Fireshade sat on a stool, resting her head on the workbench and idly rolling a pencil back and forth between her hooves. It felt as though days had gone by as she waited in excited anticipation for something—anything—to happen.

A shadow appeared on the wall in front of her, sharply outlining her horn and mussed mane. The mare quickly sat up and spun around to see the bone-white chalk outline of the sigil array giving off an ominous ivory glow.

She hopped down from the stool and smiled. “Here we go!”

A yellow glow enveloped Fireshade’s horn as she began to focus her magic on the circle. The moment she released her full power to it, the array exploded with a blinding white light and a howl similar to that of a tornado. The mage’s eyes snapped shut and she turned her head away, while continuing to put more energy to the arcane runes of the array.

The deafening noise wailed through the dungeon laboratory. Fireshade turned her head back towards the array and looked at the light through the slits of her tightly squinted eyelids. She had never in all her life seen anything like it. A column of white energy lifting from the floor, turbulently spiraling upwards to the ceiling and glittering within with every color imaginable. She could only think of a single word to describe the phenomenon: Beautiful.

As she watched, the sound stopped and the column of light halted its chaotic movement. The light stood motionless, sparkling with color for several seconds before dissolving away, revealing a veritable mountain of stolen goods.

Fireshade stood, staring at the newly acquired equipment with a dumbfounded smile plastered across her face.

“Wow... Cool,” she uttered quietly before beginning her task of moving the items out of the circle.

“No no no... NO!” Twilight exclaimed while pulling herself up from the floor. “It should have all come back.” Her eyes lit up as she gasped loudly. “I have to find a way out of here.”

She turned her head and pulled a book from the saddlebag on her left side, carelessly tossing it to the floor. The mage kneeled down and quickly flipped through the pages of the heavy tome; attempting to find the answers to what just had just transpired. She stopped knowingly at an entry describing teleport arrays.

She began to read out-loud to herself. “If the sigil-teleportation spell is interrupted or unable to complete for any reason, the item or items being teleported will return to the sending array. This is contrary to every variant of unicorn teleportation spells, wherein if the spell is interrupted, the items being teleported are subjected to significant damage, and on occasion, complete obliteration.”

Looking up from the book, Twilight pondered the passage as she gazed at the still slightly glowing array before her. “So why didn’t it come back?” she whispered.

It’s possible that this doesn’t work on the same principle as unicorn teleportation.

Not the same principle... What other principle could it work on?

“If it didn’t go through the hole in the barrier, that would mean... it passed through the barrier!?” Twilight’s eyes grew wide with shock as the sudden realization washed over her.

Jumping up from the floor, she began pacing around the now-dark chalk outline. “But how? How is that even possible? How could it just go through a barrier like that? There’s no mention of that in the book...”

Twilight continued walking around the circle, thinking about how such a thing could possibly work, along with the implications such power held. Was the breach still open slightly when the matter-stream passed through? That must be it... but what if it’s not? I need to try this again.

She stopped her pacing abruptly and looked over to the desk next to the file cabinets. Hastily trotting to it, Twilight pulled open a drawer and began to vehemently hoof through the contents, not entirely sure what she was looking for. When she didn’t locate the item she was trying to find, the mage sighed and lifted her head to look at the top of the desk. There she saw it: a plain desk lamp.

That will do.

It was a simple affair with a brass base and an emerald-green glass shade around the bulb. Twilight picked it up within a magenta aura and carried it to her outlawed magical drawing, gently placing the object in the center of the circle. She then pulled her chalk from her bag and quickly scrawled out a new—much smaller—receiving array.

Twilight shook with anticipation at the thought of her impromptu experiment possibly working. As soon as the small arcane circle was finished, the mage walked to the outside of the original, larger teleportation sigil. She began slowly walking the perimeter, watching the runes closely as they passed. The archaic symbol she was looking for appeared in front of her, and she quickly scuffed it out with several fast swipes of a forehoof. Her chalk floated down to the floor and drew a new symbol over the greyish smear of chalk dust, perfectly matching the rune on the new sigil array.

