A strange sense of melancholy lingered in the fringes of Tarnish’s mind as he continued down the road with Maud. This trip, while it had promised to be short on paper, felt longer, so much longer. Maud had the wagon, that was her load, her burden, and now, Tarnish also felt weighed down. The orb and the shield, though light in an impossible way, also felt heavy. He kept the orb in his saddlebags and the shield fit on his back strapped to his gear as if it belonged there.

As he walked, he held his magic mirror, allowing it to recharge in the sun. In his head, he had gone over what he wanted to say, what he wished he could say, he had rehearsed this a thousand times already, but he knew that when the time came, he would stumble over the words and what would come out would be nothing like what he had thought in his head. Heaving a weary sigh, he opened his mouth, ready to call Twilight on the mirror, but what came out instead surprised him.

“Pinny Lane?” There was a pause. “Mom, are you out there?”

After a moment, a voice in the mirror replied, “Tharnith? I wath bruthing my theeth.”

“Sorry Mom… I… just wanted to hear your voice.” As he talked, he heard spitting.

“Facing a bit of a crisis? Having a rough moment?”

It bothered him, but he had to pause and give thought to his answer. He had to decide how honest to be to his mother. Each second felt long, and he was aware that the longer he took to answer, the more of a chance his mother had of knowing that something was wrong.

“Things have been a little rough. I had to pick a fight with some diamond dogs to rescue a pony in trouble. But other than that, things are mostly okay.” He thought about his words. Things were mostly okay. They were. The sun was shining, his canteen was full, his amulet was a pale, pleasant shade of blue, and he was feeling down in the dumps because something was going on that he didn’t understand.

“Oh dear, are you okay?” Pinny’s voice sounded a bit whiny with worry.

“I’m fine,” Tarnish replied, “I walked away without a scratch.” For whatever reason, hearing his own words made Tarnish feel better. He had walked away without a scratch. That was something to be thankful for. He could have ended up like Trixie. Things might have gone wrong in the worst possible way.

“Gave them what for?” Pinny asked.

“I sure did. They never saw it coming. Limestone smacked a few in the face with a shovel.”

“That’s my girl… I knew there was a reason why I adored Limestone.”

Hearing these words, his spirits lifted. A reluctant smile spread over Tarnish’s muzzle and a new spring appeared in his step. Some of the heaviness went away, like a bird taking wing to fly into the perfect blue sky on a wonderful sunny day. The clouds parted and he felt the sunshine.

“Thanks, Mom. I think I just needed to hear your voice.”

“You sound a little better. Tarnish, I got to go. I was brushing my teeth because I had to leave. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah, I think so, Mom. You go and do whatever you need to do.”

“Love you, buhbye!”

The mirror went silent and Tarnish became aware that Maud was looking at him. He gave her a sincere smile, flashing his teeth at her, and he fell into step beside her. His grin became a little sheepish as Maud continued to gaze at him.

“Are you going to tell Twilight?” Maud asked.

The answer that slipped out of Tarnish’s own mouth surprised him. “No.”

“No?”

“Nope.”

“No.”

“Yes. No.” He heard Maud sigh and decided to explain himself. “Once I get my head sorted out, I will. But right now? I just going to let my mind settle. Twilight needs to be told, I think, but later.”

“Seems reasonable,” Maud replied. “If we keep up this pace, we’ll be there soon.”

“Soon?” Tarnish blinked. “How soon?”

“I didn’t expect this wagon to be as light as it is and as easy to pull. Two more days, if the weather remains suitable for traveling and there is no more trouble. Once we get there, we’ll set up base camp and then begin working. We have a lot to do before the weather turns cold. Expect several weeks of hard work.”

“I don’t mind hard work.”

“I know.” Maud turned her head to look ahead. “You’ve proven that.”

“What do I tell Twilight?” Tarnish asked. “I mean… I don’t remember all of it. And you were right. Whatever evidence there is, it is sketchy at best. Plus, I have no way of knowing if the orb will even spill its secrets again, or if it will say the same thing twice. I know nothing about it.”

In response, Maud said nothing. Tarnish took it as a sign that she was thinking, contemplating, putting her mind to it. He adjusted his pith helmet and re-slung his canteen so the strap wasn’t cutting into his neck. He gave the shield on his back a shake, which made it settle into place, waggled his hips to get his saddlebags back into a comfortable spot, and then fell into a long legged gait that was almost effortless on his part.

He tucked the mirror away into his saddlebags, knowing that it would be safe in there. For whatever reason, fragile items in his saddlebags were never in any danger. He pulled out the blue orb and held it up in front of him. He was in a much better mood and his magic seemed to have a better flow. A better state of mind made magic easier.

Perhaps that was Trixie’s problem. She wanted to be great and powerful, but being down in the dumps, being depressed, being put out, all of those things made magic harder. Perhaps if she wasn’t so mean spirited, magic would be a little easier for her.

