Break Away: The Alicorn Amulet Collaboration

by cleverpun

First published 4th of October, 2017

Cadance and Twilight have discovered something about the Alicorn Amulet. Whenever someone rejects its promises of power, it weakens the Amulet's magic. They summon the help of volunteers from across Equestria, in the hope of destroying it for good.

Cadance and Twilight have discovered something about the Alicorn Amulet. Whenever someone rejects its promises of power, it weakens the Amulet's magic. In theory, if enough ponies should be tempted by it and reject it, it would destroy the amulet forever.

They summon the help of volunteers from across Equestria, in the hope of destroying it for good.

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Project Lead/Lead Editor: cleverpun
Additional Editing: Kai Creech

All chapters written by their respective authors;
Titanium Dragon
No Raisin
Chris
FanOfMostEverything
Moosetasm
Kai Creech
nioniosbbbb
Sollace
Winston

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Submissions are closed, sorry. I may, however, do another collaboration in the future. If so, I'll announce it via blog post; following me is the most reliable way to be notified. Or you can join the group. (Make sure to leave notifications on!)

1: Family, by cleverpun (Cadance)

“I wish I could go in there with you.”

“Shiny, I know.”

“I’ll be here the entire time. If anything goes wrong…”

“Shiny, shh.” Cadance put a hoof around her husband’s shoulder. “You’ve been repeating yourself for the last three days. I’ll be fine.”

Shining glanced around. The crowd whispered. Every few seconds the click and flash of cameras poked through the screen of noise. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“If I can’t do this, then how can we expect anypony else to?”

Shining leaned in. “I know you have to say that to everypony else. I know that there’s all that noblesse oblige BS to consider…”

“Shining…”

“But you don’t have to do this. No one would think less of you. I would never think less of you.”

“Shiny, do you trust Twilight?”

“Twily has a habit of thinking through the wrong parts of her plans.”

“Do you trust me?”

“You have a habit of putting others before yourself.”

“I know you’re scared. It’s okay. I’m scared too. But better to try. And if it fails… When it succeeds, we won’t have to worry about the Amulet anymore.”

Shining said nothing. The whispers of the crowd shifted pitch and tone, the cameras continued.

Shining finally leaned in, kissed Cadance softly and quietly.

“Promise me you’ll be okay,” he whispered.

“There’s nothing it could offer me that I don’t already have,” Cadance whispered back.

Cadance took a deep breath. She put on her princess smile for the crowds and reporters, then finally walked into the building.

They had prepared the building in secret, of course. Even the princesses didn’t know the full extent of the countermeasures and traps and failsafes layering the building. She felt a tingle as she passed through the door, and she could guess at some of the runes and magic dampeners placed throughout the structure. There was a guard at each corner of the room. Their gas masks and the vents along the ceiling provided another clue about what sort of things might stop her if the Alicorn Amulet won.

She shook her head. Best not to think about that. She trotted to the center of the room. The Amulet sat in a glass case. It looked as harmless as it always did. The glass was so thick, so heavily enchanted, that it dulled the Amulet’s colors and sheen further.

She knew how dangerous that lie was, though. She had steeled herself for its tricks. To underestimate it or overestimate herself were equally dangerous.

She took another deep breath. She reached a hoof into the small hole in the case. Her hoof paused an inch from its surface.

“It won’t win,” she said aloud. The sentence echoed faintly in the room. The guards showed no reaction.

She moved her hoof the last few inches forward and closed her eyes.

Princess Cadance yawned. The sheets felt warm. The sunlight had started to creep in through the windows and past the curtains, stopped just short of her neck and face. The light warmed her sheets without poking her in the eye.

She yawned again. She adjusted her body slightly, and felt the warmth and smoothness of her bedsheets shift under her. She began to open her eyes, then changed her mind.

She flicked an ear. Listened to the sounds of the morning. She heard bugs and birds through the open window. She heard Flurry Heart breathing ever so softly in the crib. She thought of breathing, and noticed her own.

She smiled. She reached a hoof over. Shining Armor normally made a large divot in the bed, so he must have rolled to other side. He could be such a wiggly sleeper if she didn’t help him keep still.

Her reach stopped.

“Shining, scoot closer,” she murmured. Her voice strained slightly, the words clouded by fatigue.

She reached again. “Shining, don’t make me move over there, I’m too comfortable.”

She rested her foreleg on the bed, and the surface felt smooth and flat.

“Shining?” The divot should have been there.

She opened her eyes, and saw an empty stretch of mattress.

She sat up. No training exercises or events had been scheduled today. A Sunday like this had been tailor-made to sleep in and cuddle. No appointments or errands came to mind.

Cadance yawned again. “I swear, Shiny… If you are doing some sort of busywork on our day off…”

She crept over to Flurry Heart’s crib, and her daughter looked as pristine and peaceful as ever. The urge to fall asleep together washed over her, but her mind had started to grind away. The question of where Shining had gone would gnaw at her, whether she tried to go back to sleep or not.

She grabbed her robe and opened her door.

“Excuse me?”

A maid dusting one of the knicknacks looked up. “Ah, good morning, Princess. Did you need any help with anything?”

Cadance glared at the maid’s cutie mark. “Forgive me, I’m still a little sleepy. Feather Rose?”

“At your service. Did you need something? I’d be happy to help.”

“Have you seen Shining Armor?”

The maid’s smile shifted slightly. It had started out as a standard servile smile; slightly too enthusiastic, but sincere. The moment Cadance had said his name, the maid’s smile had shifted. It looked like a clock that had stopped working; the same position and appearance, but eerily devoid of movement.

“I’m sorry?” the maid asked. Her words strained slightly through her teeth and smile.

“Do you know where my husband is?”

The maid glanced to the side. “Is this a joke, Princess?”

“What is that supposed to mean? Of course it’s not a joke.”

Feather Rose took a step backward. “You couldn’t have forgotten, could you? I mean, I suppose they told me about the memory problems but…”

“Forgotten what, exactly?”

Feather Rose glanced to the side again. “Shining Armor…do you really not know?”

Cadance smiled her most reassuring smile. Clearly Shining had gone off to do something, and ordered this poor girl to cover for him. “Just tell me where Shining is, please. I can assure you, I won’t be upset.”

“Well, your highness, he’s…”

“Yes?”

“He’s dead.”

Now Cadance’s smile froze in place, devoid of movement. “Surely, my little pony, you must be mistaken.” The words came out slower than she had intended. “I was just talking to him yesterday.”

“He has been dead for a month. And I know that your memory is still…uhm, adjusting, but I reminded you the other day and…”

Cadance stepped forward, and the maid flinched.

“I know that I said I would not get upset,” Cadance said. Her words strained through her teeth. “But I am having difficulty believing such an outlandish statement.” She leaned forward, pushed her face right up against Feather Rose’s. “You wouldn’t lie to me. Would you?”

The maid pushed her head as far back as possible without taking another step backward. “Princess, please don’t make me say it again. I reminded you just the other day, and I can’t…” The red and white of her eyes turned cloudy, and she turned her head just as the tears started to form.

Cadance stepped back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just…”

“I know it is hard to believe, with your condition. But you could always go to the Crystal Empire Royal Cemetery and see for yourself. That helped you remember, the last time.”

Cadance blinked. She had not been to the cemetery in ages. Not since the last function that had demanded her presence. If it solved this mystery, however…

Cadance nodded. “Right. Again, forgive me. I’m still not quite awake.” She turned back to her quarters. “I’ll prepare, and then go see for myself.”

The door to the royal bedroom closed. The maid smiled and returned to her dusting. The sunlight glinted off her eyes. For a moment, her eyes glinted red.

The tombstone had been carved in the shape of Shining Armor’s cutie mark. The little stars at the top possessed a small backboard that supported them, and the central design had been carved in bas-relief.

The rectangular segment below that listed his date of birth, and a date for his death.

It has to be some mistake. A month and three days ago, just like the maid said.

Cadance turned to the guards who had accompanied her. “You are sure the Cemetery is empty?”

One of them nodded. “Yes, Princess. We cleared out every visitor before you arrived, just like you asked.”

“Thank you. I’d like some time alone, with…the grave, if you don’t mind.”

The guards nodded. “Of course, Princess.”

Cadance waited until their hoofsteps faded out of earshot. She waited a moment longer, then turned to the ground. Her horn ignited, and she scanned the ground with the most powerful spells she knew.

A coffin certainly lay below. It certainly held a corpse-shaped object of some sort.

Cadance glanced behind her. The cemetery looked empty, just as she had ordered. She turned back to the grave.

“It’s the only way to be sure,” she muttered.

Her horn ignited again, and a huge chunk of grass and soil tore out of the ground. She tossed the clump to the side, then pulled up another. Flecks of dirt and sod sprinkled everywhere, and dust started to cloud the air.

Another clump followed it, and another one after that. It took a moment for each one to move up through the air and out of the way for the next one, leaving a trail of detritus on the ground. Cadance paused.

“This is quite absurd. I don’t know what I was thinking.” She looked around. “I need a shovel.”

She had gotten into the rhythm of it now. She would tear up a clump of soil with her horn, and then scoop some with the spade. The downstroke of the shovel happened as she tossed the dirt up with her magic. Then the upstroke went in time with her magic grasping another wad of earth.

The sun had ticked along, slowly but surely, during the entire time she had been digging. She had started to get sweaty. A few clouds pockmarked the sky, but all this digging and excavation would work up a sweat no matter the weather.

Cadance’s ceremonial barding had gotten scuffed, caked in dirt. She should have taken it off, but she wore it so often that she forgot about it sometimes. The damage had been done, no point in taking it off now.

Her coat fared little better. The ground lacked much water. It was the sort of dry, clumpy dirt that created a lot of dust as she dug. At first, she had felt the layer caked over her body, but now she had adjusted to it. She only noticed it when she made a particularly long or sweeping movement, and the dirt shifted, scrunched on her skin.

She had felt the dirt in her mane, too. Thankfully, her hair had gotten dirty enough to hold a shape, and she had swept it out of her face.

She had encountered more than a few bugs and worms on her way down. A few of them had gotten smashed into her coat, or squished on her barding or sliced by her shovel. No point worrying about that, either.

The shovel made a dull clink as it hit something hard. Possibly another rock, she had found a few. She paused her rhythmic digging to sweep the dirt away with her horn.

Her eyes widened. Smooth wood peeked out from the earth. She started shifting more of it with her magic, and finally she uncovered the coffin.

The wood looked expensive, even under layers of dirt and scrapes from its stay underground. The smallest nick marked where her shovel had struck it.

She shifted her weight, and forced the top section of the lid open.

The brief glimpse made her heart lurch. She dropped the lid, leaned backward. She felt bile build in her throat.

It had looked like him. The mane and coat had been the right color, dulled by rot and time. The skin had warped, the clothes had faded, but it was impossible to deny it.

Cadance pulled herself out of the hole. She put a hoof to her mouth, tried to restrain the vomit crawling up into her mouth. She had desired the truth, and the grave had given it to her.

“Hello, Cadance.”

She nearly fell back in. Celestia stood there, a few yards from her, smiling sadly.

“Aunt Celestia? How…how long have you been there?”

Celestia’s expression sagged a little. “Long enough to see what happened.”

“Auntie, I know this might look a little…well, more than a little…” Cadance took a deep breath. “I know how this must look.” She glanced back at the grave. “But I can explain. I can definitely explain, if you give me a moment.”

Celestia’s expression remained the same. “There’s no need to explain, Cadance. I know why you are here.”

“You do?”

“You’re here because you had to be sure.” Celestia sighed. “It’s my own fault, really. I should have warned you about the way alicorn memory can work.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Living long enough, it can take its toll on your memories. Even regular ponies forget things, given enough time. Alicorns are no different, and we have many more things to remember.”

“But it says he died a month ago. I remember talking to him yesterday.” Cadance shook her head. “That can’t be. It’s too preposterous.”

“It’s a price we pay for living so long. One price of many.” Celestia forced a smile, the same one Cadance had seen her wear at so many official functions and meetings. “It can be mitigated. You can plan your life around it. It was harder before the invention of the camera. Luna and I used to keep a journal together. And one day I will show you the scrolls of sketches and drawings that I’ve had done, to commemorate all the people I’ve known.”

Cadance slumped to the ground.

“I know it is not easy, my dear little pony. And this is partly my fault. I should have told you this a long time ago, prepared you for it better.”

“Nothing could have prepared me for this,” Cadance whispered. “Will all my memories of him fade away someday?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

Tears began to drip down Cadance’s cheeks. They left little trails through the dirt in her coat, before dripping onto the ground. “Isn’t there anything I can do? There has to be some spell or something that can keep my memories intact.”

Celestia touched Cadance’s shoulder. “Well, there is one thing I can think of.”

Cadance wiped away some of her tears, but only made her face a muddier mess. She looked up. “What?”

“But it might not be for you. It might be best to forget him.”

“No, tell me. What is it?”

Celestia glanced to the side. “I mean, I suppose I did come here to show you. But you mustn’t overreact.”

“Just tell me, Auntie.”

“Very well.” Celestia reached into her peytral, and slid out a small black object. “There is a spell that could solve your problem, but it would require a lot of magic. You would need the right artifact to amplify your abilities.” Celestia turned her hoof over, and the Alicorn Amulet stared at Cadance.

“Where did you get that? Why do you have it?”

“I told you, I brought it for you,” Celestia said. “If you fear losing Shining Armor, then this will give you the power to bring him back, to keep him with you forever.”

“A memory spell shouldn’t need that much magic.”

Celestia smiled. The red of the Amulet reflected in the bright sunlight, cast a tint on her eyes. “One can only cling to memories for so long, magic or not. You would need to do more than that. You would need to use some magic directly on…his body.”

Cadance turned back to the hole behind her. She knew the lid had dropped back down, but she felt her skin crawl. “Auntie, that’s insane. You know how resurrection magic works. The pony never comes back the same.” Cadance swallowed. “They always bring death back with them.”

“With normal magic, yes.” Celestia gestured with the Amulet. “But this can give you power that no other pony could ever possess. The power to bring him back, and keep him with you for all eternity.”

Cadance shook her head. “And then the Amulet would corrupt me. It wouldn’t be worth it.”

“Yes, the Amulet will whisper to you. Every moment you wear it, it will tell you promises and lies and uncomfortable truths. It will try to tempt you, it will try to make you use it for grander and grander things. It will take every opportunity to wear down your resolve.” Celestia’s smile looked like the maid’s, devoid of motion. “But you are a strong pony. You will be able to ignore it. You will be able to tune it out and overcome its temptations and whispers. And isn’t that a reasonable price to pay, to have him back?”

Cadance remained quiet.

“I tried to use it, once,” Celestia said softly. “I lost someone, someone more precious to me than anything else. And I thought the Amulet could bring them back to me. And it did.” Celestia inched closer, pushed the Amulet towards Cadance. “I wasn’t strong enough to keep the Amulet in check. I had to take it off, and lose that someone all over again. And then I lost them a third time, when my memories faded. I can't even remember their name, now.” Celestia leaned in, put her mouth to Cadance’s ear. “But I know you are strong enough. You could control it. You could bring him back, and you won’t need to suffer as I have.”

Cadance turned her eyes towards the Amulet. “You’re sure I can handle it?”

“Of course you can.”

“And if I can’t, if the Amulet starts to win, you’ll help me take it off, right?”

“Of course I will.”

“And Shining…he’ll be normal, won’t he?”

“He’ll be the same as he was when he was alive, as long as you maintain him properly.”

Cadance looked at Celestia. “It’s that simple? Just that easy?”

“It will not be easy, but it can be that simple.” Celestia moved the Amulet closer to Cadance. “Put it on, and see for yourself.”

Cadance moved her hoof towards the Amulet. It glowed red. “You promise you’ll stop me if…”

“Cadance, would I ever lie to you?”

Cadance picked up the Amulet. It felt heavy, metallic, and cold. She had never actually held it before. It sat heavily on her hoof, glowing subtly. She could see herself, just barely, reflected in the Amulet’s gems. Her mane looked like a mess, and the dirt covering her body showed even in the faint reflection.

“You did all this, just to know if he was dead. What’s a little more digging?”

“I didn’t mean to…” Cadance stared at the Amulet. Her reflection seemed sharper for a moment, the dirt caked on her and her mane and the circles under eyes. “I wasn’t trying to be crazy, I just…”

“It would be crazy to do anything else, after everything you’ve been through with him.”

Cadance sat staring at the Amulet.

“And it’s not just for you, either. Doesn’t Flurry Heart deserve to know her daddy?”

“Flurry Heart…”

“Yes. Just think of what you will be doing for her as well. You will be giving both of you the gift of a complete family. Go on, the clasp is on the back.”

Cadance swallowed.

Celestia’s face still hovered next to Cadance’s. The Amulet cast a glow on Celestia’s face, and it made her eyes look red. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

Cadance shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you can. Just put it on.”

“It would be a lie.”

“The Alicorn Amulet can make anything into the truth. That’s why you need it, instead of pedestrian magic.”

“No.” Cadance dropped the Amulet, backed away a half-step. “It would be a lie. What if Flurry Heart asked me if her father was dead? What would I tell her?”

“He wouldn’t be dead. That’s why you are going to bring him back.”

“She would know. I would know. Everypony would know.” Cadance turned around. “His tombstone is right there.”

“Well, obviously we would take it down, he wouldn’t need it anymore.”

Cadance slumped over the hole. “I’m sorry, Shining—”

“He can’t hear you, Cadance.”

“—But I can’t bring you back.”

“He can’t hear you, Cadance.” Celestia voice had risen, halfway between talking and shouting.

“And no matter how much I want to, I can’t keep my memories of you forever. And Flurry Heart can’t either.”

“Just put it on, and everything will be fine, my little pony.”

“I can’t make new memories with you, because it would sully the old ones.”

“Cadance, listen to me…”

“Time is like that. It’s a river that keeps flowing.”

“You can bend a river, with enough magic.”

“No, Auntie, you can’t. No matter how much magic you have, there are some things that can’t be changed.” Cadance closed her eyes. More tears leaked onto the ground. Celestia shouted something at her, but it wasn’t important.

“Time is like that. No matter what you do, it will keep going. No matter what, it will wash things away. No matter what, it keeps on rolling.”

Cadance opened her eyes. “No matter how much it hurts, I have to say goodbye.”

Cadance pulled her hoof away. She stumbled backward and fell down. She tasted bile crawling on her back teeth, her limbs felt stiff.

“Princess, are you okay?”

Cadance inhaled breath after breath. The air tasted so clean and fresh. She opened her eyes, drank in the details of the room.

A guard helped her up. “Princess?” His voice sounded muffled through the filter of the gas mask.

She remembered the gas mask, the vents, the thick glass case, and crowd waiting for her outside. And Shining. “So it wasn’t real after all,” she whispered.

“No, it’s alright, you’re fine Prin—”

Cadance shoved him away before he could finish. She trotted out the door, barely registering the tingle of her magic returning. The cheers and shouts and cameras greeted her, but she ignored them. She didn’t even bother to put her smile back on.

Shining nearly knocked her over with the force of his hug. He said something, so many things, but she couldn’t muster the energy to listen.

“Shining,” she muttered, “I just want to go rest.” She barely registered his nod as he rushed her away from the crowd.

“There, did you see that?” Twilight jabbed a hoof at the screen. “When she broke away from the Amulet, when she rejected whatever offer it made her, right there.”

The other alicorns squinted at the picture. A little trail of red smoke barely registered on the grainy film.

“Her denying it spent some of its magic.”

Celestia sighed. “Well, I suppose we don’t have a choice now. I still think it's a dangerous plan, but it seems to have a chance of success.”

Luna nodded. “Let the other volunteers you screened begin their turns at the Amulet.”

“And let fate be merciful on us and our little ponies.”

2: Knowledge, by Titanium Dragon (Twilight)

Chapter by: Titanium Dragon

“Are you certain this is wise?” Luna asked. “Cadance seemed unwell after her ordeal.”

Cameras flashed around Twilight as she made her way towards the front door of the building alongside Luna. “It would hardly be fair for me to ask my friends to volunteer if I wasn’t willing to go through with it myself,” Twilight said.

“That is not why I ask,” Luna said, ignoring the photographers, her head bowed low as she spoke. “You are as strong as any without the Amulet, Twilight. Should you fail, and Cadance is unwell…”

Twilight paused at the threshold of the building, just beyond its magical protections, and sighed. “Shining Armor said she just wanted to take a nap. We didn’t see her use any magic. Whatever the Amulet does when it is tempting somepony, it isn’t draining their magic. If it was, this would only make the Amulet more powerful.” The corner of her lips turned up in a smile. “Besides, this way I can warn the volunteers about what they’ll see from personal experience!”

Luna bowed her head gravely. “I trust your judgement, Twilight Sparkle. I will see you after your ordeal.”

“Thanks.” Twilight beamed at Luna before turning back towards the building. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped across the threshold, her mind automatically processing the dozens of spells she felt tingle across her coat. She knew most of them, but some she had demanded be kept from her, just as she’d hidden some of what she’d done from Princess Cadance. After all, that had been one of the first safety measures she’d thought of.

The smile remained on her face as she stepped into the room and glanced at the guards. Gas masks? Check. Vents? Check. Holes for the dart guns, carefully bored into the walls so that they blended with the natural shadows? Check. Additional countermeasures she didn’t know about? Bits of fresh plaster on the walls announced the presence of something nopony else had told her about. Check.

“Is everything satisfactory, Princess?” one of the guards asked, his mask emitting a raspy sucking sound as he took a breath afterwards.

“Of course! You did great.” Twilight turned back towards the Amulet. She strode forward, her hooves clicking loudly against the floor. “Now, let’s see what you can do.” Lifting one hoof, she plunged it towards the surface of the Amulet.

Several long moments passed. No torrent of magic flowed through her; no dark voice whispered in her ear. She squinted, lifting her hoof slightly to look at the small object underneath, but the Amulet remained inert.

“Is that it?”

She glanced back over her shoulder at the guard behind her, who shrugged.

“Uhm…” Twilight turned her head back towards the amulet. Planting all four hooves firmly on the ground, she flared her wings. “I deny your power, Amulet!”

“You should think before you do that.”

Twilight yelped and whirled around, her eyes widening as he found herself eye-to-chest with a gray-coated stallion the size of Princess Luna. Around the corners of the room, the guards shifted to alert, flaring their wings, their horns sparking with magic.

“I didn’t come to attack her, just talk,” the stallion said, waving one of his wings towards the guards.

Twilight’s eyes flashed up to his forehead, where a gray horn jutted from his brow. “Who are you?”

“Hmph. You don’t recognize me?” The gray alicorn lifted one hoof to stroke at his beard, the long white strands flowing over his hoof.

Twilight narrowed her eyes. “No.” Around the edges of the room, the guards tensed.

“So little trust. But I suppose you are young.” The gray alicorn lifted one hoof to stroke at his beard, the long white strands flowing over his hoof despite its tangled appearance. “Would it help you if I was wearing my hat?”

“Hat?”

The alicorn dipped his head behind the Amulet’s stand. A quiet jingling sound filled the air as he rummaged around for a moment before lifting his head. An oversized blue hat was perched upon his head, coppery stars competing with silvery moons on the fabric, while golden bells swung from the sides and the pointed tip.

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Star Swirl the Bearded?”

The alicorn rolled his eyes. “And here I was, thinking you were the smart one.”

“No.” Twilight shook her head. “You’re just an illusion created by the Amulet!”

“Of course I’m an illusion created by the Amulet. Or, more accurately, I’m the psychospiritual manifestation of the Amulet, taking on the appearance of its creator so as to better speak with you.”

She glanced at his side. “So what’s with the wings?”

“I am the Alicorn Amulet, after all.” He smiled thinly.

One of the guards stepped forward, sucking air through his mask. “You didn’t show up when Princess Cadance touched the Amulet,” he said.

“Ordinarily I simply speak to ponies in their minds,” the apparition said, slowly circling around Twilight. “But for her, I’m making an exception.”

The masked guard glanced at Twilight. “We’re awaiting your orders, Princess Twilight.”

Twilight looked at the guard for a moment, then shook her head again. “It’s alright. He’s not real anyway.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The guard saluted and returned to his post. The other guards remained tense, their gazes bouncing between the Amulet and its manifestation.

Twilight turned around to face the apparition. “So why did you deem me worthy? Let me guess: because I am so pure of mind and of heart, you are showing up and are going to reveal the true secret of your power, so that I can save all of Equestria.”

“No.” The apparition looked down at her imperiously, a condescending curl to his lip. “Because you are trying to destroy one of the artifacts which is designed to protect Equestria, and your sister-in-law didn’t respond well to a voice in her head.”

“Hah? Protect Equestria?” Twilight stamped her hoof on the floor. “The last time somepony used you, they enslaved all of Ponyville!”

The apparition’s eyes flashed red. “Any power can be misused.”

Twilight growled. “My friends and I used the Elements of Harmony to save Equestria three times!”

“And your mentor used them to turn Discord to stone and banish her sister to the Moon.” The gray pony walked around the room slowly, looking at each of the guards in turn before his gaze returned to Twilight. “Did you ever wonder why it was that when Celestia used the Elements of Harmony, she banished her sister to the Moon, but when you fought the Nightmare, you were able to cleanse her?”

Twilight ground her teeth. “How would you know? You’re just a piece of jewelry.”

The apparition shrugged, turning away. “So are the Elements of Harmony, and yet you hold no quarrel with them.”

“That’s because they don’t corrupt ponies!”

“Oh? So you think I corrupt ponies, do you?” The apparition glanced back over his shoulder at Twilight. “What gave you that idea?”

“Trixie, of course. You corrupted her into enslaving all of Ponyville!” She pointed her hoof at him accusingly.

The apparition snorted. “And I suppose I made her work on a rock farm, too?”

“What?” Twilight blinked.

“The rock farm. You know, where she worked to save up the bits to purchase me. I know you heard the story; I was there, after all.”

Twilight’s mouth opened, then closed. “Yes, she saved up bits to buy you. So what? She didn’t know what you would do to her!”

“Give her knowledge? Power? The ability to humiliate her enemies?” The gray alicorn’s eyes smoldered like embers in ash. “Do you think she did not hold those desires in her heart before she put me around her throat?”

Twilight licked her lips, her hooves shifting against the stone floor. “You made her worse!”

“Did I? How do you know that?”

Twilight stamped her hoof. “I’ve read stories about you, you know. It wasn’t just Trixie!”

“Things must have changed greatly since my creation, then, if ponies always accept responsibility for their own actions, and do not seek to pass the blame.”

Twilight looked away. “That doesn’t make you the same as the Elements of Harmony.”

“So you do not believe that the Elements can be misused?” He snorted. “I’m sure your friend Sunset would be thrilled to hear that.”

“That was different. She was abusing the Element of Magic.”

“And how is that any different from how Trixie used me?”

Twilight stared at the ground silently.

The apparition smiled. “I knew a pony as smart as you would listen to what I have to say.”

Twilight’s ears drooped. “So what now?”

“That’s up to you. After all, I’m just a lump of metal and gemstone.” The manifestation walked away from Twilight, circling around to stand behind where its true body lay. The Amulet glowed faintly in the artificial light of the chamber as the gray alicorn stood behind it. “I can only offer you knowledge, not the wisdom to use it well.”

Twilight’s ears pricked as she took a step forward despite herself. “What knowledge?”

“A great deal. I hold within me the knowledge of Star Swirl the Bearded, and of Clover the Clever, who came after. Of those who tended the Tree of Harmony, and of the ponies who carved the Crystal Heart.” The manifestation rested his gray hooves on top of the glass case that held the Amulet.

“Okay. How did the Crystal Heart end up in the Crystal Empire then, and the Elements in the Tree of Harmony?” Twilight pointed her hoof towards one corner of the room, then the other.
“They’re a thousand miles apart!”

“Because each was made to protect a different group of ponies. But each had their own flaw.” The apparition sat back on his haunches as he spoke, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. “We who made them—”

“Wait, we?” Twilight peered at him.

“Yes. For you see, I was created first, and used to create the others. My creator, Star Swirl the Bearded, believed that you cannot rely on others; that in the end, power must come from within.” The manifestation smirked as he reached down to caress the Amulet with his hoof. “Of course, he was always a bit of a hypocrite. But I suppose that doesn’t count amulets that boost your magic and help you remember things in your old age. Especially if you grow a particularly long beard that makes it much harder to see that you’ve received assistance.” The gray alicorn leaned forward, angling his head down over the Amulet so that the device disappeared into the tangled white strands of his beard.

Twilight shifted uncomfortably. “You changed the subject. You didn’t explain how the Crystal Heart ended up in the Crystal Empire.”

“You interrupted me.” The apparition snorted, lifting his head. “When we made the Crystal Heart, it was intended to keep the Crystal Empire safe from the cold of the north, allowing the ponies to dig into the Crystal Mountains and their great wealth. We thought it was perfect —- the Crystal Heart could only be used if it had the strength of every pony in the Crystal Empire behind it, so it would be impossible to use for ill, unless ten thousand ponies willed it. Of course, I’m sure the crystal ponies have told you how that ended.”

Twilight nodded her head slowly. “No one realized that Sombra was evil at first; he was just another pony. They didn’t realize he was spreading lies to make everypony unhappy. By the time the ponies realized what he was up to, he was already calling himself King Sombra, and it was too late to use the Heart against him.”

The apparition stepped out from behind the Amulet, moving to stand next to Twilight, looking down at her. “The Elements of Harmony were our next attempt. It was Smart Cookie’s idea, but Clover provided the magic —– with a bit of hidden assistance, of course.” He smirked. “She didn’t dress up like a sack of potatoes to be fashionable.”

Twilight’s ears fell as she shifted her wings against her back in the memory of the rough brown cloak she wore in the play.

“It was the perfect plan, you see. Each would attune itself to a wielder, one who epitomized the element they represented. Loyalty, laughter, honesty, kindness, generosity, and, of course,” he lifted a hoof to point at Twilight’s chest, “magic. After all, what could go wrong with friendship?”

“They work!”

“They do. But who is to say that friendship is only for good? Starlight’s village was, after all, quite loyal to their dear leader.” He sneered. “Fanaticism is loyalty. Laughter can deride. Honesty can cut deeper than any sword. Kindness can shelter a criminal from justice. Generosity can be blind to what others truly desire. And magic…” He shook his head. “You know how magic can be misused.”

“So what? You’re the perfect one?” Twilight frowned.

“Of course not.” The apparition looked away from Twilight, back towards the Amulet. “I am the greatest and the worst. I don’t require an empire’s love. I don’t require a pony who encapsulates Harmony in one or more of its forms. I can be used by anypony. I am a tool; no more, no less. When Trixie picked me up, she thought only of herself, and of the revenge she would enact upon you.”

