Chapter 11

The Price of Freedom

Meanwhile-

"There you are," Ace said. "I've been looking for you."

Piro didn't look up from the long piece of parchment in front of him as Ace approached. He was sitting on a pillow on the balcony of the second story house they and the other guards were staying in.

"Congratulations, you found me. What do you want?"

Ace stopped short. He bent his knees forward one by one and rolled his neck. "I'm feeling kinda antsy. Wanna do a little swordplay?"

Piro snorted. "You must be desperate if you're asking me. Where would we even do it?"

Ace jerked his head behind him. "In the backyard. We just throw up an Illusion and Silencing spell. I normally do a few rounds with Elo or Grovi, but they're out right now with their Bearer."

Piro jotted something down on the parchment, his eyes not straying from his work. "I think I'll pass; I'm not in the mood for bruises."

"Oh come on," Ace said with a smirk. "I promise to go easy on you! I'll just give you some pointers."

Piro groaned at the terrible pun. "Let me know if you want to have a spellcasting spar instead."

Yeah right, I'm not gonna spend the rest of the night smelling like burnt hair. Ace walked to the edge of the balcony and looked below. The town was alive with the comings and goings of ponies as they returned to their homes from work and various errands. An earth pony family of four walked by, the parents with bulging grocery bags on their backs. Their two foals, a filly and a colt, giggled and as they chased each other in circles. Across the street, a unicorn mare pushed a stroller. Ace could just make out a shock of dark blue against the white blankets as the newborn squirmed.

"I gotta do something." He tapped a hoof against the railing. "I hate sitting around in this peaceful, dull little town. I wanna be out somewhere, doing something. Just sitting around here and waiting for the Bearers to recover..." He turned to Piro and shook his head. "It's like waiting to die."

Piro stopped his writing. He set his quill down and met Ace's eyes with a hawk-like stare. "Interesting choice of words."

A pit formed in Ace's stomach. There goes the hoof in the mouth. Why did I—okay, calm down, maybe I can still get out of this.Ace shook his head and waved a hoof. "I didn't mean it like that."

Piro raised an eyebrow, but spoke in a neutral tone. "Do you agree with Blair?"

Horseapples. I know I said I wanted a workout, but this wasn't quite what I had in mind. Ace shrugged. "Why wouldn't I? It matches up with what Celestia told us."

"Still not thinking for yourself, I see." Piro rolled up his parchment, his eyes still not leaving Ace's. "Come on. We hunger, thirst, can feel pain, sleep, think, and feel emotion. We have all the things that real ponies have. With all of that, you still really think we're not real?"

Ace gave a loud, forced laugh. He straightened to his full height and looked down at Piro. "I know you don't."

"I haven't exactly kept my opinion a secret," Piro said calmly. "But you, like the others, have been silent. I want to know what you think."

Ace cocked his head. "Why are you asking me this now?"

"Because I know you agree with me." Piro leaned forward and spoke forcefully. "You just don't want to admit it. Cancer never gave up on anything he believed in, and he valued life above else. You're going to tell me you don't have those morals, as well as those memories?"

You just had to go and bring him up, didn't you? I don't know what you're looking for, Piro. It's not that I'm giving up. I just don't know what to believe anymore. Ace sighed. His horn glowed, and a pillow similar to Piro's hovered over. He lay down upon it and met his eyes. "I know about your fights with Blair. And I even know you went to Princess Celestia. She couldn't change your mind either, apparently. If you believe this strongly about it, I can't help but think that you might see something they don't."

Piro rubbed his lips back and forth, scratching his cheek as he looked at the ground. "For starters," he said slowly, "the arguments with Blair and the one with Celestia weren't over the same thing."

Ace frowned. "They weren't? But then—"

Piro cleared his throat. "I'll start with Blair. As a little background, life is defined as the capacity to do one of three things: feel, think, or interact with the world. Our ability to feel and interact comes from Horizon. On this, we all agree.

"We also agree that we'd cease to exist if we were ever separated from Horizon." Piro traced a groove in the balcony with his quill. "However, I argue that upon said separation, we'd still exist for a short time. In that instant, we'd still be capable of thought, and thereby continue to meet the standards of life. Blair disagrees; he thinks we'd be instantly destroyed. As there's no desirable way to test this, we've agreed to disagree."

Piro crossed his hooves and curled his lip. "The argument I had with Celestia was about whether we're self-aware. To put it simply, I said that the fact I was even capable of having such a discussion with her was proof that we are. She disagreed, saying that everything we are in terms of personality and memories comes from our predecessors. And since we aren't them, we can't be self-aware. Both of us felt that the other was arguing over semantics, so we also agreed to disagree."

Ace wrinkled his brow. "Celestia thinks we're not self-aware?"

Piro gave a half-smirk. "Not easy to hear, isn't it?"

"Then what about Horizon?" Ace asked. "What does she think of him?"

"I believe her most sincere words were, 'a victim of unfortunate circumstance,'" Piro said dryly. "It's ironic. He's a vegetable who can only think on the most basic of levels, and yet we all agree he's alive. The twelve of us are undoubtedly capable of more than that, so how are we not?"

"Because we're not made of flesh and blood," Ace pointed out. "Horizon is."

"What is 'flesh and blood?'" Piro pointed to an ancient elm just down the road. "The bark of a tree is the flesh, the sap is the blood. These are not the things a pony is made of, and yet we say they are both alive. Do you define life differently? Are there varying degrees, depending on the context? If so, do we fall into one of those categories?"

How does Blair put up a fight against a verbal onslaught like this? Ace leaned away as the pit in his stomach began to tighten. "I didn't realize you had given it this much thought."

Piro cracked his neck. "Scorpio spent a great deal of time researching this topic. It's the equivalent of somepony coming up to you and arguing over the definition of art."

Ace laughed. "When you put it that way…" His attention was drawn to the overlong parchment at Piro's side. His expression grew solemn. "Are you still going over your plan?"

Piro glanced down at the parchment. "There are a lot of things to consider, so it's still a working progress."

"This is only a last resort, right?" Ace rubbed the back of his neck. "You're not actually going to, I mean, the last time—"

"I just said there are a lot of things to consider," Piro snapped. "Whether or not the Bearers recover in time happens to be one of them."

"Sorry," Ace said. "It's just that, well… what you're proposing, somepony could get hurt."

"I'm aware of the risks." Piro magically unrolled the parchment and looked over his writings. "But it's still better than the alternative."

Ace played with a frayed edge of his pillow. "Have you told Blair about this?"

Piro gave him a condescending look. "What do you think?"

