It started rather suddenly, when I thought back on it. Such a simple thing as a deal with a supposed family friend became the very thing that utterly destroyed my innocence. Well, that and my parents lacking proper moral fiber, though in all fairness if they didn't do what they did I have no idea how they would've repaid the debt. That would've been...far worse.

My talent with magic, even at the age of six, hadn't escaped the notice of my parents. Nor did my excessive mental acuity when it came to school in general. It was known to pretty much everyone that knew me that I was a very fast learner, more akin to a sponge soaking up the ink in books rather than a pony reading the words and numbers and symbols they formed. This, of course, included any magical tomes my parents could afford to get their hooves on.

So when some very shady ponies came knocking at our door demanding the money my parents owed them, I was entirely unaware of what was going on when my parents told me that a friend of theirs wanted my help with a magic spell he couldn't understand on his own. To say that I was joyous at the vindication that comes with someone else asking for my help, especially at that age, is an understatement. I quickly slipped into my clothes and we hopped in a carriage late in the evening with the two ponies that came for us, leaving Shining sleeping in his room.

Some might wonder where my brother was during all of this, but my parents made sure to keep him out of it. I think he always suspected, but he never seemed to think it had anything to do with me. He dropped it after they stopped coming around to get me, and he went to the youth training camp to prepare for a future career as a member of the Royal Guard. I was very much broken-in by then. I went of my own accord, for fear of my family suffering for my impudence.

Anyways, I arrived at a large mansion closer to the castle, with my parents accompanying me. I think I was too eager and excited to realize just how tense my parents were. Not to mention how condescending the two thugs accompanying us in the carriage were when I talked to them. Still, kind of funny to realize that I was smarter and more knowledgeable than both of them even at the age of six.

It's so easy to think back on your younger days and ask yourself 'Why did I not notice this?' or 'Why didn't I ever suspect something was wrong?' We tend to forget how inexperienced we are when we're children, how easy it is for us to do things that we can recognize as obvious mistakes once we're older. We know better when we're older. We can reflect on our mistakes and learn from them when we're older.

I had no idea what I was getting into. My lack of genuine social skills and understanding of body language and social cues certainly didn't help.

I didn't question the numerous ponies in suits with weapons strapped to their sides. I didn't question why they were all unicorns, and why they all seemed tense when we entered. I almost can't believe I didn't think something was wrong when my parents were led away and I was escorted to meet the stallion of the mansion. I should have been so scared, but all I could think of was how eager I was to help him figure this spell out, maybe even get a chance to see it in action!

Further proof that there is more than one form of superior intellect in the world. You know...because I was a fucking moron. Most children are, just in an adorable way. They don't know any better!

I should have known something was off the moment I met him. He was a tall, imposing figure with a razor-sharp gaze and a presence that immediately demanded respect. He sat with a cordial, firm posture, head held high and long sharp horn pointing towards the sky, recently polished and cleaned. He was not a pony to be trifled with.

I squee'd with glee when I realized that he was one of the Royal Magisters. As I said, moron. Hope you know what you're getting into, parents, or you're in for a very unwanted end to an era!

There was a certain joy in my eyes that he found amusing, even as he laid the spell out in front of me. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew what the spell would do if he tried to use it. It was experimental in nature, I know that now. I didn't know that back then. I took it in within hours, and once he was sure I knew it inside and out, he escorted me to a room in his mansion in the basement, far away from prying eyes.

It was a laboratory, that much was clear, and it was all his. I dreamed of having a place like that for myself when I grew up, all the beakers and chemicals and magical components I'd ever need to become the next Starswirl the Bearded! Moondancer would've lost it if she'd been there with me!

My cheer faded significantly when I was led down a long hallway into a very secure room near the back of the basement. A thick steel door adorned with runes made me nervous, and as it slid open and I was ushered inside, I immediately knew something was wrong.

Inside, four more of the suit-wearing guards stood vigil around a single bound earth pony mare, bound and gagged and blindfolded in a chair. She had a few bandages wrapped around her hindlegs, and her forelegs were tied behind her back while her hindlegs were tied to the chair. The chair itself was made of metal and bolted to the floor.

I trembled at the sight of her. There was something undeniably wrong about what I was seeing, and the sudden closing and locking of the steel door behind me made my fur bristle. Something was off.