The white stick floated back into her bag, and then Twilight focused her attention on the smaller circle. With a momentary glow of her horn, an opaque pink sphere surrounded the array. This small barrier would not be nearly as strong as the one surrounding her and the laboratories, but it would be enough to prove her hypothesis.

She looked decisively to a small box on a nearby shelf and readied a teleportation spell. With a brief, white flash, the box disappeared as the pink barrier flickered and slowly vibrated like a ball of gelatin. The box hadn’t made it to its destination; the barrier was working.

Twilight then used a simple magic detection spell to trace the path of the teleportation spell. As expected, a path of latent energy emerged in her mind’s eye originating at the shelf previously occupied by the box and making a straight line that abruptly ended at the edge of the barrier.

Okay...

Turning towards the desk lamp sitting peacefully in the center of the large, chalk circle, she allowed her magic to flow to the array. The chalk that had been scraped onto the floor became bright, glowing with the energy. Then with a quiet, anticlimactic pop, the lamp vanished and the circle became dark once again.

Twilight immediately turned her head to the receiving sigil circle. Though not surprised by the result, she was intrigued by how such a thing could be possible. Within the pink barrier sat a lamp, no worse for wear than when she had removed it from the desk that it had called home for who knows how many years.

A soft purple glow emanated from the mage’s horn as she cast her magic detection spell once more. The path of the now nonexistent box remained, though much dimmer. However, where she expected to see the path that the brass lamp had traveled, there was nothing.

“Nothing?” Twilight questioned as her brow furrowed and a frown crossed her lips. “How can there be nothing? That can’t be right... can it?”

Her eyes darted to the location where the lamp had begun its journey. In the center of the circle, an intensely bright, prismatic sphere of magical energy stood. It was unlike anything the mage had ever seen using this particular spell. Normally the signature reflected the color of the caster’s magic, but this glittering ball of rainbow colors of the sigil magic was particularly unexpected. She quickly spun to the lamp’s new location and a similar sphere of energy shrouded the appliance. Twilight stopped the detection spell and the lamp returned to her view as the sphere of light faded.

“It was there... now it’s there,” Twilight said pointing to each location as she spoke.

Dispelling her barrier, she trotted to the smaller circle and tapped on the lamp gently. “It couldn’t have made it through undamaged. There’s no way.”

The lamp lifted slowly into the air, carefully cradled in Twilight’s magic. Her left eye narrowed as the light stopped ascending.

“No travel path...” she quietly mused. “You had to travel somewhere, though.”

Twilight closely scrutinized the lighting appliance as it slowly rotated inches before her face. It was perfect in every way. She could not find anything out of place about the lamp. Her right eye twitched slightly as she pondered how such a thing could be possible. Every part of what she had seen and was now looking at went against everything she had ever studied about teleportation magics.

It did travel somewhere.

The sound of shattering glass extinguished the silence of the storage room as the metallic base of the lamp rolled across the floor, coming to rest against Twilight’s hoof. “Somewhere... but... no.”

She quickly cast a spell, bringing the two fast-fading, glowing orbs back into view. “It was there, then it was here. It traveled somewhere to get to this point... but it didn’t travel through here.”

The mage now paced swiftly from one teleport array to the other, attempting to comprehend the mind-bending thoughts invading her head. If sigil teleportation actually worked in the manner she was thinking, it would make nearly all the things she once thought impossible possible.

“It didn't go through the barrier at all... it had to have gone... around? It left this physical space and came back.” It was surreal for Twilight to hear those words uttered from her own mouth. Even more disturbing for her was the weighty seriousness her tone carried. Only minutes ago, such a thought would have been laughable, but now it seemed as though anything could be possible. Even tearing through the ethereal fabrics of this reality and moving—at the very least, energy—to another adjoining plane of existence and back.