Okay, stupid question. But still, if we approach him the right way, he might listen.Ace looked up through his eyelashes. "Can you at least try to gauge his reaction? I really don't wanna go behind his back."

Piro frowned. "If I thought he'd be receptive to the idea, I wouldn't be keeping him in the dark. You forget that I know him very well."

Not exactly the best way to treat your colthood friend. Whatever, it's not my place to judge.Ace got up and put his pillow away."Can you just try?"

"You're not going to let up on this, are you?" Piro hung his head. "It'll be a waste of time, but fine. I'll see what he thinks."

The pit began to loosen and fade. Ace gave a sigh of relief. "What'll you do if he agrees?"

Piro rolled his eyes. "Don't get ahead of yourself."

( * * * )

"Honestly, can't you sit still and let me talk for five minutes?"

Rarity and Sweetie Belle made their way from Applejack's stand, maneuvering through the crowd as they headed back to Carousel Boutique. Rarity glared at Sweetie as they approached the end of the street and waited for a wagon to pass.

"But I'm hungry," Sweetie whined, "and we've been running errands all afternoon."

She's hungry again? Rarity shook her head. "We've only been out for a few hours, and if I didn't have to constantly make sure you weren't causing a mess, we would've been done by now."

Sweetie stuck out her tongue. "Maybe if you weren't such a chatterbox, I wouldn't get so bored!"

"Sweetie!" Rarity said. "That's not how you talk to your big sister!"

Sweetie stuck her chin in the air and huffed.

Rarity was about to continue, but the admonishment died in her throat. She recognized her sister's gesture as one she often did herself. Rarity put a hoof to her mouth as she suppressed a snicker.

Sweetie heard the sound and looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. "What?"

"Nothing," Rarity said as she fought to keep a straight face. "Nothing at all."

Rarity checked her earrings as the two continued back to the dress shop. Both Elo and Grovi were keeping pace behind her just in eyeshot, meandering here and there to make their shadowing inconspicuous. She had fallen into the habit of checking their locations every ten minutes or so while she was out, and now found herself feeling an odd sense of comfort knowing that they were there.

I didn't think I would actually start to appreciate them like this. It's not like anything's going to happen, but still. Pity the spell only works for the pony who casts it; I bet Applejack would love something like this. Although I doubt earrings would be very practical out in the fields. She'd probably prefer something like a choker or a neckl—

The train of thought got caught on a loose end she'd been meaning to tie up.

"Sweetie, stop a moment."

Sweetie Belle looked up curiously at her. "What's wrong?"

Rarity turned and scanned the crowd, searching for a grey stallion. "I need to speak with one of my guards."

Sweetie groaned. "I'm never gonna get my coleslaw."

Rarity concentrated on her right earring and found Grovi's location. He was some twenty paces behind, standing by a carrot stand. She trotted over to him.

Grovi was standing in line as Rarity approached. He pretended not to notice until she cleared her throat.

He slowly turned to her with a feigned blank expression. "Yes?"

Rarity leaned in and whispered in his ear. "How's my necklace coming along?"

She heard his breath catch in his chest. He swallowed and replied in an undertone. "Sorry about that. I got a little ambitious with what I wanted to do, and it wound up taking longer than I thought."

He said it'd only take him a few days! What in the world is he—oh, like you're one to talk. How many all-nighters have you pulled trying to meet your deadlines because you made promises you didn't know you could keep? He may be a professional, but he did say he hadn't worked with platinum in a while. Be happy he's volunteering to help you at all. Rarity relaxed."There's no rush, dear. I just wanted to know how it was going."

He paused for a moment. "I can have it done by tonight if you want."

Rarity nodded. "Only if you don't have to push yourself."

"I was almost done anyway," Grovi said. "I have a tendency to fuss over finishing touches."

You're not alone on that one. Rarity hid a smile. "Could you drop it off then after six? I haven't told my parents about you or Elo, and I'd rather not deal with that tonight."

Grovi stepped away and gave a slight nod. Rarity returned the gesture, but then jerked from a sharp poke on one of her back legs. She turned to see Sweetie standing behind her, head lowered and looking mutinous.

I suppose I should tend to the little vacuum. Rarity rubbed her eyes and gestured towards home. "Come on."

Rarity and Sweetie Belle returned to Carousel Boutique and made dinner, which was the promised apple coleslaw along with hay dumplings. Rarity had by now gotten used to the the sight of something half her size eating twice as much as her, only being struck by the occasional pang of jealousy as she watched her sister inhale her food. Enjoy it while you can. Soon you'll be fretting over dress sizes and wondering which color makes you look the slimmest.

The two cleaned up and settled down in the living room for the remaining hours until their parents came. Sweetie had settled on the floor with a coloring book, and Rarity was on her favorite couch with the latest edition of Glamare Magazine. She flipped to the sneak peeks of the fall lineups and gave a silent exultation. Score another one for Rarity, dark colors are in! I had a feeling they would be, what with the return of Princess Luna and all. It's surprising there haven't been more lines with a nighttime theme in the past few decades. You'd think that ponies would be more attracted to the mystical when trying to find inspira—

Rarity's was disturbed by a frustrated grunt. She looked over the top of her magazine at Sweetie Belle, who was staring cross-eyed at a blue crayon. Her lips were pursed as she held her breath.

Rarity chuckled. "You don't need to strain yourself yet. I couldn't use telekinesis until I was ten, and even then I couldn't move anything heavier than a thimble until my magical growth spurt."

"I still... wanna… try!" Sweetie said. Beads of sweat began to form on her brow. The crayon remained defiantly still.

Rarity put down her magazine and watched her. "Did Mother tell you how to do it?"

Sweetie released her breath and panted, rubbing her developing horn. "She said to look in my head for a spot that feels like a pool, and to pull from it like sucking out of a straw."

That's what she told me, too. It's as good a way to describe it as any. Rarity nodded. "What else did she tell you?"

Sweetie rolled onto her back and stretched her legs. "She said to tell her right away if I do anything because I could hurt myself."

That's it? Mother must not think she'll actually do anything yet. Should I tell her more? I don't want to frighten her, but she needs to know this sooner or later, and it's for her own safety more than anything else. Rarity focused on a notebook on a stand beside her, and the blue crayon. They both became encased in her aura and landed on the floor in front of Sweetie.

Sweetie craned her neck. "What'cha doing?"

"I'm going to show you something," Rarity said. She willed the notebook to open and drew a 'U' shape on a blank page.

