She wouldn't have expected a cave system to be clean. (Rarity might still be longing for it: Twilight was aware that several scrub-up whine-bordering suggestions had been made to the Diamond Dogs, who had apparently ignored all of them.) The portion they were moving through -- ponies had worked on that and since it was Trotter's Falls, that meant the alterations had been made by unicorns. Evening out the floor, here and there: brute field strength might have broken off some of the stalagmites. Laying material over the walls. But it was still underground: surrounded by soil, a passage through the earth. It hadn't been visited often, or maintained all that well. And that meant dirt. Initially, there had been some mud along their route, left behind by the hooves of father and daughter --
-- the illness rose, threatened to bring back everything she'd eaten at the party and for the moon before it --
-- but that had faded quickly. More often, it was just the dirt of the tunnel itself, or a little patch which had probably come down from the ceiling. (There had been one small puddle of relatively fresh vomit, one which had unnatural hues within: they'd scented it before spotting it, and so had managed to avoid contact.) And her friends had stayed close to her, moved as quickly as they could when the newest intrusion of memory started to inflict its burden of pain, there had been times when the last thing she'd felt before her identity had momentarily slipped away was scale-covered palms pushing against her flank -- but still, there had been times when she'd dropped. Fallen to the dirty ground, sodden fur and mane taking the chance to absorb soil.
She didn't have Rarity's rupophobia. (She'd told herself that a few times since coming to Ponyville, and perhaps more often than was strictly necessary.) But uncleanliness was a sort of disorder, and so being dirty would usually grate at her, make her rearrange the majority of the internal checklists until the first entry on just about everything read Bath. But this time, her fur was matted with cave dirt, and it didn't even register as a secondary concern. Because there was another level of filth, one she'd relived through the eyes of another, and that meant the true foulness was inside.
Think like Rainbow. Think like Applejack.
The mission hadn't been the only times for that, of course: there had been the hydra for the former, and -- well, for somepony who'd been as socially limited as Twilight in her first Ponyville moons, there had been very little concept of how to deal with the new world she'd been kicked into. Nothing she knew how to do on instinct, and the lessons only came at the very end. But... there had been role models. The situation involves animals? What would Fluttershy do? Picture Rarity acting to strike verbally while never openly leaving the heart of etiquette, or Pinkie finding the one glint of humor in darkness which would turn looming fears back into protective shadow. Act as she believed they would, think as she considered they might... that was where so many of the lessons came from. The directions which had steered her life.
She had learned to think (or at least pretend she could) as her friends would. Sometimes subconsciously, at others with acknowledgement, occasionally with deliberate intent. But it had been a slow, painstaking road to follow: one where she'd stumbled so many times along the way, a path she was still learning how to navigate and so many times, it felt as if she did little more than steer herself to the edge of a cliff. Because she didn't always get it right. Because she was still learning. Because it was possible that nopony could ever truly think as another would. That all she could do was consult the image she'd built up in her mind, and -- that portrait wasn't the pony. In the end, it was possible that all she'd ever done was pretend.
But in the tunnel...
Twilight hadn't been thinking like her. She'd been thinking as her. Living through those moments, seeing them in the exact same way
(and there had been so many of those moments, not all in chronological order, she'd tried to keep count and then the pain had just)
because while under the effect, Twilight had been her.
She's not a bad pony.
Pinkie had seen it. Applejack had eventually agreed. In time, they'd all come to at least consider it as a possibility. There had been some lurking doubts, fears born of concern for why the Great Work even existed, worries about motivation added to the terror of power uncontrolled
(she pushed it back again)
and there was so much to be afraid of there -- but they'd still kept it in mind: that she might not be a bad pony. And now Twilight knew. She knew her, because she'd been her.
"I killed. My mother. And he loved me anyway."
