III. The Concept of Anxiety

Dear Princess Celestia,

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write you back! I would say that it’s been busy, but it really hasn’t. Life in Ponyville is slow in comparison to Canterlot, though it does not crawl at the near-standstill ponies seem to think it does. The truth is that I’ve been trying to figure out how best to respond, what exactly you need, that sort of thing.

The shortest answer is that no, Ponyville does not feel alright.

I need to elaborate. To be honest, Princess, I puzzled over what you meant when you asked your question. If I may be honest with you, it seemed a strange one, but I figured there were three ways to interpret it. Do I like Ponyville still? Of course. (But you already know this, so that meaning seems less likely.) Two, are the ponies here in good spirits? That is harder to answer--some are, some are not. I am lonely, if stable. Applejack seems fine, which is not really surprising as she has her life far more in order than I have mine. Rainbow and Rarity are struggling, with Dash’s obligations putting them both under strain, but it cannot be helped. Pinkie and Fluttershy are happy. I could go on and on, but I’m sure now that you mean something else.

Everything feels off.

I can provide you with a rather thorough catalogue of the things that feel not quite right. I thought about doing just that, but then I realized that a single example will suffice. Did you know that this summer in Ponyville is the hottest in living memory? I have probably mentioned it, or somepony else has. It’s unusual, yes, but not miraculous. It’s simply the inconstant, if predictable, nature of the sun and the nature of living near the Everfree. Sometimes the weather here in Central is not quite as easily corralled.

But you see, Princess, that is where anxiety comes in. I’ve been reading my Cork Guard recently, trying to broaden my horizons, and when I found he’d written about a subject I know so intimately, I jumped at the chance to read up. Anxiety and I, as you know, are old friends. I’m still thankful for the night you came for me, when I was lost in the dark, but I try not to think about that time. I’ve grown more stable since.

But anxiety is the possibilty of, well, possibility. The idea that there might be things, good or bad. Possibility came for me and gripped me with your letter. Could there be more to the world than what I saw? So I did some research yesterday. The former librarian left the almanacs of the centuries down in the basement in a dusty pile. Spike was kind enough to man the library while I searched through them, and I uncovered some interesting tidbits.

It isn’t just the hottest summer in memory. It’s the hottest summer perhaps ever, your highness. But there is more. Curious, I wrote to several colleagues in various corners of the country, including Canterlot, and I found something interesting.

The weather patterns don’t match up with the plans for this year at all. It’s not incompetence, either. The next day’s delay was spent making inquiries with Cloudsdale officials.

It’s as if the world, the very nature of things, has just decided to take the day off. We’ve always controlled the weather, Princess, but it also works with us. Equestria is… unique, though I cannot help but feel afraid of totally wild weather, I still understand that. But when I finally was able to catch Rainbow Dash, I found her quiet and subdued. She told me everything. The innate magic of the pegasi is not working as it should. They kick and the clouds resist; they try to call up storms  and get light showers. She wasn’t just frustrated. She looked at me, and those eyes…

Something is wrong.

There are circles all over town. Not many ponies have noticed them yet, I think. Circular phenemon, I’ve taken to calling them. They take a variety of forms, but the common linking principle is a circular shape. Dead grass, strange circles in the dust, cobblestones pointed in new directions--and yes, I have checked the mayor, who I have sworn to secrecy--and others. I’ve counted at least six. And they change. The rutts and patterns on the dirt path to Fluttershy’s house are not a perfectly circular mound, a hoof tall, completely flat on top, hardened dirt. It was obviously packed by something or somepony, and yet when I examined it myself, I found it to be… well. It was too perfect. No earth pony could do that with tools, and neither could a pegasus, but there was no trace of magic being used.

These phenomena are harmless, Princess. Strange, bewildering, yes. But they are harmless.

Why do I feel so afraid?

The possibility frightens me. The inexplicable existence. I can’t hide in here forever. Those things exist, Princess. I have to do something about them. There’s this choice and there’s no way to escape it; I’m trapped by their being. And I hate that. My skin crawls.

I just can’t explain it. It’s too perfect for a simple trick, but I want it to be that so badly. Then I clung to it all being something of Discord’s doing, stupid little tricks to bother us, but between being imprisoned (again) after the whole fiasco with Ponyville, and it being a bit too subtle for him, it’s impossible that he’s the culprit. I cannot find anypony or anything to take his place. These things just have no origin, no beginning, but I think they have an end. A purpose. I’m not sure what it is.

I’m not sure I want to know what they’re for. I’m beginning to realize how afraid I am, as I write this. It’s night. I’ve sent it by waypoint so as not to let Spike see me in this state. I hope your side of the spell is in better repair than mine.

Are there circles in Canterlot?

Twilight