly squeezed past me, disappearing into the utter maze of dusty corridors behind me.

‘A fluke. I… I won’t be so lucky next time.’ I thought, allowing myself to release the breath I was holding. Holy shit. My heart was back to pounding in my chest again as more answers swirled inside my head. What was that? Why the sudden shift in attitude? This body belonged to someone important—a student tutoring under a princess. Bad blood between the commoner staff and them? I wouldn’t be surprised.

Shaking my head, I kept moving, ducking into any empty rooms I could reach whenever I heard the sound of muffled hooves shuffling nearby. Most of them were maids or clothless ponies like me, and none seemed to be in any sort of panic, but I didn’t want to tempt fate. Not when I was this close to getting out of here.

I did run into more maids but kept a wide berth. Thankfully, they, too, kept their distance. There wasn’t any possible way they couldn’t have noticed me, but all of them seemed too entrenched in dusting off every possible surface with feather dusters or changing bedsheets to care. Perhaps, even if they knew who I was, they assumed that I had recovered from the event that landed them in a hospital ward in the first place. Maybe they were even new hires?

I knew they’d gossip about me later, but I was hopeful that I’d be able to escape before any knowledge of me passed down the grapevine.

Regardless, I kept my head held high and kept a relaxed pace. It was risky, but this trick worked more often than not whenever I didn’t feel like paying a bullshit amount of money for a concert ticket. Confidence was always key; she belonged here, even if they acted as my trojan horse.

Another intersection. I slowed. Which way? I was still on the second floor, and I needed—

Roiling thunderclouds clapped from somewhere else. My ears perked up at the noise, twisting and pointing toward a white door nestled inside a tiny alcove to my left. A yellow-painted sun stared back from it, almost beckoning to me.

“What are you doing out of bed at this hour?”

I grinned sheepishly, ducking my head into Clover the Clever’s Treatise on Spatial Convergence. She didn’t see me. She was obviously referring to some other pony up past their bedtime. Not me. Now, where was I? Ah yes. The anchor principle!

A shadow loomed over me, blotting out the candlelight over my fort of knowledge.

“Twilight?”

I looked up. Up, past the towers of precariously piled books and higher, past the slender white forelegs and whiter furry chest to a pair of twinkling mischievous magenta eyes. “I uhhh. I was gonna go—”

“To sleep, my little pony. Right?”

“I… yes, princess! To bed.” I pretended to yawn (even though it felt really good) and blinked. “And nowhere else.”

“Hmmm. I almost feel like I’m having deja vu… unless we didn’t have this exact same conversation yesterday…” Celestia gestured exaggeratedly with her forehoof tapping at her chin in deep contemplation. “Oh, of course! It wasn’t exactly the same conversation! You haven’t insinuated that I’m going senile this time! Silly me!”

“Princess? I—I never would… I mean, you’re older than my great great great grandparents, but—” I gulped. “I—um—just… five more minutes? Pretty please?”

Celestia smiled slyly. “‘Five more minutes’ is what you said last time, too.”

I slowly stood on my hooves, never keeping my eyes off the princess. She hadn’t moved an inch since she started talking, but her prismatic tail was swaying. Wagging, even. She stifled another laugh before leaning down ever so slightly.

“Do I need to revoke your library privileges? Or better yet, should I have Spike enforce a bedtime curfew for you? He can be very persuasive when gems are involved.”

“No! No, no. That won’t be necessary!”

“Then let's get you settled into bed, my little pony.”

“...”

Disappointment flashed across the princess's face suddenly. “Oh, Twilight… and here I thought you truly valued our lessons together!”

“Buwwwh! No! No! I do! I do appreciate our lessons together!” My heart pounded in my chest. What was she saying? Is she going to expel me? Banish me from Canterlot? From Equestria?

“Then why aren’t you asleep now? You know that a tired mind—”

“Makes careless magic,” I finished. “Princess, I haven’t forgotten your lessons, but please let me finish! I’m so close to learning how to cast this spell! I just need to adjust the framework a tiny bit to account for the anchoring principle, and I’ll be teleporting across Canterlot in no time!”

“Oh yes, I’m sure your brother and the guards would love to see a small, frazzled filly appear in front of them suddenly at midnight. Shall I warn them all in advance? Or will you be adding ‘sneaking past security’ to your skill set? Assuming you don’t catch on fire first, that is.”

I tilted my head in confusion. “Wait? What?”

Celestia grinned teasingly. “Did I forget to mention why a good night’s sleep helps young unicorns avoid setting their horns on fire?”

I gasped. “Is that—no, that can’t be a thing! Is it?”

“Only for students who ignore their teacher’s advice and stay up past four in the morning!” Celestia leaned in close and whispered into my ears. “I’ve seen it happen before—eleven times, as a matter of fact. Singed manes everywhere. Very tragic.”

I frowned, narrowing my eyes. “You’re teasing me. Again.” I poked a hoof at her fluffy white chest floof. “That’s not fair, princess. I’m trying to push myself and make you proud, and you’re here acting like I’m… I don’t know… Spike trying to learn how to juggle. Or ride a bike.”

