Twilight paused outside Principal Cinch’s office, a sinking feeling making her stomach churn as she realized she was a whole minute late for her meeting. Taking a deep breath, she fought the sensation down by drawing on the visualization she’d used in the hall, imagining herself back with Sunset. In a bit of a whimsical moment, she pictured the sensation as a kind of armor around her—it had been so during her interaction with Indigo, giving her the strength to deal with her loud and somewhat obnoxious classmate without turning into a stammering, panicking mess. Maybe it would do the same for this meeting with Principal Cinch.

Head up, spine ramrod straight, she knocked on the door, a little more firmly than she was usually wont to do. How would Sunset handle this? Twilight pondered. If she was right here, beside me...what would she say to Principal Cinch? The answer came, in an image of Sunset standing tall with the easy confidence that said she knew what she was doing, offering an apology for her tardiness, but also offering a reasonable explanation without making an excuse. That could work...explain that it was due consideration for the seriousness of the meeting but also the principal herself, as I didn’t wish to appear slovenly and disheveled. She hates untidiness in personal grooming, and body odor upsets her. Just remember last year’s assembly? She tore into Gold Leaf over his uniform.

She nodded to herself, setting the plan in place. She would acknowledge her error, offer the explanation, and it should balance into neutral. Twilight could handle neutral. Her father had once said that neutrality was good when he was defending a thesis—it meant the person hadn't made up their mind and provided the chance to convince them of the viewpoint one was defending.

It helped that the voice bidding her entry sounded like Principal Cinch's normally curt and formal tone—not particularly happy but also lacking that edge that, while subtle, projected the knowledge that the woman was irritated and simply biding her time to unleash consequences on the individual that was the source of her ire. Twilight pushed the door open carefully, pausing in the doorway to enact a slight curtsy—the kind that Aunt Alabaster had insisted on teaching her when she was nine years old—deciding to err on the side of the extreme formality that her Principal seemed to enjoy. Without fully stepping across the threshold into the woman’s domain, she spoke carefully rehearsed words. “Good morning, Principal Cinch.” To her relief, her voice came out soft but clear, and she took further pains to make sure she enunciated properly and spoke at a measured, normal pace. “I do apologize for my tardiness,” she continued, following her plan while the mental image of Sunset nodded encouragingly at her, “but I had failed to take into account that my scheduled class prior to this meeting was physical education. I thought it best to ensure that my appearance afterward was a presentable one, rather than appear before you in an unkempt state.”

Resisting the urge to babble further, she fell silent, letting her words hang in the air. It was a satisfactory apology and the explanation didn't sound like an excuse, and she’d stuck to the excessively formal method of speech that had been trained into her by her extended family, all things that she still hoped would go over well with the severe, strict administrator.

There was a long moment of silence, during which Twilight could feel her stomach twisting unpleasantly. Principal Cinch’s gaze scrutinized her, inspecting every inch, from the top of the neat bun that held her hair in place, all the way down to the tips of her polished mary-janes. Finally, the chill voice came, accompanied by the barest hint of a thin lipped smile. “I believe, Miss Sparkle, that I may overlook your delay in light of what I view to be an adequate reason for doing so. In the future, however, if the same scheduling conflict arises, please inform my secretary in advance and I will grant you an extra five minutes leave to ensure you are adequately presentable."

Twilight felt almost dizzy at this practically unheard of consideration on the part of Principal Cinch, and on autopilot she curtsied again, murmuring, "Thank you for your forbearance, Principal Cinch."

Was it her imagination, or did that thin smile widen fractionally? The woman almost seemed to bask in the obeisance, before one thin hand gestured to the chair set across from her desk, "Be seated, Miss Sparkle."

Rising fluidly from her own seat, Abacus Cinch crossed the room to a polished sideboard, where a carafe and glasses sat. Twilight’s mind took in the sight, noting with a bit of detached curiosity that the crystal set was equal to—perhaps even finer than—anything she’d seen at the family estate. She focused more thoroughly on recalling the lessons Alabaster and even Great Aunt Aurora had attempted to instill, and remembered enough to wait by the chair her principal had indicated, not wanting to insult her ‘host’ by sitting down preemptively. It was only when Cinch had returned to the desk, setting glasses of cool water in easy reach and retaking her own chair, that Twilight allowed herself to sit down.