Honeyed words swayed me, however. Most likely because I didn't want to believe or couldn't imagine the horrible scenario this actually was. He quickly reassured me that she was simply a mentally sick mare that, hopefully, I would be able to help by using this spell.

Regardless of my nerves, I cast the spell, fully believing I was helping this listless, seemingly exhausted mare. I would never forget what happened after that.

It's a strange feeling, touching someone else's mind. I could hear echoes of her thoughts alongside surface memories of what she was currently thinking about. A young stallion in a town I didn't recognize, visits to what were probably friends, store owners she knew personally...I found myself wondering who she was. I proceeded further with the spell.

I jolted and my eyes shot open when I suddenly heard the chair rattle, and she began to cry out into her gag. I stood transfixed as more memories poured to the surface, more than I could comprehend merely as a viewer. Every time my magic poked or prodded her mind, she twitched and became more panicked.

He told me to continue calmly, and I did as I was told, albeit reluctantly. Even I knew something was very wrong, and though I didn't recognize the feeling deep in the pit of my stomach at the time, some part of me knew that I'd gotten involved in something very, very bad.

I moved on to the next part of the spell, and her entire body suddenly went taut, and she screamed loudly into her gag. Two of the guards moved to restrain her, but that superior earth pony strength gave them a hard time. The bindings strained and the chair began to bend a little as she thrashed and threw her body this way and that, screaming muffled incomprehensible words while I probed deeper.

The blindfold fell away, and she looked right at me. I froze and met her gaze, her terrified, pleading gaze that rooted me in place and made me feel something akin to being caught rummaging through the kitchen shelves for the cookie jar, but ten times worse. I felt nauseous when her thoughts suddenly turned to shock and disgust, and I began to appear in her mind. I could see myself, and I could feel her disbelief that it was me in her head.

I stopped the spell and she instantly settled down, that intense exhaustion washing over her again and making her slump in her seat. I turned to the Magister and told him that something was wrong with the spell, that no spell should do this, but he simply told me to continue. He seemed different now...cold. Calculating. Uncompromising. I didn't notice this until I said no and he pressed a gun to my head in response.

I felt true terror in that moment. Even a child knows what a gun is, and as a much smarter child than most, I knew that a single errant pull of the trigger would mean my instantaneous death. I wouldn't even have time to scream.

I stood there trembling like a leaf in the wind as he pulled the hammer back on the pistol, the click of that deadly device causing me to almost piss myself. I didn't want to die. I was a child, the idea of death terrified me more than anything else. I could feel his breath on my ear as he leaned down towards me, and suddenly his presence was infinitely more scary than it had been before.

He threatened my life, but even worse than that, he threatened the lives of my parents. My friends at school. My BBBFF (he even knew I called him that and what it stood for!). He swore that if I didn't do as I was told, he'd kill them all before he killed me. I cried and stayed stock-still, as if doing so would somehow save me from what was rapidly becoming the most abysmal of fates I could imagine at the time.

He pressed the barrel of the gun to the back of my head and told me to continue the spell. I looked to the mare, hoping that somehow, just maybe, she could get me out of here. She stared at me, silently pleading for her life, but I think even she knew that there was nothing I could do. I didn't have a choice.

I clenched my eyes shut and focused on the spell again, and I instantly heard her screams pick up once more. I just wanted it over with, so I tried to do it as quickly as I could. All four guards were holding her still as best they could while she tossed and turned and thrashed and screamed into the air like a wild, desperate animal. I couldn't help but open my eyes and watch her in morbid fascination as we both quickly became overwhelmed. The spell was reaching a tipping point, I could feel it in my horn, and I think she could feel it just as much as I could.

Her eyes rolled back while her entire body went rigid, and with a resigned cry, I put the final piece of the spell into action. I didn't know what was going to happen, but I certainly didn't expect her consciousness to shatter before me.

Her tension instantly went slack and her head hung limp at an odd angle, and all of her memories began to pour into me, like a dam had been broken and I was to be the next container for them all. I felt a lifetime of memories rapidly rush into my mind at an alarming rate, and my horn began to flare with an intense brightness and heat that made my head hurt more and more as time went on.

I felt someone catch me as my legs failed me, and the room began to spin as I tried to look at the mare. She wasn't moving. She wasn't even breathing. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, only half-closed. Before I could even begin to consider what had happened to her, I passed out in the Magister's hooves.