Warmth. Celestia’s wing draped over me like a soft blanket, and I allowed myself to lean into her side. “Twilight, you impress me every day just by being you. You don’t need to learn how to cast advanced spells or reinvent magic theory to earn my love or respect. You’ve always had it.”

My eyes began to sting. “But why? Why can’t you let me prove that I’m worth being your student? You’ve spent so much time teaching me…” I hiccupped. “If I can master one of Clover’s spells, won’t that show you I’m not just some filly who likes to read books all the time?”

“Shhh…” Celestia whispered again. “You are destined for greatness; I knew it from the first moment I saw you. The way you approach everything with such curiosity and heart—that is what makes you special. Not how quickly you can learn a new spell.”

“But I’m supposed to be special, aren’t I? You chose me. I feel… I have to do something big to deserve that, right?”

Celestia’s wing caressed my spine, sending tingles across my back with each small, circular stroke. “My dearest student, do you think my sun is special only because it burns so brightly? No, it’s special because it brings warmth, light, and life to everything it touches, just as you do for me.”

A dull ache settled in my ribs.

That memory left an aftertaste—bitter, familiar, and impossible to swallow. My hoof had been idly tracing a circle around Celestia’s cutie mark plastered on the door, and for a moment, I had been back somewhere else. Somewhere safer. Before any of… this. How long had it been? When was the last time I was nestled safely in her comforting wings? Months? Years?

Was this all still a dream?

My errant doubts and thoughts spun out of control, pinballs trapped in the rusty arcade of my mind. Truthfully, I wanted nothing more than to bury and erase this memory and everything else like it. I didn’t want her memories. I didn’t want to know about her past, or the people she became close to. I didn’t want her attachments.

Something inside me shifted. A stray emotion I couldn’t place. It writhed, fought to break free from elsewhere.

It wasn’t quick enough.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, pushing against the door. “I never asked for any of this.”

I bit my dried lip. Silence. The past remained buried where it belonged. No more memories assaulted me as I finally squeezed into the narrow corridor.

“Thief.”

It wouldn’t do to have a secret passage if all the doors assaulted your eardrums every time they creaked open, which slightly calmed my nerves as my—her memories of this place came flooding back. These passages were meant for essential staff to quickly navigate the castle without prying eyes, and I was now one of them, if only by proxy.

Candlelight gleamed down the small passage, and I immediately knew to take a right at the third door—it would take me past the royal court and into the library. Finding a way to avoid more prying eyes closer to the exit would still be a challenge, but I didn’t need to leave through the front gates and stumble into the waiting hooves of Celestia’s tin horsies. Not when I knew where the other exits were.

The warm, mellow scent of aging paper and ink filled my lungs, followed by hints of dust. Shelves upon shelves of books lined nearly every surface, and I had to fight the urge to lose myself on another reading spree. Sure, I’ve seen comparable libraries back on Earth, but still. How much history was hidden on these shelves? Reading novels written by a completely different species was downright tantalizing despite everything.

But I’ve read them all, haven’t I?

I allowed myself to breathe, taking in the nostalgia while a spark of wonder flooded into my veins. She had spent years here burning daylight, stuffing her head into every new book that got placed on these shelves—

“No. Focus. Focus,” I whispered in my stolen voice, quietly going down a side aisle before poking my head out from the shelf.

White and pink mane. Greyish fur.

My eyes narrowed.

Dusty Pages.

The words floated inside my head innocuously at first, but Twilight’s eyes immediately lit up in recognition.

I stumbled forward. My legs spasmed from a phantom sensation. Not pain, but a gentle nudge from a breezy afternoon. Too late. Too late. My hooves tapped out a staccato rhythm, slicing apart the paper-thin silence of the empty library.

A pair of yellow eyes fell upon me. There wasn’t a chance in hell I could shimmy my way past the old mare’s owlish gaze and pretend this didn’t happen. She knew her. She. Knew.

In. Out. Breathe. This isn’t an interview; just act natural.Be normal. Whatever the hell that means.
“Do my eyes deceive me? Twilight Sparkle?” The mare called out from behind her desk in shock. Panopticon seemed like a far more befitting description, as her spot was strategically placed to seemingly see into nearly every aisle in the whole damn library. Christ, I had been royally fucked the moment I waltzed into this spiderweb!

“It’s good to see you too, Dusty.” I plastered a smile on my face, which wilted as I took a good look at the desiccated mummy manning the counter. “Err… sorry to bother you, is now not a good time?”

“No! No, dearie! You just startled me, is all! Come on over and let me get a good look at you!” Dusty replied, and I nodded, hoofing it over to her desk. “Tsk. Tsk. I should be asking you the same question! How did you convince the princess to let you out of her sight looking like that?”

“Look like what? Did my hair get all tangled again?” A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead. It was a tightrope exercise trying to keep my smile looking normal, let alone bullshit my way out of this conversation without having any clue who they were beyond someone else’s memories. Too much, and I’d only need an axe to nail the look of Jack Nickleson’s character in The Shining.

“Twilight, you look like you crawled out of an emergency room and took the IV with you! I can still see the stitches poking out of your stomach, for Celestia’s sake!”