Once more, Principal Cinch gave her the cold smile tinged with what might be faint approval; it was an expression rather akin to the ones Great Aunt Alabaster had bestowed upon those young members of the family who satisfied her expectations...and often made Twilight feel vaguely like a performing animal that had managed to learn a new trick. The administrator’s piercing gaze remained on Twilight even as she took a slow, measured sip from her glass, taking in every slight movement in utter silence as Twilight timed her actions to always follow hers rather than precede them.

The water in the glass distracted her briefly, fresh and cold and tasting unlike any water she had ever tried before. All at once it both quenched her thirst and yet made her wish the circumstances were different so she could drain the glass because she was just suddenly that thirsty. It was an exercise of will to set the glass down after only one sip, her attention turned on Principal Cinch as she waited for the woman to speak. Alabaster’s sharp “don't speak unless spoken to first, child,” echoed in her head, backed up by Sunset’s more friendly encouragement from the other day. “Let whoever is older speak first. It puts them in the mindset that you're being deferential, Sparky, and they’ll be more inclined to hear you out when you do talk.”

The silence stretched between them, Twilight doing her best to keep her eyes focused on Cinch’s face with her expression one of polite attention. She struggled to ignore the way the dimness of the office made the shadows in the corners seem alive, the darkness seeming to ripple and lengthen in her peripheral vision. The dark haired teen scolded herself mentally for letting her anxiety get the better of her, but that didn't stop her from drawing the image of Sunset closer to her side. The shadows in the room almost seemed to recoil before the strange optical illusion ended and they returned to just being shadows. Her imagination really was running away with her.

At last, Cinch gestured to the binder resting on her desk, the detailed proposal for Twilight’s project just slightly closer to the principal than the teen. “I will be taking a moment to refresh myself with the details of your project proposal now, Miss Sparkle. You may quench your thirst if you wish.”

Twilight found her mouth suddenly dry and parched again, as if the utterance of the word “thirst” had drawn her attention to just how dehydrated the exertion in gym class had left her. Cinch continued speaking, either unaware or unconcerned by how Twilight swallowed reflexively, her throat dry. “After your...intriguing performance in physical education today, I am certain you could stand to replenish yourself.”

Principal Cinch knew about what happened in gym? So soon after it happened? Twilight blinked, confused. She knew her Principal was aware of everything that went on in the school, but she hadn't realized that information got to her so quickly. To cover her surprise, she reached for the glass again with a quiet word of gratitude and took another drink. That second sip banished the thoughts, the water seeming even more refreshing and delicious this time.

The principal read slowly through the printed pages, turning each one with careful deliberation, faintly catlike eyes looking up periodically to watch her with a sense of pleased satisfaction. “I must say, Miss Sparkle, I find myself most interested in your findings and your thoroughness in your research so far shows both the level of intellect and integrity I’ve come to expect from your work. At the same time, this project proposal of yours...I believe it has far more potential and long term ramifications than you have fully considered.”

Steepling her fingers, Abacus Cinch leaned forward the barest fraction, an action that made Twilight’s heart jump. Her principal actually looked...legitimately invested in the project? That never happened. “I...had considered the potential applications for the energy, ma’am,” she offered. “There seems to be a large amount of energy in a hereto unknown frequency, but its output seems to be rather large for all the apparent invisibility of what is generating it.”

“This...energy...it has the potential to be so much more than that, Miss Sparkle. I do not think it premature or an exaggeration to say that your proposed project, if successful, could change the world.” Those sharp eyes looked over the top of the woman’s narrow glasses to pin Twilight with an intense, serious stare. “As such, I feel that there is merit to ensuring we protect your intellectual discovery, as this is far more than just an obligatory semester project to provide grades in core subjects that you have tested beyond even our school’s ability to instruct.”

Twilight’s breath caught, her mind racing. What was Principal Cinch getting at? “I...I don’t understand, Principal Cinch,” she voiced, trying to hide her worry.

“Miss Sparkle, this is a prestigious institution, far above and beyond facilities like Canterlot High, which serve as little more than babysitting services that churn out another generation of low class, menial laborers whose most intense aspirations in life are getting inebriated at a public taproom on Friday night or finding the right mate to produce innumerable offspring with. We do our level best to nurture talents like yours, to provide opportunities for growth and excellence that only the best—such as yourself—can truly appreciate.” Cinch’s voice oozed disdain, and Twilight fought down a surge of defensive indignation for Sunset and the school she clearly cared about. She didn't have to agree with the woman’s opinions, the small voice in the back of her mind rationalized, to make use of what she’s about to offer you. She would have to get used to that anyway—there were a lot of times two scientists that disagreed might have to work together for their research.