"Unicorn magic comes from the ability to store energy in our bodies and focus it through our horns to cast spells," Rarity said. "The place where we store that energy is called our magical font. Where it is in your body feels different for every unicorn. Mine has always felt like its right about here." She pointed to a spot right above her horn, then looked at Sweetie. "Do you know where yours is?"

Sweetie rolled back onto her stomach. She raised her eyes and lips to the ceiling for a moment, then pointed right in the center of her forehead.

"Good," Rarity said. She continued to draw on the page, drawing a dotted line in the halfway point of the 'U'. "When you use your magic, your body has ways of letting you know how much you have left. When you've up half the energy in your font, it's called Magical Fatigue. It feels like a faint pressure building up behind your eyes that turns into a headache the more magic you do."

Sweetie stared at the picture, then turned to Rarity with scrunched eyebrows. "Is that why you're always rubbing your head?"

The crayon jerked, almost ruining the picture she had drawn. Rarity turned away from Sweetie's curious eyes. She's getting as shrewd as Mother. Oh well, it's not like I was trying to hide it from her; I just didn't think she'd understand. Not like I can deny it now, anyways.

Rarity sighed."Yes, it is. My font never gets fully recharged. I can't even remember the last time it was above halfway."

Sweetie cocked her head. "Isn't that bad?"

"Not necessarily. It just means I have to be careful."

"But you just said it make you feel worse the more you use your magic!" Sweetie pointed at the notebook. "What happens if you use it all?"

Rarity drew another dotted line near the bottom of the 'U'. "There's something else that happens before that. When you've used almost all of your magic, the symptoms of Magical Fatigue get much, much worse. The headaches turn into migraines, you become sensitive to light and noise, it's hard to concentrate and focus your eyes, and you can even get nosebleeds. We call this the Danger Zone. It's your body's way of telling you to stop using magic."

Sweetie shuffled as her sister spoke. "I-if it gets that bad and you haven't even run out of magic, w-what happens when you do?"

Rarity took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose. She drew a final line at the very bottom of the 'U'. "That's called Magical Exhaustion. Like I said, unicorn magic works by using the energy stored in your font. But when your font is empty, the energy will come from the rest of your body instead."

Sweetie stared wide eyed at Rarity.

"The energy that fuels our bodies is called our lifeforce," Rarity said in a firm tone. "And as you might expect, we need it to live. But in the worst kinds of emergencies, you can use it to fuel a desperate spell… as long as you don't use it all."

Sweetie's chin was trembling. "W—What happens if you do?

Rarity grimly stared at her sister. "You die."

Sweetie flinched. "You can d—die from using too much magic?!"

"Yes," Rarity said. "That's why it's so important that you know about it."

Sweetie was staring at the floor, rubbing one of her forehooves and shivering.

Rarity patted the side of the couch. "Come here."

Sweetie obeyed, hopping up and sitting next to her.

Rarity summoned a brush from the end-table and began to brush Sweetie's mane. "I'm not trying to scare you, dear. I suspect Mother was going to tell you this when you first managed to do magic, but I'd rather you know now just in case you're at school or something and get curious."

"I don't wanna do magic anymore," Sweetie mumbled.

Rarity laughed. "I'm pretty sure every unicorn thinks that at least once in their life. But magic is a part of who we are. There will always be a part of you that will want to use it; like an itch you just have to scratch."

Sweetie rested her head on her hooves. "I didn't know it was so dangerous."

"Only if you don't know what you're doing," Rarity corrected. "The more you know, the less chance you have of hurting yourself."

"Is there anything else I should know, then?" Sweetie asked.

Rarity paused a moment, taking a moment to rub her temples. "There are three things you need to know to avoid Magical Exhaustion: how big your font is, how much energy is currently in it, and how much energy it takes to cast the spells you want.

"Your font is like a muscle. It gets stronger and deeper the more you use it, but only if you let it recover. If you never give it the chance, it stays about the same." Rarity closed her eyes and beheld her own font, which stretched out before her like scintillating, cerulean pond. "Mine has been the same size ever since I started the shop."

Sweetie turned to look up at her sister. As she did, Rarity accidentally brushed part of her mane into her face. She lowered her eyelids and blew it out of the way. "You use magic all the time, though."

"I know," Rarity said with a wince, "but your font only gets recharged from a full night's sleep. I don't know how many nights it would take for me with the sleep I get. That's actually worked out though, because now I know how exactly big my font is, and how much magic I can have at most. It's normally very difficult to figure that out, since your levels change so much.

"So once you've learned the size of your font, you can figure out where you'll hit Magical Fatigue, the Danger Zone, and Magical Exhaustion. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah…" Sweetie said.

"When you've figured those things out, all you need to know is how much magic it takes to cast your spells." Rarity looked towards the living room door. "That's the hardest to find out though, because some spells are easier to cast than others, and it varies from pony to pony."

"Why's that?"

"Lots of reasons," Rarity said. "The big ones are your special talent, and your natural preference to one of the schools of magic."

"Ooh, ooh!" Sweetie Belle perked up. "We're learning about those in school right now!"

They start this early now with magical education? What's the point in that? I'll bet not even half of the unicorns in her class can use magic yet. Rarity nodded. "Can you name them all?"

Sweetie squinted and thought for a moment. "We only just started talking about them this week, and they're all really big words. Enchantment, Illusion, um… and the rest end in -ation."

Rarity laughed. "Iced tea."

Sweetie blinked. "What?"

Rarity rattled off the old anagram. "Illusion, Conjuration, Enchantment, Divination, Transmutation, Evocation, and Abjuration. You'll never forget with that one."

Sweetie's eyes went wide. "That's so cool! I'm gonna use that!"

"Feel free," Rarity said with a smile. "Getting back on topic though, talent with Divination spells runs in the family. There's a good chance you'll follow suit."

"That sounds fun!" Sweetie said. "So you only cast Divination spells?"

Rarity shook her head. "I can cast simple spells from all the schools. It just takes me less effort to do intermediate Divination spells. I'm very careful about it though, especially when I'm trying something new. You've seen the spellbook I keep, right?"

Sweetie stiffened and looked away. "I haven't looked in it!"

Rarity stopped brushing her sister's mane and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Sweetie?"

"Okay, I took a teensy-weensy peek," Sweetie said," but was all a bunch of weird words and numbers I didn't understand. I got bored and put it back."

Note to self- keep personal items out of Inspiration Room when Sweetie is here.Rarity frowned. "I would've shown it to you if you'd just asked."

Sweetie's ears drooped. "Sorry."