How long had it been, from her attack against Quiet to when Applejack had found her? A few minutes at most: Twilight was almost sure of that. (Not completely, for in the depths of internal agony, time had become as fluid as the rain.) Just a few minutes of believing herself to be a killer. Of wondering if there was anything which could be done to take it back, some way to make her soul clean again.
In the endless, tortured moments of reliving the memories of another, Twilight had been her. She had existed with that belief as the first thing she'd ever been taught. That she was broken, a living sin whose arrival in the world had been heralded through murder. Something she'd had absolute faith in, stretched across a lifetime...
He told her she was a bad pony. He told her she was a killer. He told us...
What would I do to make up for that? To make it right?
Anything.
The worst agonies were something other than physical.
Scales softly rubbed at her fur. She glanced down.
"What are you thinking about?" her little brother quietly asked. He'd been staying close, looking for signs that she was dropping into another memory. There hadn't been one for some time, and he still hadn't left her side.
Her first instinct was to protect him, and so she went with "The shield I put over Rainbow's manuscript. I lost the feel for it. I know I put enough power in there to last for a while, but I won't know if anything's happening to it. Maybe that's range, or all the -- disruptions, or --"
"-- Twilight." Because he'd grown up at her side. Because he... saw more than she often gave him credit for.
She sighed. "I was thinking about him. All the things he told her. Everything she went through because of it. How it was never love, not the sort of love it should have been, and..." Her eyes briefly closed. "You remember the play, Spike. We all do. And now I don't believe in it any more. Because in that play, Zephyra Hurricane is a character. Who isn't a Bearer, who didn't know the Princess or Luna, just a flapping stock parody taking up airspace over the stage. So maybe there was never a cave, or ponies huddled in the dark, trying to find one last source of warmth before they froze. Or something happened which got distorted into the play, and the only ponies who know the truth never tell it..."
"Zephyra Hurricane. Pegasus. Honesty."
The Princess wasn't Honesty.
"She was real, though," Spike assured her. "You've even seen her mark, up there in the Barding. You heard what he said. It's the constellation of the Commander, it has to be. Star Swirl's mark is the Magician. We know what their marks were."
She didn't want to think about Star Swirl any more.
"I know she was real," Twilight softly replied. "And you're right: I know what her mark was. But I don't know anything about her as a pony. I don't know if that cave was real, or the ice, or the windigos. I just wonder if the windigos are out there, and... if they are, then I don't know why they don't just freeze us. Because it doesn't feel like we've gone anywhere at all."
The little palm pressed slightly harder.
"You're trotting with a unicorn, an earth pony, a pegasus, two hybrids, and a dragon," Spike pointed out. "I think we're doing a little better than we were."
And for the last time that night, she found a smile. But...
For a time within the caves, Twilight's thoughts had been forced into new patterns. Her patterns. And to think and feel as another would -- that could be described as empathy.
They moved through darkness, and empathy was horror.
The memory nodes had run out some time ago. The deactivated resonance bombs took their place.
It was easy to analyze this time, as Doctor Gentle had possessed no concerns about anypony reading his signature: not from the frequent recastings he'd made in order to keep them charged, much less the temporary shutdown he'd recently performed. The latter didn't feel like a minutes-old casting (which didn't mean Twilight was going to start trusting in the restraint, even when adding in the lack of reactivation to slow pursuit): a few hours was more likely. It probably meant at least part of the approach to the conference had been made from underground.
"Can you tell what kind of emotion it is?" Pinkie whispered. (Twilight had still been telling them to step around all of the bombs, just in case.) "You look even more upset than you did. And you were way past upset before. I don't know if there's a word beyond upset which even works now..."
She could. When a spell was cast over and over again, for decades... some of the resonance was right on the surface.