Her principal continued, ignorant of Twilight’s internal struggle. “Part of the tuition funds we acquire each year are set aside in a special project grant, to be used at the discretion of the administration to further provide opportunities to students like yourself, Miss Sparkle. I very rarely find a student with both the drive and talent that I deem sufficient to offer it...” She trailed off, giving it a moment to sink in, before continuing. “However, I believe you to not only possess significant amounts of both, I also believe that this research of yours is exactly the kind of thing the founders of this school would deem worthy of access to the special project grant.”

A special grant? Twilight wasn't even aware that the school possessed something like that, and her research several years ago had been fairly thorough. Something like that would be like a dream come true, funds to purchase better equipment than what she could scavenge or cobble together with her engineering skills, allowing her much more precise measurements and better data on the anomalous energy. The dark haired girl struggled to keep her surprise from showing on her face, though from the somewhat patiently indulgent expression that crossed her principal’s face, she hadn't quite succeeded.

“Of course,” Cinch explained in a serious tone, “I must stress that for the good of the school’s finances and reputation, and to protect both the institution and the researcher, there are conditions and stipulations, and a bit of paperwork involved. Nothing too onerous, I can assure you, Miss Sparkle, and I think you will agree once you read it.” She opened a folder that had been sitting near her elbow, retrieving a stack of papers to set on top of the now closed proposal binder.

Nodding in agreement quickly, Twilight gave her own eager reassurances, not wanting to lose out on this opportunity. “Of course, Principal Cinch. I can completely understand the need to protect the school’s financial investment in a situation where grant money is involved. I also assure you I would not dream of wasting resources offered to me.” This was beyond anything she’d hoped for, and the excitement she was starting to feel was making her uncharacteristically jittery. Official funding! While still a high school student! It was unprecedented!

Cinch let out something resembling a chuckle. “My dear Miss Sparkle,” she purred, as though Twilight had just said something she found endearing—which felt so out of place it almost jarred Twilight back to earth. “I am quite certain that a student with your work ethic has never wasted anything in her life.”

This couldn't be real. She had to be in some kind of dream state. Or maybe an alternate universe, because that was an honest-to-goodness smile on the face of Principal Abacus Cinch, and that never happened. The proof of its rarity was how out of place and awkward it seemed: lips just a little too wide, teeth too white and sharp to look entirely natural or relaxed. The teen let it slide in favor of the fact that Cinch had just offered her a compliment and was still talking grant money.

“The conditions are outlined here, in this document, Miss Sparkle, and I want you to absolutely read through it, but allow me to summarize the basics of it for you.” The woman took a sip of her water before resting her hand atop the papers. “The project grant allows you to treat this research endeavor as a form of senior thesis—despite your being a junior—and the school’s funding allows you to purchase and otherwise access materials you might need at prices given to educational institutions and that can prove difficult for an unaffiliated youth to be able to find and purchase. Nothing hazardous or overtly dangerous, I’m sure you understand. We don't need a student building a nuclear reactor on the campus, for example. The school will also allow you intellectual rights to the findings of your research—for the purpose of publishing and further research in your future, of course—but...there are some stipulations. The first is that Crystal Prep’s backing goes hand in hand with any findings as far as publishing and knowledge presented to the scientific community; this serves to elevate the institution’s reputation and esteem, and provides you with a measure of security given your youth compared to your scientific peers in academia. Crystal Prep takes care of its own, as I’m sure you are aware.”

She paused, giving Twilight the opportunity to pose questions, but the dark haired girl was still too stunned by the turn of events to do more than nod. Cinch continued, “The second stipulation is far more serious. In the event that you should renege on your work, such as failing to complete the project, wasting school funds on superfluous purchases, or otherwise attempt to back out of your duties, then you lose all equipment, materials, documentation, and intellectual rights to what of the project that was completed. Crystal Prep takes care of its own, but not at the expense of the school as a whole or its reputation...I’m sure you can understand that.”

The paperwork was slid across the desk to her, and Twilight picked it up with trembling hands. A considerable portion of her awareness felt sick and dizzy, and seriously regretted telling her father she didn't need him here for this meeting. She was well beyond her comfort zone and expectations with this, and she didn't quite know how she should handle it. This was not something she and her parents had ever discussed, because really, what person would fund a high schooler’s research projects? Her parents had gone over the papers for the semester independent study projects and given their thoughts, opinions, advice, and ultimately, their blessing. That same part of her urged her to voice her concerns, to ask to take the paperwork home and have her parents look over it first.