Holding the orb up, almost to where it was touching his nose, Tarnish peered into the glowing, swirling depths. At first, there was nothing, but as he peered inside, it was like a snow globe filled with murky water. He began to notice details. Tiny figures moved around within the depths. He saw… something… the silhouette of a city perhaps? A castle?

He blinked, trying to clear his vision. The world around him distorted, growing long and weird. The trees along the sides of the road stretched away from him, everything stretched, the road became ribbon thin. The more he tried to focus on what he saw within the orb, the more difficult it became, and the more distorted the world became around him.

This was, perhaps, the most unicorn-centric thing that Tarnish had ever done. He had never been one for study, he had never gone to a magic academy, he never spent long hours with his nose stuck in the tomes of Star Swisher the Goateed or whatever his name was, but now, he was wrestling for control with a powerful artifact that was beyond his comprehension.

It never once occurred to him that he might be in danger or that the orb might fight back.

In the blink of an eye, the road around him vanished and Tarnish found himself elsewhere. Maud was gone. The orb was gone. The sun was gone. Above him was night sky and the stars seemed… dim. He could not see the moon.

On both sides of him, he saw white walls made of some gleaming, almost glowing stone. Beneath his hooves were paving stones, large, square, and different colours which were difficult to see in the dark.

Alone, Tarnish had no idea what to do. He looked ahead, then behind, and saw that the street he stood upon was empty. Ahead, he saw a doorway in the white gleaming wall. There were no windows at street level, but he saw ornate glass windows above him. Something about them seemed familiar, but he couldn’t say what it was.

He headed for the door. It was strange, made of some metal he didn’t recognise. There was no knob, no lever, nothing. The door was smooth and featureless on the outside. When he touched it, it swung inwards. Tarnish was hit by the most delightful aromas and he found his mouth watering.

Unable to stop himself, he stepped inside.

He found himself in a small entry room, there was a hoof brush on the floor for cleaning mud and dirt off of one’s hooves. There were hooks for cloaks. He glanced around. The room was rather bare, all things considered. The walls were bare white stone.

Stepping into the next room, Tarnish found a kitchen. It had to be a kitchen. There were cooking pots, a hearth, dried herbs hung from the ceiling, and root vegetables were suspended in nets on the walls. Something delicious had been cooked in here.

At the other end of the room, there was a doorway shaped almost like an hourglass. He continued forwards, stepping through the door, and found himself in a warm, cozy room that had a low, round table in the middle that was surrounded by cushions. There was a light hanging from the ceiling that burned oil. Candles were lit. On the table, there were empty bowls. Somepony had just eaten. He kept going, heading for the next room, while taking note of the stairs in this room leading up to the next floor.

There were voices in the room beyond this one.

A large centaur with blue skin lay upon cushions with little ponies piled around him. He was holding a book in his hands. He made for quite a marvellous sight, and while he was quite interesting, the ponies around him were far more so.

No, not ponies, but foals. There were a few earth pony foals, a couple of pegasi, a pair of unicorns, and an alicorn. Tarnish sucked in a deep breath. The alicorn was small, tiny even, female, and her pelt was a beautiful shade of pearlescent pale green. Her mane, a vibrant, vivid pink, was curly and spilled around her ears. She was so adorable that it was almost painful.

Looking around, Tarnish made a few assumptions. The centaur loved these foals. That much was obvious. He had portraits of them on the wall. Smaller portraits were framed and sitting on a shelf. It seemed that cameras had not yet been invented. This room was a library and it was filled with books. And pictures of the foals in the centaur’s care.

He was reading them a story. Try as he might, he could not make out the words. They were garble. The harder he tried to listen, the more distorted the words became. He gave up and focused instead on taking in the visual details. The centaur turned the page and one of the little earth ponies yawned. She was well cared for, a little chubby, her pelt was sleek, shiny, somepony had spent a long time brushing her. It was obvious that she was loved.

Seeing something in the corner of his vision, Tarnish turned and saw the blue skinned centaur standing beside him, looking down at himself and the pile of foals. Confused, Tarnish blinked, he was in fact, seeing double. The centaur looked at him, made a gesture with his hand, and then took off, leaving the room.

Tarnish followed. The centaur went through the dining room, back into the kitchen, and exited out of the strange, featureless door. Burning with curiousity, Tarnish followed, and found himself back out onto the street.

He tried to speak, but no words left his mouth. He was unable to communicate here, unable to interact. He hurried after the centaur, who moved with terrific speed. He was large, powerful, and if what Tarnish had witnessed could be believed, a gentle and loving father figure.

The centaur turned around a corner and Tarnish followed, now almost at a canter to keep up. The streets were empty, deserted, there was no life here but the centaur and his foals, safe and secure back in the house that Tarnish had visited. He followed, determined to keep up.