I saw memories that weren't my own as I slept, and when I woke, it was morning. A brief concern for being late to school entered my mind before a rush of memories from the night before made me curl up in my bedsheets and cry my eyes out. On some level, I knew what I'd done, what I'd been forced to do, but I didn't want to believe it. That mare was dead, and it was because of me!

The door to what was most definitely not my room opened, and I peeked out from under the covers enough to see the Magister walking towards me. He yanked the covers off of me right after I ducked my head back under them, and demanded that I follow him. I remembered the feel of the gun pressing to my skull, and I silently obeyed. What else would he force me to do, I wondered?

I was brought to a desk while a glass of water and an aspirin were placed in front of me. I quickly downed the pill without hesitation, my head still throbbing from using that horrible, terrifying spell. After that, a stack of papers were placed in front of me, along with several reservoirs of ink and multiple quills. He told me to sit there and write down every more recent memory I could bring to the forefront from the mare last night. When I asked him why, he told me to simply do as I was told.

It took several hours. Several hours of sifting through memories that weren't my own, writing as many of them down as I could before they faded away, like a bad dream. I felt almost numb after a while, falling into the rhythm of working to pull those fading memories to the surface, then writing them down in as explicit detail as I could manage.

I saw her first time tasting a fresh pastry when she was a little filly, I saw and felt her excitement when her parents praised her for getting an A on a test...and many things I didn't understand until my parents explained it to me. I now feel a certain retro-active delight in knowing that I probably made him extremely uncomfortable, forcing him to read multiple detailed descriptions of kinky sexual acts written down by a six-year-old that didn't have a clue what she was seeing, aside from knowing that it was sex.

What? I was a very well-educated young filly (see: self-educated), but even I didn't know what bondage or anal were! I wasn't exactly interested in sex, or what my genitalia did aside from being the way I go to the bathroom. There were other issues of course, but they didn't crop up until a few years down the line.

Looking back upon what I'd went through, I began to adjust to it alarmingly fast. Sure, I still broke down during the carriage ride home, and my parents tried to console me as best they could, but when all was said and done, I really seemed to recover quicker than I should've.

The thugs that accompanied us insisted that we speak of it to no one. One of them eyed me and smugly reminded us that we'd better come up with a believable lie to tell my brother, or else he might have to be persuaded to keep his mouth shut. Even I knew what they meant by that.

It was impossible to console me, by the time we got home. I think the only reason I wasn't bawling my eyes out was because I was still in shock, and the memories I'd taken from that mare's mind were beginning to fade.

Some lingered. Others faded away completely. It made my memory feel incomplete, and my Father was afraid for me. I fell asleep in the embrace of my parents, and I can only assume they put me to bed. After all, that's where I woke up later that night. I didn't go to school for three days, and when Shining came to spend time with me in my room, I simply told him I wasn't in the mood.

Credit where it's due, my parents were and still are hard workers. Mom usually spent her time at her personal office, a quiet place that's sort of like her own personal happy haven, where she's cut off from the world and she can really get into her writing. Dad sometimes spends multiple days and nights at the castle's observatory, charting the stars and documenting new findings when he isn't busy working on his alchemical theories.

Them not being home when Shining Armor woke up wasn't anything unusual. He usually woke up ready to make breakfast for both of us before we headed off to school. Mom even taught him how to cook! Her mentality was 'You'll do it whether I tell you to do it or not, so I'd better just teach you how to do it right!'

However, me not being home when he woke up was an immediate abnormality that caught his attention. My parents had thought of a valid excuse, though. One that they told me about before Shining got to me.

Apparently I suddenly had a very bad stomach virus, and my parents rushed me off to the doctor, where I had to stay overnight for observation! Now whatever I had had me feeling sick and listless and tired, so I was to stay in bed for a few days. It wasn't entirely a lie, I certainly didn't feel like doing much of anything, or talking to anyone or...or seeing anyone. I saw enough of a certain someone every time I closed my eyes.

I will never forget the look on her face in that final moment, or the mental, primal scream of terror I heard from her as I shattered her mind. Then the utter, absolute silence, the absence of anything resembling a consciousness...I quivered in my bed and burrowed deeper under my covers. In my childish naivete, I felt safe under them, as if the world would disappear if I just stayed underneath it for long enough.

The next day, after Shining Armor left for school, that childish hope evaporated with a single loud knock on our front door.