Yet the excited part of her, the part that secretly dreamed of being a recognized scientist and academic yearned to take advantage of the opportunity being presented. The principal had never sounded so excited and proud of a student as she did in this meeting, and the logic she laid out for the reasons behind this contract were perfectly rational. Protecting both the student and the school was important and logical, and both stood to benefit from the arrangement. And the possibility of being published? Cinch had connections in academics...if she felt the results could get Twilight published even before the end of high school, then she probably would direct her to the right people to make that happen, since it would make Crystal Prep look even more prestigious.

As she waffled in her decision, she looked down at the papers, which were surprisingly heavy in her hands. The contract for the special grant project hadn’t been printed on standard computer paper. Instead, the paper used was a heavier, parchment-like paper, with a texture like she had never personally encountered. The school’s emblem stood out at the top of the front page, and subsequent pages had it present in the upper margins but in a much smaller size. Purple eyes began to read through the text, hoping maybe a good read through would help her figure out what to do.

The contract was a lot of legalese, with points and clauses and notations defining the terms of each and every single point, from the exact amount of money being provided by the grant—that was enough zeroes to make Twilight question if she needed to get her eyes checked—to the types of things she could and couldn’t purchase with the funds, to the exact nature of what part of the project belonged to who. There was even an entire section on project assistants. She couldn’t believe it. This was an actual grant contract being offered to her. It couldn't possibly be real. She needed to show her parents before she did anything else.

As that thought flitted through her mind, her vision wavered, and she saw in her hands not the contract but other papers. There were scientific journals publishing her work, scholarship and acceptance letters from the most intense universities in the country...and...

Her breath hitched at the image of the heavy frame that showed off a degree—her first degree! This project really could change her life, she realized, and if she could use it to put herself out there, to make her first steps into academia and the realms of science and engineering before she even graduated high school? People like Delicate Alabaster and Platinum Filigree and Summer Breeze would have to accept her as she was, because how could they look down their noses at her for anything when she had accomplished so much before she was even old enough to drink? Not to mention how proud her family would be, or how excited Sunset would be to celebrate her success with her...maybe then, with so much to her name, she could even be honest about who she was and who she was with.

The thought of showing her parents was forgotten, pushed out of her mind by a newfound determination, a new goal firmly in mind. “I agree completely, Principal Cinch,” she heard herself say, skimming through the rest of the contract ignoring the way the words seemed to shift strangely where her shadow was cast upon the page. Twilight found herself hunting for a pen distractedly, even as her principal proffered her own, one monogrammed and plated in gold.

Twilight ran her fingers down the sides of the pages to straighten them, putting her initials in each of the marked spots, her excitement making the task difficult as she flipped through the pages, barely noticing that she had managed to cut herself on the edge of the last page, until her grip on the pen made a drop of bright red blood run down the gold surface and splash onto the paper at the end of her name. She blinked in shock at the crimson punctuation to her signature, finally feeling the uncomfortable throb of her injured digit. “Oh! I’m sorry, Principal Cinch!” she apologized, hurriedly fishing out a wet wipe from the supply in her backpack that she used to clean her glasses, wiping down the pen to get the blood off its surface. “I didn’t realize I’d cut myself!”

The principal of Crystal Prep favored her with a magnanimous smile, one with just a little too much of her teeth showing. “Think nothing of it, Miss Sparkle. Such things happen,” she assured the teen, taking the papers from her so she could finish cleaning the writing instrument. “Besides, a few drops of blood are nothing compared to taking your first steps into changing the world, after all. Savor this moment, Miss Sparkle, because you have just laid the foundation for your future.”

Twilight beamed at the words, placing the now clean pen in its holder on the desk. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, ma’am. I can’t tell you how much this chance means to me. I won't let you down.”

The woman’s eyes glittered strangely for the brief moment they held eye contact. “I’m certain you won't, Miss Sparkle. Now, off with you...I have to finalize this paperwork and I believe you have lunch to attend.”

Giddy and glowing from the praise, Twilight practically skipped out the door, never seeing the predatory smile that crept across the administrator’s face as soon as her back was turned, or the way the shadows curled around the papers she had signed with something akin to a lover’s caress.

And what no one had noticed, not Twilight herself, or Cinch or even the watching shadows, was the way the single drop of blood had beaded up and run off the page rather than soaking into the parchment, splashing instead to the patterned cloth of the teen’s skirt, invisible against the dark fabric.

Oh Twilight, what have you done?

And…yes…maybe that parchment was made from a questionable source.

Like people skin. Which normally doesnt hold ink well, but magic ink is probably different.