Twilight had gotten her newfound equipment back to the dungeon lab. She miraculously found an exit out of Section 5, and with her goals for this expedition completed, she now decided that she had overstayed her welcome in this place.

The unicorn turned her head to the saddlebag on her right and pulled out a scrub brush with her mouth, tossing it into the middle of the smaller circle. With thoughts flowing through her head of the implications that the power of sigil-magic held, she went about the task of pushing the stiff brush, back and forth, across the chalk outline with a forehoof. Once the brush finished its job of erasing the circle and arcane runes, Twilight gingerly placed it back in its place in the grey canvas bag.

A sudden feeling of anxious foreboding washed over the mage. She nervously looked around the room where light and dark fought for dominance. With the glow of her magelight spell beginning to wear down, darkness began to succeed in stamping out the illumination. Something was amiss, but she couldn’t quite place a hoof on it.

Twilight shook off the strangely disheartening sensation and walked to the ancient book she had left on the floor. The pages fell open to the index with a dry crinkle. A moment passed, and the unicorn pulled a bundle of paper from left to right, landing precisely on the page she intended.

Two large, purple eyes scanned across the page several times before stopping. She stared intently at a pair of runes inscribed near the end of the passage. The bone-white chalk revealed itself from the bag again, shrouded in the magenta aura of Twilight’s telekinesis as she continued the study the symbols of destruction.

After carefully copying the two symbols to the interior of the remaining array, she added one more symbol beneath them in order to attach the destructive power directly to the chalk circle on the floor. The book closed and floated through the air, landing in the mage’s left saddlebag. Twilight changed the connection rune she had previously replaced for her impromptu experiment back to its previous form and placed her stick of chalk into her bag. She was now ready.

A nervous flutter lurched through Twilight’s stomach as she stepped into the circle. The thought of possibly being thrown outside of her physical reality only now coming to the front of her mind. Where exactly would she go? What would be there? Could a pony even survive the process? Or would it be just like any other teleportation spell?

“Maybe I should just wait.”

We would be waiting here for more than a day before you can open that barrier again.

“I know that... I just... The book never mentioned anything about moving ponies by sigil magic...” Twilight’s voice trailed off as she continued to ponder all the things that could possibly go wrong.

We need to go. Now.

A quiet, rhythmic tapping sounded from outside the door, consistantly increasing in volume. The clacking stopped, seemingly just outside of the room currently occupied by Twilight. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped slightly.

“Yeah... time to go.”

She hurriedly dispelled the magelight at the ceiling, immersing the room into inky darkness, and began casting her magic to the chalk circle surrounding her. The last thing Twilight heard as the array lit up was the jingle of keys. The world around her tore away in a piercing white light as she was thrown into the miasma between worlds, and the magical symbols and shapes burned away, leaving no trace of their existence.

Trying to make herself useful while waiting patiently for either the next supply transport or Twilight to arrive, Fireshade moved equipment around, attempting to find an arrangement that would make the best use of the limited space.

Her quiet humming was suddenly interrupted by screaming. The agonizing cries of Twilight Sparkle spooked the yellow mare, causing her to jump into the air and spin around towards the teleportation array. There, she saw the lavender mage laying on the floor, wet and shivering, her eyes opened so wide it appear they may be trying to escape from their sockets.

Fireshade rushed to her friend’s side. She began to look over the mage, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. “Twilight! What happened?”

More hysterical shrieks were the only reply she received.

She wrapped her forelegs around Twilight’s neck and attempted to calm the distraught mare. “Shhhhh, it’s okay Twi. I’m here and you’re alright... You’re in your lab, safe and sound.”

The screams ebbed, being replaced by hard, shaky breathing. Twilight pulled back from the embrace, blinked several times and looked into Fireshade’s eyes before bursting forth into irrepressible crying.

“Twilight, you’re okay... you’ll be fine,” the yellow mare said, attempting to console the unconsolable. “Now what happened?”