The tower was much, much larger on the inside than the outside. On the outside, it appeared skinny and was covered in an onion dome. On the inside, it was almost palatial. Tarnish found himself in a room that had a tremendous orrery in the center, calculating various astronomical alignments. The room smelled like poison joke.

The centaur stood next to a table and he pointed with one enormous blue hand that had one giant finger pointing at something. Tarnish saw that it was the blue orb. On the table, all around it, there were dried poison joke petals, stamens, and stems. There was a vat near the table, a large glass vat, and without knowing how he knew, Tarnish knew that it was filled with the distilled essence of poison joke. He took a step closer, taking it all in, trying to understand what he was seeing.

“All of time was an ocean that I tried to cross,” the centaur said to Tarnish. His voice sounded far away, distant, faint, and Tarnish had trouble hearing it.

Try as he might, Tarnish found that he could not respond.

“Crossing the ocean is a hazardous venture… the sea is a strange, fickle mistress. I was dashed upon the very rocks of reality. All that is left of me is this orb. It is all that I am, all that I was, it is my memories, it is everything that I hoped I would be.”

While Tarnish could not speak, he could nod, and he did so to show that he was listening.

“Things did not go as planned. I do not know what went wrong. I do not remember.”

Again, Tarnish nodded.

“Magic is very much like water. It can be full of impurities. Taint. It can be poisoned. It can be made bitter, corrupted. It can be polluted. I had a theory. All of my life’s work centered around the study of cursed joke. I saw that it filtered magic, removed the impurities. I think you already know this. I had an idea.”

Coming closer, Tarnish began to examine the contents of the table, but also glanced up at the centaur to show that he was paying attention. He saw that a drip feed from the vat filled with distilled essence of poison joke dribbled a clear, fragrant smelling liquid over the orb, which seemed to soak into the strange glass as though it was a sponge.

“I sought to make the purest form of magic that I could. I tried to create a filter and then I attempted to distill magic. Others thought I was mad… insane. But I believed that I could achieve magical purity. We had vile enemies… magic itself was being polluted, poisoned, it had become impure. It had terrible consequences. Those most connected to magic suffered in the worst of ways.”

Lifting his head, Tarnish thought of unicorns and their connection to magic. Then, after a moment, he thought of alicorns. He had heard it said that unicorns channeled magic, while alicorns were magic. He didn’t know if this was true, however.

“I had such plans. Good plans. I would find a cure for the corrupted magic. I would find a way to remove the impurities. And then, I would cross the oceans of time, projecting myself forward, and I would return as an alicorn, connected and entangled with magic itself, and I thought that if I couldn’t stop the impending disaster, at least I could clean up the aftermath.”

Tarnish blinked.

“But nothing ever goes as planned. Not with this stuff.” The centaur pointed at the poison joke on the table. “I suppose you know all about that though. Your existence was inevitable. Nature tends to correct itself, if given enough time.”

So many questions. Tarnish had so many questions. It burned him that he couldn’t speak. He stared at the centaur, trying to project his thoughts somehow, trying to reach out with his mind.

“You lack skill and your magic is weak, but I suppose that you’ll have to do. There is a strange bit of magic about you that I can’t identify. Something that does not come from the source. Something… chaotic. But I suppose I can expect no less from the living embodiment of poison joke. Nature has a terrible sense of humour. She finished what I could not.”

Ears perked forwards, Tarnish waited, still trying to project his thoughts.

The centaur moved forwards and lifted one large hammy hand. Tarnish, fearful, tried to back away, but found himself held in place by an unseen force. There was a blue glow around the centaur’s moose-like antlers.

“I knew my memories would not survive crossing the ocean of time,” the centaur said, “so I dumped everything into this orb so it could be given to me when I needed it. That purpose was one of many. Such plans. Such well laid plans. And all for naught.”

Reaching forwards, the centaur laid his hand upon Tarnish’s neck with a gentle touch. Fear fled from Tarnish and he felt a soothing warmth go through his body. It was pleasant. He thought about the centaur reading to his foals and wondered how he could have ever thought the centaur would do anything to hurt him.

He was a foal once more, at least it felt that way. He felt safe, secure, warm, happy. He closed his eyes as he leaned into the hand pressed against his neck. Blue lights danced beneath his closed eyelids and there was a radiant warmth in the root of his horn.

“Come to me, little one, and let me tell you a story…”

Blinking, the bright sunlight dazzled Tarnish’s eyes. His canteen slapped against him while he walked. He found himself looking at the same tree that he had just seen before slipping off into the orb. It seemed as though mere seconds had passed.

It seemed like a dream. His memories of what he had seen and experienced in the orb were hazy, difficult to remember, and he tried very hard to recollect them. His most vivid memory was that of the centaur reading a story to his foals, all of them in a pile.

Everything else was blue.

Author's Notes:

I uploaded from my phone. There is no tab button to align the first paragraph.