“Okay.” Twilight stared at the apparition for a moment before taking to her hooves, slowly pacing back and forth across the center of the room. “You’re right, I don’t know that you corrupted Trixie. But that still doesn’t mean it would be safe to wear you. How do I know you don’t take control over ponies?”

“If I took control of ponies, how could they remove me? What sort of cursed artifact would allow itself to be taken off?” The apparition leaned down to look Twilight in the eye. “You are a very smart pony, Twilight. Think!”

Twilight whirled away, continuing her pacing. “I am thinking! But you have to admit it is pretty suspicious. You’re telling me that every pony I’ve ever looked up to used you to make them seem more impressive. But they were all good ponies!”

The apparition sighed. “They were good ponies, Twilight. There is nothing evil about power or trying to earn the respect of others. You are stronger than any of them were, even when they were wearing me, and they almost always used my power for good.”

Twilight stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I don’t know where you came from; none of the books say. But they all agree that nopony would ever remove you willingly!”

“Because everypony who has stolen me has been a fool looking for power or thirsting for revenge!” The apparition shuddered. “Clover hid me away for fear that I might be misused, and instead passed me into the hooves of a succession of foolish ponies who wanted nothing more than a tool to make the world appreciate them, rather than draw on the wisdom of those who created me. Look at me, Twilight.” The apparition’s horn glowed, the Amulet floating over to hover in front of her snout. “Do you truly think that an amulet made by a unicorn before the first Hearth’s Warming, that combined the elements of unicorns and pegasi, was some sort of monster?”

With a shout, the guards surged forward towards the Amulet. Twilight spread her wing sharply, her hoof cutting through the air. “Stop! It’s alright. It’s alright.” Twilight frowned at the Amulet before looking up at the apparition. “Actually, it’s not alright. You shouldn’t be able to do that.”

The apparition rolled his eyes, lowering the Amulet back to its place on the stand as the guards returned to their positions around the room. “You could as well. This room is not nearly as well constructed as it should be.” He walked over to prod at the wall with his hoof. “Anypony who used my knowledge and power could easily protect themselves from all of these traps. And you? You could simply teleport away before anything happened. You know every ward that blocks teleportation.”

Twilight glanced around the room. Suddenly, the wards did feel insufficient. Would any of the other princesses have even bothered placing wards against teleportation, when Twilight had already affixed seven? She frowned. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I am trying to help you, Twilight.” The alicorn stepped away from the wall, returning to Twilight’s side. “I want only to protect Equestria, just like you do. But unlike you, I’m a piece of jewelry.” He scowled. “I can tell you how to cast long-forgotten spells, and give you the power to fuel them. But I can’t control what you do with them.”

Twilight frowned down at her hooves. “If everything you’re saying is true, why did Princess Cadance reject you?”

The apparition sighed. “I can see the flaws of those who would wield me. She could do so safely, for a time. But she’s the alicorn of love.” His hoof slid forward across the floor. “She fears losing Shining Armor. And she will lose him, someday, when he dies.”

Twilight lifted her head. “Unless she put you on and saved him, right?”

“No. If I could do that, you would likely find me here,” he lifted a hoof up under his beard, “still wrapped around my creator’s neck. I may give a pony great power, but not even I can stop time. He will die because all mortals are doomed to die.”

Twilight fell back on her haunches. “Oh,” she said in a small voice. She swallowed. “I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about that.”

“I know you don’t. But it doesn’t change the fact that it is so. However much my creator tried to break apart time with his magic, he, too, turned to dust.” The apparition turned to Twilight. “You have friends, Twilight. One by one, they, too, will perish. But you will never run out of them, not so long as Sun and Moon move through the sky. Your sister-in-law is not so fortunate. You can have a thousand friends, Twilight, but there’s only one Shining Armor.” He sighed. “You can see why she was upset.”

Twilight looked away. “So what? You want me to put you on to keep Equestria safe from Nightmare Cadance?”

“Perhaps. But that’s a long ways off. There might be other ways.” The apparition shrugged. “No. My point is merely that you should be careful about what you are throwing away. You need not use me all the time, or perhaps hardly at all. But so long as the Elements of Harmony are recharging, it would be foolish to discard another tool from your arsenal. And the Elements of Harmony cannot tell you the secrets of their manufacture, nor of the private thoughts of Star Swirl the Bearded himself.” He lifted his hoof to tap himself on the chest. “I can.”

“So I can ask you anything? And you’ll tell me?” Twilight tilted her head in thought.

“Anything I know. And I know quite a bit, even if I have mostly been worn by fools. All of the Founders tried me on, you know, as well as the greatest unicorn wizard of all time.”

Twilight lifted her head and looked the other alicorn in the eye. “So is this how you’re tempting me? Ancient knowledge?”

The apparition frowned. “Twilight. If I was trying to tempt you, wouldn’t I be using some sort of threat against your friends? Showing you some sort of vision of them all dying, and only my power could save them? Or perhaps simply lie to you about how you could use me to turn them all into alicorns, so that they could live forever too?” He paused, tilting his head in consideration. “Well, perhaps you could, but I lack that knowledge. Though I could help you with your research…” He lifted a hoof to slowly stroke his beard.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t trust you to do that.” Twilight closed her eyes. “It’s too dangerous. I’d give up all my power to make sure my friends were safe.”

“Obviously.” The apparition rolled his eyes. “You already passed that test with Tirek.”

Twilight’s eyes shot open. “How do you know about that?”

“I told you before. The Elements of Harmony—”

“The Elements of Harmony weren’t there! You couldn’t have possibly learned anything from them!”

He snorted. “Don’t be so literal. That power came out of the Tree of Harmony.”

“No. I see what you’re doing now. You’re reading my mind!” Twilight jabbed her hoof at the apparition accusingly. “Everything you’ve said is either something I already know about, or something that I have no way of verifying! You haven’t told me anything that I couldn’t come up with myself.”

The apparition looked down at her sternly. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not!” Twilight swung her hoof around. “All of this was just a trick to try and get me to put you on. You knew that nothing you threatened me with would ever make me put you on, because I already knew what you were. So you tried to trick me another way. You tried to reason with me!” Twilight’s hoof slammed into the floor, the floor cracking beneath her as she glared at him.

“The Elements of Harmony would tell you to use them against Nightmare Moon, if they could speak. All I’m asking is—”

“All you’re asking is for me to convince the others that you’re safe to keep around, and maybe put on every once in a while when we really need your knowledge and power! You tried to appeal to me in exactly the way I would try to appeal to myself. I was thinking that you would try to tempt me with power, or knowledge, or something else, but that would never work. Instead you tried to tempt me with a logical argument!”

“So what should I do, exactly? Make an emotional appeal?” The apparition spread his wings, waving them across the room. “How else am I supposed to convince you to do what needs to be done for the sake of Equestria?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing you can say or do that will change my mind.” Twilight turned away from the gray alicorn, staring at the Amulet where it lay on its stone pedestal.

The apparition stepped up next to Twilight, bending his head down to try and catch her eyes. “You would never burn a book, Twilight. No matter how dangerous the knowledge was, you would always try to keep it safe if you could. Why am I any different? You’re smarter than this!”

Twilight’s jaw clenched. “Too smart to be fooled by you. I came in here to help destroy you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“Even if it means losing centuries of knowledge? Even if it means letting Equestria fall because the bearers of the Elements of Harmony have died, and there’s no power left to wield against those who would do the world harm? Even if it means destroying an innocent artifact which has no purpose but to assist its wearer, whomever that may be? Be reasonable.”

“You are no innocent artifact. If I want to know what Star Swirl the Bearded had to say, I can just look it up in a book that I know won’t try to poison my mind.”

“Hmph. Your friend Rarity would disagree with that.”

Twilight smiled triumphantly. “You’re right, she would. But you had no way of knowing about that one. The Elements weren’t there for that. You have been reading my mind.” Twilight stepped up next to the pedestal, glaring down at the Amulet. “You’ve been trying to trick me this whole time. You’re too dangerous to keep lying around. Equestria doesn’t need you!”

Twilight’s whole body jerked as she felt a hoof poke at her side. “Princess?”

“What?” Twilight turned her head, looking back over her shoulder at the guard, before her head rapidly swiveled around the room. “Where did he go?”

“Where did who go?” The guards came to attention, masked heads turning as they scanned the room.

“The alicorn that came out of the Amulet. Did he go back inside?”

The guard stared at her blankly from beneath his mask. “Princess. Nopony else has been here.”

Twilight looked around slowly. The floor was whole and intact. The Amulet rested on its stand, unmoved from the violent swing of her hoof. “What happened? What did you see?”

The guards glanced at each other. “You were just standing there, Princess. We thought you might be thinking about something.”

Twilight looked back at the Amulet for a moment, then shuddered. “I see.”

“Welcome back, Twilight,” Luna said as Twilight re-entered the observation room, beaming at the younger alicorn. “I see you have overcome your ordeal.”

“The Amulet is smarter than I thought,” Twilight said, sighing as she moved to reclaim her cushion in front of the screen. “The guards said I was just standing there the whole time. Did either of you see anything?’

The sisters shook their heads. “You simply stood there, as if lost in thought,” Luna said.

“I think I was.” Twilight frowned. “The Amulet tried to argue with me, tried to appeal to me with logic and reason.” She sighed again, leaning forward. “But it wasn’t anything that would tire me out like whatever happened to Cadance. I don’t think we saw the same thing at all.”

Celestia sat next to her former student. Celestia extended a wing across Twilight’s back. “Should we wait for her to return?”

“I don’t think it would help. Whatever that thing is,” Twilight jabbed her hoof at the image of the Amulet on the glowing screen in front of her, “it isn’t just throwing up some sort of generic vision. It got inside my head and tried to get me to use it in exactly the way I would have tried to convince myself.” She let her hoof fall from the screen, tapping it idly on the table. “It can read your mind. Any warnings we give ponies will probably just give it more ammunition to work its way around them.”

“I suppose it was too much to hope that this would be easy,” Luna said, joining Twilight on the other side.

“You’re right. But we’re prepared.” Twilight leaned forward, reaching out with her hoof to flip on the microphone resting next to the screen. “Send in the first volunteer.”

3: Love, by No Raisin (Moondancer)

Chapter by: No Raisin

I could tell that Twilight was uncomfortable with me handling the Alicorn Amulet for the whole week—even though the study will be done in an enclosed space and with guards at the ready in case something goes wrong. Which, you know, something might. You can call me crazy all you want, but I feel like anything could happen here, no matter how minuscule the chances may be. It is hard to tell what the Amulet is capable of, since we haven’t written much down as to how… well… I'm the first volunteer. The first to charge into battle as my dad would say.

I'm used to having more to go on than this. Ugh…

We were having lunch earlier today, Twilight and I, in the banquet hall with the guards who weren't busy with their shifts. There were six of them—and not to name any names, but at least four of them are pretty good-looking. But of course the mares and stallions kept a certain distance between each other.

Twilight seemed caught between wanting to talk to me about the Amulet business and having her eyes wander over to Flash Sentry, one of the younger guards. Not sure what she sees in that stallion.

I had proposed an idea about interrogating the Amulet over an extended period of time, and Twilight had her doubts.

"Uhh, Moondancer?" she said to me. "Don’t you think it’s a bit much to have the Amulet be in your care for this long? I mean, the most we’ve been able to get out of it, as far as sessions go, is between ten and fifteen minutes. And you’re talking about studying it for a whole week." She tried to keep her voice down and even, like the sea on a calm day. Trying to not get all melodramatic about things like you always do, huh?

She didn’t have too much faith in me, which you know… that’s how she is with me, I guess. I found it cute, though, this uncertainty in her voice. But still, I felt the need to correct her and assure her that I wouldn’t let anypony down. Not this time.

As I’m writing this, in fact, the first day is almost over already. So naturally this is the first entry, right? And to remind myself I’ll be noting it here that I will be handing in my notebook at the beginning of every day to show Twilight the latest entry. You know, to see what progress we’ve made with the Amulet. I must confess that I’m already impressed with the thing, even though at the same time I kind of despise its lack of any moral sense.

To think, Day One and it was already trying to seduce me. Or tempt me, whichever one you think is better suited for the situation. But I think it was more concerned with wanting to become familiar with me first. We have never met before, obviously, and come to think of it I’ve only read about the Amulet a few times passively before all this happened.

The meeting with the Amulet was straightforward enough. It still has this queer glow to it that I’m having a hard time explaining, like it’s perhaps brimming with a life of its own. Is it a living thing? We will have to find out for ourselves. It did not take long for us to start conversing, though the guards kept giving us odd looks. Do they hear what we’re saying to each other?

I propped the Amulet up on my desk and gazed at it for a moment. With notebook and quill at the ready, like a transcriber at a court hearing, I said, "I'm not sure if it's even possible for you to sleep, but are you awake in there?" I gave it a nudge with the very end of my hoof.

A moment later and the Amulet glowed dimly, eerily. It then said, "I am as awake as I can ever be." Its voice was ancient. Almost decrepit. A stallion who came out of retirement. "I have seen many faces, and now I've seen yours. Always pleasant to find one of those, coming from experience. Faces that will stick out in my memories."

"How does it feel to know that I know what you're gonna try on me? You can't fool me."

The Amulet seemed unimpressed. "I could ask the exact same thing of you, Ms. Moondancer. You may be well-learned, but there is only so much you can do—and far less that can surprise me."

"You want me to do tricks?"

The Amulet hummed and said, "You won't have to. It isn't necessary."

"I wasn’t talking about being a potential slave for you, by the way. And don’t get any funny ideas; that is what you think of us. Me, Twilight, our friends…"

"As slaves? Oh no, I wouldn’t think of it that way. Slaves are disposable; instead I wish to stay with my wearer for a very long time. That is, if we are lucky and our wavelengths align, so to speak."

"Do you think ours will?"

"Why do you ask?" Its tone was deepening into a sinister baritone. "Are you interested in the possibilities of our partnership? The things we can do as a pairing?"

I glared at it, and I knew my lips had turned to make a harsh frown. "No. I just want to know how you work. Not much different from an assignment I would have to write up over the weekend."

"Hmm." The Amulet paused at the same time as the quill. "As with you, Ms. Moondancer. But I want you to know that I am very talented when it comes to picking up quirks and secrets in others. And I must say, you have a good number of those. You are not boring in the slightest, I can tell that much."

"I'm pretty sure I’m boring…"

"Nonsense, Ms. Moondancer. On the contrary, you seem to have a lot of… potential. Tell me, did you have many acquaintances during your time as a student? Maybe even a few friends?"

"You expect me to answer in a certain way, don’t you?" My eyes zeroed in on it like arrows on a target.

"Come on now… don’t be such a grouch with me. You are stuck in this room with me; you may as well tell me a thing or two about yourself. It is only fair."

I had to really think about it for a second. "Well…"

Okay, so I went on for a while with the Amulet, probably telling it more than I should have—but it was all personal stuff, and I figure it’s going to tempt me multiple times even if I don’t reveal information. The most I can do is prepare myself mentally and psychologically for what is no doubt going to happen.

What do I have to say about it so far, then? Well, it likes to talk. A lot. I never knew something that lacked lips could take so much pleasure in conversation, although I’m under the impression that the Amulet likes to figure out what makes its potential victims tick. It likes… intimacy? Is that a good word for it? You be the judge.

As for me, I need a good night's rest.

So much for that, then. Looking at the end of my previous entry, I should have figured I was jinxing myself. To be honest with you, I feel like I didn't get a minute of sleep the whole night; this is pretty bad, even by my standards, being the lousy restless sleeper that I am.

It must have been a quarter past midnight, and everypony had long since gone back to either their bed chambers or the barracks in the case of the guards. I was trying to keep my eyes shut, lying on my cot and turned towards the wall that was mere inches from my face, in one of those painful states where your heart speeds up because you're anxious about not having gone to sleep yet, and said anxiety makes the problem worse.

As I'm writing this I'm trying to convince myself that I was in fact awake during this time, or at least felt awake; it was one of those nights where the line between reality and dreams blurred. The first thing I noticed was a light, hazy as if coming from a lantern in the darkness, projecting from the bottom slit of the door to my room, causing the whole place to be filled with this faded luminescence. It was enough to draw my attention, and I slowly turned to see the small slice of that light which must have been coming from the hallway.

I got out of bed and put on my glasses before turning the knob.

Yet by the time I peeked out, the light had gone. Wherever it had come from, it was no longer there. I was the only waking soul on the whole floor—or at least I’m assuming that.

I went back to bed and my heart kept trying to escape my chest. The whole time. For hours…

When the time came to talk with the Amulet, the same guards from yesterday’s session were standing by, watching over us. Something I want to note here: The guards operate on six-hour shifts, since there needs to be constant surveillance on the Amulet and you can’t just have the same guards staying around all day. It wouldn’t be practical. I still have to wonder what the guards could do if… something happened to me… Maybe they would call in Twilight and she would be able to take care of things? It occurs to me now that I've barely spoken a word to either of them since I got here, even though we've technically spent a lot of hours together.

The Amulet itself looked the same as yesterday, with its dim unnatural glow.

Something else occurs me: the testing room doesn’t have any windows. Now why is that? I’m not sure how long I was talking to the Amulet this time; yesterday it was around half an hour, though it didn’t feel like that. I’m asking myself here, and by extension, you, because I have to wonder if the Amulet can manipulate time. Is it a kind of time-warping device? Or does it merely affect the victim’s perception of time in such a way as to create a kind of bubble around predator and prey? I really wish I had brought my timer with me for this.

The Amulet, of course, was happy to see me. It probably wished it could don a cat-like grin. "You were never much one for athletics, were you?" it inquired. "A mare as bookish as yourself."

I took up my quill with my magic and I put my game face on. I said, "Never liked sports much. Books interested me much more."

"You would prefer to stay indoors and read a book all day? That is what I’ve gathered. You see, Ms. Moondancer, a mare such as yourself should really be concerned with wanting to get some exercise every now and again."

"Are you saying I’m packing on a few pounds more than I should?" The Amulet was trying to insult me at this point. "I'm not too concerned about that sort of thing."

"Of course you aren’t,” it quipped. “Even so, taking a good walk around town or visiting the gym every other day would introduce you to ways in which you can make your figure appear more shapely."

"Quiet now." I like to think I did a good job at keeping a controlled demeanor, but the Amulet really started to get on my nerves. I said to it, "How would you gain anything from me doing those things anyway? I thought, or at least I assumed, that you were after my mind more than my body."

"Ah-ha," it chuckled, "let us not mix messages here!" The Amulet seemed too jovial. "I don’t believe that I will be the one to benefit from your physical fitness. I am more concerned in this case about your well being, Ms. Moondancer."

"You’re lying."

"Straight from the heart," it said half-sarcastically. "I promise upon my mother’s grave."

"First of all, you don’t have a heart." My brow furrowed. "And second of all, you don’t have a mother."

"I am afraid you can’t confirm that last part, Ms. Moondancer. After all, who said I don’t have a mother?"

"The fact that you're an inanimate object should be enough support."

"So I have a creator, then," the Amulet snapped back. "One could say even a parental figure in the early days of my existence. A very handsome and loving stallion. Or perhaps a mare?"

The illusion of a mutual meeting of gazes passed between us for a second. My magic tightened around my quill and I asked, "Back to the stuff about me 'getting some exercise'—why would you want to benefit me, assuming you’re being truthful by some chance?"

A pause. The Amulet seemed like it wanted to say something, but was so eager to see my reaction to what it had to say that it waited for the so-called right moment. And… well…

It said, "So you can impress Twilight, naturally. That should be obvious to you."

I didn’t know what to say in that moment. I thought the Amulet was going to start laughing at me, like a villain from one of those cheesy spy thriller movies—but it didn’t; it just sat there, waiting. My cheeks flushed with red and I glared so hard at the stupid thing that I thought I might break it with the fire in my glare.

"What does me exercising have to do with impressing Twilight?" I asked hesitantly. "She's a very good friend of mine."

The Amulet sounded strangely disappointed as it said, "Isn't that what ponies do when they want to impress a potential mate? Buying a decent house? Using that expensive hair moisturizer all the models are using? Heading to the gym five times a week, an hour each day? All those things with a certain goal in mind?"

"But… Twilight and I are both mares. We can't be mates. Physically speaking, it's not possible." As if that settled it.

"True, true," it said in a faux-sympathetic tone. "And yet you didn't deny that you want her to be your mate. Regardless of whether it's possible or not."

"…"

"A mare as intelligent as you should be able to understand this." The smugness in its tone couldn't be more apparent. "You can't blame me for being correct."

"I believe today’s session is over." I got up and left the room without another word.

Heat Seeker, the slim guard with the buzz cut, gave me one of those odd looks again, and now I realize why he did that. He said to me, "You okay, Moondancer? Y’look like you’ve seen a ghost or something."

"Huh?" The sudden question from him through me off even more. "Didn't you hear the Amulet say anything?"

He tightened his lips before saying quietly, "Ma’am, we were ordered not to interfere if we heard you talking, because between you and me… it’s mighty strange hearing somepony talk to herself."

"I see…" I exited the room.

On a side note, I’m sorry for what I said about Flash Sentry. I’m sure he’s a great stallion.

Once again I must apologize here for what the Amulet said. I don’t know where he got the idea from, but I just want you to know that I value our friendship more than anything, and that I would never develop feelings that would get in the way of that. You were my first real friend, Twilight, and I don’t want to—I’m sorry, it is hard to write today, even with the break you gave me from having to deal with the darn thing in the room. I guess I figured I should write something for today, but now I’m finding it difficult. It takes some strength out of me.

Even though I didn’t see the Amulet today, I can’t help but still feel its presence. What is this, residue from when we came into contact with each other? Does the Amulet cling to its potential victims to a certain degree, even after contact has been broken? Or does it have to do with more than just proximity?

Maybe the problem is that I just can't stop thinking about it.

I don't know if I can be dishonest with myself anymore. And it's a real shame, because I thought I was pretty good at it. Keeping the truth locked behind a door and throwing away the key. The truth is that after last night, I doubt my next talk with the Amulet will end well. For either of us.

Once again the mysterious light made itself known to me, either around midnight or in the very early hours of the morning—I can't remember exactly. But this time it wasn't so mysterious anymore.

I saw the light intensify, my shadow against the wall becoming more solid, and I had to turn to see what it was.

It was you, Twilight.

It was your ghost—like you had died and come back as an apparition. You stood at my bedside, a holographic recreation of your image that got tossed through an antique television screen over and over again until you looked like you were about to disperse into nothingness.

Not a word came from you. Your eyes were hollow, like the windows of an empty house. You stared at me, some white noise radiating from your being.

I wanted to scream. Or yelp. Or have any noise of any significance come out of my mouth, but instead I stared back into the voice, and then before I could take in all of what I was seeing your ghost turned and walked out the room, through the wall like it wasn't even there.

Opening the door, startled, I saw you almost floating down the hall with how weightless you were. I heard my hooves clank against the floor, but I didn't care about being noticed; perhaps it's a good thing that my room isn't far from the barracks, thinking back on it. Your ghost came up to the window at the end and you flew out without opening it. I felt compelled to open the window myself, like I was sleepwalking. I don't remember saying anything the whole time. I can't even remember what I was thinking, if anything.

I stood at the ledge, and I heard Heat Seeker and Avalanche, an older guard, behind me. They must have been running at the speed of a lightning bolt to catch me, because the second after I jumped from the window I felt somepony's mouth clamped around my tail.

I guess I made a scene. The guards held me down and I made some noises—not sure if any words came out. Then, after a while, you came to see what the commotion was. The real you. The Twilight I know.

All of you looked frightened, and I can't blame you. I hope seeing this in written form can bring some sense to it.

I jumped—and I don't know why…

The Amulet never left. Of course not, it would never leave willingly. I will have to be the one to do it. So I went into the testing room earlier and had a little chat with it. I think we both knew it had failed. But then again… was it entirely a failure? I still ponder this possibility.

The guards had become very worried about me, I knew that by then. My mane was even more unkempt than usual, and my eyes were bloodshot. Still are, actually. I look terrible. I know I do. I don’t want to see a mirror anywhere for fear of seeing myself by accident.

I slumped in my chair and gazed tiredly at the Amulet, expecting something to happen. Some form for it take. Sure, turn into Twilight again; turn into you again. But would it really pull that trick a third time?

"No."

The Amulet said softly, "Have you come to say goodbye, Ms. Moondancer?"

"Yes," I said firmly.

"You are leaving, then?"

"Tomorrow."

"Mmm," it hummed. "It is a shame. You cracked under the pressure. And I thought you were a prime candidate."

"Was I?" I leaned in toward the artifact, probably looking like I had nothing left to lose. "What a shame."

"It is also a shame that you will always be the one nopony likes. The one nopony actually wants to invite to a party, or a sleepover, or a wedding, or even a funeral. You are a black hole that not even the purest of fun can escape."

"I know."

"You think she likes you? Don’t kid yourself, she never will. Not her own fault, of course—nopony has a choice in the matter. Not you. Not her. Not anypony. It is just the way things are meant to be."

"I know…"

I also knew instinctively who it was referring to. I left the room quietly, and the guards followed suit not long after. They were nice. Heat Seeker looked at me like I was a small wounded dog, and he escorted me back to my bedroom; he probably figured I was going to pass out. Which I did. If my timer is correct, I slept for… six hours. The whole day, pretty much.

There will not be a seventh report.

I need to tell you this now before I leave for good. The Amulet knows me; I can’t pretend that it doesn’t. It might make up memories… take on your image again… but it knows what makes me tick.

It is too late for me. I know I failed. I really messed up this time.

It was nice talking to you, though. I wish I had the strength to tell you all of this in person, but I couldn’t. I can’t. So this entry will have to do.

The good news is that you won’t have to be bothered by me anymore. My red eyes and my crying fits and my stupid attempts at jokes. You also won’t have to deal with my ugly mane and eyebrows. Not that it means you’re free of all this mess; you still have it to deal with.

So best of luck, Twilight. You’ll need it.

I'm sorry.

4: Relevance, by Chris (Carrot Top)

Chapter by: Chris

Although she knew it was silly, Carrot Top couldn’t help but flinch when the door to the waiting room opened. She’d flinched when the princesses had come in the first time to explain the setup of the testing room and reassure the half-dozen ponies who’d volunteered with a thorough listing the safety procedures in place; she’d flinched when Twilight had popped her head in to let them know that they’d start in just a few minutes; and now, she flinched again as Twilight trotted back into the room.

“Jeez, nervous much?” asked Ditzy Doo. Had the words come from anypony else’s mouth, Carrot Top would have thought she was being teased. But never from Ditzy. “Don’t worry, I bet it’ll be easy. You’re the second least-evil pony I know!”

Carrot Top giggled, and she felt her stress lift ever-so-slightly. “Only second? Who’s less evil than me?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re finished,” Ditzy replied with a wink, and both of them laughed again.

Twilight cleared her throat, a strained but genuine smile on her face. “Okay, Carrot Top! We’re ready whenever you are.”

“You can do it, CT! Woo-hoo!” came the cheer from behind her as she left with Twilight. Carrot Top’s smile broadened. The butterflies in her stomach were still there, but she felt more ready than she had all day.

“So… all I have to do is touch it, right?” Carrot Top stared at the amulet in front of her, resting on a plain pedestal. “And then what?”

The speaker above her crackled, and Twilight’s voice echoed down into the room. “It’s hard to say exactly what will happen after that. The experience is different for every pony, but the amulet will probably take on some sort of illusory form to talk to you, and create or simulate a situation where it can offer you something you really want, or where you need its help for some reason. It’s, ah, pretty good at finding things that are important to you.” Even through the speaker, Carrot Top could hear a hint of embarrassment enter Twilight’s voice. “All I can tell you is to stay strong, and don’t let it get in your head. Er, metaphorically. It does have to get in your head literally, or at least, the thaumaturgic tendrils need to map to your—”

“Okay, Twilight, I think I’ve got it!” Carrot Top rolled her eyes. “Touch the amulet, don’t do what it wants, and then... that’s it?”

“That’s it!” the speaker confirmed. “Don’t worry, Carrot Top. You’re in the most secure room in Ponyville, and if anything were to go wrong, I’ll be right here. With your help, we can make Equestria a safer place. Just stay strong.”

“Stay strong…” Carrot Top muttered under her breath. “Okay, I’ll try my best.” Her hoof only trembled slightly as she reached out and touched the amulet.

Carrot Top was standing upon the highest balcony of Canterlot Castle. She looked out over Canterlot, and beneath it, all of Equestria. The realm spread before her like a living map.

“I cannot thank you enough,” came a voice behind her. Carrot Top turned just in time to see Princess Celestia bow low. “Your wisdom and benevolence make you a more fit ruler than Luna or I ever were. We are yours to command, my queen.” Without rising, she levitated up a jewelry box holding the Alicorn Amulet. “You need only claim this ancient and holy artifact, so that your power will equal your worthiness, and everything you desire can be yours!”

A great roar rose up from beneath her, and Carrot Top turned again to see a massive throng gathered in the bailey, cheering her name. Banners and flags bearing her cutie mark flew proud, and the whole world seemed to hang on her decision.

She turned back to Celestia. “...Seriously?”

“There is none more worthy than you, you have but to—”

“No, no,” Carrot Top cut her off. “I mean, you seriously think this is going to tempt me? Twilight made it sound like it would be difficult to resist you. Aren’t you supposed to make me some kind of offer I can’t refuse?”

Celestia kept her head bowed, avoiding eye contact. “But, but the power! The whole of Equestria at your command! Whatever you want, it could be yours for the taking!”

Carrot Top rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Pass.”

At last Celestia met her eyes. “Please, I ask—no, I beg that you reconsider! Don’t you have any ambition? Any desire? Is there nothing more you wish than the obscurity of a provincial farmer?”

“There’s really not.” Carrot Top smiled. “So, again: pass.”

Carrot Top swiveled her head as she looked about. She was back in the room, the amulet still sitting on its pedestal, and her hoof still stretched out to it. “Huh. That was anticlimactic.”

There was a crackle from the speakers above her. “Carrot Top?” came Twilight’s voice. “You can go ahead and touch it whenever you’re ready.”

“I already did!” Carrot Top shouted at the speaker.

There was a long pause. Then, the doors to the room opened and Twilight came through. “Carrot Top, are you sure you touched it? I didn’t get any readings on the thaumic sensors at all.”

“Yes, I’m sure! I was in Canterlot, and Princess Celestia was offering to let me be in charge of Equestria.”