“I-I-I... I don’t know. I was in Section 5 and then—a-a-and then I was somewhere... and n-n-now I’m here. The sigil array... it’s not like teleporting. It’s s-some—something else. Something... frighteningly beautiful.” Twilight laid her head on her forelegs and continued to sob quietly on the floor.

Year 8 of the 2nd Diarchy, 82nd day of the Southward Equinox
Personal Journal, entry 10

I was forced to teleport myself using sigil magic very early this morning. It has been approximately seven hours since I was teleported, and only now have I collected my thoughts and calmed myself to the point that I can write this.

I believe that I have discovered the reason for the banning of the book ‘Symbols, Runes, and Sigils’. If I am to believe what I saw within the sigil teleport, these sigil arrays are beyond dangerous; if constructed properly, they could very well be used to destroy the entire world. I’m not completely certain, but it seems that they draw their power from someplace else—the same place that the array sent me to. Another plane of existence. The ethereal nether between the Firmaments.

The Five Firmaments are nothing more than a creationist fairytale ponies tell their foals. Aren’t they? After what I saw and heard while teleporting, I am not so sure anymore. It felt as though I were everywhere and nowhere all at once. I know that sounds crazy, but it is the best way I can describe it.

I could see the whole of Equestria. I could see our entire planet. I could see the galaxy and our universe. But there was more... so much more. More beyond the boundary of our own limited existence. From the void, I could see all of them. All of them. The Firmaments. The fairytales that were once, now seemingly rightly so, thought to be the truth of existence.

I know the teleport happened near-instantaneously in our physical reality, but inside, it felt like days, maybe weeks... years? I’m not sure, time doesn’t seem to have any meaning in that place... it was all so disorientating. I was free to explore the void, and although I could look at them, I could not cross through to those places of legend that were laid out before me.

I don't know how long I was there; it seemed like I spent a lifetime wandering the endless expanse. With those voices. Begging for redemption. Telling me to leave and never return. Telling me to stay and never leave. Constant whispers in my ear. Never ceasing. I can still hear them echoing in my memory, calling out to me.

As disconcerting as it seems, while I was there, the experience was poignant and calming. It was not until I returned to this reality that the overwhelming gravity of the situation took hold in my mind.

This will require further investigation.

Year 8 of the 2nd Diarchy, 3rd day of the Southern Solstice
Personal Journal, entry 11

I received a letter from Rainbow Dash yesterday. She seems to be doing very well and she decided to join the Royal Equestrian Army. Rainbow has never struck me as the military type, but she seems to think that this will be the best way for her to achieve her dream of joining the Wonderbolts.

I am happy for her. I really am, but I can’t help to think that she would have been better off staying with the weather patrol in Ponyville. Oh well, Rainbow Dash will do what Rainbow Dash will do, and no pony can stand in her way once she gets an idea in her head.

And as Rainbow Dash enters, I exit. My military training will be concluded at the end of next week. Also, this marks the end of my overall training to be put into the position of Grand Magus.

Now then, on to more important matters:

The setup of the equipment was completed just over a week ago. As soon as the machines were ready, I conducted the necessary memory scans and brain mapping on the subject (under heavy sedation) to begin the memory alteration calculations. The two data manipulators I retrieved ran constantly for 6 days before I recieved the solution. This level of magic-augmenting mathematics would have taken months to calculate by hoof, but these wonderful machines had an answer within a week.

The data manipulators finished their task last night, and I believe I am ready to make an attempt to augment her memories. In the hours since the calculations were completed I have gone through it multiple times, going as far as triple-checking the machines whose sole purpose is to create that data quickly, efficiently, and error-free.

I am ready to attempt the memory augmentation spell. So long as the book’s instructions are accurate and the data from the manipulators is correct, this should go quite smoothly.