Rarity sighed and resumed her brushing. "I keep detailed notes on all the spells I know in there. What it feels like to cast them, how much energy they take, that sort of thing. I also have written down what my symptoms are like when I'm getting close to the Danger Zone. If I ever start to experience those, I don't cast any more spells for the day.

"So you see? There's nothing to be afraid of about magic if you're careful." Rarity put the brush away and admired her handiwork. "All you need to know is what the rules are. As long as you follow them, you'll be safe."

"I guess..." Sweetie rubbed her horn. As she did, a tiny spark shot out and landed on her hoof.

"Ah!" She jerked and leaped off the couch.

"Sweetie!" Rarity rushed over to her. "Are you okay?"

Sweetie vigorously shook her hoof. "It felt like I got shocked!"

Rarity's heart skipped a beat at the sight of the tiny black mark. "You did it, Sweetie! You just did magic!"

"What?" She stared the blemish. "That was it?"

Rarity took Sweetie's hoof and examined it. "What did you expect, darling? A giant fireball, or perhaps something similarly spectacular?"

"No, but," Sweetie looked at her hoof. "I thought it would be more than that."

"Don't sell yourself short. Like I said, I couldn't do any magic at all when I was your age." Rarity stepped away, relieved that no lasting harm was done. She went back to the couch and returned to her magazine. "If you're not satisfied with that, keep working on your telekinesis."

Sweetie perked up. "Maybe I can do it now!" She went back over to the crayon and resumed staring at it.

Twenty minutes later though, the crayon hadn't moved, and Sweetie was panting like she'd been running a marathon. Rarity was very interested to see if Sweetie could do more, but she wasn't about to let her knock herself out in the process.

She put her magazine down as Sweetie stumbled and almost tripped over her own hooves. "That's enough, dear. You took a very big step today. You'll get it eventually."

Sweetie hesitated, then gave a tired nod. She gave the crayon one final hate-filled glare before putting it away. She turned to Rarity and the magazine beside her.

"You're always looking at those," Sweetie said. "Do you have a lot of them?"

Rarity hovered the magazine over to Sweetie. Inside were pictures of mares wearing all kinds of glamorous dresses, hats, scarves, and shoes. "I have subscriptions to several fashion magazines," Rarity said. "I have to keep in touch with the goings on of the fashion world outside of little old Ponyville, after all."

Sweetie looked at the magazine for a few moments, shuffling back and forth. "I was wondering, could you show me some of them?"

"What for?"

Sweetie played with a lock of her mane. "I wanna be a fashionista like you when I grow up."

Rarity gave a small gasp as giddy euphoria hit her like a tingling wave. "Oh Sweetie, of course! I'd love to show you! I keep them all in the bookshelf in my room. Let's go!"

Rarity led Sweetie upstairs to her room, ushering her over to a bookshelf on the wall. On the two middle shelves was an impressive collection of fashion magazines. Rarity started pulling down a few choice selections and went through them one by one.

"Now, which one would you like to see? I have Cosmarepolitan, and this one is Alluring. Oh, and this one is marvelous, it's called IntoStyle, and they just finished their fall lineup—"

"What's that?"

Sweetie was pointing up at the copy of Advanced Abjuration Application.

A slow smile formed on Rarity's lips as she followed her sister's gaze. "Twilight gave that to me. Do you remember her? She's the lavender unicorn that stopped by a while ago."

Sweetie nodded. "She's pretty."

She'd be even more so if she styled her mane like I've been telling her to. Rarity pulled the giant book down for Sweetie to see. "Twilight was a little... socially awkward when she first moved here, and didn't know about my tastes. Fortunately, we've gotten to know each other better since then."

Sweetie heaved open the massive spellbook to a random page. It was filled with arcane terminology and complex diagrams. The text was tiny and written in Old Equestrian Grammar.

Rarity laughed as she watched Sweetie curl her lip. "Pretty dry, isn't it? I don't even know if I can cast any of the spells in there. I haven't opened it since she gave it to me."

"Why do you keep it?" Sweetie asked.

"Because it was a gift." Rarity closed the book and put it back on the top shelf. She walked over to her bed with an assortment of magazines. "I may not have a use for it, but Twilight meant well, and that's all that matters. Now, let's start with Glamare. They just released their fall lineup, and I can use it to teach you about the fashion seasons."

Sweetie climbed up on Rarity's bed. She flipped through the magazine, listening to Rarity explain what she was looking at.

"There are four main fashion seasons, but designers start making lineups for the upcoming season, so we're always ahead. Fashionistas right now are releasing their fall lineups, which means that they've been working on them all summer, if not earlier."

"Mmhmm," Sweetie said.

"The way we decide what to base our designs on is a process called fashion forecasting," Rarity said. "We look at everything from current events, designs from previous years, the current styles that are preferred, and try to predict what will be the next big thing that will grab everypony's attention. I was actually right for this season, as I had a feeling dark colors would be in…"

Sweetie yawned as the exertion from her attempts at using magic caught up with her. She tried to pay attention to what Rarity was saying, but the combination of a soothing voice and lying on a soft, cushy bed was a recipe for the inevitable. Sweetie leaned her head against Rarity's side, making out the slow, steady thumping of a heartbeat. Her eyelids began to droop.

Rarity held up a different magazine. "This one is Chevogue. It focuses on fashion lines for teenage mares. I used to draw a lot of inspiration from this one, although not so much anymore, since I'm more interested in dressmaking and less so about casual wear. The only dresses they show in this one are for things like prom and gradu—"

Rarity was interrupted by a gentle snoring. She stopped and looked down at Sweetie, whose eyes were closed and lips were slightly parted.

Oh, you little show off. Rarity rolled her eyes with a wistful smile and put the old magazines shifted slightly so that Sweetie was more comfortably leaning against her, reopened her new magazine, and resumed her reading. Sweetie snuggled closer and fell deeper into peaceful slumber.

( * * * )

An hour later, Rarity heard the jingling of the entrance bell. Not wanting to disturb Sweetie, she sat and waited, knowing the newcomers would come to her. A few minutes later, the shadows of two ponies appeared down the hall. She magically widened her bedroom door to alert them of her presence.

Rarity's parents, Garden Wishes and Blitz, poked their heads inside. Rarity quickly put a hoof to her lips, tilting her head at Sweetie.

Her parents gave affectionate smiles at the sight of the two of them. Rarity's father walked up and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Heya, kiddo," he whispered. "Did she wear you out?"

She returned the gesture. "Hello, Father. She wore herself out this time."

Blitz wrinkled his brow. "That's a first. How'd she manage that?"