I rose up out of bed. I don't know why. Morbid curiosity, maybe? I don't think I was thinking at that moment. I'd been roused from a half-asleep state, a blissful moment in time where my thoughts and my dreams didn't meet halfway. Peace.

I looked down into the foyer, and my blood ran cold. There was no more exhaustion, only a base animal instinct to flee from the danger before me. My parents were talking with some very suspicious ponies, one a pegasus and another a unicorn. They were peeking through the doorway, and my Father was barring their entry. My Mother seemed...very upset, but she was holding her tongue even as things got more heated between my Father and the two ponies.

"...done enough to her, what more could you want?!"

I trembled and ducked down, hugging myself against the carpet. This wasn't happening. I didn't want to believe this was happening again!

"The boss wants her help again. What, you tryin' ta go back on the deal, pretty-colt?"

"The deal was that she helped him, and she did!"

I could almost hear the smugness wafting off of that pegasus as that vile grin spread across his face. They both shoved their way into our home, and both my Mother and Father were immediately flaring up their horns. The unicorn was faster, drawing two pistols from their holsters and aiming both at them.

I whimpered and covered my muzzle with my hooves, trying to stay as silent as possible while I watched my worst nightmares begin to unfold in front of my eyes.

"Close, but I believe the deal was that you agreed to let her help him. Nothin' specific about how long. The boss is reasonable enough though, if you'd like ta discuss certain terms to the deal...for now though," the pegasus said, stepping closer to him, that smug smile disappearing as his snout pressed firmly against my Father's. "Where's the kid?"

"She's at school." my Dad said, trying his best to put up a brave front, but he was no fighter.

Neither was my Mother apparently, though that wasn't much of a surprise to anyone that knew her. She had that classic Mom-rage if someone messed with her foals (we would always be her 'little foals', obviously), but a gun to your head tended to trump Mom-rage.

"Hah! That's uh, that's...that's a good try, pretty-colt," he said, before his hoof suddenly impacted the side of my Dad's head, sending him sprawling to the ground with a guttural cry. "But you're lyin'. We know she's still here, but it's just such a big house! Figured askin' you'd make it easier on us."

My Dad held a hoof to his head while forcing himself back to his hooves. "You've been watching us?!"

The pegasus shrugged and flitted his wings against his sides. "Gotta make sure you two ain't blabbin', or even worse, your daughter. Pretty sure she got the message though, seein' how she's been doin' nothin' but cowerin' in this here house the past few days."

My Mother simply glared, and the unicorn that accompanied him was just...still as a statue. I couldn't look away from what was happening, the unicorn keeping his distance while the two guns floating in the air pressed against my parents more insistently.

"Now, let's try this again. Where, exactly, is your daughter?"

The unicorn and pegasus waited, and neither of my parents said a single thing. The pegasus sighed and shook his head, suddenly bucking my Dad square in his muzzle. His head snapped back with a bad-sounding crack, and blood gushed from his nose.

There was a resounding bang of a gun throughout the house, that thankfully covered up my very brief and muffled squeal of terror.

I heard my Mother cry out and I snapped my eyes to her just in time to see her collapse to the floor, reaching for her right hindleg. Directly in the center of her cutie mark was a large bullet hole, blood pouring out of it and staining her lighter-colored fur a dark tinge of red. I backed away just a little, eyes wide with a rapidly thought-consuming fear, every inch of my body shaking as if an earthquake were directing itself solely through me and me alone.

The pegasus let out an exaggerated sigh and rubbed a hoof over his muzzle. "Really, Pin? I mean she's got a nice ass for an older mare, didja hafta ruin it?"

The unicorn just rolled his eyes and re-adjusted his aim to keep my Mom in his sights once more. "She moved."

"Right, you're a regular mister No-Bullshit, got it," he said, looking over to my Dad again, who was coughing and trying to deal with his shattered snout. "Think you can be a No-Bullshit kinda stallion now and tell me where your daughter is now?"

"Fuck you! You shot my wife-"

"Yeah, okay. Pin?"

I clenched my eyes shut as two more gunshots went off, and my Dad screamed and fell to the floor, two bullets finding purchase in the knees of both his forelegs. I couldn't help but scream at the sight of my Father crumpled on the floor, crying in agony.

"STOP IT!!"