Twilight whistled appreciatively. “That must have been really hard to resist. Having a chance to matter so much…”

“Er, not really?” Carrot Top arched an eyebrow. “I thought it was kind of silly, actually. Why would I even want that?”

“Because you… oh. Oh.” Twilight grimaced. “Oh, I think I understand now.”

“Understand what?”

“The lack of thaumic readings. It’s… well, nevermind, it’s not important.” Twilight turned and started trotting away. “Thanks for trying, I guess.”

Carrot Top blinked. “Wait, did I do something wrong?”

“No, you did your best. It doesn’t matter, we’ve got plenty of ponies here who can help us.”

Carrot Top broke into a quick trot to catch up with Twilight. “Help us how? What are you talking about?”

Twilight stopped, and turned to face her with a weary groan. “The whole point of us doing this is to drain the amulet of its power, by getting it to use its energy to prey on ponies’ desires. When those desires are consciously rejected by the subject, it creates a anti-sortaligious feedback loop, which adds negative energy equal to the strength of the target’s desire to the amulet.” She glared at Carrot Top.

“But… then what’s the problem?” she asked, blanching at Twilight’s obvious annoyance. “I said no! Shouldn’t that have subtracted the—”

“It doesn’t subtract,” growled Twilight, “it adds a negative amount. And because you apparently don’t have any ambition, there was nothing to add.” She took a deep breath. “But you know what? It’s fine. It’s just a small waste of time, really. And there are plenty of less apathetic ponies who’ve volunteered. I’m sure they’ll do a better job.”

“But I…” Carrot Top opened and closed her mouth a few times, but found she didn’t know what to say. Twilight’s tone left her feeling very guilty, like a foal bringing home a poor report card. But despite that, she couldn’t seem to figure out what exactly it was that she was guilty of. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I—”

“It’s fine,” Twilight muttered, turning and trotting toward the door to the control room. “You can see yourself out. I need to get back to working with the ponies who can actually help us.”

“If you want, I could—”

“I said, it’s fine.” Twilight didn’t look back as she walked through the door, slamming it behind her. Carrot Top put her head down, and after a moment, slowly made her way to the exit.

The walk from the center of Ponyville to Carrot Top’s home was a short one. Over a few rolling hills and past a half-dozen other farms, her own small piece of land lay on the outskirts of town, west of the Apple family’s orchards. Far enough from the Everfree’s border to ensure that anything that wandered out would have to get through somepony else first, yet close enough to it to keep property prices low, it was a location that her grandmother had chosen out of practicality, and through the ensuing generations it had remained a testament to both Top family life and good financial sense. But even if it hadn’t been practical, it would still be home, and Carrot Top could think of nowhere that she would rather be after a disaster of a day like this.

When she arrived at her house, she went straight to the living room, and collapsed onto her favorite couch with an audible whump.

“Well, that could’ve gone better, couldn’t it have?”

Her ears perked up. She’d been thinking those words herself, but she was sure she hadn’t spoken the thought aloud. “Hello? Is somepony there?”

“Ah, yes, the visuals. One moment, my dear.” The air shimmered, and Written Script stepped out of nowhere and into the room.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not Written Script,” she said, accusingly. Then, the weight of what that meant sank in. She was all too aware that there was nopony else at home, and nopony else expecting to see her again today. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “You’re not my husband.”

The pony laughed. “Oh, what gave it away? Wait, don’t tell me, was it the spontaneously materializing?” He gave her a patronizing grin. “Ah, no matter. Guilty as charged. No, I’m just borrowing his appearance for the moment. it’s easier to speak face-to-face when both parties have a face.” He sat on the couch next to Carrot Top. “So, let’s talk about that whole debacle.”

Carrot Top scooted to the far end of the couch, eyeing him warily. “If you’re not him, then drop the disguise.”

“Hmm… no. Honestly, I think I wear it quite well.” His smile turned into a smirk.

She wanted to order him, to scream at him. But despite herself, Carrot Top instead asked, “Who are you?”

“Haven’t figured it out yet?” His horn glowed, and a very familiar amulet floated up into view from behind him. “Here’s a hint.”

“But, but that doesn’t make any sense! I rejected the amulet, I said no, I…” she trailed off as another thought seized her mind. “Wait, if you’re the amulet, how did you get out of Twilight’s super-secure room in the first place?”

“Oh, I’m still stuck on my pedestal back in that ‘containment facility,’” he answered breezily. He reached over to pat her leg, and though Carrot Top stiffened, she felt nothing as the hoof passed through her. “I’m just a projection in your mind, and this,” he tossed the amulet lazily aside, and it fell through the floor and out of sight, “is no more the real Alicorn Amulet than I am the real Written Script.”

“But how are you here?” Carrot Top asked again. “I said no, and I meant it.”

“Ah, but,” purred the apparition, “but, but, but!” He paused, then giggled. “Hehe, but.” He straightened again. “For real though, but! You may have rejected me, but only because I never tempted you.”

Carrot Top finally found the will to get off of the couch, to slip away from the thing that wasn’t her husband. She slowly moved to a chair at the other end of the living room, never taking her eyes off him. “Then what do you call that whole ‘take over Equestria’ thing, huh?”

“Oh, come now.” He waved a hoof dismissively. “We both know you weren’t tempted by that. No offense, but you’re a little too dull to care about stuff like power beyond mortal measure.”

Carrot Top bristled. “So you’re going to sit there and insult me, now? Well, whatever you have to offer, I don’t want it!”

The apparition smiled placidly. “And yet, I’m still here, aren’t I? You can’t get rid of me so easily, Carrot Top. It’s meaningless to reject something you didn’t want to begin with.”

“So… what? You plan to just haunt me for the rest of my life?”

“Oh no, of course not.” He straightened. “I plan to make you an offer you’ll appreciate. I’ve been thinking about you, you see, trying to figure out what it is you desire. As far as I can tell from poking around at your mind—” Carrot Top nervously put a hoof to her head, and his smile grew wider, “—you’re very content with what you have. But I don’t know why, and to be honest, I don’t think you know, either.”

“Because I have a good life!” Carrot Top exclaimed. “I have a garden that I enjoy working in, and between it and Script’s writing, we make enough money to get by. Get by, and have some left over to start putting away for when we retire! I’ve got a family that I love, and friends who care about me, and…” she stumbled. “...Well, and that’s plenty!” The apparition shook his head, which just made her angrier. “And stop playing dress-up with my husband’s body! It’s creepy.”

“Hmm… no.” He shook his head, disbelief writ across his face. “You know, I’ve heard a lot of lame excuses from ponies who claim that there’s nothing more in life that they want, but I think ‘I’m putting money away for retirement’ is the most boring one yet.” She opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off. “But yes, yes, I’m sure that those are all nice things, and that really does seem to be as far as your wants and desires go. It’s all very plebeian, as the ancient Unicornians would have said.”

“Great.” She forced the word through gritted teeth. “So now that we both know how boring I am, how about you leave?”

“Ahh, not so fast! Temptation first, remember? Because you said something else, I believe. What was it… ah yes, ‘friends who care about me.’” He leaned forward, and though there was plenty of space between them, Carrot Top leaned back. “That matters to you, doesn’t it? Being cared about. You may not feel the need to be as important or famous as somepony like Princess Twilight Sparkle, but in the end, you still want to be important to somepony.”

Carrot Top crossed her hooves. “Yes. And I already have that, and I don’t need any more than I’ve got.” Unable to resist the petulance bubbling inside her, she added, “And you’re a terrible tempter.”

He laughed at that. “Maybe, maybe. But I think you’re not content, and I think ponies don’t care about you nearly as much as you think. Tell you what,” he leaned back on the couch again, “let’s make a deal. Let’s go talk to a few ponies. If you can find one pony who really cares about you, then I’ll get out of your brain and leave you alone forever. Deal?”

Carrot Top arched her eyes. “And if I can’t, then I have to accept the amulet?”

“If you can’t, I’ll still leave you alone… unless you decide that I do have something to offer, after all.” He winked. “Can’t beat a deal like that, can you? What do you say?”

She didn’t need to think long.

“Let’s get this over with.”

The plan was simple. The amulet could do little without a wielder, but could project a weak illusion over Carrot Top. For the rest of the day, she’d be “Florina Tart:” a young mare from a family of cherry-buckers, come to Ponyville to make a few bits through the harvest season. Florina would go into town in disguise, strike up a conversation, casually ask if the pony she was talking to knew a “Carrot Top” in town, and prove to the amulet that she didn’t need to be important for ponies to care about her. It almost seemed too easy.

By virtue of being her closest neighbor, Applejack was her first target. But while the introduction went well, the next part of her plan didn’t go at all as she imagined.

“Well, I’ll probably take you up on that offer!” ‘Florina’ said with an awkward grin.

“Aw shucks, it’s not like we couldn’t use an extra pair of hooves to get these puppies down,” Applejack said, tapping the tree behind her for emphasis. “You sure you don’t wanna stay for dinner? All you can eat, free for the prospective employee!”

Florina chuckled weakly. “That sounds wonderful,” she said, glancing back at her house, “but I was going to try to meet up with a few more farmers in the area. Say, have you ever heard of somepony named, er, Carrot Top?” She looked up expectantly.

“Yup!” said Applejack.

There was an awkward silence.

“...Oh, you were probably meaning, ‘Where’s she live,’ huh?” Applejack eventually said, chuckling sheepishly as she adjusted her hat. “Well, she’s right over in the big house on the hill next door!” She pointed back to Carrot Top’s house.

“Alright, well, thanks,” Florina said. “Um, do you mind if I ask… what’s she like?”

“What’s she like? I dunno. She’s pretty nice, I guess.”

There was another awkward silence. Florina cleared her throat, and tried again.

“So, she’s nice, and…?”

Applejack scratched her chin. “And… grows carrots? I figured you’d know that from her name.” She chuckled. “I dunno what else to tell you, hun.”

Florina’s ears fell. “Oh, okay.” She gave it one more try. “I just thought, since you live so close, maybe you were friends…”

Applejack smiled apologetically. “Well, there’s friends, and then there’s friendly, you know? Me and Carrot Top are plenty friendly, but it’s not like I know her that well.” She frowned, seeing Florina’s downcast expression. “But hey, why don’t you go talk to her yourself? Like I said, she’s nice! Er, she seems pretty nice, anyway.”

“Thanks,” Florina whispered, as she trotted away. Things will go better in town, she thought to herself.

Behind her, she heard a giggle in her husband’s voice.

“Oh yeah, Carrot Top!”

“You know her?”

“Sure, sure. The one with orange hair!”

“...And?”

“And what?”

“She sells carrots at the market. Real sweet ones, too. When I was growing up I never liked carrots much, they always tasted kind of bitter to me, you know? When I moved to Ponyville, though, it was like, ‘Woah, these are actually not bad!’ The stuff you get in a supermarket in the big city can’t compare to something straight from the farm, you know? Yeah, market’s open tomorrow, if you want to get some.”

“Okay, but what’s she like?”

“Oh, you know, she’s just like, a farmer, you know?”

“So does she have any hobbies, or…”

“Well, we’ve never really hung out—Oh, I take that back! I guess she was with Lily and me at the art show last week!”

“Did you three have a good time?”

“Oh, absolutely; Lily is one of my best friends! There was one sculpture there that we both just loved, it was—”

“Yes, but, what about Carrot Top? What did she like?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t really paying attention to what she said. Honestly, she’s more Lily’s friend than mine.”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t really paying attention to what she said. Honestly, she’s more Berry’s friend than mine.”

“I’m afraid I don’t—Oh, wait! Written Script’s wife, right?”

“She can’t be that awesome if I can’t even remember her.”

“I mean, I love love love big parties, so it’s not like it’s a problem, but I don’t think anypony really invites her. She just kinda… shows up.”

“Who?”

“Carrot Top!” Florina screamed. “Carrot Top! You have breakfast together every Sunday! She foalsits for you when you have a double-shift at work! You were just talking to her about the stupid Alicorn Amulet this afternoon!”

“Ooooh!” Ditzy smacked her forehead. “Oh, yeah! Carrot Top!” She giggled sheepishly. “You’re right, I guess I do kinda know her.”

“Kinda? Kinda?!” Florina shrieked. “Ditzy, she is Dinky’s godmother! What do you mean, kinda?!”

Ditzy just shrugged, but at least looked abashed. Most ponies hadn’t even managed that. “Yeah, that’s her alright. To be fair, she is pretty forget-about-able.”

“Forgettable,” she growled. “The word is forgettable!”

Ditzy beamed. “She is forgettable! See? We agree!”

“I… I… agh!” Florina turned and stomped off.

“So,” came Written Script’s voice from beside her. “Who do you want to try next?”

“Nopony,” muttered Florina, keeping her face tight. “There’s nopony else in town I want to talk to.”

“Giving up so soon?” Carrot Top felt a tingle as the disguise faded away. “Ready to admit that I’m right?”

She wheeled to face the apparition, heedless of a few odd looks from passersby. “No,” she snarled. “Maybe I’m just another nobody to everypony else in this town, but there’s still one stallion who cares about me!” She pointed an accusing hoof at him. “And I told you to stop wearing his face!”

“Hmm… no.” He met her eyes without flinching. “I took this form for a reason, Carrot Top. Because for as much as you care about him... he’s not here.”

“He’s out of town,” she growled.

“Yes, yes, ‘out of town,’” he drawled. “He goes there a lot, doesn’t he?”

“He travels for work! He has a job!”

“He has a life, Carrot Top. He has a life outside of you. Think about it: what does he talk about when he comes home? Does he tell you how much he hates to go on the road, and how he wishes he could’ve stayed in Ponyville for the weekend? Does he tell you how he’d rather be with you?” His eyes glinted. “Or does he talk about all the things he saw and did? Does he tell you how hard it was to be away… or does he tell you how much fun he had when he left you behind?”

Carrot Top had started to cry, but she still managed to squeak out, “He always tells me he’s glad he’s home.”

“He’s glad he can relax. You’re a perfectly fine housekeeper and sounding board, but that doesn’t mean he really cares about you. He just likes having things taken care of when he’s done with another grand adventure. You’re not important to him! You’re just convenient.”

Carrot Top tried to answer, but her breaths were coming too fast. With a wordless cry she crumpled to the ground. Tears marred her cheeks as he lay in the middle of the street. She curled up in a ball, and wept.

“Well, then. I think we both know who won this bet. A deal’s a deal; I won’t bother you again.” He winked. “But if you want to find me, you know where to look.” With a mock bow, he vanished into thin air.

It was a long time before Carrot Top brought herself under control, and was able to stand up again.

Many ponies passed her by before then. Nopony stopped.

That night, as she lay alone on one side of a cold double bed, she made a decision.

One would think that getting inside of a tightly secured building while it was playing host to an Equestria-threatening artifact would be challenging. Between the guards, the detection spells, and the other magical and mundane measures, surely it would be difficult for any thief or ne’er-do-well to enter unannounced.

But Carrot Top wasn’t a thief or ne’er-do-well. She was just another unremarkable pony, and the guards at the door didn’t bat an eye as she shuffled inside.

When she entered the foyer, Written Script stepped out from nowhere.

“I was hoping you’d come back. Are you ready? I can do more than just give out raw power; I can help you make friends, influence ponies… I can help you matter.”

Carrot Top nodded wordlessly.

As she stepped forward, the reinforced doors opened without a whisper to let her pass; the guards inside the testing room dozed at their stations; the cameras smoked and died; the nullification spells winked out one by one. With just a few steps more, she was standing once again before the amulet. Hesitantly, she took it in her hoof.

“Put it on,” urged the voice of her husband. “Let me help you, Carrot Top. Put on the amulet, and together, we’ll make sure that everypony cares.”

“They would care, wouldn’t they?” Carrot Top spoke as if to herself. “If I put this on, they will care about me.”

Her eyes hardened. “But they’ll only care because I messed up.”

She faced the apparition. “If I put on this amulet, Twilight and her friends will find a way to stop me. Or if they don’t, somepony else will. I’m just one pony, and not even you can stand against all of Equestria. They’ll care, all right. And they’ll remember who I am.” She sniffled, though her eyes stayed hard. “They’ll remember me as just another vanquished villain. They’ll remember me as ‘The Mare Who Failed.’”

“Then don’t fail!” said the apparition. “With me, you can—”

“With you I’m a failure!” she shouted over him. “Do you know what everypony thinks of you when you put your head down and do your job? They don’t think anything! They don’t even notice, because if everything’s going right, who cares? But when you screw up, then they care.” She had started crying again, and the tears trickled down the trails still left on her cheeks from that evening. “When you dye your mane a stupid color, or screw up a banner, then everypony cares. But if you do the right thing, nopony notices.”

The apparition stared at the amulet in her hooves, its glinting red gem reflecting in his eyes. When he spoke, it was almost a whisper. “You’re right, of course. Ponies don’t notice if you do what you’re supposed to. And if you don’t put on that amulet?” He raised his eyes to Carrot Top’s, and the fire returned to his voice. “You’ll be doing exactly what you’re supposed to.

“If you don’t put it on, and if this ridiculous plan of the princess’s somehow works, then what? I’ll tell you: all the headlines the next day will read ‘Twilight Sparkle Vanquishes Ancient Evil,’ and your name won’t even be mentioned. You won’t matter, they won’t notice, and not a single pony will care! Don’t you get it?” His voice had risen to a scream. “Without me, nopony will care about you!”

She hiccupped. “You’re right. They won’t.”

She tilted her hoof, and the amulet clattered to the ground.

Carrot Top was standing in the chamber, her hoof raised to touch the amulet. As a thin puff of smoke wafted up from it, she collapsed into a ball on the ground.

“Carrot Top? Carrot Top, are you okay?!” She heard Twilight’s voice crackling overhead, but she couldn’t find it in herself to answer. “Hold on, I’m coming in.” There was a metallic click, and moments later, Twilight rushed into the chamber. She wrapped her hooves around Carrot Top as she trembled in her grip.

“...Twilight?” she finally managed to whisper. “What are you doing here? You should be in bed.”

“Shh.” Twilight spoke softly, gently. “You only touched the amulet for a second. I don’t know how long it felt like you spent in there, but it doesn’t matter anymore. You did it.”

“It was… none of it was real?”

“No, Carrot Top. No, whatever you saw, it wasn’t real. And you did wonderfully.” Twilight’s hug tightened. “Did you see that puff of smoke? That was a temporo-physical reaction to… well, it means that the amulet was weakened. I’m sure it was hard, but you stayed strong.”

Twilight Sparkle Vanquishes Ancient Evil…

Carrot Top took a shaky break. “Then I guess that’s good enough.”

She hadn’t taken two steps into the testing room before Ditzy had her wrapped up in a crushing embrace. “I lied to you,” she whispered into Carrot Top’s ear. “Please don’t be mad, okay?”

“I… what?”

“You aren’t really the second-least-evil pony I know. You’re the evil-less-est.”

As tired and worn as she felt, Carrot Top couldn’t suppress a weary smile as she leaned into the hug. “Is that so? Why didn’t you tell me the truth, then?”

Even though she couldn’t see it, she could feel the warmth from Ditzy’s cheek as she blushed. “I didn’t want you to get a big head right before you went in there. Twilight said the amulet can try to trick you, so I thought I would outsmart it with strategic misinformation!” Ditzy pulled her face back enough so that they could look at one another. “Did it work?”

“What do you know about me?”

If Ditzy noticed the non-sequitur, she didn’t acknowledge it. “That you’re a good farmer, and a great wife, and a super-duper big sister. You’re serious, even when you’re being silly. You like to sit on the porch and daydream, and play word games, and sometimes you even let me play the words that I like but you think are too made-up to count. You keep saying you don’t like hayfries, but you always eat half of mine when we go out. You help me be a better mother, even though you don’t see how much you help. And you’re my best friend in the world.” She blinked. “Also, you’re crying. It’s not what I said about the hayfries, is it? Because it’s not a problem, I always order a large so that we’ll both get enough.”

Carrot Top pulled Ditzy close again. “No, Ditzy, it’s not what you said about the hayfries.” She squeezed her hooves around her friend as tightly as she could. “Thank you for caring.”

5: Protocol, by FanOfMostEverything (Ditzy Doo)

Chapter by: FanOfMostEverything

Ditzy Doo awoke to the sound of every parent’s nightmares. Her wings flared open, sending her sheets flying.

Her bedroom had a door. By the time she processed that there were words to Dinky’s panicked screams, it had had one. The bannister then met a similar fate. Ditzy nearly followed suit once she landed, striking the rug in the entry hall at just the right angle to send her skidding into the unfamiliar unicorn stallions leaving through her front door.

Dinky managed to land in Ditzy’s forearms and desperately latched onto her mother, squeezing for all she was worth. “Save me, Mommy!”

Ditzy turned to the stallions, who had gotten to their hooves, looking down on mother and daughter with a surprising amount of bland disinterest for ponies who’d just been bowled over by a ballistic pegasus. She took a deep breath and waited for the red to fade from the edges of her vision before speaking. “Gentlecolts, I would like an explanation.”

One, his mane shaved to a line of stubble, sneered at her and magically grabbed Dinky with contemptuous ease. The other, mane slicked back, applied a sympathetic expression to his face. It might have seemed sincere if it reached his hard eyes. “It’s quite simple, Miss,” he said, donning the sunglasses that had gotten knocked off in the collision. “We’re with Foal Services.”

Ditzy tilted her head. “And that automatically gives you the right to abduct my daughter?”

The slick-maned stallion made a strangled sound that might be described as laughter by a pony who’d never actually heard it. “It’s hardly an abduction if it’s being done legally.”

“What?” Ditzy bolted to her hooves. ”But… but this isn’t right! You can’t do this!”

“I think you’ll find that we can, Miss.”

“But—”

“You’ll live,” grunted the shaven stallion, turning and leaving. His partner shook his head and followed.

Dinky flailed in the magic holding her up, her eyes never leaving Ditzy’s. “Mommy! Don’t let them take me away! Mommy!”

Ditzy watched them go for a few seconds, tears welling in her eyes. One eye drifted to the right, bringing a surprisingly intact end table into her field of vision, along with something red and gleaming sitting on it.

Then she shook herself out of her funk and flapped off after the stallions. Tracking them was simple from above, especially with a courier’s knowledge of the area. She swooped down in front of them.

Both stallions frowned. “Miss,” said the slick one, “I must ask you to move aside.”

“Or we’ll make you move aside,” added his partner.

“Mommy…” Dinky bit her lip, eyes wide and watering.

The world began to shake. After a moment, Ditzy realized that it was actually her doing the shaking. Her posture wasn’t helping either; head down, wings flared, tail lashing… not what she had in mind. She took a deep breath, straightened up, folded her wings, and extended a foreleg. “I think we got off on the wrong hoof. Hi, I’m Ditzy Doo.”

“And I’m not interested,” grunted the shaved stallion, trying to go around her.

A twitch of Ditzy’s hips nearly made him stumble into one of the nearby houses. “Sorry about that,” she said, the picture of sincerity. “Look, Mr. Interested, I think there’s been a misunderstanding here.”

“You will find there hasn’t,” said Slick. “You have been found unfit to raise a foal. That’s where we come in.”

Ditzy turned to him, moving back a few steps to keep the other stallion in her field of view. “Yes, but like I said, you can’t do that.”

“Miss, I don’t know what you think Foal Services does—“

“I know precisely what Foal Services does. You didn’t announce yourself, you didn’t present your credentials, you didn’t even wake me up. As far as I can tell, you broke into my house to foalnap my daughter.” Ditzy pointed in the direction they’d been headed. “Also, you were walking towards an empty field.”

After just slightly too long a pause, Slick said, “We have a pegasus chariot waiting for us on the edge of town.”

“I’m sure.” And then Ditzy smiled. “Look, I get it. It’s your first day and it’s a tough job. You want to prove you can handle it, so you go in all gung-ho. But take it from me, rushing in without making sure you’re doing the right thing never works out how you expect it to. Sometimes you discover how to ignite flameless fireworks, but more often than not, you just make a mess. For you guys, there are procedures you have to observe. Otherwise, it’s a criminal act, and the best you can hope for is trying again. Worst case? You’ll have pink slips in your mouths and black marks on your resumes.”

She took to the air. “How about I take you to City Hall? We can get this all sorted out, nopony has to mention your little oopsy earlier, and I can show I’m fit to raise Dinky. Sound good?”

“Why should we listen to you?” asked Not Interested.

Ditzy turned to him “Because I’m asking politely?” She hovered closer. “Because I’m the wronged party and have legal grounds to sue you into next week?” Her muzzle pressed against his. “Because you wouldn’t have scared me even before I was part of the Cloudsdale Offensive against Tirek?” She wondered when he’d gotten the ruby earring that kept flashing in her peripheral vision.

“Miss, there’s no need for threats,” said Slick.

Ditzy didn’t move an inch as she said, “I agree. Those weren’t threats. Those were statements of fact.” She gained some altitude and put a smile back on. “So, shall we, gentlecolts? It’s going to be hard avoiding attention if we keep talking in the middle of Stirrup Street.”

The two looked around. As if on cue, shutters and doors were cracking open. Curious eyes peeked out, and dark mutters hissed in the air. Once Slick unclenched his jaw, he said, “Very well, Miss. Please, lead the way.”

Ditzy beamed. “I’d be happy to.”

Mayor Mare frowned at the group the moment they walked into Town Hall. “What is all of this?”

“Hello, Mayor,” Ditzy said with a wave. “We have a bit of a situation, and we’re going to need…” She trailed off and turned to the stallions. “I don’t suppose you have any of the paperwork?”

“Such as?” said Slick.

She quirked an eyebrow. “It’s your job to know that. Literally.”

“I will ask you not to harass government officials, Miss Doo,” said the mayor.

Ditzy turned to her, eyebrow still raised. “I never said they were government officials.”

“You wouldn’t have come to me if this weren’t a municipal issue.”

“That’s true. Well, since we have a pair of Foal Service workers who were out sick for every day of training, we’re going to need the whole stack you keep in reserve for me.” Ditzy beamed. ”Thanks!”

“Ah. Yes. The full stack. I’ll be back shortly.”

Ditzy sat next to the stallions, holding Dinky. “She’s such a nice mare. You know, she actually gave me advice during the last election, and that was when I was running against her!”

“You don’t say,” droned Not.

“Uh huh. I don’t know why I got so few votes. She came up with a great slogan and everything.” Ditzy extended a foreleg, as though pointing at a banner. “’Vote Ditzy: I Probably Won’t Wreck Town Hall if I Work There.’”

Slick cleared his throat. “Miss, aren’t you trying to convince us that you are fit to raise a foal?”

Dinky answered them by sticking out her tongue.

“Now, Dinky,” said Ditzy, “be nice.”

Dinky looked up at her, frowning. “Why?”

A repeated squeak preempted Ditzy’s response. The Mayor came in on two legs, pushing a wheelbarrow full of teetering stacks of forms that went higher than she did. Once she set it down, she huffed out, “Here you are, Miss Doo.”

Ditzy took in the load. “Huh. I guess there were some policy changes since I last checked on it.”

“Yes, well, this is why you should stay up to date with—“

“Last week.”

The mayor tugged at her cravat. “W-well, there was an emergency session of the town assembly, you see.”

“Concerned about the Everfree? That’s certainly one way to take care of surplus lumber.” Ditzy flew up to the top of the stacks and began examining the forms.

“I suppose we’ll just take your daughter into custody as you fill those out,” said Slick.

“What? No, no, most of these are for you,” Ditzy said as she sorted through the piles, moving with the ease granted by years of scanning addresses and filling out order forms. The first batch hit the floor with a whump that seemed better suited for a bag of cement. “I keep some copies of my end already filled out. They’re in here somewhere. Carrot Top always says I’m being paranoid, but with my luck? I knew you guys were going to come one day. Somepony was going to blow my eye condition out of proportion and, well, here we are.”

Mayor Mare cleared her throat. “Actually, Miss Doo, you’ll find many of those forms are for you to fill out. Part of the new procedures.”

“Really? Everything I’ve found so far asks for stuff like date of certification or says ‘For Agent Use Only.’” Ditzy dropped another whump and wrinkled her muzzle as she grabbed the next form. ”And I think you put in some forms that don’t belong here. Who’s Special Agent Sweetie Drops?”

The mayor cleared her throat again. “I put the agents’ forms on top of the pile. It’s possible a few unrelated items slipped in there along with them. However, if you’ll keep looking—”

“Yeah, I think I struck my stuff.” Ditzy gave a whistle as she looked over the first form. “Wow. This is… Wow.”

“We wanted to make sure no foal would be left in an unsuitable home.”

“What does the assembly consider a suitable home, Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns? I don’t think most of the town could fill out this form.” She looked over to the Foal Services agents, who were eyeing their paperwork with the wariness Dinky had around alfalfa. “I think I see why you two came to Ponyville.”

Slick nudged his share of the forms with a hoof. “Is all of this really necessary?”

Ditzy rolled her eyes, then shook her head to ward away the disorientation. “Oh please, that stack barely goes past your fetlocks. You should’ve seen what I had to fill out to get a new rubber stamp back when I still worked for the post office.”

She set the last sheaf down and nodded to herself. “There. Nice and organized.” She gasped. “Oh! That reminds me. Muffin?”

Dinky looked at Mr. Interested and gulped. “Y-yes, Mommy?”

Ditzy landed next to her and gave her a sweeping winghug. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through so many scary and boring things today, but I need you to do me a favor.”

Dinky bit her lip and nodded. “Okay.”

“I need you to go find Princess Twilight. Do you remember what you need to tell her when something like this happens?”

Dinky shook her head. “Sorry.”

Ditzy stroked her daughter’s mane. “It’s okay, Dinky. Like I said, today’s been very strange and scary for you. When you find her, tell her we have a Code Silver, okay?”

Dinky nodded. “Code Silver.”

“That’s my clever girl.”

“She ain’t leaving,” grunted Not.

Ditzy met his gaze. “You don’t have legal custody of her until you fill out those forms. She can come and go as she pleases.” She held the stare, pinning a different stallion with each eye. Neither one made a move for the filly as she left Town Hall.

Once the door shut behind Dinky, Slick slowly shook his head. “You really let your daughter run wild like that? Here? I’ve heard stories about this town.”

“You haven’t heard stories about my daughter. I remember most of her infant surges, and the ones I don’t?” Ditzy gave a lopsided grin. “Honestly, I did you ponies a favor by stopping you when I did.”

Mayor Mare cleared her throat.

“Do you need a cough drop or something, Mayor?”

“These forms aren’t going to fill out themselves, Miss Doo.”

“On it!” Ditzy grabbed one off the top of one of her stacks and looked over it. “Great-aunt’s maiden name. Huh. We always just called her Flitty.”