"She was trying telekinesis for about a half-hour."

He looked down at Sweetie. "Did she get it?"

Rarity shook her head. "She did manage to make a spark, though."

"Really?!" Blitz said in a loud voice. Sweetie twitched and muttered something in her sleep.

Rarity shushed him with a reproachful glare. She nodded at Sweetie's right forehoof, where there was still a small black mark.

Blitz broke into a huge grin. "That's my girl." He picked up Sweetie in his magic and set her on his back. She hummed and grabbed onto his mane, scrunching it up like a pillow.

Garden Wishes walked over and planted a gentle kiss on Sweetie's forehead. She then leaned over to Blitz's ear and muttered something Rarity couldn't hear.

Blitz looked at his wife for a moment, but gave a slight nod. "Sure, hon." He turned back to Rarity and gave her a quick hug. "I'll see you next week, okay?"

Already? He usually stays at least a few minutes to chat. Unless… Rarity cast a sidelong glance at her mother. She was wearing a familiar set of black saddlebags. "Oh, sure," Rarity said.

Blitz walked out of Rarity's room with Sweetie, and the door swung closed in a pearl aura. Garden Wishes walked forward, pulling a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff out of her bags.

"When was your last episode?" she asked.

An empty feeling formed in Rarity's stomach. I knew it. So running me through the wringer every week isn't enough for you anymore, eh? Are you going to move your entire sleep study lab into the shop next?! I have to be careful here, or she'll ask to see my sleep journal. Rarity sighed and got to her hooves, well familiar with the routine she was about to undergo. "A few nights ago."

Her mother looked her over with a critical eye. "Same symptoms?"

"As always."

Garden Wishes began to check her daughter's vitals. "Are you recording the hours you sleep?"

"I keep forgetting to," Rarity lied. "I just take the pills when it happens and go back to bed."

Garden Wishes clucked her tongue. "If you would just take them when you first lie down—"

"It doesn't happen every night," Rarity insisted. "And I nee—"

"Yes, yes, your dresses." Garden Wishes pulled out a new instrument. It was comprised of a small rubber handle with two metal clamps on each side. A meter was set just above the handle. "But how well can you act on those inspirations if your magic doesn't get recharged?"

Seriously, Mother? An Arcanometer? She winced as her mother placed the instrument on her horn. The clamps tightly grasped the keratin and began to hum."I know my limits," Rarity snapped. "I've known them for years."

Garden Wishes gave a harsh laugh. "That's impossible. The levels where you reach Magical Fatigue and Exhaustion are constantly in flux, depending on how much you exert yourself."

"My font has been at fifty Hornpower since I started the shop," Rarity said simply. "Believe me; I've kept a very close eye on it."

Garden Wishes watched the instrument as it measured the current level of Rarity's font. The humming ceased and the meter stopped between fifteen and twenty. She looked up at her daughter. "That's not normal. It would mean that your insomnia is affecting your font in a way we haven't seen. I should do a Cornuoscopy to—"

"No." Rarity stepped back and took off the instrument. "I know what I'm doing. You can trust me, you know."

Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Can I?"

Rarity's temper began to fray. "I've been taking care of myself and Sweetie for years, on top of running my own business. What more do you want?"

Garden Wishes put her instruments back in her bag. "For you to stop running yourself into the ground."

I need to end this quickly before I slip up. Rarity rubbed her forehead. "Look, I admit I've been slipping lately on taking the medicine, but I promise I'll start taking it more often, all right?"

"You should be taking it every night."

"It's like slipping into a coma!" Rarity protested. "I can't remember a thing from my dreams afterwards! How can you expect me to do that when I've gotten two dozen orders for the one I made last week alone!"

"I don't care if they're your bread and butter," Garden Wishes said. Her voice softened. "You're hurting yourself by doing this."

"It's what I have to do." Rarity straightened and held up her chin. "All great artists have had to suffer for their craft. I am no exception."

Her mother's eyes hardened. "Enough with the dramatics. I taught you how to act like a Lady, but that doesn't affect how you treat your family."

And what kind of Lady are you?! Using your eight-year old daughter as a pawn in your little game to spy on me! You're not following your own rules anymore, why should I?!Rarity narrowed her eyes. "You're right. It doesn't."

A moment of awkward silence passed as the two stared at each other. Garden Wishes cleared her throat. "We've both had a long day. I think I should go."

Rarity gave a stiff nod. "That's probably best."

Garden Wishes raised a hoof and took a step forward, but then reconsidered. She backed away, holding her daughter's gaze with an odd, pained look. "Take your pills," she said as she walked out the door. "I'll see you next week."

( * * * )

Rarity stood an hour later in the Inspiration Room, staring at the beautiful dream dress she had finished a few days prior. The color shifted in waves from deep blue to a faint violet, flowing from the neck to the hem. It was saturated with glittering, multicolored crushed gemstones that sparkled in the light, and the hem was made of translucent, molded silver. The orders that'd been placed already would be enough to sustain her for three months. And while she wasn't hurting for bits, that money would help get her through the occasional slow times that dotted the year.

How can she expect me to sacrifice these? Does she want me to waste my life away in mediocrity with the knowledge that I'm capable of something more, but it's just beyond my reach? This is what drives my business and sets me apart. I'd never be known outside of Ponyville if I took the pills every night. Besides, I don't just get dress ideas from my dreams. I could swear, sometimes they feel almost like premon—

"Lady Rarity?"

Rarity's ears twitched at the voice. She focused on her right earring. "I'm in here, Grovi."

Grovi walked in, wearing a pair of saddlebags. "My most sincere apolo—"

His jaw went slack as he beheld the finished dream dress. He shook his head clear and stared at her in awe. "You must be dying to showcase this."

"I already have." Rarity walked over to the dress and adjusted a wrinkle. "I'd originally planned on putting the necklace together with the ensemble, but the more I thought about it, the more it felt like it should be for something a little more special."

Grovi nodded. "It seems that we were thinking along the same lines. I was going to suggest that this design be kept one of a kind, and only be worn by you."

Rarity turned to him. "Why's that?"

"Because of what I've done to it." A small box hovered out from his saddlebags, which he gave over to her. Rarity opened it and let out a gasp.

The necklace had been completely repaired, with not even the thinnest of seams on the place where it had broken. It was sculpted and polished down to minute detail, it's every edge and corner catching the light and sparkling with brilliance. The pronged branches on both sides had been filed off to comfortable nubs, and two flawless sapphires were set in the holes. Their facets glittered and sparkled as they displayed her reflection.