Once we are done resolving this issue with Quillfeather, I will continue my research in unlocking the volumes detailing the studies of the Royal Pony Sisters. Although, after my very intimate experience with the inner-workings of sigil magic, I have a very strong suspicion of part of what I may find in those books.

“Are you ready, Twilight?” asked an almost-giddy Fireshade.

Twilight looked up from a small mountain of note papers and data printouts. “Almost. You can, uh... go ahead and put her under now.”

Mumbling several unintelligible words, she glanced over to the offensive telepathy book, making sure she was pronouncing the necessary incantation properly. Using words with magic was something Twilight was mostly unaccustomed to, as most unicorn magic did not require the additional boost of the archaic language.

The creak of the metal doors of the medical supply cabinet opening resonated against the cold, hard stone walls of the laboratory, causing the lavender unicorn to turn around on her stool. She watched as Fireshade lifted a syringe and small vial filled with a sickly, yellowish fluid.

“Fire,” Twilight called out, just above a whisper.

The mare looked towards the source of the word and smiled. “Yeah, Twilight?”

Glancing towards the floor, Twilight sighed. Her eyes slowly moved back up to Fireshade. “Fill the syringe and give it to me... I’ll take care of this.”

“Are you sure?”

Twilight turned back to her book. “Yes, I’m sure. I need to talk to Quillfeather before we do this.”

That is a bad idea, Twilight.

Why is that a bad idea? I need to let her know what happened and why she’s here... and that I’m sorry.

It’s always a bad idea to get overly attached to a test subject before performing an experiment.

She’s not a test subject! She is not an experiment! She’s Qui—

The fact that she has a name makes no difference. If this will ever possibly work, these notions of friendship cannot continue. Especially when it comes to our experiments.

A syringe gently settled onto the workbench next to Twilight’s hoof. Her focus moved to the glass tube, now nearly full of the mostly clear chemical that was held in the vial. With a deep, resigned sigh, she lifted the instrument in her magic and held it before her.

“Here goes nothing...” Twilight stood and walked slowly to the cell housing Quillfeather. “Fireshade, bring the key.” A magenta aura enveloped the iron-clad door, dispelling the low-level barrier placed around the small room.

Fireshade trotted over with a large, brass key floating ahead of her. She stopped short of the cell entrance, looking to Twilight with sympathetic eyes. “Are you sure about this?” she asked once more.

The mage looked back to Fireshade and allowed a sickly chuckle to cross her lips. “No... Now open the door.”

The key levitated into the cylindrical tumbler of the lock and slowly turned. As the large bolt retracted into the door, a muffled click signalled that it had come to the end of its path and the door swung open, revealing the back and wings of a sleeping blue pegasus.

Twilight stepped apprehensively into the small, dimly lit cell. She turned and smiled weakly to Fireshade as she pushed the door closed and set the syringe on the floor nearby. The iron-clad oak slab rattled with a resounding boom as it settled into the doorframe.

Mumbling softly, Quillfeather rolled over and lifted her head to face the door, curious at what the commotion may be. She made eye contact with Twilight; then rested her head back to the pile of straw that acted as a bed. “How long has it been, Twilight?”

The mage swallowed hard past the lump forming in her throat. She couldn’t take her eyes off of the form of the pegasus that lay before her. What was once a beautiful, cascading, dark-blue mane, now lay in a tangled, matted, greasy mess atop her head and down the back of her neck. Her eyes had become dull and lifeless. Even her voice was cold and emotionless.

“Well? How long have you kept me here?”

The words would not release themselves from Twilight’s mouth as she stood motionless, staring at the pegasus before her. She hadn’t taken the time before now to talk to her captive; not because the opportunity didn’t present itself, but because she could not bring herself to confront the reality of the situation face-to-face. The unicorn’s head drooped as she looked to the geometric shapes of the stones inlaid into the floor, still not truly prepared for this conversation.

“Nine days,” the words breathed across lavender lips with a ghostly whisper. Twilight cleared her throat and began speaking in her usual tone and volume. “I’m so sorry, Quillfeather. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I-It was a mistake.”