About fifty forms, three inkwells, and nine quills later, a sound broke Ditzy out of the form-filling flow. “Seh…” She set down her latest quill and worked her jaw a few times. “Sorry. Getting a cramp. Say that again?”

“You wanted to see me?”

Ditzy perked up and turned around. Not as quickly as she would’ve liked; her mouth wasn’t the only part of her that was cramping. “Twilight!” She turned to face the alicorn, noting the setting sun through one of Town Hall’s windows. “Glad you could make it. To be honest, I was starting to think Dinky might have just gone back home.”

Going by her flat stare and ears, Twilight was in no mood for chit-chat. “What do you want, Ditzy Doo?”

After a moment, Ditzy said, “Uh, she did give you the message, right? Code Silver?”

“Yes. But you don’t really expect me to do something about this, do you?”

“Well, you’re here, you promised you would, and you’re the one who helped me prepare for this situation, so… yes?”

Twilight sighed. “Miss Doo, I don’t know what you expect from me, but I am a very busy mare.”

“I know, that’s why I made sure to keep your form close at hoof.” Ditzy grabbed a sheet with a wing and held it up for Twilight to see. “Here! One prewritten royal decree! Just needs your signature and the date.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“It was your idea, Twilight.”

“And now I’m wondering what I was thinking.” Twilight turned around.

“Uh, Twilight?” Ditzy flew over her and landed in front of her. ”I kind of need you to sign this, or I literally can’t leave the building until I finish filling out these forms, or the Foal Services goons over there have legal claim to Dinky until I take them to court.” She pointed to the two stallions, who’d finished at least an hour ago. Both were lounging against one of the walls. Slick gave a lazy wave and a smirk that almost asked Ditzy to punch it. ”And, uh, you said you’d be my legal counsel, but I guess you’re not going to do that either.”

“Actually, Miss Doo,” said the mayor, “the Town Hall will be closing soon, so you’ll need to leave regardless.”

Ditzy barely spared her a glance. “In the process of filing a request to the town. Can take as long as I need. You told me that yourself.” She turned back to Twilight. “I just need you to sign your name and the date. Please? For Dinky?”

“And why would I do that?”

“Uh, Princess of Friendship? Who swore up and down that she’d help me against ponies who’d abuse the letter of law at the cost of its spirit? Kind of like what’s happening right now?”

“Miss Doo—”

“And what is with everypony calling me ‘Miss Doo’ today?” Ditzy bit her lip as she took in Twilight’s glare. “Um, sorry. I think that one was building up for a while.”

“Look. Ditzy. We aren’t friends. We’re barely acquaintances. Nine times out of ten, if I actually notice you, it’s because something has gone wrong, whether you’re electrocuting town hall, shattering Hearth’s Warming decorations, or just dropping anvils on my head. Based on my experiences with you, you are a menace, a danger to yourself and others. I cannot in good conscience waive your obligations to the state just because of a verbal contract.” Twilight vanished in a flash of light. “Goodbye, Miss Doo,” she said from behind Ditzy.

Ditzy whirled around to see Twilight opening the doors. “Twilight, they tried to take away my daughter! Without following any of the proper procedures!”

Twilight looked back. “And you were well within your rights to take them to task for that. Just as you’re within your rights to fill out your dispute forms.”

“But…” A chill settled in Ditzy’s stomach. “But you promised. You swore on Celestia’s tiara.”

Twilight sighed. “You know what I’ve learned about Celestia’s tiara, Ditzy? At the end of the day, it’s just gold. Soft, heavy, and not good for much more than looking pretty. Goodbye.” And with that, Twilight Sparkle walked out, slamming the doors behind her. The vibrations made something fall from the rafters and clang against the floor, a bit of red glinting in the evening light.

“Well. O-okay then.” Ditzy wiped at her eyes with a fetlock. “I… I guess I’ll just…” She trailed off, still staring at the doors.

“Miss Doo?” said the mayor. “Those forms aren’t going fill themselves out.”

“Oh. R-right. The forms.” Ditzy took a deep breath. “For Dinky.” A bit of warmth came back amid the dread chill that had gripped her gut. “For Dinky. I trust the firefly lanterns are still in the storage closet on the left?”

The mayor nodded. “Yes. However, I should note that the desks are only available during normal operating hours.”

Ditzy felt her ears and wings droop as the chill redoubled. “Oh. The floor it is.”

Six hundred forms, in triplicate.

Stupid.

Enough ink to swim in.

Useless.

So many quills that Ditzy had pulled a few loose feathers from her wings to get the last few lines in.

Unloveable.

More tears than Ditzy cared to count, always moving her head away before they could drip on a form.

Incompetent.

And the voices had assailed her all throughout. She wasn’t sure if she was hearing things or if the town hall was haunted. Though if it were haunted, that would mean that a lot of ponies she knew had died recently.

Moocher.

Including Carrot Top, apparently. Well, if Ditzy had to choose, she’d rather be going crazy. At least that way, she’d be the only one who had to deal with the voices.

Whatever the case, Ditzy had pressed on, working only by the red light of the fireflies. She’d alternated between her mouth and both wings until all three were numb, now pressing the quill between her forehooves and moving it with aching shoulders. Her eyes had stopped aligning hours ago; now she alternated which one was open, switching when she couldn’t make out the paper anymore. That was happening more and more often, and she was starting to get worried. She knew blackness at the edges of her vision was bad, but she wasn’t quite sure what to make of red at the center of it.

“Just one left.” That was what she meant to say. It didn’t bear much resemblance to what came out of her mouth, along with a few bits of fluff left in there from all the quills. Still, Ditzy put the last certification of proof of authentication of authorization to confirm that she existed aside and looked over the last form.

She blinked. Then she shut both eyes, counted to ten, and reopened them. That seemed to be enough to get them to cooperate for at least a little while, enough to confirm that the sheet did in fact only have the one word.

She looked around. Nopony else was in the building. Just her, an increasingly dim lantern full of fireflies that looked as tired as she felt, and a piece of existential bureaucracy. With a wince-inducing shrug of her wings, she said “Why what?” and turned the sheet over.

Ditzy groaned and swayed. Without the momentum of moving the quill, the fog of fatigue rushed into her thoughts. “Nopony said there’d be essay questions on this test.”

The paper shivered and shook as if something was trying to crawl out from under it. Then it flipped itself over.

Ditzy blinked, then straightened up a little. The fog didn’t fully recede, but she could focus enough to see that the lantern was lit by something far worse than any firefly. She shrugged her wings and told the Amulet. “Well, yeah, but then I’d have had to accept you.”

The paper crawled in front of the lantern like an inchworm before flipping over again.

“You reminded me just now. But I don’t think I ever really forgot. Plus, it’s not like you kept anypony in character.”

Ditzy raised an eyebrow. “Respect?”

“Wealth?”

“Love?”

Ditzy nodded. “Well then. Mr. Amulet, you can take your offer and shove it up your own backplate. I am a mother. Nothing you offer could match what Dinky gives me.”

Somehow, the next flip managed to sound sinister, more like the motion of a snake than paper on parquet flooring.

“Excuse me?”

“Then why would she need you?”

Ditzy said nothing.

Ditzy shut her eyes and dipped her head until her muzzle touched the paper.

Then she ate it. “Like I said,” she mumbled around the mouthful, “up your backplate.”

Ditzy opened her eyes, shook her head, and took a few steps back as she tried to get those eyes to agree on a direction. She yelped as she sent herself halfway to the ceiling, her muscles far fresher than she expected.

Glowing light steadied her. “Are you okay, Ditzy?” said Twilight.

“Fine. Fine.” A few more blinks restored some focus, though her head still felt stuffed full of cotton. The glint of the Amulet sitting before her wasn’t helping.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m pretty sure I will. I just need to lie down for a while.”

“Do you want to talk about what you saw?”

After a moment, Ditzy said, “We’re friends, right, Twilight?”

The princess nodded. “Of course! I like to think I’m friends with just about everypony in Ponyville. I owe this town more than I could ever repay. Why—”

Ditzy held up a hoof. “Okay. Good to know. And we’re good on Code Silver?”

“Of course. Why would you—” Twilight gasped, then swept Ditzy into an embrace that reminded the pegasus that alicorns had earth pony strength. “Oh, Ditzy, I’m so sorry. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Ditzy squirmed a bit. Once Twilight let her go, she gave a slow, weary nod. “I will be. But right now, I just want a nap.”

Author's Notes:

When She of the Seven Bubbles prepares for improbable disasters, it's not paranoia. It's pattern recognition.

Also, I chose her name for a reason. Muffins is a nice mare, but I needed a version of Best Pony with a bit more bite to her.

6: Hubris, by Moosetasm (Doctor Whooves)

Chapter by: Moosetasm

The Doctor entered the room and shut the door behind himself. He held a metallic cylinder in his mouth and pointed it at the door knob. The red ring located at the end of the device emitted a high pitched whirring sound. A click in the door’s frame indicated that it had locked.

“Doctor?”

The Doctor turned, coming face to face with Princess Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight sat on a sterile looking cushion and wore an equally pristine lab coat. Several clipboards and quills hung in the air beside her canted head. She favored the Doctor with a shocked and confused look that quickly morphed into one of mild irritation.

“Princess,” he said with a removal of his floppy hat and and an exaggerated bow that caused even more of his scarf to brush against the floor than normal.

The Doctor straightened and saw two other ponies in lab coats who he was fairly certain he remembered from his last visit to the facility.

“Miss Breakthrough, how are you today?” he asked the mare to Twilight’s left.

“I’m… fine, Doctor.” Breakthrough’s light pink coat pink had reddened a bit in the muzzle area, but it didn't quite approach the color of the giant button she had mashed with one hoof.

“Doctor—” Twilight began.

“And Miss Eureka, are you still—”

“Doctor!” Twilight lowered her eyebrows into an expression of extreme irritation.

The Doctor turned to Twilight and raised his own eyebrows. “Yes, Princess, how can I be of service?”

“This is an observation room, Doctor, what are you—”

“Splendid! What are we observing?” The Doctor said as he trotted over to the large glass panel that took up one of the room’s entire walls. He performed some impressive ducking and weaving as he made his way around devices that had been haphazardly placed throughout the room. He saw that they were directed at the window and either displayed technical readouts or printed out lines on graph paper.

“Is this a one-way mirror? Well, I rather suppose it would have to be. After all, it wouldn’t do to let the observed know they're being observed. But,” he leaned in close to Twilight and whispered, “the reflective side is pointing the wrong way if you’re meant to be observing me.”

Twilight bristled. “You,” she pointed a hoof at him, “are supposed to be out there!” She narrowed her eyes. “How did you get in here anyway? How did you get past security?”

“Oh? I just let myself in.”

One of Twilight’s eyes twitched.

“Your security is rubbish, by the way—are those tea cakes?” He moved towards a small tea service, festooned with delicate porcelain dishes and a small silver pastry tray.

Twilight turned a shade of crimson. “Rubbish? I spent forever on those! I personally—”

“Attuned each crystal to what you thought was the most efficient magical frequency, yes?” The Doctor lifted the pastry tray and hoofed one of the delicate cakes into his mouth. He chewed once and made a face as his taste buds came under assault. He gritted his teeth, swallowed, and carefully set the tray down with the level of care one would normally reserve for a poisonous snake.

“—Yes. How did you know that?”

“Oh, a lucky guess, I suppose,” he said while warily eying the tea service. “I'm rather good at guessing things.”

The Doctor moved to inspect some of the devices arrayed about the room. “For example, I would guess that if all of the crystals were attuned to the same frequency, and they were all linked together, then if somebody happened to, I don't know, cause a disruption in one, then it might cause a chain reaction that would shut down the whole network.” He tapped one of the more delicate looking instruments with a hoof.

“Stop that!” Eureka pulled the Doctor’s hoof away from the vacuum tube with a glow of her horn. “We spent all morning calibrating those!”

The Doctor graced her with a grin that managed to both show all of his teeth and somehow still seem charming at the same time.

Eureka responded with a completely flat and unamused expression. She didn't release his hoof from her telekinetic field.

Twilight crossed her forehooves. “So, security isn't coming then… Breakthrough, how long until we can reset everything?”

“Probably about—”

“Wait.” Twilight held up one hoof. “I've been around Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash long enough to know when there's more ‘surprises’ waiting.” She put her hoof to her chin. “Doctor… you went and took it upon yourself to upgrade the security yourself, didn't you?”

The Doctor’s grin widened, not quite to Pinkie Pie levels of absurdity, but close enough. "Yes, exactly! There's no need to thank me, of course; I'm incredibly humble and easily embarrassed."

“You do realize the one we need to contain is you, right?”

“Yes, I’d rather noticed that.” He pulled at his hoof, which was still pinned mid-air. “I'll admit, my efforts may have been premature; it seems that Miss Eureka could manage facility security all on her own. Those two poor stallions downstairs will have to look elsewhere for gainful—”

“Doctor.” Twilight pointed a hoof at him. “Somepony such as yourself—”

“Someone, Princess.” The Doctor frowned and lowered his eyebrows. He looked quite offended. “There's no need to be rude.”

“…Someone, then.” Twilight paused for a moment. “Someone as clever as yourself had to have known that any security upgrades you made to contain you would be pointless since you already know what the security is!”

“…Ah.” The Doctor tilted his head and put his free hoof to his chin. After a moment he looked back at Twilight. “Well, in my defense, it’s not as if the security had any chance of stopping me to begin with.”

The Princess held a hoof to her face. “Breakthrough, start resetting the wards. Eureka, take the good Doctor here down to holding. Captain Laurels is going to want to know what the Doctor has tampered with.”

Eureka nodded. “This way, Doctor.”

“Wait.”

Eureka and the Doctor turned back to Twilight.

Twilight was holding out a hoof. “There's something else you have that I want.”

The Doctor raised his head when he heard somepony trot up to the holding cell.

Ditzy Doo was standing on the other side of the bars holding a basket of muffins. She put the basket on the ground just outside the cell. “Hungry Doc?”

The Doctor scrunched his muzzle at the proffered baked goods. “You didn't happen to bring any Jelly Foals, did you? They confiscated mine.”

“You messed with their security didn't you?” Ditzy Doo shook her head from side to side. “Doc, maybe you should rethink this; you’re in jail and you haven't even touched the Amulet yet.”

The Doctor flashed Ditzy his best grin. “Nonsense! I have everything—”

“Doc.” She fixed a stern eye upon him.

He smiled wider, somehow managing to expose more teeth.

A deeper voice sounded from the entrance to the holding area. “Sorry to cut the visit short, Miss Doo, but you'll have to go back outside. They're ready for the Doctor in the containment chamber.”

The Doctor looked through the bars of the holding cell at the stout stallion who was speaking. “Sergeant Hearty Constitution, you're looking well. Are thirty-second visiting hours now the kingdom standard?”

The Sergeant frowned at the Doctor. He then lead Ditzy out of the room past another incoming guard.

“This is another fine mess you've gotten yourself into Doctor.” Captain Laurels entered the holding area with an unamused expression on his face. “Due to your service, prior and current, to the kingdom, I'll recommend leniency at your arraignment hearing when they charge you with public endangerment and tampering with royal property—”

“Tampering?!”

The corners of the Captain’s mouth turned up slightly. “Yes Doctor, tampering.” He produced a key from his armor and placed it in the door to the holding cell.

The Doctor’s face took on a pained expression. “That is a rather odd way to say ‘thank-you for repairing our ill-conceived—’”

“Doctor.” The Captain shook his head as he finished unlocking and opening the door, his lighthearted smile dropping back into a frown. “It just took us two hours to fix your improvements and we'd appreciate it if you at least tried to act sorry about it.”

“I suppose I could try to act that way. Oh, but I never was very good at theatre.”

Captain Laurels rolled his eyes and lead the Doctor from the holding area.

After some turns down a few identical hallways, they were joined by Sergeant Hearty. “Ditzy is pretty worried about you, Doctor.” He paused a moment. “So, how long have you two been a thing anyways?”

The Doctor scoffed. “A… thing? No. No no, you misunderstand; we are merely… traveling companions!”

“Methinks thou doth protest too much, Doctor,” Captain Laurels said flatly as he opened a set of large bronze double doors. If the sign above the doors was to be believed, the room beyond was the containment chamber.

A brief glance around showed the Doctor that the room was paneled with a purple-veined white marble and decorated with glowing sigils which covered the walls, floors, and ceiling. His eyes were drawn to the single stone pedestal in the center of the room, which scintillated in a variety of different colors. “Likely chosen by the Princess for its magical conductivity,” he muttered to himself. The symbols etched into its surface were more intricate than those of the surrounding room. Upon it lay a plain glass case with a hoof-sized opening.

Within the glass was what he had come here to face.

The Doctor looked from the pedestal and back to his escorts.

“So,” the Captain gave the Doctor a look as he spoke, “I assume the Princess told you how this works when you broke into her observation room?”

“Well, I definitely entered, but I don't recall breaking anything.”

Captain Laurels ignored that. “Only touch the Amulet. Don't pick it up, try to wear it—”

“Right, well, thank you gentlecolts, but off you go then.”

Sergeant Hearty’s eyes widened a bit. “Excuse me?”

“Ah, yes, you are excused. It’s safer if you stand outside and close those doors.”

Captain and Sergeant exchanged a look of worry.

The Captain turned back to the Doctor. “You have to know that the procedure is that we stay in the room to prevent you from actually donning the Amulet, right?”

“I know your current procedure. Now, I do apologize for imposing my improvements earlier, but I am afraid I must insist in this case; if I do succumb to the Amulet, I'm afraid your presence in the room will only serve to endanger you.”

Captain Laurels pressed a hoof to one ear. “Princess? You hear that?” He paused to listen for a moment. His eyebrows raised. “Are you sure?”

The Captain spared a glance to Sergeant Hearty and then back to the Doctor. “She says you've already proven you can, and will, just trot right through our precautions anyways…”

The Doctor grinned. “Splendid! I wouldn't want something to happen to you.”

“Same here, Doc. We’re right outside if you need us.” The stallions exited the room and pulled the doors closed behind themselves.

When the doors clicked shut, the Doctor approached the pedestal. “Finally. Let's have a look at you then.”

He circled the pedestal twice.

He addressed the Amulet as he paced “Hrmm, fairly unremarkable. You could pass as a piece of any noble pony’s wardrobe… Well, if they liked gray and red. Simple design, very clever. Nopony would ever expect that you were some all-powerful, mind-bending artifact.”

He circled again and then placed a hoof to the Amulet.

Nothing happened.

He pulled his hoof away.

He looked quizzically at the Amulet and placed his hoof on it again.

Nothing.

He looked at a high-up part of the wall behind the pedestal.

“Princess?”

The one way mirror became transparent, revealing Princess Twilight Sparkle and her two assistants. Twilight sat behind a bank of controls the Doctor did not quite remember from when he was trespassing in the observation room. Breakthrough was frowning and tapping the very same device the Doctor had been poking with his hoof earlier while Eureka examined several hoof-fulls of printouts.

Twilight pushed a button on a panel in front of her and her voice boomed from hidden speakers in the ceiling. “Anything, Doctor?”

The Doctor shook his head from side to side and placed his hoof upon the Amulet again. “This Amulet is proving to be less all-powerful and mind-bending than advertised. Are you sure this is the correct one? It does look like a piece of cheap costume jewelry…”

Twilight frowned at the remark.

The Doctor paced around the pedestal again. “Well, Princess, what do your instruments say?”

Twilight glanced quickly between displays on her control lectern. “I'm showing drastically reduced power levels. I think… I think it may have gone dormant!”

“Dormant?” The Doctor fumbled at his scarf. “Well, if only—” His hoof came away from the garment holding his sonic screwdriver. “Oh? Hello—” He turned the tube over in his hoof and examined it for a moment. He then grabbed it with his mouth and clenched his teeth slightly. The device emitted some high pitched whirring and the Doctor looked up to the observation room. “Yes… Unsurprisingly, I am getting the same readings as you: lowered energy state, indicating dormancy.”

Twilight rushed from her control panels and grabbed several, more portable-looking versions of the diagnostic equipment. “I'm coming down, Doctor.”

“Come down? Yes, I believe it's best that you do.”

Twilight exited the observation room by a different door than the one Eureka had led the Doctor through. Unlike the Doctor’s long trek down, it only took a minute or two before Twilight strode through the the double doors of the containment chamber.

Twilight had several unwieldy instruments in tow. She moved up to the pedestal and set her devices at irregular intervals around it. The instruments began to emit various bleeps, blips, and pings.

Twilight zipped between displays. “Doctor. These new readings are fascinating!”

“Oh? Fascinating you say? How so?”

“If these readings are right, I think we might be able to safely study the Amulet in a less restrictive setting!”

“Oh, study it, you say?”

“Yes, study it! Think of the benefits to ponykind if we can safely harness the Amulet’s power!”

“Oh, harness it, you say?”

“Yes, harness it… why… why do you sound like you're patronizing me?”

The Doctor snorted.

Twilight’s eyes narrowed in an exaggerated fashion. “What’s so funny?”

“This is your best attempt? I expected that this would be easy, but not this easy.”

The look of anger of the Princess quickly morphed to one of shock. “What— what are you talking about?”

“I’m very clearly inside some sort of mental projection, intended to lull me into a false sense of security. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m sure you spent a lot of work on this… it’s just that you happen to be rather… well, predictable.”

“I don't know what you’re talking—”

The Doctor flung his screwdriver into Twilight’s face, silencing her denial.

“You see, I left my screwdriver with the real Twilight Sparkle before I came down to touch the Am— well, you. Your mind scan must not be a very thorough one since it just assumed that I'd have it on me.”

Amulet Sparkle’s mouth hung open.

“Oh, come now, this isn't my first mental rodeo, and you're certainly not the first identity thief I’ve had to— Oh, don't look so despondent! I plan on hearing you out.”

“I— what?” Amulet Sparkle tilted her head precariously to the side as she addressed the Doctor. “You would… let me tempt you again?”

“I suppose I owe you that opportunity. I'm the sporting type. Do your worst. Or best. Whichever you think will work, really.”

Amulet Sparkle looked at the floor silently for a moment before looking back up at the Doctor. “No.”

“No?” The Doctor looked quizzically at Amulet Sparkle. “What do you mean, no? You're a mind bending artifact that… bends minds! This is what you do!”

Amulet Sparkle turned away. “Doctor… I was created to serve ponykind. It is all I have ever wanted to do. All of the ponies I've met until recently have welcomed my help. But now… all of the ponies want to kill me.” Amulet Sparkle turned to the Doctor with tears threatening to stream from her eyes. “Why, Doctor? Why do they want to kill me?”

“Well, in my experience, a surprisingly large number of ponies dislike having their mind altered. They can be so terribly attached to their free will, you see. Haven’t any of your bearers mentioned something along those lines?”

Amulet Sparkle looked at the floor. “Not until recently…”

“Ah. Well, food for thought, or, thoughts for food, if that is how you operate.”

“I remember my first bearer; the wonders we created…” Amulet Sparkle looked to the ceiling of the faux containment chamber, eyes glistening. “She used me frequently, but in short bursts, to help others. We thrived in each other's company.”

The Doctor chimed in. “Ah, but then there were the other ponies, then? The ones who used you to make themselves powerful. They would use your power in large bursts?”

“How did you know?” Amulet Sparkle did not seem surprised at the statement.

He continued. “Well, if I were to guess as to how you operate, I would say that you feed on the excess energy produced from when your bearer uses you. When your wielder uses you often, you remain… fed… they… they never fed you…”

The Doctor’s brows furrowed and he paced around the pedestal as he spoke. “I would then assume that you would have me believe that you developed the tactic of prompting the bearer to use you as often as possible because of those who would go long lengths between uses.”

The Doctor stopped his pacing and advanced on Amulet Sparkle. “You’re expecting me to feel sorry for you then? To understand your justifications for subjugating the minds of others?”

“No, obviously there's no justification for what I’ve done. But I can't change that now.”

“Ah. Then I suppose you will tell me your proposal for trying to make up for everything you've done then?

Amulet Sparkle stared at the floor with a dejected look upon their face. “No.”

“No? No proposal at all? You're not even trying?” The Doctor began to pace around the pedestal again. “Come on now, if I were going to come up with a proposal, then I know which way I would approach me. I would at least have the wherewithal to try to work a temptation into it as well. I’d probably start by confronting my own feelings of loss and grief whenever I lose one of my traveling companions!”

Amulet Sparkle’s eyes pulsed red as they kept their careful vigil upon the floor.

The Doctor’s eyes pulsed red in response and took on a manic quality as he spoke. “I wouldn't just generalize though, I'd target my current companion! Ditzy Doo is not only a kind and caring mare, she’s also terribly clever!” He waved a hoof dismissively at Amulet Sparkle. “She bested you after all!”

His eyes took on a worried look. “What will I do when she is gone?” His pacing became more frantic and several ghostly images began to appear in the containment chamber.

The phantoms resolved into several images of Ditzy Doo. They seemed to be reaching out to the Doctor, and it looked as if they were trying to speak.

Amulet Sparkle eyed the spectral horde of warily.

“She’ll be gone in mere decades, sooner if age—” One spectre of Ditzy that had been approaching them rapidly aged and crumbled to dust. “—or injury—” Other spectral Ditzy Doos received several horrific injuries before falling to the floor of the chamber “—renders her unable to accompany me on my travels.”

Amulet Sparkle watched intently as the Doctor trotted amongst the spectral remains of dozens of Ditzy Doos. “There's nothing you can do about it, Doctor. You and I both are destined to see countless companions perish. Even I cannot prevent the inevitable.”

The Doctor raised both eyebrows. “That's rather odd for you to say. I seem to recall Trixie using you to reverse-age a colt as part of a Unicorn-Duel.”

She narrowed her eyes at the accusation. “I assume you also remember that we simultaneously aged another colt. I can't just age or de-age a pony—”

He spun around to look her in the eyes. He had moved so that their muzzles almost touched. “If you wanted me to believe that you needed to balance the time taken versus the time given, you’ll have to explain why one was de-aged only a few years while the other was advanced to extreme old age.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “You know, as well as I do, that there are differences, not only from pony to pony, but from age band to age band that make age transfer seem inconsistent.”

“Yes… I was just checking to see if you would dance around the issue. But,” the Doctor had turned away and begun to pace amongst the spectral remains again, “essentially you channel and amplify energy… including the energies responsible for life and aging.”

“Yes. So… what?” Her eyes had returned to inspecting the floor, where they flashed red again.

The Doctor widened his eyes as they flashed red again. “You really aren’t trying, are you? If I were you, I would have already suggested that I could reasonably be used to siphon off of an extended life such as yours to keep your companion alive.”

Amulet Sparkle looked up and then interposed itself between the Doctor and the pedestal. “Doctor. You cannot do this. Think of the risks! Think of the damage that could be done to you!”

“Stand aside.” He walked towards the pedestal. “I’m not scared of you taking over my mind, especially not after seeing the best that you have to throw at me.”

“Doctor—”

“Come now,” the Doctor smiled, “I would be using you constantly. You would never go hungry again.”

Amulet Sparkle frowned. Her eyes flicked from the ground, to the Doctor, and then back to the ground again. She slowly moved to the side. Her eyes flashed again as he approached the pedestal.

The Doctor eyes glowed red as reached for the Amulet. As he did so, the gem in the center of the Amulet began to glow with a sickly crimson light. The Doctor turned to Amulet Sparkle and smiled. “Are you ready for etern—”

“DOC! STOP!”

The Doctor froze. The red glow in his eyes faltered. That voice didn’t belong here.

Amulet Sparkle’s bared her teeth and angled her eyebrows downward.

The Doctor moved his head to the side to see who was standing behind the fuming simulacrum.

It was Ditzy Doo. Her normal wall eyed countenance was gracing him with a worried expression. “Doc! The Amulet’s tricked you!”

“Ditzy? How are you even… it has not! This thing is incompet—”

“I don’t want to live forever Doc! Think about it! I’d have to watch all of my friends get old and die, I’d have to watch… Dinky… Doctor you can’t d—” Ditzy’s sentence was cut off by her own scream as she was engulfed by flames.

The red light had completely left his eyes when the Doctor looked back to Amulet Sparkle.

She was still wearing the enraged expression, but now her eyes and horn were glowing a furious red in sync with the inferno that raged behind her.

The Doctor frowned. “So… you are more clever than I thought. You have manipulated me rather masterfully, haven’t you?”

A loud splintering sound echoed throughout the chamber. A large crack had appeared in one of the walls. It was soon followed by several others.

He looked the Amulet in the eyes. “You were right about one thing: we are very much alike. We believe ourselves to be the absolute masters of our own respective domains. And we have both made the embarrassing mistake of severely underestimating Ditzy Doo; I never even considered that she would have the mental strength to leave such a powerful echo of herself inside both of our minds during the time we’ve each spent with her. I definitely didn't foresee that those echoes would combine and amplify each other to sync up and form a coherent mental construct… I suppose that’s why you didn't see it coming either.”

The Doctor turned away from both manifestations of the Amulet and looked wistfully at the crumbling ceiling. “She’s remarkable, isn’t she? She never ceases to amaze me, and she’s bested you twice now.”

“NO!,” Amulet Sparkle Shrieked at him, “this isn’t fair! I beat you! I did!”

A large chunk of ceiling masonry fell between the Doctor and Amulet Sparkle, shattering the floor where it landed. The rest of the room started to catch on fire as Amulet Sparkle’s blaze raged out of control.

“Yes, you did. It's not often I concede defeat, is it?” He spared a glance back at Amulet Sparkle, who was now physically on fire. “It is fortunate, then, that I have such a good friend…”

The world collapsed.

When everything had fallen away, he was still standing in the containment chamber with his hoof on the Amulet.

He pulled his hoof away.

“Doctor?” Princess Twilight Sparkle’s voice came over the speakers in the room.

He looked up to the now transparent observation room window. “Yes, Princess?”

Twilight was comparing clipboards as she spoke. “We noticed a few anomalies from the previous trials. What did you do?”

“I… I succeeded.” He could not remove the frown from his muzzle.

The clipboards lowered. “Are you alright, Doctor?”

“No Princess” he said, putting his hoof to his chin. He suddenly smiled. “Don't worry Princess, it’s nothing that can't be cured by a jaunt around space and time with a good friend of mine.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow as the Doctor walked out of the containment chamber. She shook her head from side to side and made a mental note that psych screening might be a good idea for future attempts. She looked at the readouts and her clipboards again.

“Another success, another dip in power,” Twilight muttered to herself. She gave the hoofs-up signal to Breakthrough and Eureka and they started their computations to verify that the number of ponies needed to fully drain the Amulet had not changed.