I tiled my gaze down, then my entire head to… yep. Stitches. I was honestly surprised I didn’t notice this sooner, but I also never bothered to contort myself into a boneless clump of playdough to look at my assets. Ignorance is bliss—err, was.

…

I need to submerge myself in ten gallons of bleach.

Dusty sneezed, and I looked back up.

Her golden eyes had trailed off into a thousand-yard stare. Dusty blinked, finally noticing my gaze. Hazel, then yellow and owlish once more. “You didn’t… did you? I know she’s been hush-hush about everything that’s happened to you, but your brother was still acting all dark and broody this morning, and we both know how he wears his heart on his hooves.”

I bit my lip. “Not too long ago, honestly. The princess is keeping everything all hush-hush until I get back on my f—hooves. Thankfully, that was surprisingly quick—”

“Quick? Dearie, I haven’t seen you in two months, and the last time I asked, you were still stuck in a coma.”

“Was it really that long?” The words escaped my lips before I could even whip up a proper response.

“Did nopony tell you? Surely the princess would have…” Dusty paused. There was a war happening behind the scenes in her expression, and I didn’t need a master’s degree in horse body language to understand that the mare felt conflicted in the matter. Suspicious. Empathetic. I could see my exhausted reflection in her massive dinner plates for eyes. She sighed. “Twilight, you really should head back. I know you’d rather gnaw off all your legs than spend another week cooped up in a hospital room, but we both know what’ll happen if Celestia or Shining finds out you snuck off.”

“I can’t. Not yet. Please,” My right forehoof bounced against the floor—a physical tic I apparently shared with Twilight here from the butterflies inside my chest. An idea floated to the forefront of my mind, and I snatched it up and spat it out. “I can’t stand it anymore! My mom is less overbearing and fussy than the princess, and that was before this all started! I can’t even cough without Celestia hovering over me and thinking I’ll fall apart at the seams!”

My frustrations had bled into my performance, which was not something I had planned or intended, but it felt right. Twilight definitely had some unaired grievances with her royal fluffiness it seemed.

“An hour of peace and quiet is all I ask, Dusty,” I pleaded earnestly, dialing back my anger. “I know it’s a tall order, but I’m begging you for this one favor.”

Silence. Dusty Pages stared at me, hoof resting on her chin. Tap. Tap. Tap. Her poker face was honestly remarkable, or Twilight was autistic and completely unable to read pony facial expressions. Knowing my luck, it was both.

“Twilight… I’m not trying to be unreasonable here, but you shouldn’t wander off now. You need rest, and—”

“I can rest anywhere else just fine!” I retorted. “And besides, if I wasn’t already recovered enough, wouldn’t I be bleeding out all over your floors right now, assuming that I wouldn’t have passed out from walking halfway across the castle just to get here?”

“Perhaps… but you could just as easily slip back into one if you’re not careful. Or worse.”

“The doc said I’m fine,” I lied. “Scanned my brain and all that, even had some stuffed cabbage rolls right after.” My face twisted at the mere thought of whatever vile monstrosity a pony hospital cafeteria could dream up.

“My deepest condolences.”

“...Thanks.”

“Are you sure you're okay? Can you tell me with one hundred percent certainty that you won’t keel over and die within the next hour?”

“Tell you what, granny, if I go first, I’ll save you a nice seat. Let’s not pretend you wouldn’t be right behind me, though.” I grinned as she barked out a laugh, shaking her head.

“Silly little filly… heh, one hour,” Dusty hesitated. “Grab a book or two and get comfortable, and I’ll let you loan them out once Her Highness gets a hold of ya.”

I shook my head and smiled in relief. “She’ll send you to the dungeons or worse if she finds out about this. I’m gonna head to the gardens instead and grab some fresh air, alright? It’ll be better for both of us this way.”

A quiet ‘mmm-hmmm’ rattled from her ancient lungs. “Make sure you don’t flap your gums when she drags you back to the hospital ward in chains then, dearie! I don’t plan on getting an early retirement anytime soon!”

“You don’t have to worry about me, Dusty,” I replied overenthusiastically. “My lips are sealed!”

“Then you better hoof it; the clock’s ticking!”

I was already on my way to the opposite side of the library when I took one last glance behind me. Dusty waved back, smiling as her owlish hazel eyes stared a hole into the exit I was squeezing into. I nodded absentmindedly.

Out of her sight in the hallway, I took a brief glimpse at my wound. Circular, almost like someone had drilled a hole into Twilight’s stomach or stabbed it through with a thick metal pipe. I had zero clue where the wound was in relation to the average pony’s heart or other organs, but considering I wasn’t puppeting a corpse…

Why didn’t Dusty accost me more about this? How did I squeak past anyone at all while parading this wound like a badge of honor? Did no one but her notice? I should have known sooner, but there weren’t any phantom pains or sensations from the scar. It was almost as if it wasn't there at all to begin with.

A prickling heat crawled up the back of my neck as I crept my way to the gardens. Now wasn’t the time for this, not when Celestia could come calling at any minute.