The pegasus watched Twilight with an unblinking, icy-cold, hateful gaze. “A mistake? Heh... and here I am paying for your mistake.” Quillfeather turned her head away from the mage. “The apology is nice, but it has no substance, Twilight.”

“I truly am sorry, but I can understand if you don’t believe me.” The unicorn took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. “I’m going to let you go today.”

The pegasus rose to her hooves as fast as her lethargic body could handle. She turned, facing Twilight with a glimmer of hope now showing in her dark-blue eyes. That glimmer was quickly extinguished when Quillfeather noted the dead-serious expression carved into lavender mage’s features.

Twilight’s mouth opened to speak, but fell short as she grimaced and struggled between her own morality and the necessity of the task at hand. A moment passed and she was ready to continue. “But... I cannot allow you to leave with your memories of what has transpired here. You know who I am, you’ve seen my assistant, and I cannot risk exposing ourselves or our research before I’m ready.” The unicorn blinked hard and bit on her lip slightly, still trying to find a justification for her actions. “I have one chance to change the world, but if I am found out before I’m ready I will lose that chance forever.”

The sound of rustling hay wafted up from Quillfeather’s hooves as she took several steps back, lowering her front slightly into a decidedly defensive stance. “I won’t let you or that other freak hurt me anymore, Twilight!” the pegasus barked while her eyes began to fill with tears.

This is not working. We need to take action.

“Look,” Twilight said, her voice taking on a very stern tone, “you are leaving here today, and one way or the other, you are leaving here without the ability to tell anypony about who or what is here.” She paused, taking a step forward while thinking of the words to use to persuade the frightened pegasus while not being outright threatening. “Either you can allow me to perform the memory alteration spell that I’ve been preparing for the past week... or—or I can allow Fireshade to do with you as she pleases.”

Way to be non-threatening, Twilight, the mage chastised herself.

Quillfeather’s eyes narrowed as a tear ran down the side of her face. “What do you mean, ‘as she pleases’?”

Doing everything within her power to remain cool and composed, Twilight spoke while trying not to choke on her words. “Just that. She has a multitude of biochemical experiments that she has been enthusiastically trying to persuade me to perform on you... I don’t want to, but you leave me little choice in the matter if you don’t submit to the memory augmentation.”

The pegasus’ face slackened and she lifted her head. “What happened to you, Twilight? You’re not the pony I met back in Ponyville... There’s som—”

Twilight’s patience broke, she quickly closed the gap between herself and Quillfeather and began shouting, mere inches from the blue mare’s face. “This isn’t about me! It’s not about you or Fireshade... or-or anypony else! This is about the future of Equestria! I’m going to do something about the centuries of lies, and there isn’t anything you or any other pony can do to stop me!”

“Have you lost your mind? Do you even hear what you're saying? ‘Lies’ and ‘the future of Equestria’; it seems to me that the princesses are doing just fine handling the future of Equestria.”

Stepping back and turning towards the door, Twilight fumed with anger silently for several seconds. She then turned back to face her captive once again, chuckling to herself. The mage began to speak softly. “I wouldn’t expect you to believe me... or even to understand if you did. You don’t know the things I know; you haven’t seen the things that I have seen. I’m not sure yet of the extent of the truth, but I have learned enough of it to know that exposing that truth will change everything for the better.”

Twilight sat down on the stone floor and awaited a response. Satisfied with the silence punctuated by an errant sniffle from the quietly sobbing pegasus before her, she continued. “Now then, Quill, you have a choice to make: willingly allow me to perform the memory spell and you forget about all of this and go home. Or don’t... and allow yourself to be subjected to the experiments Fireshade has so diligently set up for you.”

The mage paused and looked upwards, pondering something for a moment. “I would prefer to not have to anesthetize you... it would make the procedure much more dangerous for both of us.”