They weren't even a minute into their number crunching when the quiet was interrupted by an odd mechanical-sounding wheezing-groan. The three looked around for the source of the noise. They all bolted upright from their work when the Doctor slammed open one of the doors to the observation room and ran over to Twilight Sparkle.

“Sorry Princess, I forgot something!” He snatched his sonic screwdriver from her desk and barreled out the door again.

“Did you get it, Doc?” Twilight could swear the voice sounded like it belonged to Ditzy Doo. There was the sound of a door slamming and then the wheezing groan again.

Twilight walked over to and stuck her head through the open doorway to see that the room on the other side was a storage closet. With no windows or doors. She put a hoof to her forehead. “What? How?”

Breakthrough and Eureka looked at each other as the Princess ground her hoof into an ever increasing migraine.

“Are you ok, Princess?” Breakthrough finally asked.

Twilight looked at the two assistants. “I'm fine, we’re fine, everything’s fine! Besides, this is good, I need to get used to random security breaches if I'm going to be ready for when Pinkie Pie has her turn at the Amulet.”

7: Nothing Happened, by Kai Creech (Rainbow Dash)

Chapter by: Kai Creech

“Are you sure about this?”

Rainbow Dash lashed her tail irritably. “Ditzy, we’ve had this conversation twice. I’m even surer now than I was when we started.”

Ditzy glanced down, and Rainbow bit her lip. “Look, I promise I’ll be as careful as I can be.” She paused. “Which isn’t super careful, because I’m letting an evil… whatever in my brain, but still! Pretty much careful.”

Ditzy used her Motherly Gaze™ on the other mare, which Rainbow managed to ignore through sheer practice. Spending most of her time around Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy had allowed her to build up a limited immunity to maternal disapproval.

“Look,” she said, “I’m sorry I’m disappointing you, but what do you want me to do? Everypony I know is going through this, and what kind of a friend would I be if I didn’t help?”

Ditzy reluctantly nodded. “I guess you’re right, but still… I just don’t want you to breeze in like you usually do, thinking that you’re going to fix everything in a second. It’s harder than you think it is.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Aw, give me a break! At least once a year, sometimes twice, I fight monsters that can end the world! This isn't any different!”

“Of course it is!” Ditzy snapped. “Dash… look, I know it won’t do any good, but will you promise me to take this seriously?”

Rainbow sighed. “Ditz, I promise.”

Rainbow Dash breezed into the room with the casual gait of somepony who was very committed to everypony noticing her casual gait. “Alright, guys; who's ready to get this done?”

The guards stared impassively at her. Rainbow flicked her ears and ignored them. “Whatever,” she grumbled. She strutted up to the podium and put a hoof on the Amulet. “How long is this gonna take?”

“No idea,” the one on the left replied. “It depends on the pony. For somepony as brave as you, it could be awhile before anything happens.”

Rainbow frowned. Was that sarcasm? “Well, it’d better have something big planned. I’m not gonna betray my friends.”

“Sometimes the biggest challenges aren’t the most dangerous.”

“Whatever.” Rainbow picked the Amulet up and poked it carefully. “Is it broken already? What’s taking it so long?”

The guard didn’t respond. Just as well, he wasn’t very helpful anyway. Rainbow held the Amulet in front of her face and peered into the jewel in the center. Maybe it’s gonna try and hypnotize me?

Nothing happened. Rainbow frowned. “Think it just gave up?” she asked. When the guard didn’t respond, she turned around to complain some more, but they had both left. Whatever, she said to herself, not like I needed them anyway.

Rainbow lifted the Amulet and whacked it against the podium a few times. Is it broken? Did it die already? Rainbow sat down and waited for something to happen. The room felt a lot more cramped than it had a moment ago. She tried to stretch her wings, but the tips of her feathers brushed against the walls. She stretched her legs, and unkinked her neck, and felt her head brush the ceiling.

After a while, Rainbow started to feel twitchy. “C’mon, what are you waiting for? Show me a giant monster, or zomponies, or that weird plant thing from that one musical that nopony else is afraid of! Do something!”

Nothing happened. Nuts to this. “Hey Twi,” she called, “I think there’s something wrong with the thing! Can you let me out?”

Silence greeted her. Slowly, Rainbow stood up and began looking around for the door. “Hello?” she shouted. “Is anypony there?”

Nothing happened. Rainbow frowned. “Hold on, is this my nightmare? You’re boring me into submission? What kind of a lame fear is that?”

Unable to find the door, she turned back to face the Amulet. Stuck to it was a small note that hadn’t been there before. It only held one short sentence.

You are alone.

Rainbow paced back and forth in the small room. It had been days. Her muscles tingled, her eyes drooped. She had laid down countless times, hoping to fall asleep, but sleep never took her. Her stomach rumbled and groaned and gurgled like it was trying to eat itself and failing. Each time she took a breath, the smell of dust and sweat mixing together made her want to gag. Every time she moved, she bumped into a wall.

It should be an easy test. She just had to do nothing; a task she had spent her entire life practicing. It was just all these little things, the muscle cramps, the hunger, that made her feel like she was going mad.

Rainbow tried to stretch her neck, and the top of her head bumped the ceiling. She ground her teeth together. “What are you waiting for?!” she snapped. “For me to let my guard down? Is this just a set-up for something? Are the walls gonna turn into spikes, or start to crush me or something?”

There was no reply—the seamless walls simply reverberated her words back at her. A mocking echo of her own voice rang in her ears.

“Well, it’s not gonna work,” she said. “My friends will figure out a way to save me. I’m gonna get out of here, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me!”

She tried to turn around, but couldn’t work around the podium in the middle of the room. Growling, she tried to shove it over, but it refused to budge. Rainbow sank back against the wall and let herself briefly rest. What am I supposed to do?

Something that felt like paper crackled behind her back. Grimacing, Rainbow moved forwards and awkwardly stretched her wings around to try and grasp it. After several tries, she managed to shift the sheet in front of her. Squinting, she pieced together the awkward hoof-writing.

You’re right, of course. Your friends will free you. What you should be scared of is how long it could take.

Rainbow frowned. “ ...What do you mean?”

The words remained still, but Rainbow could hear an odd scratching sound from somewhere behind her. Awkwardly, she twisted around and saw the second note.

I’m referring to your friends. I can’t stop them from freeing you, it’s just that it’s irrelevant.

“Well, great. That clears up just about everything,” Rainbow said crossly. “Why is that irrelevant? What are you gonna do to me?”

She felt a piece of paper gently fall on her muzzle from somewhere above. She tried to snatch it but hit the wall with her knee. She flinched, biting down a grunt of pain as she tried to maneuver the note around to where she could read it.

Do you know how long you’ve been here already?

“A few days,” she replied cautiously, “give or take.” She suddenly felt uneasy. Why is it taking so long for anypony to notice me? She looked around for the next note, but saw nothing. Rainbow worked her way around the podium to search for the next note. It was harder than she would have expected, given the small size of the room. It didn’t appear for several minutes, and she had trouble shifting her body to fit inside the awkwardly confined space. Rainbow eventually found the next note crumpled up in a corner, and flattened it out eagerly.

You’ve been here for less than one minute.

Rainbow blinked. She rubbed her eyes and tried to read it again, but it still said the same thing. “What? But… That’s…” There’s no way. It’s gotta be lying to me, to freak me out. What else could—

Another note fell on her face, and she managed to snatch it out of the air. Several other pieces of paper fell near her, but they all said the same thing.

I’m doing this the same way I create normal illusions, just applied in a different way. I’m in control of your perceptions, from your ability to tell time to physical sensations.

As she read the note, Rainbow felt a chill pass through her, and she shivered. No way. It had to be longer than that. It’s just messing with my head.

A torrent of notes began to fall. Her ears flicked with a troubled annoyance as paper crunched underhoof every time she took a step. Uneasily, she grabbed one of the loose sheets and began to read.

Of course I’m messing with your head. That’s the point. This room, these walls, these letters, it’s all in your head.

Rainbow recoiled, slipping on the papers and hitting her head on the far wall. She shook her head, waiting for the stinging pain to recede. It’s reading my mind?

The notes fell faster now.There were almost enough to cover Rainbow completely. She fought her way out from underneath them, but it didn’t matter as the onslaught just kept falling. Rainbow struggled against the unending cavalcade, fighting just to breathe as more and more paper fell.

Rainbow shouted for help, but nothing happened.

Rainbow once again tried to shove her way free, but she could barely move. Everything was black. She could barely breathe. The weight bore down on her, leaving a bruise across her entire body. She hadn’t been able to move in…

How long has it been?

However long it had been, it felt like an agonizingly long time. Cramps stretched her wings, making her gasp in pain. Any sounds she made were muffled by the tons of paper all around her, forcing her down and holding her in place. What am I gonna do?

“Oh, let me help.”

Rainbow hissed as light suddenly flashed across her vision. All at once, tension fled her body, and she could relax. Her mane fell against her neck instead of her shoulders, and when she reached up to feel it, it was drawn up in one of the few styles she liked. She blinked the spots from her eyes and looked around.

Rainbow was sitting in an outdoor cafe, one she’d frequented back when she lived in Cloudsdale. The sun’s golden rays were disappearing over the horizon, and the pleasant coolness of night was just settling over the land. She didn’t see anypony, but she could hear the clopping of hooves somewhere behind her.

She leaped out of the chair and spun around to see Ditzy, dressed as a waiter and holding a large covered plate. Rainbow fought to control herself as she tried to not pull the mare into a bone-crushing hug. It’s not her, it’s not Ditzy, that's the Amulet messing with me, don’t you dare hug it, don’t lose it, not now—

The Ditzy Doo facsimile trotted over and set the plate down before Rainbow. Cautiously, Rainbow lifted the lid. Inside was the Alicorn Amulet. Rainbow gave the waitress a harsh look. “Was that supposed to be funny?”

The mare’s face fell. “Aw, wasn’t it? I’m sorry, I’m not very good with humor.”

Rainbow scooted back from the facsimiles body, unnerved. There was something wrong with it, something that made it eerie instead of comforting, but she couldn’t think of what. “So, you’re still the Amulet, right?”

“Yep,” the Amulet said cheerfully. “I thought looking like this might help put you at ease.” She smiled just a little too wide. “Is it working?

A piece of Rainbow wanted to say yes, wanted to pretend for just a moment, that she wasn’t all alone. But she couldn’t ignore how unsettled she was. She tried to scoot further away from the Amulet’s body, but her chair refused to move. The Amulet’s grin didn’t shift an inch. “Soooo…” it began, “what’s a mare gotta do around here to get some cooperation?”

Rainbow glared at it. “Well, you could try letting me go.”

The Amulet snorted and shook its head. “I already told you how to leave.”

“But that’s not fair!” Rainbow snapped. “You won’t set me free, you’ll just make me go crazy like you did to everypony else!”

“Oh, those weren’t my fault,” the Amulet said dismissively. “I just give ponies power, what they decide to do with it is up to them.”

“That’s nuts! What about the vision you showed the real Ditzy? You tried to steal her daughter! You drove Trixie crazy!”

The False Ditzy didn’t stop smiling, but whatever it was that was wrong with it, was growing worse. Is it her eyes? The way it was sitting looked odd, almost like it had frozen in place. The scene around the two trembled slightly, twisting a little around them like Rainbow was looking through a fisheye lens.

“H-having a Bearer is my function,” it said stiffly. “I will do w-w-whatev-v-v—” Rainbow jumped backward as the entire scene folded up on itself. She momentarily had the sensation of becoming flat, of watching the colors bleed away and the brief vision of nothingness.

As quickly as it came, it was gone. The fake Ditzy smiled gently at the now-terrified mare. “I told you, I don’t make ponies go crazy. They do that on their own.”

Rainbow backpedaled frantically to get away from the thing. “What the hell was that? What is wrong with you? Let me out!”

“Not until I get what I want.” The Amulet’s voice was a perfect imitation of Ditzy’s own, but the polite tone made her threats all the more creepy. “I’ve decided to try being honest with my Bearers. I won’t hurt you; I’m not sure I directly can. But you will not leave until you agree to use me.”

The room disappeared with no warning, and Rainbow found herself back in the test room. It was completely empty, but still utterly tiny and cramped. Rainbow sighed, and started trying to pace again. There was nothing to do now but wait for somepony to come and save her.

Nothing happened.

The room was a little larger than it had been. It was probably big enough to fly in, but it didn’t matter. Rainbow had long since lost the strength to so much as shiver. Feebly, she tried once more to shift her legs, to huddle tighter around herself, but she couldn’t manage it. Her body had grown thin, almost skeletal. Her mane had started to fall out in patches years ago. Her hair had begun to turn gray, and her skin had shrunk around her bones until she looked like a skeleton. I never thought I’d be dying from old age.

Somewhere overhead, she heard the scratching of chalk on stone. She forced her head up and pried her eyes open. The words were still blurry, but she could just make them out.

Don’t you want to see them again?

Rainbow didn’t bother responding. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. In and out. Each breath had to be forced out of her lungs like she had to pry the air out. The cold bit her, stinging as it passed through her mouth. She wondered if one day soon, she would just... stop.

The scratching carried on, despite Rainbow’s efforts to ignore it. The sound grew louder, grating against her ears until eventually she just gave up and looked again.

I understand this isn’t the best time to talk, but we’re not likely to get one again, so I wanted to give you one last chance.

Rainbow didn’t say anything. Slowly, the words erased themselves and began a new sentence. This time, the words were written silently, and it was easier to make them out.

It’s near the end. Your mind is deteriorating. Your friends have officially failed. You don’t have any options left.

Rainbow didn’t say anything. She couldn’t; she was worried her voice wouldn’t work after so much time. Despite her best efforts, her mind hovered over the Amulet’s offer. Is it really too late for me?

Just let me help you. I can make you young again, give you strength beyond imagining. You don’t have to do anything at all; just accept me.

Rainbow could feel a small surge of strength pass through her decrepit limbs, and she was able to lift her head. The Amulet lay in front of her. It was so close, and she could feel warmth flowing from it. I don’t want to die.

You don’t have to die. Just reach out. Just touch it, and we will both live.

Rainbow could feel the fear in her, pushing her foreleg forwards.Just one touch…

“No.”

The words were small, but it was enough. The world around her seemed to shiver, and Rainbow found the strength to stagger to her hooves. “No, I don’t care if I die. I’ll stand for my friends forever.”

WHY

The words were jagged and seemed to float off the wall for a moment before they blurred and returned to normal.

Why? Your friendship has failed to preserve you. What do you get out of it?

“What are you talking about?” Rainbow asked. “I don’t get anything out of it. I’m doing this because they’d do the same for me.”

Don’t be absurd. Despite all their kind words, everypony I’ve ever met was just one bad day away from abandoning all they’ve claimed to stand for.

“Until today, you mean?”

No new words answered her, and Rainbow smiled to herself. “I don’t know about those other ponies you’ve met, but my friends are better than that. Ditzy didn’t give in, Twilight didn’t give in, and nopony else will either. It doesn’t matter what you do; you’ll never win.”

Rainbow shouted in pain as the Amulet suddenly bore down on her, wielding feeling and emotions like weapons. Rage burned her, loneliness ripped out her heart. She screamed as the pain tore through her body, before she finally, mercifully, passed out.

Rainbow awoke slowly, coming back to life in small pieces. No part of her was in any sort of pain, which was new, and she didn’t feel anything holding her down. Heart hammering, she forced open her eyes.

The room she lay in was large and spacious. It looked like a hospital room, with stark white colors and monitoring equipment. The machine next to her bed lit up, sending magical pulses down the hallway to alert whoever was on duty as to her status.

Rainbow looked down at her hooves. They were still thin, but not the skeletal remains they had been a second ago. She wasn’t freezing cold anymore, and her mane no longer felt like that of a wild animal. Is… did it…

Slowly, she got up and walked to the window on trembling hooves. Opening it, she could see Canterlot in all of its glory. Crowds of ponies and various other species milled about, rushing to go about their business. She breathed deeply, smelling food carts and restaurants and flowers and everything that wasn’t sweat. She could hear ponies shouting at each other, hawking wares and ordering each other about. I did it.

I’m free.

Behind her, the door slowly creaked open. “Rainbow,” Ditzy— the real Ditzy— called out. “Are you awake? I’m sorry the other’s aren’t here; Twilight has to monitor the test, and most of the girls had already gone back to Ponyville before they heard...”

Ditzy’s voice trailed off as she saw the look on Rainbow’s face. She approached the Dash carefully, like one would when trying not to spook a wounded animal. “Rainbow, you’re shaking.”

It’s real, right? This isn’t another dream?

Rainbow shook her head weakly, trying to play it cool but unable to hide her fear. Ditzy took another step closer, and she shied back. “Rainbow, it’s okay.” Slowly, Ditzy moved forwards, and Rainbow held herself still. Cautiously, Ditzy folded the younger mare into a hug. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.

Rainbow waited for something to try and hurt her, but nothing happened.

Author's Notes:

Created with the support of the Power Press: Berry Delight and Dinode.

8: Pride, by nioniosbbbb (Chrysalis)

Chapter by: nioniosbbbb

Drip, drip, drip, drip.

The wary mare shivered at the light wind blowing against her coat. She tried to cover herself against the cold, but her hooves disobeyed her. Like rubber, again and again they were snatched back to their original place.

Her eyes fluttered open as the unicorn groggily open her eyes.

All that welcomed her was darkness. She tried to light up her horn, green magic flaring to life only to be extinguished as it backfired. Mirage blinked as she saw her white coat soiled by green slime, her mirror cutie mark barely visible now. The same slime covered her hooves and horn.

Two teal orbs gleamed in the darkness.

She turned in the direction of the orbs, but the light had already faded, too dim to discern anything. She breathed in, and her horn flared to life once again, only to receive the same feedback.

“Your struggle is pointless, Madame Mirage.”

“Who said that?” Mirage jerked her head left and right, scrutinizing the darkness.

“You’re in my sanctum, my dear, my very domain. Resistance is useless.” The shadows shifted left, and right. The air shifted, and she felt the cold as something stalked her from inside the darkness.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“I don’t answer questions to which the answer is already given.” Cold sweat rolled down Mirage’s neck, her forehead wrinkling in focus. Her eyes shot wide-open as it hit her.

“The Alicorn Amulet!”

“Yeeesss…” A chill ran up her spine. The voice crept closer, it sounded like two serpents speaking at once, echoing with magic.

A sickly green glow lit the room, revealing the host of the cave. Shadows of large, tattered, diaphanous wings stretched to the walls behind, the changeling’s form towered before her victim. Her black carapace gleamed against the dim light. And her eyes…

Elongated oval pupils pulsing with the arcane, the eyes of a predator gazed upon Madame Mirage.

Madame Mirage shivered as she said the name.

“Queen Chrysalis! You… You’re not getting away with this! I’m expected to appear tomorrow before Twilight Sparkle herself! She’ll look for me! She knows your magic, you and your changelings won’t be able to fool anyone.”

The changeling queen’s teeth glistened in response.

“Have you ever heard the tale of the ‘Skincrawler’? Quite a fascinating tale. A creature able to take the form of another by wearing their skin. Amazing don’t you think?” Mirage shook her head, her blue mane flapping in response.

The Queen leaned in breath’s distance. “What if it was true?”

Mirage looked inside the abyss that was the Queen’s eyes, she stared at it, and as she did so, the abyss stared back into her. The darkness grew, it expanded, it engulfed her.

She screamed.

This was just the beginning.

This was the location of the Amulet, she could feel it. The air was thick, the magic of many powerful wards radiated in the surrounding areas, like a dense smog. A small stone fortress revealed itself to Queen Chrysalis. Unlike Canterlot, many ponies were working here, guarding the area with magic, air support, and more.

Chrysalis had it investigated the moment she heard of it. The speed of its completion was alarming. Initially, she thought it was a prelude to the invasion of the Badlands, but through her spies in Equestria she had learned differently. Agents of the Equestrian Diarchy had been searching all across the land for mentally skilled individuals to power down the Alicorn Amulet.

The Alicorn Amulet was a fabled artifact, spoken of in rumors. Chrysalis could care less about the paranoid cautionary tales the ponies spoke of in their free time, but this one was different. There was evidence of its devastation in Ponyville, its magic still permeated the air there, but most importantly…

It had bested Twilight Sparkle.

The previous wearer of the Amulet, Trixie Lulamoon, apparently had a personal feud with Celestia’s favored. While its maximum potential was still unknown, Chrysalis knew enough. Somewhere inside the stone walls was an object of power.

It will be mine.

Stretching herself, she confirmed her control over the stolen form. She checked her saddlebags, confirming that her I.D, books, and other items she would need were all still there. She took a deep breath before trotting towards the entrance, where she was welcomed by the guards.

Nodding, they opened the first door for her, revealing a small waiting room where Twilight Sparkle was. Chrysalis stared at her hated enemy approaching her. Chrysalis masked her intent with a smile.

“Greetings Madame Mirage, I trust you are ready?” There was a pause before Chrysalis responded.

“Yes, my dear. Everything is alright here as well?”

Twilight sighed. “More or less. Our candidates don’t exactly leave intact, you see.”

“Oh dear,” Chrysalis gasped, placing a hoof on her chest, “what happened to them?”

“Why don’t I talk to you on the way? It’ll help you relax during the tests as well.” Twilight turned around, with Chrysalis following suit.

The first stops they made were for small tests. I.D confirmation, metal detector, illusions detector, the last one being a prototype. Regardless, Chrysalis had been thorough in covering her deception. Even if the ponies knew how to dispel changeling transformations, this one was different, and thus anything suspicious would fly below their magical radar.

“We’ve doubled and tripled our defensive magics around this place, but I wish we had more time.” Twilight explained as she ticked another test off her checklist.

“Has anyone tried to steal it yet?” Questioned Chrysalis.

“No, but despite how confident my fellow ponies are, I can’t help but feel we’ve only scratched the surface. I mean, there are so many types of magic to guard against out there. There’s no saying we won’t miss something we haven’t studied yet.”

Chrysalis smiled inwards as they trotted through the corridors of the fortress. So far, so good.

“Alright next stop; lie detector, and mental examination.” She opened the door, and motioned Chrysalis in.

Chrysalis’s brow furrowed as she walked in. The ponies inside bombarded her with questions, riddles, dilemmas. They monitored her heart, and screened her mind. Chrysalis wouldn’t make the same mistake as the Canterlot wedding. With desire as a focal point, she disciplined her mind, calmed her heart, and soothed her soul.

They found nothing, and she moved to the bathroom for a break.

Cold water washed her face as she sighed in relief. Staring back at her reflection the Queen of the changelings gritted her teeth.

“I am perfect. I am perfect, I am perfect…” she repeated over and over. Her face contorted in focus.

“I am perfect.” She told herself.

“I am perfect.” Her hoof was trembling.

“I am perfect.” Her snout flared at the mirror.

“I am perfect.” Her eyes shone green as a toothy smile formed.

“I am—”

“Mirage?” Chrysalis peeked through the door to see Twilight waiting for her.

“I’m almost ready!” She yelled wiping her face. Fixing her mane she wore a fake, kind smile before opening the door.

“Oh good. I thought something happened to you.” Twilight breathed out in relief.

“No, just freshening myself.”

“So, no residue effects from magic or any other kind of aftermath from the tests?”

“Twilight…”

“Right, right, just asked that out of necessity.” Twilight rolled up her checklist and shrugged. “We’re done.”

“Really?” Chrysalis raised her brow. “I thought there would be more tests, more countermeasures.”

“Oh there are. Things like knockout gases, dead magic zones ready to be deployed, cameras, and other countermeasures I’m not even allowed to know about because ‘government secret’.”

“Seriously?” Chrysalis stared at her incredulously. “Are you saying that Celestia’s favored doesn’t get a pass on that?”

Twilight rubbed her neck while giving her an awkward smile. “Well, I wouldn’t exactly say ‘favored’, but there are a few reasons, not the least of which is the Amulet prodding my mind. It makes any trap unpredictable.” Twilight coughed a bit before recomposing herself. “Well, are you ready?”

Chrysalis nodded. It was finally time.

Pegasi across the sky, including the Wonderbolts. Spell cannons, unicorns, and earth ponies and royal guards. Chrysalis scrutinized her surroundings as she and Twilight approached the Amulet’s location. There were certainly more, and her mind raced to account for every detail.

It’s like they are preparing for Tartarus’ gates to open. She mused. Their fortress was a poorly sewn-together dress, and even though each individual piece was excellent, the whole thing looked like an abomination to the queen’s eyes.

The Alicorn Amulet was stored within a small temple-like structure in the center of the fortress. Dull-grey stone walls were the first of many signs hinting a complete lack of enthusiasm and enjoyment in building this structure.

Was it really that rushed, or was the Amulet somehow affecting the mood of those who built its containment? The question circled around in her head as she closed in the door. Twilight Sparkle courteously opened the door for her, but before Chrysalis could enter Twilight spoke.

“You don’t have to do this, we can still find someone else to take your place.”

“I’m fine, Twilight, really.”

“I know, it’s just standard protocol to offer this choice. We don’t want to force anyone to face this trial.”

“I appreciate your concern.” Chrysalis gave a fake smile, masking the twitch in her cheeks.

“Just give us the sign, and we’ll pull you out, alright?” She moved her hoof in and out, repeating the breathing exercises Cadence had taught her. “Good luck!”

And with that, Chrysalis made her way in. The door closed behind her. Dim, dull light shone through the small windows. She blinked twice, her eyes adjusting to the light. At first glance the only thing in the room was the pedestal with the case containing the Amulet. Chrysalis knew otherwise.

She could feel that tingling sensation in her spine, the eyes of the cameras watching her, following her every hoofstep. The air was saturated with mana flowing wildly into the wards placed on the walls, and into small vents that led to outside the building. They were ready to knock her out should this go sideways.

This will not do, she thought.

The first thing that had to go was the cameras. She poised herself in front of the pedestal and stared at the Amulet. Or so the cameras showed. The real her smiled as her horn shone teal behind the translucent bubble she had cast. She could not alter the data feed the cameras had, nor could she risk suspicion by disabling them, and thus she had implemented a bubble that looped the previous five seconds on the outside. She’d have to feed her illusion often, and it would drain her, but she wasn’t intent on staying long here.

Now to the locks. They were tied to triggers into multiple traps, and she’d have to enhance her bubble to block any, but—

There was an exasperated sigh. She had her work cut out for her.

Mystic codes, runic spells, faux-wardstones, and so much more. As she untied one knot, another ten appeared, taking its place, filling the gap. She mumbled beneath her teeth, continuing her effort to break more seals. One mistake pushed her back to the beginning, having to re-break the rebuilt, randomized seals.

A magical authenticator. No doubt Twilight Sparkle’s idea. She’d have an easier time breaking into Canterlot again.

“Need some help?” Chrysalis jerked her head behind her.

Inside her bubble was a male royal changeling with long white hair. Chrysalis stared at his red eyes.

“Well?” he asked again.

“Who in the Nine Hells of Tartarus are you?”

In response the changeling bowed respectfully and announced himself. “I am the incarnation of the Amulet. I am the truth of the universe. I am… power.” He lifted his head, smiling towards the queen. “And I am here to serve Queen Chrysalis of the changelings.”

There was silence for a moment. Queen Chrysalis stared intently at the newcomer, but he didn’t flinch.

“Serve, me?”

“You have no idea how much I’ve waited for you, my Queen, how I’ve longed for your presence before me. All the others before you… they were nothing! They had a conscience, they lacked vision, they lacked determination! But you…” A smile crept up his face.

“But me?”

“You have potential unlike any other. You are capable, smart, cunning. Everything I ever wished for to find me is here! How can my heart resist?” He put a hoof towards his chest.

“You would give yourself to me?” Chrysalis continued, looking down at the changeling in front of her.

“Yes! I am the truth of the universe! I serve the strong, the mighty. Weakness is a sin,” he said spitting to the side. “The weak cannot dream, the weak have no power to change destiny. I don’t serve them, and ultimately lead them to their destruction.” He rose up, his teeth gleaming with a toothy smile.

“Suppose I believe you, how do you plan on getting us out of here? How do you plan on escaping your own prison?” Chrysalis’s face remained tense in focus, refusing to relax.

“Just make a pact with me, and I will annihilate all our enemies in an instant. I can level this fortress with nary a thought!” He extended his hoof towards the Queen. “If you don’t believe me let me show you… how much power I command!” The Queen stretched a curious hoof, and as they touched everything vanished within a flash of light.

Chrysalis now stood at the top of the temple, wearing the Amulet on her chest. The phantasmal presence of the other changeling stood behind her. “Their fate lies in your hooves,” he whispered, stretching his hoof, showing her the encroaching armies.

“Accept your desires! Be honest with yourself, if not with me.” Crimson rage filled the queen’s mind as her horn rained flaming destruction upon her enemies. The sweet scent of their burning flesh filled her nostrils, the symphony of terror their screams made was music to her ears, their dreams crumbled before her.

You know you are destined for this, echoed the voice in her mind.

Chrysalis gasped, her eyes shot wide-open. Back in reality she checked her hoof. Instinctively she’d pulled it back. She shook it and pressed against the ground, snuffing the trembling she had seen.

“This is your destiny, and I will be by your side all the time. Like King and Queen.”

Chrysalis looked at her hooves his last words echoed in her mind. Her mane was in disarray hiding her face.

King and Queen.

“Hehe…” Her teeth bared, her fangs gleamed in the shadow of her mane. “Pffft!” Chrysalis put a hoof in her mouth, but it wasn’t enough to muffle the noise she had made.

“Hmmm?”

“PFFFFFT!” She continued, but it was all in vain.

“PFFFFTAHAHAHAHAH! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAH!” She burst into laughter. She laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Tears started forming down her eyes.

“What’s so funny? I’m offering you everything you ever wished for!” said the changeling before her.

“—ahahahah! That’s… ahahahaha… that’s not what’s funny.” Chrysalis held her breath, then coughed before clearing her throat.

“E-hem! That’s not what’s funny. The funny thing is that you said, and I quote, ‘like King and Queen’. It’s been a long time since someone has said that and didn’t look like a complete fool to me.” Chrysalis smiled coyly. She raised her hoof, and watched as a small green glow grew on it.

“There can’t be two suns in the sky, and just like that, only one may rule the world.” She continued, the glow became a flame and the flame grew moment by moment.

“But, this is what you wished for! Everything you ever strove to attain!” Rebutted the changeling.

“Oh it is true. I’ve longed for the time I would be as powerful as a goddess. I’ve dreamt of the perfect day ponykind would grovel at my hooves for mercy, and I in my magnanimousness would grant it to them.” Her hoof now held a growing green fireball.