Professional, indeed! This is better than I imagined. Rarity stared dumbly the masterpiece. "It's beautiful."

Grovi bowed. "You humble me, but I haven't even shown you the best part." The necklace hovered up in a gray aura, where she now saw it was attached to a fine silver chain.

"May I?" Grovi asked. The necklace gently hovered forth and fastened itself around her neck. Rarity walked over to a mirror. The color and facets of the jewelry complimented her coat, mane and eyes to an astounding degree. A high-pitched giggle escaped her as she admired the piece.

"I placed three enchantments on the necklace," Grovi said. "The first is an advanced Reinforcement spell. It's now as hard as diamond.

Diamond?! That's a bit overboard, isn't it? How would I fix it if—wow, listen to me. That's kind of the point, Rarity. She gave herself one last look in the mirror before turning back to him.

"The second is a variation of the Scrying spell that you showed us. I've already attuned it to myself and Elo." Grovi concentrated, and Rarity felt a slight warmth as the framework of the necklace gave a faint glint. "It will alert us if you ever go into Magical Exhaustion."

Rarity raised her eyebrows. I haven't met any other ponies aside from Twilight who could even cast that spell, let alone further modify it! Elo did say Grovi was a skilled spellcaster, but this?

Grovi paused for a moment. "The final spell was what took me so long, and it has to do with the sapphires." He took a deep breath. "I transmuted each of them into font gems."

Rarity fell onto her haunches. "You… what?"

He gave a slow nod and spoke in a serious tone. "They're attuned to you and you alone. If you ever go into Magical Exhaustion, any spell you cast will draw from them instead of your lifeforce. Elo and I have already saturated them, and they each hold roughly enough energy for one intermediate level spell."

He knows how to transmute font gems?! That's an extremely advanced art! Anypony that can do that is set for life! Rarity took off the necklace and delicately placed it back in the box, pushing it back to Grovi with a hoof. "I can't accept this. I didn't think that you could..." she stared at him with parted lips. "Do you realize what you've done? You've made this necklace priceless!"

Grovi gave a warm smile and pushed the box back to her. "You're deserving of such a gift."

Rarity spoke in a whisper. "Why would you do so much for me?"

Grovi considered for a moment. He walked over to the dream dress, tilting his head back and forth as he watched the colors move. "When last we spoke, you reminded us that we're under orders not to interfere with your life. But those same orders are also to protect you, even it's from yourself. I saw this as the best possible way to adhere to the requirements of both."

Rarity felt a tightness in her chest. I really have been an idiot, haven't I? Wearing the earrings and giving me my space is one thing, but did I think they would sit back and do nothing while I put myself at risk? They're charged with protecting my life! And now I have the gall to refuse when they've put forth this much effort trying to compromise with me?

Rarity magically reopened the box, put on the necklace, and cleared her throat. "I owe you and Elo an apology."

Grovi turned and met her eyes. "What for?"

She lowered her chin."I've been nothing but demanding and inconsiderate to the two of you ever since you've arrived. I've thought of nothing but myself, and didn't even consider how I might be making your job difficult. That's not how a Lady should act."

Grovi blinked several times, then shook his head. "Lady Rarity, there is nothing you need to apologize for. It's not demanding or selfish to want live your life without constraint, and demonstrate that you can be self-sufficient. Those are admirable traits."

Rarity snorted and looked out the door. "Tell that to my mother."

Grovi cocked his head. "Sorry?'

Rarity's eyes widened as she put a hoof to her mouth. "Oh... I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... forget I said anything."

"You had said that your parents were here earlier," Grovi said. "Did you have an argument with them?"

Rarity chewed on her lip. Can I confide in him? I don't know what he'd say. He did just do something very nice for me, and I've already put him through so much. Rarity gave a long exhale and rubbed her temples. "I would akin it more to stirring the coals of a smoldering fire.

"As I told you and Elo before, my mother has always been on my case about my insomnia," Rarity said. "I took my medication every night when I lived back at home, but only because she made me. That didn't stop me from doing everything I could not to, though. I hid them, threw them away, pretended I'd lost them, you name it. It led to a lot of arguments between us, and over time we drifted apart. Our relationship is better than it once was, but we still aren't close.

"When I moved out I thought I'd be free, but that turned out not to be the case. I needed to take out a loan to start the shop, and the only one who could co-sign for me was Mother. She did it, on one condition: I had to take my pills every single night. Seeing as I didn't have any other choice, I agreed."

Rarity shuddered. "That first year was a nightmare. It felt like there was a block in my mind that was cutting me off from my muse. I did everything I could think of to inspire myself, but nothing worked. My designs were dull and unoriginal, and I was only making ends meet.

"Finally, my desire to create outgrew the feelings of guilt from upholding the deal I'd made with my mother." Rarity walked back over to the mirror and adjusted her mane. "I started taking the pills less and less, and as I did, my creativity returned to me. My fashion lines started up again, and I started making a profit every month. Three years total after starting the shop, I made enough to pay back the loan.

"I know that I need to take the pills every so often in order to get a full night's rest." Rarity stared at her reflection as she spoke. "But lately, it's like my muse has shifted into overdrive. My dreams have become more vivid, and stay longer in my memory. I've been getting great ideas, but they come so rapidly that I can barely keep up. Not just for dresses, either. Sometimes I'll get an idea to make something random, like a picnic basket, or a set of bedsheets, or a picture frame. When I get those urges, I never have a use for what I've made. So I just wind up giving them away to my friends."

Grovi scratched his chin. "Does this happen even when you take your pills?"

"I don't know." Rarity looked at him. "I haven't taken them in a month. I'm afraid I'll miss out on something amazing if I do."

Grovi made a tsk-ing sound. "I imagine your mother doesn't know this."

"Nopony does," Rarity admitted. "You're the first I've told."

Grovi hesitated. "Then I don't think you're going to like what I have to say."

I knew he'd side with her.Rarity turned away. "You're going to tell me I should take the pills, as well."

He squinted, then gave an odd smile. "Yea, but prawly nawt for the reasons you think."

Rarity stopped dead at the change in his voice. It had shifted from an eloquent, dulcet tone to a laid back, sing-song lilt that chewed on the vowels. She jerked back to him.

Grovi smirked as she watched her reaction. "Didn' expect this, didja? This is the natural way I tawk. I figga you just told a pretty big secret, so I should return the fava."

Rarity stared at him like he was an alien. "What happened to your—"

"Neva met anypawny from Manehatten, have ya?" Grovi laughed. "You prawly thawt I was a noble a'somethin. Sorry to disappoint, but I ain't got a droppa noble blood in me. Now Elo, on the udda hoof..."