“W-Will it hurt?” Quillfeather asked in a whisper.

“Uhm... I don’t think it will, but I can’t promise you that. Regardless, if it does hurt, you won’t remember it, so pain is inconsequential in this case.”

“What do I have to do?”

“Just sit still, it should happen very fast. And when you wake up, you will be in Canterlot, in a public area, very near a place where you will be able to find help quickly. I’ll give you back your saddlebags and leave you with five-hundred bits to find your way back to Ponyville with.”

“Okay...” the pegasus whimpered.

Twilight cocked her head to the side. “You're sure?”

Sighing heavily, Quillfeather looked to her dismal surroundings and snickered with a disheartened laugh of defeat. “Considering the other option you’re giving me... yes, I’m sure.”

The unicorn stood up and walked to her captive, embracing her in a tight hug and whispered into her ear. “I know you’re not going to remember this, but I am truly sorry. It was a horrible mistake... this was never supposed to happen.”

With that Twilight leaned back to look Quillfeather in the eyes. She slowly tilted her head forward until her horn made contact with the pegasus’ forehead. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Twilight closed eyes as her horn glowed with its normal magenta aura, which slowly shrouded both of their heads. She could vaguely sense Quillfeather’s memories as she began to recite an incantation in a long-dead language. “Ryðá líkami, flytja krellr brott goðahús, ríki eða hugr ykkarr eiga.”

As the final syllable crossed her lips, the color of blood swept from Quillfeather to Twilight, washing the room in a crimson splendor. For a brief moment, the purple mage ceased to be Twilight Sparkle; she could now see every memory of the other mare. Everything from birth up through the present. She could feel the memories and emotions that made Quillfeather everything she was. The dreams and aspirations, the experiences and knowledge; all of it. For that split-second in time, Twilight was Quillfeather.

The spell completed and stopped of its own accord. The mage opened her eyes, only to see the face of death. The dark-blue eyes in front of her were glossed over, having lost any glimmer of life that they had once held. For a few seconds Twilight gazed into those eyes, wondering if this was merely a side-effect of the highly invasive nature of the spell.

Quillfeather’s left ear twitched slightly, followed by a horrifying guttural moan as the pegasus slumped down and fell forward into the unicorn’s chest. She then rolled to the side and crashed unceremoniously to the floor, her back half landing on the relatively soft pile of hay and her head bouncing off of the granite slabs that made up the floor.

This isn’t right... Something’s wrong. Something is very very wrong.

Twilight turned her head towards the door and yelled, “Fireshade, bring me the telepathy book!” She kneeled down next to the pegasus to inspect her pulse and breathing.

The door unlatched and swung open, revealing the yellow unicorn. “What di—”

“Telepathy book! NOW!” she screamed again without looking away from the task at hoof.

Breathing very fast and her vision beginning to blur behind the tears forming in her eyes, Twilight held a hoof to a pressure-point on Quillfeather’s neck. “Breathing is good... Pulse is weak, but steady.”

The tome touched down gently next to the unicorn on the floor as Fireshade moved further into the cell.

Twilight looked up to her. “Something went wrong, bring me the data sheets and my notes on this spell.”

“Which ones?” Fireshade asked innocently.

The lavender mage growled loudly. “All of them!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

The assistant backed out of the room quickly and quietly, while Twilight looked back to Quillfeather’s face. Her eyelids hung open and her tongue lolled out of her open mouth, creating a small puddle of saliva which darkened the stone underneath her muzzle.

“What happened... What went wrong? I checked the calculations four times before I cast the spell. Everything was correct... everything,” she whispered to herself.

Containable, not salvageable.

That’s not helping.

Fireshade returned with a pile of notes and machine-made printouts, setting them neatly on the floor next to the book. “What happened?”

“I don’t know yet,” Twilight said between deep, raspy breaths. “I can still access her memories in my mind, but it’s like she’s just not there anymore... I’m going to try to read her memories.”