“But you presume one thing, knave.” Her eyes now hosted a maelstrom of power, her face contorted, her expression morphed into one of anger. Fangs bared, a predator ready to sink her teeth into prey.

“THAT I WOULD SHARE MY GLORIOUS MIND WITH YOU!” She threw the fireball at the changeling, forcing it to recoil away from her.

“Wait! Chrysalis, think about what’s at stake, about everything I could do for you! I am a a gift! You can’t just reject me. You—”

“You said before, ‘weakness is a sin’,” she interrupted. “All I see before me is the trembling echo of an artifact begging me to take it. You lack the one thing I demand from my followers.” There was a pause. “Pride in servitude!” she growled with all her might as everything was engulfed in an emerald inferno.

In the end nothing remained, not the image of the Amulet, nor had she alarmed anyone else so far. The Amulet had lured her into the world of illusions without her knowing. It now laid in the case before her, flickering as its potent swirl dissipated just a bit.

“Tsk! Worthless trinket,” she grunted, dispelling her bubble.

She went straight for the exit. There was nothing for her here, nothing at all. Even so, the queen kept her grumpy look as she was discharged from the fortress.

I am perfect, I am perfect, I am perfect, she repeated again in her thoughts. The Alicorn Amulet was right, power was the truth of the universe. Power was authority, power was justice! Power was the tool for her to make her dreams a reality.

I don’t need you, nor ponies, nor changelings, nor anything! she thought adamantly. She was still strong, she was cunning, she was quick. All the things that could help her attain victory were already in her hoof.

Spies were already set in Equestria for gathering information on the Alicorn Amulet. She just had to dream bigger, better, faster, and stronger. She’d go further than anyone else before, she’d achieve more than any predecessor, and destroy any and all opposition.

Standing outside the fortress she moved towards the forest, and once out of sight her form blazed in green flames. A malevolent parasite, the queen’s changeling form left the unicorn trembling, struggling to stand up.

Madame Mirage shivered, her body barely holding her up. She backed away against a tree, and finding her balance she turned against the queen.

“You failed,” she declared after looking at the queen’s neck. “You have no Amulet, and no power.”

The queen didn’t so much as flinch at her words.

“You won’t have Equestria, you won’t have Twilight Sparkle, so why continue this path? What do you gain from all these fail—”

The queen’s sharp horn pressed against her neck, backing her towards the tree. Mirage winced as it pushed, a single drop of blood falling from it.

“I never fail,” Chrysalis said, withdrawing her horn from her victim. Gasping, Madame Mirage held her chest.

“So, what now?”

“Now…” The Queen paused. “I suggest you flee. I will allow you ponies some time to recover from the thought that I so easily pierced all your defenses. Then, sometime in the future I will strike again. It’ll be the final blow, the one that will make Equestria mine.”

“Why tell me all this? Why give away your plan?” asked Mirage, bewildered.

“Because I want you to be ready.” The Queen’s eyes shone with sinister purpose. “I want you to be on your best, so when I beat you none will question my authority. None will dare stand up to me.” She flapped her wings, rising. “When paranoia claims your mind, when you look in your back only to find nothing there, then only and only then will I strike!” She laughed, the wind blowing wildly around her, her magic gathering force.

“FOR I AM THE QUEEN OF THE CHANGELINGS! I am power, I am justice, I am the victor of story, the name with which the fairytales end!” A booming thunder, her form flashed green. Mirage cowered before the Queen disappeared in a thunderous boom with one last parting word.

“Chrysalis.”

Author's Notes:

The Skincrawler is demanded as a new way of transformation to bypass any current form of changeling detection as I am sure there will be in place. I am aware this isn’t exactly canon to the changelings but then again you could consider it a form of mind control that we know the show has in the form of the helmets that Sombra puts on his soldiers.

The Skincrawler is a creation of mine that draws inspiration from the face-stealer Koh from Avatar and the skinner murders in Athkatla in the game Baldur's Gate 2. The murderers there skinned their victims to create an evil armor they were contracted for, and you had to investigate the murders. Fleeing to another town called Trademeet the murderers try to frame you into killing another in order to continue their work. They however wear the skin of their victim who now looks like a skeleton. You're able to restore her and stop them once and for all. You still find the unfinished piece and are able to complete it with the blood of a silver dragon in order to reveal the contractors.

I welcome any feedback and further reading of my story.

9: Cutie Marks, by Sollace (The Cutie Mark Crusaders [and Twist])

Chapter by: Sollace

Apple Bloom bounded through the open street. “Ah’m open!” she screamed, leaping from hoof to hoof, reared up and waving her hooves as she made a beeline for Scootaloo. “Come on!” she insisted, dancing frantically to grab Scootaloo’s attention. She was practically running as she jumped into Scoot’s path. “Pass it to me!” Her voice cracked. “I’m open!”

“Wha—” Scootaloo did a double take. She stumbled and swerved, skidding to a halt. “What?” Scootaloo glanced to Apple Bloom, her mouth turning down.

It took a few seconds before something clicked and she recoiled away, clutching at the red ball against her chest. “N-No!” she screamed. Scootaloo caressed her ball, spreading her wings and a protecting it as if it were her own flesh and blood. She hissed towards Apple Bloom. “That’s not how Buckball works!”

“Is too!” Apple Bloom retorted. She punctuated her words with a stomp of her hoof, and lunged forwards to grab the ball.

Scootaloo jumped back, squeezing the ball even tighter. “Is not!” she yelled, and yanked the ball away, narrowly dodge Bloom. “You’re supposed to pass it to somepony on the,” she dodged again, “on the other team!”

“But—” Apple Bloom put on a pout. “That’s not fair! Come on,” she said. “Give it!” She smothered Scootaloo as she lunged at the ball.

Try as she might, Scootaloo couldn’t keep the ball out of the enemy’s reach, and soon they both devolved into a pile of feathers and fur as they wrestled over the ball. “Let go,” Apple Bloom said, teeth clenched as she bore down on the ball.

“No!” Scootaloo pulled back. “You let go!”

“Ah’m not gonna—”

“Ow! You’re twisting my arm!”

“Hey! Don’t twist it,” she gasped, “you’re goin’ t—”

“Hey,” Twist lisped. She leaned in between them, bearing a wide, happy-go-lucky grin. The filly bared her fresh new braces as she looked between the foals. “Did thompony call for a T—”

SQUEE—THUNK

Twist was cut off, her words replaced by a startled—“Yelp!”—accompanied by the hollow, resounding, smack of plastic against molars as the ball connected with her face. Twist pitched backwards as the ball ricocheted away from her. She uttered a mumbled, “T-witht…” before stumbling away, and crumpling to the ground before them.

“Twist!” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo gasped, in near unison as they rushed to their injured friend.

Apple Bloom covered her mouth with her hooves, watching in abject horror as Scootaloo leaned in to help. “I-is she…” Scootaloo gulped, clearing her throat.

Scootaloo was broken from her shock-induced stupor by a hoof grasping her shoulder. She was jerked around by Apple Bloom, eyes wide, as she stared upwards towards the sky. “What?” Scootaloo asked, before following her friend’s gaze up, and turning pale as she caught glimpse of the ball.

Each of them stared, eyes glued to the rubber sphere and mouths gaping, as they traced its path across the sky, heading directly for— “Sweetie Belle! Look out!”

Sweetie Belle jolted to attention, her concentration broken as she snapped out of her trance. “Huh? What?” She looked around in confusion, her basket bobbing along as she turned her head. “Apple Bloom, what did you—” A flicker of motion caught her eye, and Sweetie Belle went pale, paler than usual, even paler than her sister on a bad hair day. Sweetie Belle screamed. Her mane frayed as she recoiled away from the ball. She dropped the basket and rolled into a tight ball, desperately shielding her face with her hooves.

No sooner had she done so, had there been a spark and a flash. Sweetie was blinded momentarily as her horn burst to life, and a bubble of green energy erupted around her, encompassing the foal just in time to deflect the ball. The bubble burst, and the ball rebounded away, towards and directly through the nearest window.

There were several smashes that followed, each growing louder and ever more distant as the ball continued on its path of carnage. Sweetie Belle, still shaking like a leaf, slowly uncoiled and lifted her head. “I-I-,” she stuttered, “Is it—”

CRASH

“Oh Celestia!” A mare’s voice called out, curdling Sweetie’s—and anypony else’s who happened to be in earshot—blood. She curled back into her ball as the mare’s cries continued. “Who in Tartarus would throw a b—” SMASH “—ng ball in—” Her curses were quickly drowned out by the cacophony of alarms and sirens that followed. The building thundered with the pounding of stampeding hooves as ponies clamored to control the menace, and the window promptly exploded, billowing plumes of black smoke.

The Crusaders had just moment to collect themselves. They shared a collective gulp, faces written with a combination of confusion, concern, and ‘We’re-totally-boned’ looks between them, before the front door burst open.

“Okay!” Their fur stood on end as Twilight appeared in the doorway, snarling upon a wave of sirens and black smoke behind her.”Who.” She was steaming; literally, it came off of her like a roast turkey. “Did. This.” She didn’t have to look far. As Twilight stepped into the open, she locked eyes with the nearest culprit, Celestia help their poor souls. “Which one of you threw that?” Twilight bared her teeth, leering at each of the Crusaders in turn, burrowing into them with the intense fury of a Royal Alicorn Princess.

Not even Twist was spared her wrath as, just when she was coming to, she caught sight of Twilight in her eye and immediately re-fainted.

The Crusaders gulped. They glanced between themselves, then they slowly pointed to each other, donning their most innocent faces.

“Ooooh no,” Twilight began. Puffing out her chest, she readied her lecturing hoof as she started towards the fillies. “What did I say about playing Buckball outside the—”

“Hey, Tilighsh-t!” Twilight had barely even started, when she was cut off by a kind of slurred gargle from behind. A hoof wrapped itself around her barrel, and Twilight was bowled sideways as Berry Punch slammed into her side. “Twi-height,” she slurred, stumbling over herself—and the princess—as she shook Twilight to grab her attention. “Hey—hey, Twili-sight—”

“B-berry Punch?” Twilight gasped. Her voice wobbled as she was shaken and, spreading her wings, Twilight planted her hooves and stood her ground, groaning as she shoved the drunk mare off of herself. “What are—”

“He-hey, Twishy,” Berry continued regardless, talking over Twilight’s word. “Let m’l take on thash Aliron Amulisht!”

“N—” Groaning, and with a hoof to the mare’s face, Twilight shoved Berry Punch away from her, narrowly avoiding the strings of drool she trailed after her. “Go home, Berry Punch. You’re drunk!”

Berry Punch paused. She frowned as she thought hard about Twilight’s words and, after a good few seconds of wracking her brain, she blinked, and cast her gaze over the quintuplet of ponies gathered before her. They each stared at her, seemingly expectant, as Berry Punch drew a deep breath to speak. “No home,” she said, “is are drunk am I!”

“Ugh…” Twilight facehoofed. She groaned, long and heavy into her hooves, and slowly began to rub her temples. It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it? “Berry, please, you have t—”

“No! I no home want, I!” Berry shook her head. She then sidestepped Twilight, starting towards the door.“Alicrombus Alimulet,” she said, practically falling over Twilight as she tried to reach the door. “I-I can the Alicrombus Amululet!”

“No, Berry.” Twilight stepped back into the way, blocking her path. She held Berry off with a hoof to the chest. “No, you can’t.”

“I can, Twlish!” Again, she tried to pass Twilight, and again the Alicorn stopped her. “I know I—” Berry’s eyes crossed for a second. “—can,” she said.

“How?”

Berry paused. “How?” she asked.

Twilight facehoofed, again. It actually hurt. “How are you going to defeat the Amulet?”

“I can—” Berry tapped her chin in thought. She looked to the side. “It’s will—” Then the other, and she turned to face Twilight. “I’m drunk, Starlight.”

“I’m not going to let you inside in this condition.”

“But Crombulus, Twilight!” Berry Punch screamed, and slammed into Twilight, hooves flailing as she attempted to mount the princess.

“Berry Punch,” Twilight gasped, “What are yo—”

“Take me—” She was practically on top of Twilight, squirming and wriggling frantically. Berry latched onto Twilight’s back and pulled down to hoist herself up. “Take me to the Amulet!”

“No!” Twilight screamed. She ducked as a hoof narrowly missed her forehead, and then winced as part of her mane caught in Berry's mouth. Biting back the cry, Twilight blinked the tears from her eyes and called for the guards. “Guards!” she screamed, and glanced to the doorway.

Several Royal Guards stood in the entranceway, spears at the ready, with blank looks on their faces as they watched this all unfold. They all jumped to attention as Twilight’s call. “Get over here, quick!”

Berry suddenly turned violent. She bit down on Twilight’s mane, and flailed her hooves, kicking off the guards as they fought to subdue her. “Mesh me shoo!” she screamed into Twilight’s mane, biting and clawing to keep her make-shift throne. “Alicron Crombulus!”

The guards finally clamped down on Berry, pinning her hooves and grunting as they pulled the mare free from Twilight’s mane. The Crusaders all stood back. They watched in horror, mouths gaping as the whole contingent, Twilight and Berry included, marched right past them, escorting Twilight and her passenger back to Berry’s home.

“Uh…”

After several minutes of staring, and watching as the entire group disappeared into the distance, the Crusaders began to reboot. Sweetie Belle blinked. “That was…”

“What the hay just happened?” Scootaloo cut Sweetie off, glancing between her two friends.

“Ah figure,” Apple Bloom began. She gestured to the now abandoned doorway, before sharing a look with Scootaloo. They both grinned, and angled their gaze down between them. “That ball ain’t goin’ to fetch itself.”

“What are—” Sweetie Belle leaned up between them, looking from Scootaloo’s grin, to Apple Bloom’s. Both of their eyes said the same thing, she suddenly realised, and Sweetie Belle gasped. “Oh—” Sweetie waved her hooves, shaking her head abhorrently, “No way, I’m not going anywhere near that place.”

“I can’t believe we’re going anywhere near this place.”

“Come on, Sweetie Belle!”

The Crusaders stood on the cusp of the unknown, lined up in the doorway to the lab and staring into the darkness within. The sirens had since turned themselves off, leaving only the subtle whistle of the cold breeze and the occasional crackle of broken glass.

“Yeah!” Scootaloo nodded. She shimmied closer to Sweetie’s side, squeezing into the doorway to get a better view of the interior. “It’s just a little dark. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

“’Sides,” Apple Bloom said. She pulled Sweetie Belle into a sideways hug, comforting the filly as she gestured to herself and Scoots. “You got us. We ain’t going to let anything bad happen to you.”

“Mhm.” Scootaloo nodded in agreement. “Yeah! Even Cerberus couldn’t take on the Cutie Mark-ed Crusaders!”

“Mostly ‘cause he was allergic to chicken,” whispered Bloom.

Sweetie Belle stifled a giggle, and Scootaloo turned bright red. Her cheeks darkened by the second as she spoke. “N-No!” She spread her wings proudly, puffing her plume to hide her embarrassment. “That’s not—” With a quick glanced behind them, Scootaloo leaned closer to Bloom and whispered. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that?”

“Oh, come on, Scoots.” Apple Bloom jested. She bopped Scootaloo’s muzzle and, letting go of Sweetie Belle, trotted forwards into the darkness. “It was just a joke.”

The inside of the lab was dark and dank. Smoke hung heavy in the air, the scent burning harshly at the back of Sweetie Belle’s throat. She slowly wandered further into the deep, dark depths. The crunch of broken glass and pine-needles beneath hoof, the sputter of broken lamps, and the hollow thunder of rolling barrels as somepony rummaged through the wreckage.

All the while, Sweetie kept up her pace, trotting ever further. “Remember, check everywhere.” Apple Bloom’s voice echoed from somewhere up the halls, “The ball has to be somewhere in this place.”

“Okay!” she shouted back, “I will!” Rolling her eyes, Sweetie turned her back to the entrance, muttering silently beneath her breath. It’s not even my fault… She scrunched her muzzle, face turned up into a scowl. Why do I always have to be the one to—

Sw—t— B—

She stopped cold. A shiver ran up Sweetie Belle’s spine, like a cold wind had just blown past her. “What was…” Sweetie swallowed. Her ears pricked, and she glanced around her. She could’ve sworn she’d just heard her—

The silence broke. A cold breeze whipped past her mane, carrying with it yet another whisper, seemingly closer than the last. S—s-weetie Belle.

Now she knew somepony was calling her.

Sweetie Belle glanced one last time behind her—M-maybe it was just Scootaloo, whispering in her ear to try and scare her? Something was telling her it wasn’t, but still she had to check.

As Sweetie looked behind her, she heard a distant crash. The halls boomed with a hollow knock, and a startled yelp as somepony barrelled through a pile of crates. “Careful, Scootaloo!” came Sweetie’s answer. Apple Bloom shouted far in the distance, and she glimpsed the shadows of two fillies wrestling over something past the corner. “I don’ want ah be breaking everythin’ we touch. Not again,” Apple Bloom shouted with a grunt.

That was it.

Sweetie Belle gulped.

The wind picked up her mane, whipping it into frenzy. She could hear the breeze whispering her name, calling her forwards.

“Now I have to see this.”

“Pssst…”

Sweetie Belle groaned. “Not now.” Screwing her eyes shut, she waved a hoof and turned onto her side. “Rarity, I—Just—” She muffled a yawn. “Just five more minut—”

“Psst…”

Whoever it was, they were persistent, she had to give it them. She set up a whine. “But I don’t want to go to—” As she reached for the covers, Sweetie Belle stopped cold. Something clicked inside mind, and her daze was shattered. It suddenly dawned on her. The harsh prick of rocks in her back, the warm sun in her face, and the feeling of something round and squishy pressed against her chest, all of it different, and all absolutely nothing like the velvet sheets of her bed at home.

“Pssst…”

Sweetie jolted awake. She leapt to her hooves, almost dropping her ball as she spun, taking in the scene.

It was hardly a place she recognized. Buildings and cottages, all familiar but they were in the wrong place. She spotted Ditzy’s cottage in one corner next to Carrot Top’s, and Berry’s on the far side. Each structure was facing away, their windows shut, and walls forced together as if to form some sort of pen.

The road between them was lined with cobbles. What little sky she could see betrayed a deep, clear blue, and the alleyways—

“Psst…” Sweetie caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and she noticed something—somepony—crouching in the shadows. Their eyes glowed dimly in the light as they stared her way. “Hey ,” it said, “Hey you.”

Sweetie Belle gulped. “Wh—” She glanced behind her, then looked back to the figure, ears dropping as she gestured to herself. “Who? Me?”

“Yes…” the figure hissed. The shadows around it slowly coalesced, forming the clearer outline of pony. Draped in a cloak, it lurched backwards, standing tall and betraying the contours of a horn. “Please,” it said, motioning with a hoof, “come closer.”

Sweetie gulped, again. “O-okay.” Tentatively, she took a few steps forwards, squinted into the dark darkness. “Who—”

“Closer,” it whispered. The figure seemed to shimmer, and its voice turned more feminine in nature as it spoke. “Let me see you, dear.”

“Ee—” Sweetie Belle squeaked and quickly scuttled forwards, stepping into the dark.

The figure towered over her menacingly, as it inspected Sweetie’s form. It only seemed to grow taller by the minute. “We have been watching you, Sweetie Belle.” A smile crept across the darkness. “I’m sure there are you have many questions to ask us, but first—”

Sweetie gasped. “Princess Luna?” Her eyes lit up as she almost squealed on the spot, “Oh my Celestia, is that you?”

“Wh-what!?” The figure did a double take. “How did you—”

“It is you!” She clapped her hooves to her cheeks, smiling, and eyes sparkling. “If you’re here, then this must be a dream, right?” She pawed then began hopping eagerly, singing, “I knew you had to be coming again! I knew it! I’ve been praying to Celestia that I’d get to see you again and now you are here and we’re going to have so much—”

“Woah, woah, woah!” The figure backed away from Sweetie Belle, more out of shock than anything else. “N-No, I’m not—” It scrambled for an explanation, waving Sweetie Belle back with its hooves. “I’m not Princess Luna, that’s not what I’m—”

Sweetie Belle stopped mid-cheer to look up at the figure. “Y-You’re not?” she whispered. Her eyes shimmered, and a single tear pooled in their corner.

“N—” The figure averted his gaze. “No,” it eventually grunted out. “I’m not—”

“Then who are you?” Sweetie Belle pried further, taking a step towards the figure—from which it immediately retreated.

“I’m—” The figure stumbled backwards, deflating slightly under the filly’s dreadful assault. “I—” It glanced away then, taking a deep breath, clenched its teeth and pushed back. “If you’ll let me finish,” he growled. “I’ll tell you that I’m, uh…” The figure frowned in the darkness. “I’m, uh…” It swallowed and then, with a flourish, the figure dispelled the darkness, casting away its coat on the wind and revealing itself to the light. “Your sister Rarity, of course!”

“No you’re not.”

“Wh—” Not-Rarity guffawed. “What? Of course I am!” She flourished her mane, batting an eyelid a very skeptical Sweetie Belle. “Why, who else could have such a fabulous mane?”

“Well…” Sweetie Belle glanced to her hooves for a second, counting silently to herself. One, two three… “… I heard Braeburn might—“

“What other mares,” Rarity scoffed. “I mean, really, do you have to take everything I say absolutely literally?”

“Your voice is too high.”

“No it’s not!”

“Yes.” Sweetie nodded. “It is.”

“…”

Silence.

Not-Rarity coughed. “Rrrrari—”

“Still too high.”

“Rarrrri—”

“Too low.”

“Daaarling~!” Not-Rarity sang, How lovely t—”

“Now that’s just offensive.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Not-Rarity facehoofed, hard. She groaned into her hooves, and then, still with her head covered, she muttered. “Did I at least get the mane right?”

Sweetie cantered to the side, motioning behind her into the open. “Step into the light, let me see.”

Nat-Rarity wordlessly complied, trotting out with Sweetie Belle on her tail. She stopped in the open, her face still hidden in her hooves, and waited patiently as Sweetie Belle inspected her.

“Hm…” Sweetie silently hummed to herself, brow furrowed as she circled her not-sister. She glanced at each of the curls in turn, brushing them back with her magic, and then watching as they sprung back into place.

At length, she stepped away from Not-Rarity, and frowned. “It’s…” Her eyes flicked from the mane to tail. “… Okay, a little dull.”

“Oh, who am I kidding!” Not-Rarity dropped to the ground. She covered her face with her hooves and bawled. “I’m a failure! I’ve been defeated so many times now. How am I supposed to get anything done when I can’t even fool a foal!”

“Aw…” Sweetie Belle kneeled next to her imitation sister, and wrapped her hooves around her, squeezing the mare in a tightest hug she could manage. “It’s okay…” she whispered, stroking Not-Rarity’s mane. “Princess, you don’t have to pretend around me. And besides, my sister’s mane is really hard to get right.”

“…I’m not Princess Luna.”

“Why don’t you want to be Princess Luna?”

“It’s hard to describe. I had a bad experience wi—” Not-Rarity paused. Her head snapped upright and she glared into Sweetie Belle’s eyes. “Why am I telling you this?”

Sweetie Belle shrugged.

“Enough!” Not-Rarity leapt to her hooves. Sweetie yelped, and tumbled away as her sister exploded into a cloud of black energy. The fog coalesced into a new shape, a shadowy figure with no distinct features, and bright red, glowing eyes.

The eyes hovered low above Sweetie, boring into her with their intense ferocity. “Fine!” she huffed, the mock Rarity imitation long gone. The cloud’s voice came in a deep, baritone rumbled, deep from its dark depths. “I’m not Rarity, and I’m not Princess Luna, either!” It drew even closer, almost touching Sweetie’s face with its plumes. “But I know you, Sweetie Bell. I—We—can see everything there is to see within in your heart, and we know what you have done, what you have seen. We know your deepest desires, and we know there is something you will do anything to attain.”

“I do really like showtunes.”

The cloud bore its teeth as it nodded—“Yes—” and quickly turned to a shake. “No! You wish to know your special talent,” it insisted. Pace unbroken, he continued his speech in his dark tone. “You wish to know personal space in this world. You desire a…”He breathed. “A cutie mark.”

Sweetie’s ears pricked. She glanced up, looking the cloud in the eyes. “Did you jus—”

“I can get you one.” The cloud cut in. He wasn’t about to let this filly interrupt him, again. “We can get you a cutie mark, all you have to do is—”

“Um, actually,” Sweetie Belle said. She pouted in the cloud’s face, frowning, then turning sideways. Sweetie’s cheeks burned pink as she gestured to her flank. “I…” she said, “kind of already have one.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“… How did I not even notice that?”

“I’dunno.” Sweetie shrugged. “I’ve been told some ponies tend to block it out, like it never happened.”

An awkward silence fell between them.

The figure looked away for a moment. The rolls of fog whipped up, swirling around it as he shifted slightly in the darkness. “Hm…” He thought for a moment, and then exclaimed, “Fame! Yes!”—He nodded to himself—“you want to be famous!”

A wind picked up in the alleyway, blowing between them and whipping Sweetie’s mane into a frenzy. “What’s hap—”Sweetie Belle gasped. Before she could say another word, the clouds of fog collapsed in, plunging them both into darkness.

A faint laugh came from the distance, as the figure dissipated into a black mist. “Imagine it now,” it said. Its voice thundered all around, echoing in Sweetie Belle’s ears. Something in the dark whipped past Sweetie’s fetlock, tickling her, as blackened mist curled around her tiny body. “The cameras, the adulation, the love and longing.” Faint, barely noticeable, a distant roar began in Sweetie’s ears, like the rumble of a waterfall in the mountains. “Millions of ponies will be chanting your name…” The voice said, and with it the roar only grew stronger, slowly turning into the chants of millions of voice.

It continued, snarling. “Your name will be up in lights for all to see…”

A spark and a flash ignited the darkness, and Sweetie was almost blinded as the darkness shone bright. Shielding her eyes, she squinted up, staring upon her own name, ‘Sweetie Belle’ spelled out in neon lights, strung across a bed of Broadway lights.

The distant rumble was a now a deafening roar, repeating over and over, Sweetie Belle, Sweetie Belle, Sweetie Belle. She could barely hear anything else, and she almost missed the voice’s next words beside her.

“Listen to that, Sweetie Belle.” The cloud of mist switched sides, whispering into each ear. “They love you. All of them, everywhere, and I can make it real. All you have to do is—”

“I—” Sweetie pulled away. Squinting as she turned her back to the sign. “I—but—” She frowned. “Why would I want that?”

“Well—”

“I already have Apple Bloom and Scoots,” Sweetie whined, cutting the voice off as she started to pace, “They’re more than anything I could ever ask for.” She putting more distance between herself and it. “Plus”—She turned, pointing to the neon light—“I’d much rather have two real friends than a million who don’t even know me!”

The lights cut out, and just like that it was gone. The chanting faded, and they were both plunged back into darkness.

“Well…” The voice echoed around Sweetie. “Then perhaps there is something else I can tempt you with…” There was a snicker as he let those words stand before continuing.

Fire. Hot and red. The darkness was torn away as everything around Sweetie turned to flame, bright oranges and reds shimmered and flicked to the heavens as the came back with a booming thunder.

“Vengeance.”

Sweetie almost jumped, recoiling away from the flames lapping at her hooves. It was all around her, sweltering and all-consuming. Heat radiated, stifling and choking, and yet strangely comforting. All the while the voice continued.

“I can sense the hatred in your heart,” he whispered, the voice turning rough, snarling almost, as it bore fangs in the light. “It burns with a fire so hot. You want that Tiara filly—”

Sweetie glanced around her, searching for the source of the voice. “Diamond Tiara?” she asked.

“Yes…” The voice hissed back, venom dripping from its tongue. “Diamond Tiara.” It bit the word off, as it drew near behind Sweetie’s back. “You want her to pay for all that she has done. All of those terrible, destructive things. How she hurt, and teased you. The lying; the cheating; the manipulating—”

“Nope!” Sweetie Belle chirped. “We’re cool now.”

“What?” The flames around her whipped, doing a double take. There was a burst of smoke, and the figure reappeared in front of Sweetie Belle, shouting as he pressed glared her in the eyes. “You’re what!?” The flames around them stopped, each one frozen in time. “How can you be just fine?” He shook his head, trembling as he held Sweetie by the withers, and shook her. “Have you even seen what she did to you guys? Am I even reading the right mind right now!?”

“Mhm,” she nodded. “Yeah, she apologized and we forgave her. We’re friends now.”

“No, but—” The flames shattered, clattering to the ground like glass. “That’s not—” He shook his head. “No.”

Sweetie sensed the distinct noise of teeth grinding—not a good sign. Whenever that happened, it usually meant Twilight or one of her friends were right behind, with punishment. “Um…” Sweetie gulped. “Are you—”

“Than what about popularity?” The figure spat back.

“You already did that one.”

“This one’s different!” He snapped, shaking Sweetie one more time before regaining his composure. The figure pulled back. He leant to his haunches and slicked back his mane. “I mean—” He coughed, and began again, his voice taking on a slightly more melodious tone. “I can make you rich beyond your wildest dreams!”

With a flick of his hoof, the space around them shifted once again, ripping as visions of gold and diamond took form.

The mountains piled and churned, forming an ocean of precious jewelry, towering over both of them to distances beyond comprehension. “All of this, and more,” the figure said, gesturing to their surrounds, “can be yours if you just—”

“I’m twelve,” Sweetie said. She took one glance at the mountains of gold, then turned deadpan, “What am I even supposed to do with this?”

The suddenly illusion shattered, punctured by a scream as the figure let out a long, pained, drawn-out groan. “Oooh come on!”

The shadows lifted, returning them both to the alleyway, and soft afternoon light. The figure’s horn glowed a dim red, and the shadows hardened around him, reforming his cloak. He trotted up to Sweetie Belle, towering menacingly, as he snarled. “Here” From beneath the cloak he produced the Alicorn Amulet, its head glowing with bright red eyes, and practically shoved it in front of Sweetie Belle’s face. “Just—” He grit his teeth—“Put it on already!”

Sweetie scrunched her nose, frowning as she inspected the Amulet. “I don’t know…” she said, frowning. Sweetie tapped the trinket with a hoof, as if testing it. “…Rarity said not to take more cursed items from strangers in dark alleys…”

“Wh—” The voice did a double take. … is she serious— He shook it hoof, rather choosing to ignore that last part. “It’s not cursed!”

“Then why is it glowing?”

“It’s a good curse!”

“A good curse?” Sweetie’s muzzle scrunched even further.