Rarity's jaw was slack. "I don't even..."

Grovi chuckled. "I think it's my turn to tell you a story."

Rarity nodded.

He winked and cleared his throat. When he spoke again, it was in the tone she'd originally associated him with.

"Once upon a time, there was a blacksmith who lived in Manehatten. He was a talented, hard-working sort, but the competition of the city was fierce. In order for a pony to set themselves apart, they either had to have the right connections, be in the right place at the right time, or sell their soul to some very unscrupulous individuals. The blacksmith didn't want that kind of life for his family, so he decided to take them and move to Canterlot.

"Now, this blacksmith had two children. The younger was a daughter, and the eldest a son. The daughter was headstrong, beautiful, and had inherited her father's entrepreneurial spirit. The son had the family talent as well, but he had no interest in the craft. His ambitions were to become a noble, for he saw the ponies of high-society as those who worked to make the world a better place."

Grovi sat on his haunches as he continued his tale. "Over the next few years, the family slowly began to gather savings in order to move into a better part of the city. But one day, the father got an idea. If he used the money to enroll his children in the best magical schooling the city had to offer, they could use the skills they learned in metalworking. The blacksmith hoped that this investment would become the way the family business would set itself apart.

"The children, not left with a choice in the matter, dutifully enrolled in Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, where they were immediately shunned and made miserable by their fellow classmates for their heritage, accents, and social standing. Both of them hated every day that they had to go, but feared the punishment they would receive if they didn't, for their father made no secret the effort being put forth for their sake."

A grin played on Grovi's lips. "However, fate then took an unusual twist. One day, the two children encountered an unusual stranger about the son's age on the road. A fight broke out between them, but they were evenly matched and it ended in a draw. The daughter got the two of them to talk, and it became clear that they had no real quarrel. The daughter inquired further, and after some gentle coaxing, the stranger confided in them.

"He revealed himself to be the son of not one, but two noble houses of Canterlot. Such a thing was not done on purpose, and upon discovery of his conception, his parents had married to save face. However, it was only in name. Neither parent wanted nothing to do with the poor colt, but they were forced by the heads of their houses into making sure that he received a proper education. And so he learned the ways of high-society, but considered it all to be detached, snobby, shallow, vindictive, and subversive. He wanted a normal life, a real family, and to see the rest of the city. Realizing that he couldn't realistically obtain the first two, he'd snuck out to accomplish the third.

Grovi's eyes twinkled. "While the brother was never the cleverest of types, the sister could see that there was a deal to be made here. She made a proposal, and the noble agreed. He'd teach both of them the ways of high-society so that they could fit in at school, and in return, they'd show him around the city and give him a chance at a normal life.

"Over the next eight years, the three became inseparable. They were together so much that even the gritty blacksmith came to think of the noble as a second son. The brother and sister learned to hide their accents, became educated in proper etiquette, and were given proper clothes by the noble.

"All was well for a time, but as the three came of age, problems began to rise. The noble began to hear strange mutterings, and experienced acts of unwarranted hostility from his fellow family members. Curious, he set out to discover the reason why. It proved to be a difficult task, for there were those taking great pains to hide it from him. Eventually though, he learned the truth: A series of tragic deaths had struck the houses, leaving the noble as the primary successor to both. If he claimed this right, the two houses would have to merge. This would cause a financial nightmare that would take years to settle, and making matters worse would be greedy members on both sides, trying to stake claims on the wealth and assets of the other."

Grovi pursed his lips. "Things were not much better for the brother and sister. While they had both excelled in magic, the brother remembered the harshness and cruelty of Manehatten, and aspired to make the world a better place. He had thought that the answer was to become a noble, but after being passed off as a cousin to attend a few high-society events, he came to detest them as well. As for the sister, she wanted to succeed the craft of their father, but he refused, saying that such work was not fitting of a mare.

"On the day the noble discovered the secret his families had been keeping from him, the blacksmith's son overheard some classmates talking about joining the military. He found the idea appealing. It was a place where he could achieve his goals, and his hard work would be recognized. But his family had sacrificed so much for him to be even capable of having such thoughts. How could he abandon them?"

Grovi stared out the window, his eyes unfocused. "It was then that the noble told him and his sister of his discovery, and his feelings of complete repulsion against it. In truth, he had no desire to succeed either house. He wanted to be completely free from the shallow, vile hobnobs and their callous social circles. In fact, he planned to go to the heads of houses the next day and tell them he relinquished his rights to succession.

"However, the noble was stopped by the sister, for she realized that nopony was aware of his feelings. Why else would they try to hide it from him? The years of education had only increased her powers of perception, and she could see that there was another deal to be made. And this time, it was one that would make everypony happy."

The light returned to Grovi's eyes as he looked back at Rarity. "The next day, the noble went to the heads of his houses and told them that he relinquished his rights to succession. But in exchange, he wanted two things: The first was complete freedom to do what he wanted with his life, free from any obligation or association with either house. The second was that both houses would henceforth declare the blacksmith and his family as the sole proprietors for any services they could provide. Not only would this elevate the family's name to unprecedented heights, it would also ensure that they would never be poor again.

"Meanwhile, the son and daughter went to their father and told him of the arrangement. However, they too wanted something in exchange: The son would be allowed to join the military and become similarly free from the mold that he was being forced into; and in his place, the daughter would succeed the family trade."

Grovi gritted his teeth as he seemed to remember something unpleasant. "There was arguing on both sides as all three families protested and negotiated details, but ultimately, the arrangement was made. The noble and the blacksmith's son became free to do what they wanted with their lives, and the daughter was given the tools and opportunity to succeed. And while the three of them had to part ways in the end, they never forgot the time they spent together, or what they had to do to get what they wanted.

"So you see Lady Rarity," Grovi said, "you are lucky, for you've been given freely the things that we had to fight so hard for. You don't realize how great of a blessing it is to have even one parent that cares for you, although I understand it's easy to take for granted if it's all you've ever known. You also have the freedom to pursue your own goals and be your own mare, with your parents supporting and condoning your actions. You may see their worrying as a stifling restriction, but it's one only born of love and concern. I've never even met them and I can see that."

Rarity sat in silence as Grovi finished his tale. She regarded him for a moment with a stoic expression. "Is all of that true?"

Grovi nodded. "Every word."

"Then I have a question."

"Of course."