I knew what had just happened, but I couldn't bring myself to stop. The tears came unbidden, and my sobbing was loud enough to make everyone else fall silent in the foyer. I knew at that moment, they knew exactly where I was...and that I'd seen it all.

I could hear the pegasus flying up to the upper floor at the top of the stairs, landing just next to me. I didn't even try to look at him, cowering on the floor as I was.

"Well! If you didn't want us to do that, you probably shoulda come downstairs and come with us. Kinda your fault, kid."

"H-he made me kill that mare! Her name was Ivy! She had a coltfriend in Las Pegasus she was going t-to move in with, and I-I-"

The pegasus growled and pressed a hoof over my withers. "Hey, calm the fuck down little filly-"

"Get away from me!!" I screamed, and my magic lashed out at him on instinct.

Terror can do a lot to make you fight back like a cornered animal. The burst of raw magic coursing through his foreleg and into the rest of his body was probably more than he was expecting from a small six-year-old like myself.

He juttered and his wings flared in surprise, and when it was over, the shock on his face was evident. His fur was a bit burnt in places, and several feathers had vaporized right off of his wings. It was in that moment that the fear returned, because it hadn't made him back off. No, all I did was really piss him off.

"Oh, you little SHIT!"

That was the last thing I heard before a hard hoof smacked me across the side of my head, right in my temple. I swayed and staggered and spun around in a daze before falling flat on my face, barely able to form a coherent word, let alone take a single stable step away from my assailant.

He didn't stop. With my back to him, I was completely vulnerable, and I felt something hard come down on the top of my head, then on my back, again and again and again. It stopped for only a moment to let the aches in my back begin to well up before a sharp crack and an intolerable, burning agony welled up in my right hindleg.

I screamed and curled in on myself, only to feel that heavy impact of his hoof slam down on my hindleg again, the pain becoming blinding as I screamed a blood-curdling scream that had my parents calling out to me in return. I could barely hear them as he stomped on my hindleg again. He was saying something...he sounded angry. I didn't really make it out amidst what was clearly intense panic and pain.

All I could feel in my hindquarters was the pain throbbing through my right hindleg, all the way up my flanks. The world was tuned out for me, and whatever he was shouting at me I didn't take in. By the time I'd managed to focus enough to hear them downstairs, the thugs had vacated the premises.

The only pony that could move was my Mother, and she immediately called the cops. I felt magic tenderly wrap around me and float me downstairs, but every little movement I made caused the pain in my hindleg to flare up. Soon, all that was left of me was a sobbing mess cradled in my Mother's embrace when the police showed up.

The cover story was simple enough. Home invasion, but we never saw the faces of the attackers, and aside from the bullets they used and the unicorn's telekinesis, there was nothing left in the house for the police to identify them with. We knew who they were, but my Mom instructed me, very clearly, to not say a word, or else they'd do way worse to us.

They had to do surgery to fix my leg, once they got me to the hospital. My hindleg had been shattered, broken in six places, and metal braces and implants were necessary just to get the bones to heal right. Well, as right as was possible. Even to this day, with all the magic I have, I still walk with a distinct limp because of the bones not healing right, and my muscles in my right hindleg not quite working correctly because of it. The odd twist to every step I take as I put my hoof down is fairly obvious.

My Dad never could get full use out of his forelegs like he used to. He complained about spontaneous aches in his knee joints, and he couldn't quite coordinate manipulating more sensitive instruments with his forehooves the way he used to. He was put on painkillers for the rest of his life, unless the random aches and pains decide to stop being a thing out of nowhere.

My Mother got off easy by comparison, the bullet only hit muscle and caused a minor fracture in her hip, which was easily fixed. She was taking care of me while I recovered, restricted to the hospital for over a week and a half before I was allowed to go home. Even then, I was heavily encouraged to stay in bed.

A shame they showed up to take me to their boss again the moment I got home.

My parents put up no resistance. They had none left, though they wanted to fight and thrash and rebel against my fate with reckless abandon, if only to spare me from it for a moment longer. If I had been smarter, I would've realized at the time that there was little they could do. I was just a naive kid though. I felt betrayed as they told me to go with that terrifying pegasus and the stoic, but violent unicorn.

As I was ushered into the carriage, the helplessness I felt began to boil over with a kind of anger reserved for those that have faced true injustice in their lives. I think that was when I began to plan...or when my plans began to consume me, when I wasn't busy with my studies.