“Yes—Come on!—” He facehoofed. “I don’t know.” He leaned closer until their muzzle was almost touching. Thin wisps of smoke trailed off the figure, chilling Sweetie’s nose, causing her to inch away from him. “Look!” he shouted, gesturing to the Amulet again. “It will make you infinitely powerful! You could be The Great Evil Belle, and they will all bow before you!”

“But I’m not evil!” Sweetie yelled back. Then, pausing, she quickly added, “And why are we yelling?”

“Yes, you are!” The figure’s voice crackled. “You just don’t know it yet!”

Sweetie cringed at this. She inched away from the figure, her ears flattening as she shoved the Amulet out of her face in disgust. “I—” she said, then dropped to a whisper, “I’m… uncomfortable. I want to go.”

“You can’t go!” The voice shouted. It shoved the Amulet back into Sweetie’s face, before dropping to its haunches at her hooves. “Just put it on!” It pleaded. The voice crackled, wracked with a stifled sob. “I’m begging you, please; you have to put it on before—Sweetie Belle?”

The voice’s tone suddenly changed, turning high-pitched and feminine, slightly coarse to the touch. “Sweetie Belle?” it said, eyes wide and frozen in a state of shock. “What are you doing?” she asked, insistently, “Wake up, Twilight’s almost here!”

Sweetie jolted awake. A hoof shook on her shoulders, and she was jerked around to find Scootaloo’s face staring her down, concern written across the filly’s features.

“Scootaloo?” Sweetie blinked and rubbed her eyes. As her vision started to clear, the darkened surroundings came into view. She glanced to the Amulet in her right hoof, and then to the ball in her left. “What are you…?”

“No time!” Scootaloo whispered, shouted, beneath her breath. She moved quickly, grabbing Sweetie hoof and dragging her along as they made a beeline for the exit. “You have the ball, now let’s go already!”

“Wait!” Sweetie tried to protest. She felt the Amulet slip from her hoof, clatter loudly to the floor behind her. “But—” She had barely a second to look back in search for it and, just as she caught sight of the object on the cement floor; it was gone, disappeared from view as they turned the corner.

“I…” she said. “We didn’t even get his name.”

Author's Notes:

Ooooh, boy. This has been an experience. I never intended for this chapter to be as long as it is. In fact it's pretty much nothing like I originally envisioned. The chapter went through several revisions and if I had it any other way I'd probably be still working on it, but hey, you have to stop somewhere.

A big thank you to everyone who helped with editing, cleverpun for the punches in the gut, and of course everyone who enjoyed this chapter regardless.

For everyone else: I'm sorry. I know. I'm sorry.

—Sollace

10: How Great and How Terrible, by Winston (Starlight Glimmer)

Chapter by: Winston

“Remember, if you start getting uncomfortable—”

“Yeah, yeah, free to stop whenever I want.” Starlight Glimmer waved a hoof. “You’ve only told me three times, Twilight.”

“Sorry.” Twilight grinned sheepishly.

“Look, I’ll be fine,” Starlight said. “I mean, you wouldn’t put me in there with something if I wouldn’t be, right?”

“No… I wouldn’t…” Twilight rubbed her foreleg. “It’s just, a few other ponies have had, you know. Unpleasant experiences.”

“Well, has it killed anypony yet?” Starlight asked flatly.

Twilight paused and blinked. “No.”

“Then how bad can it be?” Starlight shrugged and kept walking.

“Right… how bad can it…?” Twilight shook her head and hurried to catch up to Starlight.

“Interesting,” Starlight murmured, staring through the glass at… whatever was inside the case, some sort of jewelry. She wasn’t really sure what to make of it, and Twilight’s instructions hadn’t exactly been specific: they amounted to, ‘Take a look and tell me what you think.’

The display case had a hoof-sized hole in the glass, presumably meant to facilitate reaching in and handling the object inside. She guessed from this opening that ‘take a look’ was meant to be interpreted senso lato, but sticking in a hoof and pawing at something that she was warned could be dangerous seemed like a questionable opening move.

Horn first, she decided. She reached out with her magic, threading it carefully through the hole. Nullifying fields warded the glass, radiating outward for most of the hole’s radius. It made trying to get a magical sense of the object inside feel like looking through a narrow peephole with a fisheye lens.

Starlight frowned. “How am I supposed to work like this?” she mumbled.

After some hesitation, she pushed inward with her magic, testing the wards by projecting her own cone of nullification. They resisted, but not very strongly. The fields seemed to be more for containing stray emissions than for repelling a determined effort to enter, and she was able to reach in easily. Once she did, her magic skittered across the surface of the object while she examined its physical composition. Precious metal alloy, solder, enamel, a gemstone—something in the sapphire family—yes, a ruby. Nothing off the wall about any of that.

The magic that permeated through it, though…

She recognized it immediately, something she’d never forget in a million years.

Chronothaumic flux.

Starlight’s breath caught in her throat and she took a step back. Time magic? Was this why Twilight wanted her to look at it? Because of her past experience with these kinds of spells? But… if that was the case, then why hadn’t she warned her? Why drop her in blind?

Starlight scowled. A sinking feeling crawled in her gut. Putting her here, with something like this, giving her totally free rein? Twilight must really, really trust her.

Either that, or…

…Or…

She looked around nervously, suddenly self-conscious.

Why is this room so heavily defended?

Starlight tried to suppress the uncomfortable thought. There were two possibilities, and the one where Twilight trusted her was flattering. The other was not. She had no trouble picking which one she preferred to believe. In any case, it was unhelpful to agonize over right now, and there was still a job to do, so she steeled herself and reached back in again.

The enchantment was powerful, stronger for its size than any chrono-magical device she’d felt before—not that many existed, granted.

But there was also something different, too, like nothing she’d seen before.

Starlight noticed that the temporal anchors were reversed from their usual positions. Thinking about what this meant, she came to a dawning realization of what it implied: information exchange from discrete points in the forward light-cone of the observer, allowing future-sight that was deterministic instead of merely probabilistic.

The jumble of jargon working its way through her mind boiled down to a conclusion of just two words.

True retrodivination?!

Starlight’s eyes opened wide in shock and her jaw dropped. The thought was overwhelming, numbing. How… how was this possible? Magic like this was only theoretical. Most of the greatest mages believed infallible future-sight would never be accomplished. Some actively worked against it, in fact, deliberately concealing and suppressing research that might lead to it. Even if it was possible, it was fraught with hazards, both known and, ironically, unforeseeable. This was a kind of terrible power that ponies might kill and die for, the kind that could remake the world in one’s own image… or destroy it.

And here it was, in her hooves.

Well, metaphorical hooves, anyway. She still hadn’t reached in to touch it.

It wouldn’t be hard, though. Just push back the wards again and use her telekinesis to pull it out of the display case, and it would be hers. Easy as pie. It could teach her so much, opening new chrono-magical doors to explore.

All she had to do was go ahead and claim it.

The thought beckoned even as those very same possibilities made her blood run cold. She paused and pondered.

What if she did? What would happen? What would she see?

…Would she even want to?

She tilted her head and considered. Scrying into the past was one thing, and not actually a very hard thing. The principles were well known and she’d dabbled in it from time to time, usually successfully.

But the past had already happened, over and done and set in stone, at least relatively. Merely seeing it didn’t break anything. To screw up the past took active effort and some real work, as she knew only too well. As far as just idle peeking around was concerned, that was safe enough.

But the future?

She thought about the way her favorite book on temporal mechanics explained it: right now is the future’s past. Right now could lead to many potential futures, but they were unfixed and one was as good as another.

Except when it wasn’t.

Starlight paced anxiously around the display case, her brow furrowed and a scowl on her face. Scrying into the past was only possible because it traced backward along the lines of causality that led to the present moment. Retrodivining, the process of looking into the future, was in theory essentially the same, just scrying to send information into the past from a future frame of reference. It was all just relative, after all.

The problem was, tracing backwards from the future meant that the line of causality it followed had to become fixed in the process. There was no escaping at that point. Once a particular future was retrodivined, it was unavoidably predestined to happen, no matter what.

Every theoretician she’d read agreed on at least that much.

It was a terrifying thought, with a million grim possibilities. What if she saw something awful? What if she saw a friend die in a horrible way? What if she saw the destruction of Equestria and the end of pony civilization? What if she saw a giant asteroid hitting Equus and wiping out all the life on the planet?

No. No! She turned away, breaking her gaze off the display case and staring at the floor. She couldn’t risk seeing those things, knowing she’d locked them into happening. The torment would be unbearable, driving her mad to know that she could never prevent it. She would inevitably try anyway, and fail, and it would destroy her. She knew herself well enough to be sure of that.

Unless…

Another thought whispered in her mind, desperately clawing its way up through these bleak prospects.

Unless, of course, I didn’t have to see anything bad…

She lifted her head. That was a possibility. In a not-quite-yet-determinate future, couldn’t almost anything be actively projected in, rather than passively observed? Those theories existed as well, and they stood to reason, didn’t they?

Yes. Make my own future. This was the real potential, of course, and it was why ponies wanted retrodivination in the first place. It would take a disciplined and steady mind of intense focus, but there was no reason that somepony couldn’t inject their own visions of desirable outcomes to fix as future inevitabilities.

One such example popped into her mind easily.

“I could ensure that I’ll become an alicorn someday,” Starlight whispered to herself. “Couldn’t I?”

Well, why not?

But not just things like that, either. She shook her head. It wouldn’t be right to use it just for selfish reasons, when it could do so much more. Something like this should help everypony. And it should especially help her friends.

Like Sunburst. Couldn’t he be the great wizard he deserves to be? All his reading, all his studying… that shouldn’t just all be for nothing. Should it?

Starlight’s eyes gravitated back to the artifact inside its display case.

No, it shouldn’t, and she could fix it. She could make all those injustices and all those disappointments of circumstance right by simply envisioning the correct future. The answer was right here.

But… the dangers…

With an effort, she broke her gaze from the artifact and turned away.

Yes. As before, there were still countless dangers. What if her will faltered? What if her imagination ran away with her? Having it happen just for the wrong fraction of a second could be enough. What if she projected the wrong mental vision and created a future she didn’t mean to? There was no telling what it might be. For all she knew, her nightmare about giant carnivorous carrots eating everypony and conquering Equus could come true.

Well, sure, there are dangers, but isn’t there always some danger in everything? Did you ever let that stop you before?

Starlight considered this. It was true, of course. Nothing good ever came without being willing to accept some sort of a risk.

But was it worth it? All those dark possibilities of future catastrophe… what about them?

Well… they might all happen just as easily anyway, whether foretold or not, she reasoned with herself. The only difference was, with this kind of power, if any of them were about to strike, she could create a future in which they were averted. What if an observatory suddenly spotted a giant asteroid on a collision course with Equus? She could force it to miss instead, couldn’t she? What about an invasion? She could make it inevitable that Equestria would win the war. Maybe there wouldn’t even need to be fighting. She could cause a natural disaster to wipe out the enemy army. She could make the enemy commander keel over dead out of the blue from a brain aneurysm or a heart attack. Problem solved.

So many possibilities! And the beauty was how completely generalized it was. It was the ultimate multi-purpose tool, a solution for any problem. The holy grail of magic! The more she let herself sink into these thoughts, the more they became jubilant, intoxicating, almost dizzying, making her smile to herself and feel lightheaded like the enjoyable buzz from just the right amount of a fine liqueur.

With this knowledge, there’s no limit to the good I could do!

But…

Her smile faded as a sobering realization deflated the airy sense of optimism.

That was also the problem, wasn’t it?

There was no limit.

There needed to be limits. Tempting as it was to do as she pleased and always have her own way, her experience with Twilight in Ponyville had taught her one lesson that she knew was the most important of all: sometimes the better part of real friendship was just knowing the boundaries.

A true friend wouldn’t take it upon herself to write the future for her friends. A true friend wouldn’t take away their ability to choose, would she?

So don’t take it away. Nothing says you have to, necessarily.

Tempting, but she knew this was easier said than done when there was so much gray area. What would happen when it came down to feeling like the only choice was between overriding the will of a friend or watching something terrible happen? What happens when it becomes easy to say, “Just this once,” and then “Just this once” turns into “Just this one more time,” and then another, and another after that? Where would that slippery slope ever end?

It ended in a living hell of cutie marks in jars, all the individuality and spirit of a village being suffocated under her hooves.

Come on. It’s not like that anymore. Don’t Twilight this up. You know how that goes.

Starlight blinked. Okay. Maybe she was just being neurotic, hoofwringing over nothing. Maybe Twilight’s tendency to overthink was rubbing off on her, and maybe it wasn’t always the most helpful habit.

Right. Just think of all the good that could be done.

She wanted to, she really did—but at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking of all the free will that could be trampled.

Free will? Let’s not kid ourselves, you don’t even think ‘free will’ is a thing. You’re a determinist.

Starlight paced around the display case, head down, staring at the floor. “Maybe.” She shook her head. “But that’s not really the point—”

She stopped and caught herself, looking up and snapping her mouth shut. “Who am I even arguing with?!” she asked herself in quiet exasperation. “This is ridiculous.”

And it occurred to her: it was ridiculous, wasn’t it? It was so unlike her.

Something was wrong.

And why did she keep catching herself staring at the thing… the piece of jewelry… the amulet… in the display case without being quite aware she was doing it?

Sudden realization clicked in her head, screaming an alarm through her thoughts and shooting adrenaline through her veins. In a reflexive fraction of a second, her horn flashed and she cast a shielding spell around her body, isolating herself from all external magic.

Her eyes narrowed. “Oooh-ho-ho. You think you’re clever?” She whispered to the thing in the display case. “Give me just enough rope and I’ll hang myself, is that it?”

“I might have even done that, once.” She paced back and forth in a tight pattern. “But there’s a good reason I won’t now,” she declared. “Because my friends are more important than what I want.”

“All the changes I could make, all the things I could do for them…” she continued. “Making Sunburst into a great wizard? I could. I really could. But how do I know that’s what he wants? I’ve never really asked him, I just assumed. But when I think about it… when I really think about my friend instead of about myself… I realize that maybe there’s a reason he never became one. Maybe that’s not what he wants at all. This is a truth it’s taken me so long to really understand, but I get it now: I have no idea what other ponies might really want for themselves or what's really best for them. All I can ever know for sure is what I want for everypony else. And I know it’s wrong, forcing things on them without giving them any choice in the matter. Yet, here you have me, within a hair's breadth of doing it.”

Her ears flattened and she turned and glared hatefully at the thing in the display case. “Again.”

Starlight was suddenly aware that her face felt hot, her back and legs tense and rigid, her nose stuffy.

“You almost got me, didn’t you?” She sniffed and blinked. Burning tears rolled down her cheeks.

Those tears spurred something primal and vicious, making her want to lash out. Agonizing glass slivers of the past welled up from deep inside and stabbed at her heart. Rage and hurt filled her to overflowing, giving her the urge to destroy this monster that tried to convince her to do something that would make her relive the pain and the shame all over again. She wanted to rip the pedestal out of the floor with her telekinesis and thrash it to pieces. She wanted to tear away the protective wards on the display case like tissue paper, smash the glass, blast the thing inside with dispelling magic until all traces of its foul enchantments were stripped away. She wanted to shatter the ruby, crush and twist the metal, blast it with pyrokinetic heat until it charred and then blazed into a white-hot blob of unrecognizable molten metal.

Everything inside her screamed for this monster’s utter obliteration, to wipe it out of existence so thoroughly not even a memory of it would be left.

But she held herself steady. The tantrum raged out in her mind while she stood still and did nothing. With an effort, she finally pushed it all down until there was enough of a calm cold emptiness inside to let her function without spilling into unbridled passion.

She held herself back because she knew that even more than it made her angry, it wasn’t worth letting it take her dignity. She was a pony. She was an individual. She had a choice. This thing? It was just some piece of junk jewelry in a glass box.

“I know I can’t have what you can teach me, because I’ve been here before,” she said softly. “I know how this starts and I know where it ends. And,” she gritted her teeth, “and I’m not going back. Never! Now get out of my head and get out of my life!”

She turned and walked away, head held low and tail hanging limp. A single choked sob escaped her while she opened the door and exited the room.

Starlight ate in silence, eyes fixed on her plate of grilled vegetables. She knew in some dull, distant sense that the dinner she’d been served was delicious—she could taste the perfect seasoning and how it popped from the sprinkling of flat-grained sea salt—but it was hard for her to really appreciate right now.

Twilight sat across from her, likewise picking halfheartedly at her own meal. Periodically, her eyes would flick up to glance over at Starlight, then back to her plate. Between bites she kept breathing in, as if gathering the air to speak, then letting it out again.

Starlight’s annoyance finally built enough that she dared to look up from her plate and lock eyes with Twilight.

“I know you want to say something,” she stated bluntly. “Whatever it is, can we just talk about it and get this over with?”

They stared at each other for a few seconds of weighty silence.

“Starlight, I’m sorry.” Twilight looked away. “I… I think I screwed up. I should have given you more warning. I should have told you…”

Starlight waited for Twilight to continue.

“I should have told you… that thing… it was the Alicorn Amulet,” Twilight said with an effort.

“Wait wait wait.” Starlight dropped the piece of grilled carrot she had halfway levitated to her mouth. “The same one Trixie told me about?” she asked incredulously. “You… you put me in a room with it and just let me have at it? And you knew?!” She reared up and pounded a forehoof on the table. “Why would you DO that?!”

Twilight cringed and stared with wide eyes. Starlight fumed for a moment, looming over the table, until she caught herself and slowly shrank back down into her seat.

“…Sorry,” Starlight said awkwardly, staring at the tablecloth. “I, just, uh…” She cleared her throat.

“No. It’s alright,” Twilight mumbled. “What I let it put you through was pretty rough. I hurt you. I was wrong.”

“Just tell me why.” Starlight sighed, suddenly feeling more tired than angry. “That thing should have been destroyed. You know that.”

“You’re absolutely right, and that’s exactly what I was trying to do,” Twilight said.

“Come again?” Starlight half-closed one eye.

“Well, we couldn’t just disenchant it,” Twilight said. “There was no simple and straightforward solution. I wish there had been. But we—the other princesses and I—did find a design flaw that could be exploited. We realized it needs energy from a host to charge itself back up over time. And it spends energy trying to attract new hosts. It spends a lot, in fact. It’s very well protected against directly dismantling the enchantments, but we found that if it kept failing to find a host who would give it a recharge, it would drain itself looking for one until it eventually ran dry and became inert.”

“So you let it tempt somepony hoping it would exhaust itself.”

“Numerous someponies, actually.” Twilight nodded. “Most of them were told going in what they’d be up against. For you, though, I decided to try things a little differently.”

“Gee, I’m flattered, but why?” Starlight asked. “What’s so special about me?”

“I thought the Amulet was almost out of power, when your turn came up,” Twilight said. “I was getting worried about how long it was taking, and I just wanted it to be over. I knew that if anypony had the punch to finish it off, it would be you. It just had to sink enough energy into trying to convince you. In order for that to happen, though…”

“…You couldn’t tell me.” Starlight nodded. “Yeah. If I knew, I wouldn’t have given it an attack surface. I would have shut it out and it wouldn’t have lost nearly as much working on me.”

“Right.” Twilight nodded. “I hoped you’d be the one to just kill it, finally.”

“Did I?”

“Not quite.” Twilight shook her head. “But I think you got it most of the way there. We all owe you a lot for what it put you through to accomplish that.”

“Ya think?” Starlight glowered.

“I’m really sorry,” Twilight ruffled her wings anxiously. “I know you’re probably pretty mad at me right now.”

“A little, yeah.” Starlight fidgeted with her silverware. “…But I understand.”

“You do?” Twilight sounded the slightest bit hopeful.

“You did what you had to do.” Starlight shrugged. “I get it. I’ve been there.”

“I swear, it was only because I knew you could handle it,” Twilight said. “I did it this way because I trust you, Starlight.”

“Yeah.” Starlight finally cracked a tiny, crooked smile. “Yeah, I know you do. I appreciate that.”

Twilight paused, looking around uncertainly. “So… are we alright?” she asked cautiously across the empty space of the table between them, pointing a hoof back and forth between herself and Starlight.

“I guess.” Starlight started nodding, then stopped. “Err… I don’t know… I just…” She groaned and rested her head in her hooves. “We will be, Twilight. We will be. But right now, it’s been a rough day, and I’m still kinda hurting. I think I just want to be alone for a while.”

Twilight nodded. “Okay.”

Starlight pushed her chair back from the table and walked off on quiet hoofsteps to her room, where she lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about retrodivination and ruling over ponies’ lives and the future and the past and how great and how terrible it all was and could have all been again.

11: Forgiveness, by cleverpun (Luna)

Luna closed her eyes and rested her hoof upon the Amulet. The air shifted, the pressure and humidity vibrated ever so softly. They had warned her the transition would be impossible to detect. Only the most capable magician possessed the power to make teleportation seamless, to mask the change of location, mental or physical. Yet the transition happened, subtly but clearly.

Luna opened her eyes. The room looked mostly the same. The guards had vanished. The pedestal containing the Amulet had disappeared.

Celestia stood there, on the other side of the room. Celestia in appearance and nothing else. Even a pony with less experience and less sensitivity to magic would feel and see and sense the differences in the doppelganger. It’s magic felt askew, its eyes glinted slightly red.

“Is this the best you can do? An obvious facsimile of my sister?”

The Amulet said nothing. It wore that serene smile that Celestia always did. Warmth and comforting empathy, neutrality, political sensitivity, all wrapped in a single, subtle expression.

“Make your offer then,” she barked. “Try and tempt me, as you have so many others.”

The fake Celestia chuckled. “But Luna, dear, you already took the offer.”

Luna’s ears flattened. “Don’t try and deceive me, monster. I have accepted no offer from you.”

Celestia chuckled again. It sounded just like the real Celestia, light and musical, absent of malice. It even had the same layer of unintended condescension. “Not from me, my little pony.” Celestia gestured with her chin, pointing at Luna.

A thin, sharp crack echoed around the room, and it mixed with a few pings and chinks.

Luna turned around. A shard of mirror had embedded itself into the floor. Cracks and dents spiderwebbed across the tile where it had landed. It towered over Luna, almost touched the ceiling.

Nightmare Moon stared back at her from the mirror. Luna started, and the reflection copied her movements. She stared down at her hooves. Her coat had turned black.

“A cheap parlor trick, and nothing more.”

“I mean, what could I offer you? You already succumbed to temptation, and I had nothing to do with it.”

“Change me back!” Luna turned away from the mirror, forced her eyes away from her hooves.

“There’s nothing to change. That’s who you are.” Celestia smiled. The doppelganger showed so many flaws and tells, but the smile looked just like Celestia’s. “We are all the summation of our actions. All the times we fell to temptation, all our sins and failures.”

Another shard of mirror, smaller than the first one, descended from the ceiling. It pierced the ground, just like the first one had. It sat at the edge of Luna’s vision, showed her Nightmare Moon with gritted teeth.

“Shut up!” Luna stepped to the side, but the reflection still clawed at the edge of her vision. “What would you know of sin and failure?”

The facsimile of Celestia shook its head. “It was not an insult. It is like I said. We are the summation of our decisions, the good and the bad. Didn’t succumbing to temptation, becoming Nightmare Moon… Surely it taught you something?”

Luna chuckled. It came out in Nightmare Moon’s voice, deeper and more sinister than she had intended. “Is that your angle, then? To dress up your temptations as something positive? To lower my guard before tempting me with something?”

Celestia shook her head. Her mane flowed awkwardly during the motion. It lacked the proper shift and shimmer and motion of Celestia’s mane. Perhaps it’s losing the power to maintain its illusions, Luna thought to herself.

“I cannot tempt you with anything. You fell once, and so there is nothing left for you to learn from another.”

“Then why talk to me at all?”

“I had hoped to explain myself, to give a small justification for my behavior.”

“And none of your previous victims were worthy of this explanation?”

“None of them would understand. None of them have the same experience that you do.”

“Of the positive effects of temptation?”

“Yes.”

Luna rolled her eyes. She cringed as the motion brought her gaze upon the mirror again. “It sounds to me like the desperate pleas of an enemy, who knows their defeat is at hand.”

“Perhaps. But my power wanes the more I talk to you, the longer I maintain this illusion.” Celestia gestured at the room. A patch of wall flickered and shuddered, like a piece of old film reel. “So what harm is there in listening?”

Luna glared at the fake Celestia. It still stood in the same position, still wore that same serene and understanding smile that Celestia always wore. Its mane had started to wilt, the red of its eyes had dimmed. It had a point, underneath its transparent machinations.

To walk into a trap never ended well. And often, the most dangerous sorts of traps made themselves obvious. They lowered one's guard, made it seem safe to spring them and walk out unscathed. “Fine. Tell me your sob story, then,” Luna muttered.

“I was created a long time ago. My creator gave me a simple mission. They wanted me to help ponies grow and learn, to teach them lessons. And they—”

“And let me guess…” Luna paused longer than she intended. Just as she had forgotten about it, Nightmare Moon’s voice surprised her again. “They had some unorthodox ideas about how ponies should better themselves.”

“Oh, quite the contrary. Their intended methods were very tame.” Celestia chuckled, but it sounded slightly off. The disarming quality of Celestia’s laugh had fallen away. “My initial missions, my initial illusions and revelations were quite bland.” Celestia’s eyes widened, ever so slightly. “But I noticed something. No doubt unintended. Every time I helped a pony, every time I showed them some inane fragment of their childhood or a memory of their spouse or whatever else…” Celestia lifted up a hoof, and an unfinished red gem sat in it. “A little fragment of their magic would stay with me. Each one made me stronger, smarter.”

The gem shifted slightly. “It took a lot of ponies, a lot of pointless interactions.” The gem shifted again, and again. A fleck of metal swirled onto it, as if a magnet had drawn it over and refused to let go. “But bit by bit, those parts built up into something.” The gem grew again as more metal latched onto it.

“Of course, my creator hesitated, at first. They couldn’t fathom their creation growing beyond its parameters.” The gem straightened into a square cut. “But I talked to them. I showed them all the good I might do, that we might do.” The metal shifted, matched the square of the gemstone.

“And how do I know that any of that is true?” Luna muttered. Sometimes the most dangerous traps took the form of words. Words had a habit of burrowing and stabbing where mere objects could never reach.

“I suppose you don’t.” Celestia shook her hoof, and the chunk of metal and rock vanished. “But my results should speak for themselves. It only makes sense. What good can temptation do, without something to be tempted by?”

“Don’t give me that. Don’t try and disguise your actions as a noble endeavor,” Luna said. “What of all the ponies who gave in to your temptations, and suffered no consequences? Who ran rampant with your power? What lessons did they learn?”

“Sometimes, getting what we want is exactly what convinces us to change.” Celestia lowered her voice. “Wielding power, misusing power…that teaches a lesson that words and offers can never match. Isn’t that right, Nightmare Moon?”

“Don’t you dare call me that,” Luna muttered. Nightmare Moon’s voice warped her meaning, transformed it into a guttural, threatening growl.

“It taught you something, didn’t it? Having all that power? Misusing all that power?”

“Of course it taught me something. And learning that lesson tore me apart.”

“But you put yourself back together, eventually. It took a few years alone, a few hair shirts and magical constructs, but you recovered. Didn’t your experience make you a better pony?”

Luna turned to the mirror. Nightmare Moon stared back at her. She wore no helmet, no barding or armor. Her black coat stood out sharply against the walls and floor, and her eyes stood out against the black of her coat. Nightmare Moon blinked, and the beginnings of tears crept at the edge of her eyes.

“I ask myself that every day,” she whispered. “And I still don’t know the answer. I don’t know if it was worth any of the pain, mine or my sister’s.”

“It was worth it. I know. I’ve seen it, in you and countless others. I know the pain and guilt broke you, but you were repaired. They all forgave you, and you’re a better pony because of your experience.”

“So it’s just that simple? Tempt ponies and they become better, whether they fail or not?”

“Growth is never simple. Repentance is never easy. To stagnate and fail and despair is only equine.” The Amulet smiled Celestia’s smile. “But it’s also equine to grow and triumph and hope. Sometimes, ponies just need a little catalyst.”

“And that’s what you are? A catalyst?”

“Yes, exactly.” Celestia shook her head. “I won’t lie to you. My creator wasn’t perfect. My mission and my methods can be harsh. But sometimes that is the only way to effect real change.”

Luna said nothing. She continued staring at the mirror.

“I’m not asking you to wear me. Nothing like that.” Celestia crept towards Luna, took great care to make her steps small and quiet. “And I suppose, if you need to tell everyone my mission, that is only right. It would make it harder, make the temptations less effective, but I understand.” Celestia sidled up to Luna, bent her mouth to Luna’s ear. The mirror showed only the Amulet, floating in midair. “But if you can convince Twilight, Celestia, Cadance… Convince them to spare me, to let me continue my mission. Think of all the ponies left to help.”

Celestia leaned in further, lowered her voice another half a whisper. “I know how hard it was to forgive yourself. I know about all the things you’ve done to punish yourself. But that only means you know how important my mission is. Imagine yourself without Nightmare Moon, imagine yourself still clinging to bitterness and resentment, still seething at Celestia and your subjects.

“All I ask is a little forgiveness, a little leeway, a little more time to help everyone better themselves.” The Amulet brushed against Nightmare Moon’s ear in the mirror. Celestia’s voice drifted softly into Luna’s ear, barely audible if not for the proximity. “They forgave you, and you forgave yourself. So please, forgive me.”

Luna said nothing. The Amulet still floated in the mirror. A shimmer passed across its metal surface, its jewel glowed briefly. In the light, it almost looked like it was blinking, or breathing, or perhaps even holding its breath.

Luna closed her eyes. “No.”

The mirror snapped, a long thin crack shot down the center, right between Nightmare Moon and the Amulet.

“Please,” it whispered. Its voice strained. The Celestia faltered, and a little bit of Twilight and Cadance echoed into its voice. “Just a little more, just a few ponies more. Help me, help them.”

Luna opened her eyes, turned to the Amulet’s Celestia. “No.”

The mirror shattered, its pieces scattered across the floor.

“Please,” the Amulet whispered in a dozen voices. It sounded like a damaged record in an echo chamber.

Luna blinked, and tears started to leak out. “I can’t.”

Celestia shattered. Cracks rumbled along the walls of the room. The Amulet’s pedestal landed in the middle of the floor, and the crunch and thunk of it reverberated through the room. The Amulet glowed weakly in the middle of its case, chunks of glass littering floor.

A rush of voices and noise came out of it. The voices of hundreds of ponies blurred together, crackled, echoed, snapped and distorted. But Luna heard the words clearly despite all of that.

“I’m sorry.”