"Shame," Twilight softly replied. "We've had shame, homesickness, self-loathing... this is the emergency passage, Pinkie: I know that now. The way she was supposed to get out if everything went wrong. He showed it to her once: he didn't exactly have a choice." And in doing so, he'd shown Twilight. "And I think he must have been afraid that she'd decide to just use it, because he set up all of these resonance bombs to make sure that if it wasn't a true emergency, something where her own fears would just send her galloping forward no matter what -- she'd turn back. That's why he learned that working. Because he was trying to keep control --"
-- stopped. Physically and vocally. ('Mentally' just kept on going.)
"Still can't pick up on 'em," Applejack carefully projected. "I'm hoping they're inside. On a worked floor, something where there's no chance of finding the pressure. Just know I'm listening -- Twi?" For she'd just noticed the cutoff, and multiple ponies were now coming to a stutter-stop halt.
"He's... all about control, isn't he?" Twilight quietly told them. "He controls things nopony else ever has. Whether foals are born healthy, or if they're born at all. Whether they live or die. Two things happened which he couldn't control, and he's spent all the time since trying to get control back. Obsessively, compulsively --"
"-- you," Rarity firmly stated, "are not him."
Twilight's head turned so quickly as to leave her unaware of the movement until after it had happened. "...what?"
"You have your moments of requiring control," Rarity gently told her. "As I have mine for jealousy, and -- we all have our flaws: let us leave it at that. But you do what you can to moderate them, or give them a safe outlet where nopony else will be hurt. Such as, shall we say -- " and this with a smile "-- frequent reshelvings? It is as we discussed in our cell, Twilight: we recognize, identify, openly discuss -- and so avoid the worst of it. You are not him, and you will not become him." A brief pause. "But if you can use that aspect which you feel is echoed in yourself -- if you can try to predict him through it -- do so."
Fluttershy took a hesitant half-step forward, soaked tail dragging through the dirt. "...you lost control of your life when you came to Ponyville," she softly said. "...what did you do?"
I was confused.
Displaced.
Terrified.
My life was broken and I...
She knew what she had done.
...I'm not him.
She nodded to her friends, looked forward again. "I think I'm starting to recognize this section," she told them, forcing herself forward. Because the memory of being shown even the tiny fraction of corridor which existed outside had been such an important day --
-- her hind left knee almost buckled, she forced the leg to straighten, told it the pain was truly nothing more than memory now --
-- as to warrant its own node. "Which means we're getting close to the door. Everypony, be as quiet as possible. If they're in there..."
...then we still don't have a plan.
Maybe there can't be one.
If they surprised her -- if they scared her...
Pinkie trotted forward, gently rubbed her flank against Twilight's filthy fur. "We'll talk," her friend said. "Maybe we can all find those words."
"And if the out-loud words don't work," Applejack followed up, "Ah've got one more fight in me. She can shout, Twi -- but maybe I can find something interesting to say."
"I've got some flame left," Spike stated. "Maybe it's enough to do something."
"We use what we have," Rarity added. "What we can think of. Whatever there is, we use it."
"I know I got the restraint on him," Rainbow huffed -- paused. "But I'll watch for the silver, just in case. Promise."
"...we're still here, Twilight," Fluttershy quietly finished. "We're all still here..."
And they moved forward.
"That's the door," Twilight whispered. Dull grey discolored by dual fieldlight, rough stone from this side, silent and waiting to be used. Closed, as it had almost always been closed. As it might have remained closed forever, if not for -- everything.
She never tried to get out. Not once, not even when he'd been away for days and she wanted to see Sun more than anything.
Because she was loyal.
Because she hadn't earned it.
Because she loved him.
"It doesn't need a field to open: it couldn't." That hadn't just been for her: a unicorn fleeing through a true emergency passage had to account for the possibility of being countered along the way. "But there's an alarm spell which goes off if it's opened by a stranger from this side." Her corona intensified, lanced forward. "Or there was an alarm spell. Softly, everypony, as softly as you can..."
She had never been there.
I've never been anywhere else.
It should have been completely unfamiliar.