A very dim glow surrounded Twilight’s horn for a moment. “Oh no.” Her face slackened and her eyes opened wide in shock. “No no... no,” she breathed as tears began streaming down her face, leaving dark-purple trails in their wake.

One eyelid squinted down on Fireshade’s face. “No what?”

“They’re gone! They’re all gone.” Twilight looked up to her assistant. “Her mind is completely empty... there’s nothing. No memories, no thought, no feeling... nothing.”

“Was the calculation incorrect? I mean, one small error towards the beginning would have cascaded throughout the following equations,” Fireshade said, offering the only explanation she could think of.

“Maybe...” Twilight turned to the book and turned the pages to the passages describing the offending spell. “I can fix this... I can fix this.”

No we can’t... you know we can’t.

“I have to try! I can’t let her die like this!”

Fireshade took several slow steps back. Now standing in the doorway, she said, “I didn’t say not to try.”

Twilight ignored her completely, continuing to read the book and rummaging through her notes. “I did everything right... there has to be a way to reverse the spell.” She flipped several pages forward in the banned tome and scanned the page. “This should do it. I can just put her memories back.”

She scooted back over to Quillfeather and released a new spell. The pegasus’ body glowed faintly while Twilight focused all her concentration on placing her newly acquired memories and knowledge back to the librarian. With rivulets cascading down her face, she continued casting. “It’s not working...”

Twilight broke the telepathy spell and sighed as she once again turned to the book and glanced at the passage before her. “I think I know what I did wrong... I’m going to try again.”

Her horn lit up as she cast the spell again. Fireshade stood idly by, watching and waiting for something to happen.

The yellow mare watched for what seemed like an eternity as her charge frantically attempted again and again to repair her mistake. Finally, she tired of observing the desperate act and slowly walked to Twilight and kneeled next to her. Gently placing a foreleg around her shoulders, Fireshade spoke. “Stop, Twilight, it’s not working... I-I don’t think you can bring her back.”

The realization washed over the lavender mage like an ice-cold waterfall, and she stopped casting the spell. Twilight pushed the leg off her shoulder and moved herself to lie next to what was now nothing more than a empty shell. She placed her head on Quillfeather’s neck and closed her eyes, silently weeping. “Go away, Fire...”

Twilight slowly opened her eyes to be greeted by a very concerned looking yellow unicorn sharply poking her in the side with a hoof. The sleepy mare groaned loudly. “Fireshade, I thought I told you to go away,” she huffed with a disgusted tone.

“You did... just over four hours ago, Twilight. Come on, we need to do something about this.” Fireshade pointed a hoof towards the blue pegasus that hadn’t changed position in the slightest in that time.

Lifting her head from Quillfeather’s side, Twilight looked to Fireshade incredulously. “You mean Quillfeather?”

That is not Quillfeather. She is gone. That is a breathing corpse; Quillfeather’s being—her soul—is gone. Accept it. The pony you knew is gone.

“Whatever you want to call that thing,” Fireshade grumbled under her breath.

Gone... that’s not Quillfeather. It’s just a body.

We cannot allow these emotional attachments to develop with every test subject, or this will be a recurring problem.

“Emotional attachment?” the lavender mare whispered to herself as she climbed up to her hooves.

Fireshade tilted her head to one side and swiveled an ear towards her friend. “What?”

We are going to need a new test subject.

Yeah... there’s a lot more things we can do now that we have some proper equipment.

“Twilight?”

“Get rid of it,” Twilight said in an emotionless, monotone voice as she looked down upon the now-empty shell of a pony.

Fireshade’s eyes widened. “What? Just like that? How am I—”

The lavender mare cut across her assistant’s objection. “I don’t care. Just... just get rid of it.”

Tears began to cloud Twilight’s vision as she turned and slowly walked towards the door with her head hung low. She stopped suddenly as she crossed the threshold of the exit and turned her head back towards Fireshade.

“And bring me two more.”