Rarity glanced to the side. "You said that Elo loathes high-society, so much so that he did everything he could to get rid of any and all ties to it. You also said that after he showed you what it was like, you came to hate it too. But ever since you've arrived here, you've been nothing but perfect, polite gentlestallions to me. I doubt I'd find a pony with better manners at the Grand Galloping Gala."

She stared at Grovi with unsure, inquisitive eyes. "If that's the case, why are you both acting this way in front of me?"

Grovi shook his head. "You misunderstand. Elo and I don't hate the lifestyle of nobles; we hate the attitudes and dispositions that nobles tend to have. Specifically: Greed, selfishness, vindictive gossip, and condescension. Elo was constantly surrounded by it, and the few times he was able to show it to me was enough to make up my mind. It's an unfortunate fact that these traits are common enough in the upper class that they're the norm, not the exception.

"I'm ashamed to admit that we initially assumed you were just like the nobles we knew and despised," Grovi said, "and we figured you'd be more cooperative if we put on our old masks. However, upon talking with you that very first day, we decided to wear them for a different reason: because you are one of the very few that is worthy of such treatment."

His slate-colored eyes became intense. "You hold yourself to the standards of a noble, but remain respectful to those who don't. You take pride in your crafts and are no stranger to hard work, but you don't hesitate to help others, and give your crafts away. You desire to make a name for yourself, but want to accomplish it through your own two hooves and have a fierce streak of independence."

Grovi stepped forward and took Rarity's hoof in his. The color rose in her cheeks as her breath became quick and shallow, but she didn't shy away. His voice became soft and earnest as he held her gaze.

"You truly are a Rarity; a beautiful, priceless gem. In fact, there's only one other pony we've met with the same traits as you."

His eyes sparkled as he gave a nostalgic smile. "And you remind us of her."

Rarity blinked. 'Her?' Who is—

She realized Grovi wasn't looking at her at all. He took a deep breath and sighed, his watery eyes unfocusing again.

Rarity gasped. I thought he was going to… oh my goodness; I remind him of his s—the poor dear! I wonder when he saw her last?

She took a step closer to him and patted his shoulder. "What's her name?"

Grovi looked out the window. "Crystal Song."

"Is she doing well?"

"I haven't had a chance to see her in recent years," Grovi admitted. "The life of a soldier is a very busy one. I might get a chance to see her here in a few months, though."

Rarity clapped her hooves. "That should be fabulous for both of you! I imagine Elo will want to see her as well."

"We were planning on going together," Grovi said with an odd smile. His eyes flicked to the clock, and he put the necklace box on one of the sewing tables. "Lady Rarity, I won't tell you what you should or shouldn't do, but will you heed some advice?"

Rarity acquiesced. "I'll consider it at the very least."

He raised his chin and turned to her. "The trust you share with your family is like the necklace you now wear: Strong, beautiful, and something you can always rely on. Unlike the necklace however, once it's broken, it can never been repaired."

Grovi bowed and walked out the door. "In my experience, it's not worth the risk."

Rarity was left alone in the Inspiration Room with her thoughts as she regarded both what he had, and hadn't said. She gave the dream dress a final glance and walked upstairs, planning on relaxing for the rest of the evening. That trust has been damaged and chipped so much already, it may as well be broken. Grovi may be right that Mother's only be worried about my health, but taking the pills is hurting me in a different way. I can live with the fatigue and lack of magic so long as I'm careful. I can't live without my creativity.

( * * * )

Rarity opened her eyes to see that she hung in a void. She could see the features of her body, but there was nothing beyond save for an empty space that stretched on for as far as she could see. She tried to struggle and kick, but her limbs wouldn't obey her.

"What is this?!" she yelled out into the emptiness.

The darkness pulsed in response. It thickened, forming into large, puffy clouds that roiled and slowly inched towards her. Colors began to flare inside them as they approached, forming into coherent shapes and scenes that Rarity recognized. They played before her eyes like a projector.

Applejack's farm. Ponies she knew were everywhere. She and her friends were dancing, singing, celebrating. Granny Smith was standing on a stage, wearing a dark green dress that reminded her of a late spring meadow.

Her room. Mother was staring in the doorway, a look of anguish and supreme reluctance on her face. She blinked, and a tear fell from her face.

"This is your last warning..."

A river made of silver glass held at bay by a tall, impregnable dam. The waters of the river were restless and they churned and violently crashed against the obstruction, but it didn't give way. On the other side was a swirling, coiling darkness.

A multifaceted opaque sphere covered with cracks. Rarity could just make out a silhouette of a pony inside, covered in multicolored lights. An echoing, bodiless voice came from beyond the darkness.

"You can't kill what was never alive…"

The sphere burst into flame. The hungry fires spread into the darkness, devouring the clouds like they were parchment. The searing blaze sped towards her. She let out a terrified scream.

Rarity awoke to the warm taste of iron. She ripped off her sleeping mask and smashed her bedside desk several times, searching for the light. When she finally found it, she tore off her blankets and bolted out of bed.

It felt like her entire body had been plugged into an outlet. She whined and screamed as she did anything to keep moving: She dashed around the room, rolled on the floor, and danced in place. The whole ordeal left her winded and drained.

She finally stopped after the adrenaline rush had faded and gingerly felt inside her mouth. Rarity winced as she found the spot where she had bit her tongue. She pulled out a tissue from her nightstand and wiped the blood out of her mouth.

Calm down, it was just a bad dream. There's no void, there are no clouds, and you're not about to be burned to death. You're safe in your home, and none of it was real.

Rarity threw the tissue in the wastebasket and looked at the clock—two fourty-four. She sighed and pulled out her dream journal, recording the various parts of the dream she remembered and the amount of time she slept. After she finished, she began to head downstairs.

"You can trust me, you know."

"Can I?"

"In my experience, it's not worth the risk."

Rarity hesitated, considering the words as they echoed in her strained, sleep-deprived mind. She hung her head and closed the door.

All right, all right. Rarity went to the top drawer of her dresser and pulled out an unopened pill bottle. She broke the seal, took two, and got back into bed.

Usually takes about a half-hour for them to kick in after I've had an episode. I'll need something to do until then. Rarity looked over at the bookshelf, considering her options. In the middle shelves were her fashion magazines. I spent all evening reading those. I could keep looking at them, but I'm looking for something a little more… boring.

She lowered her eyes to her spellbooks on the bottom shelf. She shook her head. I might be tempted into practicing some of the spells in there. Celestia knows I could certainly use the work with Evocation.

Rarity's gaze drifted up to the copy of Advanced Abjuration Application. She gave a sly smile.

"Why Twilight," she said as she hefted the book over in her magic. "I think I've found a use for your present, after all.