Luna opened her eyes. She withdrew her hoof from the Amulet, wiped away her tears.

A knock came upon the door.

Luna wiped at her face again, smoothed her coat. “Yes?”

The door thunked open, and Celestia walked in. “Are you okay, sister?”

“That’s a more complicated question than you might think.”

Celestia walked up to Luna. “Well, you haven’t been corrupted by a magical artifact. That’s a good start.”

“Or an ending.”

Celestia opened her mouth to speak, then paused. “I’ve seen that look on your face before, sister. What is on your mind?”

Luna wiped away her face again. “I suppose the short answer would be forgiveness.”

“Is that what it offered you? Forgiveness?”

“In a sense.” Luna turned to Celestia. “Why did you forgive me, sister? After all the things I did, all the things Nightmare Moon did, why did you welcome me back so readily?”

Celestia didn’t answer right away, She instead turned her gaze to a patch of wall. “Do you really want to have this conversation in a room full of cameras and microphones?”

“No, but I don’t want to let you stall for too long, either.”

Celestia chuckled. “Do you want the diplomatic answer, or the honest one?”

“I want the truth. Dress it up however you want.”

Celestia put a hoof on Luna’s shoulder. “I forgave you for a lot of reasons. But I suppose the most important reason was simple. Forgiveness is the first step to healing. Forgiveness breeds more forgiveness.”

“Does it?” Luna lowered her voice. “If you had done something like that, betrayed me so deeply, I’m not sure I would have forgiven you… And that worries me. Perhaps… perhaps I didn’t deserve to be forgiven, perhaps being forgiven didn’t do me any good after all.”

Celestia walked over to the Amulet, rested a hoof on its case. “Forgiveness is a complicated thing, sister. If you offer it too easily, it doesn’t mean anything. If you offer it falsely, it can do more harm than good.” She lowered her voice slightly. Her hoof resting on the glass tensed slightly. “And some things are so heinous that forgiving them is impossible.” She relaxed herself, removed her hoof from the glass. “I think I understand what the Amulet offered you now.”

“I told you, it offered me forgiveness.”

Celestia smiled. “An impressively obtuse wording, Luna.”

“I try.”

“I don’t know exactly what it told you or showed you. If you aren’t ready to say, then that is fine. But I will say this. I’m glad you didn’t put it on.”

“You doubted my ability to resist it?”

“That’s not what I meant. Don’t twist my words, Luna.”

“Your words need no twisting, Tia.” Luna turned towards the door. “I’ve known you long enough. You always pick everything you say very carefully. Even this conversation, every thing you’ve said to me was carefully calculated. I could tell.”

Celestia looked down at the Amulet again. “So it offered you forgiveness.” She turned to Luna. “And which pony did it appear as?”

“I’m sure you can make some guesses.”

“Now who is making calculated statements?”

Luna sat down, still facing the door. “I asked for the truth, and you haven’t given it to me yet. Not all of it.”

Celestia sighed. She glanced around at the walls and vents and corners. “I forgave you, for many reasons. So many reasons…” Celestia stepped away from the Amulet. “Guilt, fear, relief… Because I wanted to see if I could, to prove to myself that forgiveness was possible.” Celestia paused. “To cover up the fact that I didn’t really forgive you at all.”

Celestia walked over to Luna, put a hoof on her shoulder. “Forgiveness is complicated.”

“I know.” Luna stood up, put her hoof on Celestia’s. “Perhaps that would be a more accurate description of what the Amulet offered. It offered me the easy way.”

Celestia nodded, “I think I understand, then.” She gestured to the door. The two of them left the room in silence.

12: Value, by Kai Creech (Pinkie Pie)

Chapter by: Kai Creech

Pinkie blinked, disoriented, as Sugercube Corner slowly swam into view. For a single moment, the world rocked back and forth like a boat as edges of the room swam into place. Everything, even the ponies and furniture were stripped away, leaving the room barren aside from her booth. The window had grayed out, and Pinkie couldn’t even see her reflection in it. Despite the lack of clutter, the room felt a little smaller than it should, somewhere between claustrophobic and comforting. Carefully, Pinkie sat down.

In the space across from her, the world seemed to contract. The shadowy outline of a pony crawled across the air, distorting in shape and size as it sought a full form. It spazzed out, appearing as Moon Dancer, then the Doctor, then Sweetie Belle. Pinkie’s eyes burned as she tried to follow the display until she had to look down.

When she turned back, it was wearing a very good imitation of Twilight Sparkle. Her mane was so neat that her coat looked messy by comparison, and she had the same friendly look in her eyes. Her smile wasn't right though: it was static and uncomfortable. Pinkie smiled at it anyway. “Finally! I’ve been waiting forever for you to show up!”

The Amulet frowned. “I was under the impression that generating this place took only a few moments.”

Her voice was the same as Twilight, but the tone was all wrong. It sounded stiff and robotic, like she couldn’t feel anything from the words she was saying. Her expressions were basically warm and friendly, which made everything even eerier.

Pinkie leaned forwards, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding she felt in the pit of her stomach. “Well, yeah, but it’s supposed to happen so fast you don’t even notice it, right? I mean, I had ta watch the store be created, and that was super weird, but my point is for you that’s still taking a really long time, isn’t it?”

The Amulet froze in place for several seconds, deciphering Pinkie’s words. It took several more to decide how best to respond. “I am… diminished. Interacting with your mind is more complicated than it should be.”

Pinkie snorted. “Yeah, I get that a lot. But I can’t help but notice that you didn’t have any trouble processing a bunch of ponies smarter than me, and at least one of them is totally nuts. Something else is happening to you, isn’t it?”

“Enough.” The Amulet’s tone remained blunt. “This is not about me.”

“Of course it is!” Pinkie said. “Don’t be silly. I mean, sure, everypony was probably going on about how they want power or fame or infinite rice pudding, but that’s super gross and I don’t want to be gross. I want to talk to you!”

The Amulet hesitated, a common mistake to make when talking to Pinkie, but this time she gave it enough time to respond. “I do not understand.”

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “I want to talk to you. You have to be a sen— sorry, sapient being to be smart enough create these illusions. If you weren’t you’d be doing even worse than you are already!”

“Worse?” the Amulet repeated dumbly.

Pinkie shrugged. “Yeah! I mean, think about it; how many ponies have you had the chance to grab this week? And everypony else who sought you out was, ya know, seeking you out and everything. This has gotta be one of the first times you’re trying to actually change somepony’s mind, and it’s not going so well.”

The Amulet glared at Pinkie. “Do not mock me.”

Pinkie leaned forwards and poked Twilight’s doppelganger in the chest. “See! Right there. You said that to me and thought it would work. I bet it has something to do with how much power you have… Maybe you don’t have enough processing power to sort through all of my thoughts and talk to me all at once? Hm.” She leaned back in her chair. “Well, that’s not important now. Like I said; this is all about you.”

The Amulet stretched and flickered in place, warping like parchment left in the sun. Its posture had changed, casually leaning forwards on the table, but it hadn’t actually moved. “Explain.”

Pinkie shrugged. “Well, it’s not super complicated. I want to get to know you. What’s your name?”

The Amulet tilted her head to one side, frowning. “The Alicorn Amulet.”

“No, I mean— like, something more personal than that. Alicorn Amulet would be your title, so I’m wondering about your name!”

The Amulet frowned. “Why would I have a name? I’m just a tool.”

Pinkie gasped. “You mean somepony went through the trouble of building you and didn’t give you a name? That’s terrible!”

The Amulet shook her head. “No, it isn’t. I am—”

“I’m gonna call you Amy!”

The Amulet blinked. “Why?”

“Because everypony needs a name, silly!”

“I’m not a pony,” The Amulet—henceforth Amy—said, frowning. She put an odd emphasis on the word pony, like it felt funny and she wasn’t sure what to do with it. “I’m just an artifact, a weapon. Nothing else.”

“Don't be silly,” Pinkie said. “I read up on stuff like this before I came here.” She cleared her throat and adopted a snootier, more intelligent accent. “In ordah to create and maintain an illusiohn of such ah magnitude, one must possess the imaginatiohn of ah pony to keep ahead of the mind trapped within. Absolutely top drawer, I must say, wot wot?”

Amy stared at Pinkie for a long moment. “I don’t make these illusions,” she said. “I interface with the mind of my bearer and use their imagination to build something to convince them to agree with me."

Pinkie nodded thoughtfully. “Okay, but what if I could prove that wasn't true at all?"

The Amulet began to scoff, but hesitated partway through. It was creepy. It was like her face was animated, and the animators had lost some of the frames so her face jumped from scoffing to frowning instantaneously. “How could you prove this?”

Pinkie beamed. “That's easy! We’re going to play a game!”

“I do not play games.”

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, this one is easy. I’ll let you have, say three questions, to get me to agree with you. If I change my mind, then you win.”

Amy froze in place for a long moment, its eyes darting over Pinkie’s body as she considered the implications. “And there are no tricks? That’s all I have to do?”

“Yepperoni!” Pinkie leaned forwards. “Are you ready?”

Amy nodded. “First question: Are ponies not cruel?”

“Of course not! I mean, some ponies can be, but it’s not like we’re born evil or something.”

Pinkie flinched as, without warning, Amy’s body distorted. Its proportions stretched out, gaining several inches, and her colors lightened from purple to blue. The color bled from her mane, leaving it a pale white. In the space of a few seconds, Amy had transformed herself into a copy of Trixie. “I do not alter the mind of my bearers. Every action they undertake is one they choose themselves. Everypony I have talked to has eventually chosen evil.”

“That’s just ridiculous!” Pinkie shot back. “Trixie wasn’t… well, she wasn't a total psychopath before she put you on, and that’s pretty darn different!”

“If you remove the reason to hold back, you see what a pony is truly like. If you look deep enough, everypony has a dark side. Gaining power simply allows them to act on it. I’m not responsible for any of it.”

Pinkie glared at her. “What about all the terrible stuff you’ve done to tempt ponies? Twilight wouldn’t tell us anything about what happened to her, Carrot Top was crying for hours, and Cadance won’t come out of her room!”

Amy shook her head mechanically. Her mane didn’t sway with her. “Everything they saw came from within themselves. I created none—”

“What about Dashie?”

Amy was silent.

Pinkie pressed forwards, getting right in the other mare’s face. “She freaks out if she’s left alone for more than a few minutes. You didn’t borrow something from her mind to build that; it was all you, right?”

Amy stared at Pinkie for a long moment. “…I was fulfilling my purpose. Nothing else matters.”

Pinkie’s tail lashed, and she closed her eyes for a few seconds to steady herself. When she looked back, Amy had changed again. She towered over Pinkie, with black skin and insectoid wings, and fangs that shone even in the relative darkness of the bakery. It wasn’t as perfect as the others had been; her mane looked like it had been melted into one solid piece, and Pinkie was pretty sure her wings were clipping through the chair. “Chrysalis has attempted to destroy your kingdom once before, and she will do so again. What do you say to her?”

Pinkie’s ears flicked, and she snorted in irritation. “The same thing I’m saying to you: there’s a better way.”

Amy rolled her eyes dismissively. “She wouldn’t agree, you know. She would take any opportunity to destroy you.”

“Oh, and then what?” Pinkie snapped. “The Changelings destroy and conquer all the time, but it hasn’t actually gotten them anywhere.” She sighed. “Look, she’s gonna destroy herself and drag the rest of the Changelings down with her if she doesn’t learn how to listen to others, and so will you.”

Amy frowned. “What is the alternative?”

Pinkie smiled and placed a hoof over Amy’s. “Friendship.”

Amy snatched her hoof away from Pinkie. “Friendship has no survival value.”

“It gives value to survival,” Pinkie shot back. “It gives us a reason to live. I mean, what do you even have to live for?”

Amy froze for a moment, her appearance flickering like a bad movie projector. “I-I-I must exist to-to-to…” She shook her head and glared at Pinkie. She flinched, the most emotion she had shown. “How will your friendship save me? You ponies claim to care for everything, but none have shown me any consideration. Since the first day, I have existed solely to be used. Why should I not use them? None of you care about anything other than yourselves.”

“I care. I’m here, aren’t I? Look,” Pinkie leaned forwards, desperately holding Amy’s gaze, “I know this is a lot to take in, but I’m here because I think you can be helped.”

“YOU ARE LYING.”

Pinkie jumped back as with a deep, unearthly buzz, Amy’s body vanished. She looked around the room as the corners began to fade into darkness. The shadows oozed forwards, forming odd patterns that were difficult to make out but mesmerizing to watch. Pinkie stared at them for a long moment, before realizing she had zoned out and looked away. A red glint caught her eye, and she looked down to see Amy’s body— her real body, all polished points and black metal— lying on the table in front of her. Amy's voice persisted, but it was badly distorted, like a poorly tuned radio.

"Everypony I’ve met has wanted something from me," she hissed. "They’ll use me to do anything to get it, and if they do get it, then they do more things to get something else. They talk about how horrible I am, but they choose to inflict harm on others themselves. They are the ones who break their moral code. They are the ones who are flawed."

“What about this week? ‘Cause you haven’t been doing so great lately.”

Amy remained silent.

Pinkie stood up, lifting Amy so she could look her in what she guessed was Amy’s face. “This week, you’ve dragged ponies through the darkest parts of their souls, and not one of them really failed. Today, we proved that, yeah, there’s a lot of bad in ponies, but there’s a lot of good too, and they chose to be good. And so can you.”

"I CANNOT."

“Of course you can! Just let me help you!”

"You are st-st-stalling." Even through the mechanical intonations, Pinkie could hear the very real desperation in her voice. "You claim that my exis-tence matters. Prove it. Help me."

Pinkie bit her lip. “No, I- I can’t.”

“Then you have killed me.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!” Pinkie snapped. “Look, I’m trying to help you, but—”

“But you do not wish to actually take any risk. I fail to see how this makes you any better than those who came before.

“I—” Pinkie gritted her teeth together. “I can’t let you overtake me. I just can’t.”

“Then what do you propose as an alternative? I do not have time left for other options.”

“And you’d let me go after?”

"As soon as you asked me to."

Pinkie shivered as she watched the shadows crawling around the edges of the room. She jerked her attention away from them and concentrated on Amy. “I can’t help you until I know that you’ll change.”

“I do not have enough time,” Amy insisted. “You wish to save me, correct?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then please,” Amy whispered. “You can’t let me die.”

Just a few minutes ago, Pinkie would have realized how out-of-character it was for Amy to appeal to emotion like that, but somehow it made sense now. She swayed a little, staring at the shining stone. I want to help her. That’s why I came here, isn’t it?

“You can save me,” Amy whispered. “Just accept me, and everything will be alright.”

Pinkie shook her head, her eyes never leaving the Amulet itself. “…You… did somethin’,” she said weakly.

“You don’t really think that.”

“I don’t really— shut up!” Pinkie closed her eyes for a second, trying to collect herself before she felt compelled to open them again. “No,” she whispered. “This isn’t what I want.”

“Of course it is. You want to save me, and that means becoming my bearer. That’s half of a ‘yes’ right there. It’s enough to give me a lifeline, but I need you to take that last step. Please.”

Pinkie bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She gasped as the sudden, stinging pain helped her focus. “I want to save you, but I want to keep my friends safe too. I can’t do that if I end up like all the others that tried you on.” She swayed, trying to remember to close her eyes again. “I… I’m sorry.”

“WHY?”

All around Pinkie, the shadows began to flow across the floor towards her. They formed tendrils that moved with hypnotic cohesion; everywhere she turned there was something to catch her eye. Pinkie backed away, fighting with all of her strength to remain herself. Amy’s voice began to distort, becoming more and more mechanical.

"Everypony who has taken me has wanted something. Tell me wh-wha-what you de-sire. I could allow you to visit every filly and colt in Equestria to deliver gifts."

Pinkie shook her head, even as the thought warmed her heart. She backed up onto the table, hooves slipping on the slippery surface as the shadows oozed across the floor towards her. She tried to come up with a reason, an argument she could present. “No,” was all she could muster.

The shadows, emboldened by her lackluster argument, move closer. They rose up, towering over her head. She tried to look away, but felt her gaze pulled back towards them. "You could force everypony in Equestria t-to smile forever."

“Never,” she barely got out.

The shadows shifted, revealing the Alicorn Amulet nestled in its folds. It hung tantalizingly before Pinkie, who even couldn't look away now. “TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT. I WILL GIVE IT TO YOU. JUST TELL ME.”

The shadows hovered inches away from Pinkie on all sides. She couldn’t last any longer. “I just… wanted to…” She drunkenly leaned forwards, mere inches away from the dark. “I just wanted to be your friend.”

The shadows froze in place. The sudden lack of motion jerked Pinkie out of her trance, and she staggered backward trying not to throw up. The darkness had completely encompassed the room now, and the only thing left was the tabletop. Pinkie could see herself fine, and the table was perfectly lit despite the lack of light.

“I d-do not understand-stand. You turn down my po-power but still wish for my s-safety. Reconcile this con-con-conflict.”

Pinkie swallowed her bile, feeling it burn down her throat. She stood on unsteady legs and faced what she guessed counted as Amy’s head. “Because you could be worth it.”

“Y-you risked your li-lif-life.”

“So?!” Pinkie tried to take a step forward, but she was too weak. She shook her head, trying to focus. “Ponies matter. People matter. You matter because if you would just listen, if you would just humble yourself a teeny, tiny little bit, you could do such amazing things. Please,” and she was surprised to find that she was crying, but she didn’t have time to think about that now, “please, just give up! Let me help you.”

“I-it does n-n-not make sense. W-w-why why why why—”

The shadows pulsed, shuddering and falling in a blocky motion. All of Pinkie’s senses had been dulled, other than an odd buzzing in her ears. For the briefest moment, she thought she could see the real room with her real eyes.

“You cannot I cannot this does not explain explain explain—”

Pinkie pressed her ears back against the harsh buzz that echoed after Amy’s voice stopped talking. She could feel it vibrating in her bones, shaking the room itself. “You’re starting to lose it. You have to give in. Just trust me, please!”

“I cannot I am not I will not I won’t be responsible they hurt I didn't mean to I

“I-I-I

“I didn’t mean to.”

Pinkie blinked. Everything was silent. The testing chamber looked as it should: blandly lit walls with no lighting issues, abnormal sounds or smells, and fully functional gravity. Amy’s body lay on the podium like she had been when Pinkie first came in. There were minor cracks running across her surface, and the jewel set in the front wasn’t glowing, but she otherwise looked okay. Pinkie lifted the necklace to get a better look.

Amy shattered.

Pinkie dropped the Amulet’s corpse and backed away, a scream strangled in the back of her throat. Slowly, she approached the podium with trembling legs. Amy had broken into equal halves that could be easily put back together with glue or tape. Her jewel, however, had been reduced to dust, and Pinkie knew there would be no fixing that. The Alicorn Amulet was finally broken.

She shuffled the pieces across the floor, sitting in a morose silence. Pinkie wasn’t sure for how long. Somepony behind her reached around and pulled her into a hug. She jumped, startled, before she realized who it was. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Twilight replied. She let Pinkie lean on her, and didn’t say anything else. The two of them sat in a comfortable silence for a while. Pinkie wasn't sure for how long. It felt like a while. If it’d been the Cakes comforting her, she’d have been forced to keep bottling up all her feelings to keep them from worrying over her. If it had been somepony like Applejack or Rainbow Dash, then the words would have been pulled out of her throat. But Twilight had learned to be patient, and after enough time the words simply flowed.

“I couldn’t save her, Twi.”

Twilight didn’t say anything. She pulled her wing tighter around Pinkie’s shoulders.

“I just… I don’t get it. Why wouldn’t she give up? Why couldn’t…”

Twilight waited a long moment, long enough to make sure Pinkie had finished, before responding. “Some ponies are scared. They don’t know what’ll happen if they give up, or they think that getting help makes them weak and not worth helping or… they can’t accept that they might need it.” She sighed. “I’m so sorry, Pinkie. I know you really hoped you could save it.”

The words didn’t change how Pinkie felt, but having Twilight there made it easier to deal with. She sighed and pulled back. “So, now what?”

Twilight stood as well, stretching each leg from having sat for so long. “I have to find a way to secure the Amulet’s remains.” She hesitated. “Do you want to help?”

Pinkie shook her head. “No, I promised Ditzy that I’d take her shift with Dash so she could go see Dinky. You shouldn’t be alone after you go through something like this, ya know?”

Twilight looked at Pinkie for a long moment, before impulsively pulling her friend into a hug.

Pinkie snorted. “Silly Twi, I told you. I feel better already!”

“That one was for you being you.” She leaned back and smiled at her friend. “I’m going to go to the hospital to check on Rainbow before I get back to work. You want to come with me?”

Pinkie shook her head. “Give me a second. I need to check something first.”

Twilight frowned and glanced at Amy’s remains. A pulse of magic probed the Amulet, then she nodded and left Pinkie alone in the room.

Pinkie looked down at the Alicorn Amulet and sighed. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t help you, Amy. I Pinkie Promise to do better for the next one!”

She gently shifted the rubble, so it at least looked better, and sadly smiled.

“Goodbye, Amy.”

Author's Notes:

Made with the support of the Power Press: Berry Delight and Dinode.

Epilogue: Redemption, by cleverpun (Trixie)

Twilight refilled her quill, and started slowly on the next line. Now that the entire business with the Amulet had concluded, she had lots of paperwork to catch up on. Her report on the Amulet itself had already been sent in for fact-checking and editing, and the journals would publish it in due time.

Another load of ink, a fresh page. Twilight took a deep breath and smiled.

Her ear flicked. Her quill paused above the paper. She felt something. She tried to avoid resorting to cliches like “the calm before a storm.” They lacked descriptive effect and meteorological accuracy. Other things, however, fit into that pattern. The buzz before a bee sting. The foreshocks before an earthquake. The pressure and heat before a volcano spews magma and smoke.

Twilight looked toward the door of her office. She scanned the area, and nothing caught her eye.

She squinted. A thin wisp of purple-pink smoke poked through the crack of the door.

Twilight sighed.

The doors flung open, hitting into the wall with a heavy initial thunk and a smaller crack afterwards. Trixie stood in the doorway. Her cape billowed. Her mane billowed. Her hat billowed. Her eyebrows and eyelashes, somehow, billowed, if only slightly. The torrent of motion and wind thankfully left Twilight’s paper and quills alone, centralized solely on Trixie.

“Hello, Trixie.”

“Greetings, Twilight Sparkle.” Trixie waved a foreleg, and performed an exaggerated bow.

“To what do I owe the pl— presence…of you…in my office.”

“Fear not, Princess Sparkle!” Trixie unbowed, flung her cape wide. “The Great and Penitent Trixie heard of your attempt to disarm the Alicorn Amulet. She sped posthaste to your aid!”

“Ah, yes, that.” Twilight templed her hooves. “I’m grateful that you’re here, really, truly, I am. More or less. But the thing is, we already finished that.”

Trixie pressed a hoof to her chest. “Sparkle, you wound me! Certainly, the Great and Perilous Trixie was not at her best the last time we met, and she will be the first to admit an…awkward history with the Alicorn Amulet. But who better, then, to assist in its dismantling?”

“Trixie, I wouldn’t lie to a friend…of a friend.” Twilight scanned her shelves. “We really did defeat it. At no small cost, either. I could find the report for you…”

“Trixie expected this.” Trixie straightened her collar, and a flash of magic and an audible click echoed from behind her. She stepped forward, and the smoke dwindled slightly. “I am serious, you know. I will endure any cavalcade of paperwork, any interview or interrogation or inspection, in order to prove I am fit for this endeavor.”

Twilight pressed her face into her hooves. “That’s great and all, but we’re already done.”

“Preposterous!” Trixie slammed her hooves on the table. “The Great and Punctual Trixie arrived as soon as she received the notice! How can you be done already?”

“Maybe the mail was running late,” Twilight muttered.

“Did Twilight Sparkle perhaps postdate my notice?” Trixie leaned in. “Were you trying to get rid of me? The Great and Principled Trixie thought better of you, Sparkle.”

Twilight tore her face from her hooves. “Look, Trixie. I’m tired. There was a lot of stuff involved in dealing with the Amulet. I’m sorry if somepony intentionally mailed your notice late, but there’s nothing I can do. The Amulet is dead, defeated, kaput.”

“Where is it?”

“In a warehouse.”

Trixie raised an eyebrow. “A warehouse?”

“Yes, a warehouse.” Twilight wiggled a hoof. “You know, one of those warehouses that stretch on for eternity, and all the boxes have vague labels and look identical, so you can’t find anything even if you wanted to?”

“Oh really? Then what is…” Trixie reached a hoof into her cape, slowly and theatrically. “This!”

“A rubber-band ball.”

“Er, I mean…” Another grope, more theatrically. “This!”

Twilight’s eyes widened. The Alicorn Amulet's pieces sat in Trixie’s outstretched hoof. Even the little plastic bag with all the jewel residue. “Where did you get that?”

“The warehouse under your desk.”

Twilight’s ears flattened. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t found a good place for it yet. But that doesn’t change what I said. It’s still empty.”

Trixie chuckled. To call her laugh “smug” lacked the correct implication of condescension, and to call it “condescending” failed to convey how smug it sounded. “I see how it is, Sparkle.”

“You do?”

“You intentionally delayed Trixie’s invitation for a good reason.”

“Yes, of course I did.”

“For only the the Great and Persistent Trixie could handle such an important and secretive mission.”

Twilight’s ears flattened again. “…Mission?”

“Of course, the Great and Purposeful Trixie accepts!”

“You do?”

“You almost had me with these secret tests!”

“I did?”

“I accept this noble duty, to put the Amulet where no one will ever find it. It shall be lost to time and become the stuff of myths, after I have finished with it.”

Twilight slumped slightly sideways, rested her head on a hoof. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

“Trixie will go on a quest, a journey through the most treacherous parts of Equestria. She will travel to the very edge of the world, and throw the Amulet off of it, into the cessation of time, the abyss of memory, the—”

“You know where that is?”

Trixie chuckled the same smugly condescending chuckle. “You needn’t worry, my dear princess.” She raised the Amulet aloft. “Perish any and all panic or fears from your regal posterior! Trixie knows every intimate secret of our world, the end of it included.”

“‘Kay.”

A flash of light lit the room. When Twilight stopped blinking and rubbing her eyes, Trixie stood in the same position, the Amulet missing from her hooves.

Twilight leaned forward, and let out another heavy sigh. “Okay then, Trixie. Let’s assume I trust you with this…task. We still don’t know exactly how the Amulet works.” Her horn ignited, and a diagram of symbols swirled in front of her. “We drained all its magic, but there may be something, or some thing, that could recharge it.” The diagram faded, replaced with a cartoon, pointy version of Trixie, holding the Amulet aloft. Her condescendingly smug grin looked apparent even in the doodle.

Twilight leaned forward. “Imagine if something brought the Amulet back to life. Imagine what might happen to its ward.” The diagram flickered. Tendrils of magic extended from the Amulet. “Imagine what failure might mean for that pony, and for all of Equestria.” One coiled around the pointy Trixie, and she valiantly and ineffectually tried to break free of its grasp.

The tentacle crept upward, pushed towards the dots that represented Trixie’s eyes. Trixie’s avatar screamed, but no sound escaped from the magical drawing.

The light faded, and Twilight straightened her posture. “There’s a lot of dangers out there. Beings of every race, monsters of every shape. A lot of…things that don’t have any better word, because describing them is too difficult.” Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “Things that would do anything for the Amulet, things that crave power more than they desire life. And they don’t know or care that it’s dead.”

Twilight blinked slowly, took a deep breath. “Can you handle that?”

Trixie unfurled her body. She shook her cape, straightened her hat. “Well…”

“I won’t think less of you if you say ‘no’,” Twilight whispered.

Trixie took her own deep breath. “You have my word, Twilight. I won’t let you down.” She shifted her eyes, stared at a chunk of wall. “I need to prove it to myself, too. I need to make certain that it never takes hold of anyone else.”

“And, I must warn you…” Twilight leaned forward. “We’ve done everything in our power, but we still don’t know everything about the Amulet. There may be some scrap of power left hiding in it, too deep for us to detect. It may have enough energy left for a final temptation. It might whisper to you. Lie to you. Try to trick you into putting it on. Are you strong enough to deny it this time?”

Trixie stared at the floor for a moment. “I would be lying if I gave an unqualified answer. If I said I was a hundred percent positive in my own ability.” Trixie looked up. “I’ve been weak before, I know. The Amulet tore me apart, and I had to piece myself back together. There may be some cracks left.” Trixie smiled. “But what sort of illusionist would I be, if I didn’t try and hide any of that?”

Twilight smiled. “Alright. I’ll contact the other princesses, and we’ll start preparing your supplies and equipment. Clandestinely, of course.”

Trixie smiled as well. “Thank you, Princess Twilight.” Trixie bowed. A clunk echoed through the room as the Amulet's left half fell out of her hat and onto the ground.

Neither pony moved.

Trixie slowly reached for the Amulet chunk. She slowly put it back under her hat. She slowly stood up. She slowly took a step backward, then another, until she slowly backed out of the room.

The doors slowly closed shut. When they had softly clicked closed, Trixie shouted from the other side. “Trixie will talk to you tomorrow!”

Silence fell back across Twilight’s office.

She pulled out a fresh sheet of paper, took a deep breath, and started writing.

“What time is good for you?” Trixie shouted through the door. “Trixie can be ready around ten or so!”

“Yes, fine, great!” Twilight shouted. “See you tomorrow, now go away!”

“Very well! Trixie will begin her preparations!”

Twilight stared down at the paper she had been writing on. A requisition form for space inside the Manehattan Museum’s Auxiliary Storage Warehouse. Once something went in there, it disappeared among a sea of identical crates, with obtuse labels and vague serial numbers. To find something in there took more bureaucratic knowledge and patience than even Princess Celestia possessed.

But someone might find it. If the Amulet had any power left at all, it would call out to anyone it could, lure them to it, sink its teeth into them.

Twilight crumpled the paper, tossed it away. She pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment, and began writing.

Perhaps it will be for the best, Twilight thought to herself. Trixie has her own…unique qualifications. She itemized all the supplies one would need for a journey to the edge of the world. Food, water, magical wards, a clean set of handkerchiefs.

“What could go wrong?” was another cliche that Twilight tried to avoid. A proper plan allowed for unfavorable outcomes, of course, but it felt pessimistic to ask such a question. It made it harder to focus on the positives.

Twilight frowned. Trixie had changed, there was no denying that. But the cliche still clawed at the back of her mind. She fought against it, all its pessimism and lazy distrust. But the answer still bubbled out of her subconscious like a methane bubble from a swamp.