I looked at the same walls day after day after --
-- greys and browns. Sometimes there would be grey-black, just for variety. There was some furniture, but the majority of it had gone unused -- at least when it came to its original purpose. There was very little need for extra benches when the typical occupancy of the area was one, and so most of them had been turned into extra bookshelves.
It wasn't like Quiet's library -- either library -- at least, not in this section. Twilight knew (remembered) that there were books about spells and techniques closer to the bedroom --
my bedroom
her bedroom
-- and that sometimes material had been circulated in and out, likely borrowed from the castle at need. The visitors' benches in this section mostly concerned diplomacy, along with one section on bureaucracy which looked as if it had only been dusted when all of the other options for cleaning ran out.
It was fairly easy to see that part: there were lighting devices along the walls, along with a few mounted into the ceiling. But she'd been bracing herself for the onslaught of normal illumination after so much time in the caves, had warned the others to do the same, and they'd opened the door onto -- twilight, or at least the appropriate light level. Something which also might have been suited to the first stages of dawn. It felt as if dawn might have been more appropriate. They'd been going for hours...
Keeping them running at a lower thaum use rate? Stretching out the charge.
It made everything seem dull, muted the hues of her own fur more than the dirt had already managed. She glanced back, and found everypony shifted towards grey.
There were no decorations on the walls. No little sculptures on the shelves, or knick-knacks brought back by a parent who'd spent so much time traveling --
-- no. He brought her back one thing. Over and over. Those were the colors he brought to her life. Something which never stopped changing.
She slid her hooves along the floor: to lift and plant felt as if it would make too much noise, and knew the others were doing the same. (Spike was on Pinkie's back, to keep claws from scritching on stone.) Listened, rotated her ears, straining --
he might come back any minute, I always have to listen or he'll find me --
-- they aren't my memories. It's just a working. I have to remember that it was just a spell.
I have to remember that it wasn't me.
-- somepony was speaking. She couldn't make out the exact words. Just that the stallion's tones were low, frustrated, and -- in pain.
Up ahead and to the right. She knew the way. (She had never known any other way.) There was a natural bend to that hallway: it had to go around a rather large space, and that was something which would keep them out of sight.
Her tail shifted, signaled the others. Slowly, they moved forward. Passed dull stone under scant light, in a place which Sun had never touched. Not even the memory of Sun, for there were no pictures on the walls.
"-- and we can find more food in the wild zone," were the first distinguishable words. "If all else should fail, there is always grass -- what is that?"
"A. Quilt..."
"Leave it."
"You said. It could be. Weeks. Outside. If it's cold --"
"Leave it."
They all heard fabric drop to the floor.
"Medicine," the stallion tersely said. "We can make fire with magic. A pegasus can light a twig. A unicorn can spin one until friction provides heat. We can stay warm. But there are only so many herbs we could hope to find. Prioritize for medicine, especially as we may need to use it should pursuit come." More of a mutter now. "If Coordinator hadn't tried to dose you... if we could use something now to speed our initial escape..."
Coordinator? Twilight knew he'd been behind the attempt to kill the Bearers, but -- he'd done something to her as well?
We haven't seen him since the end of the conference. I thought he would almost have to go with them, because I'd recognized his voice. But he sent those ponies. And if he found out that failed...
Why hadn't he run?
"Maybe he'd even let me watch. I've never gotten to see a pony take that kind of righteous vengeance before upon taint -- I imagine it would be a treat. Especially after what you did..."
She didn't want that memory. When it came to Coordinator, she had enough of her own.
"It may be weeks," the stallion admitted. "And they may be active ones. So as you cannot take anything at this time, we will need to reserve the medicine for when attacks come."
"...attacks?" she asked, and Twilight heard (felt) her tremble.
"The Princess will alert Canterlot!" he snapped -- and then stopped. Labored breathing echoed through the stone halls.
The backlash. He's hurt.
Good.
"There will be ponies looking for us. The police in every settled zone may be mobilized, with Solar and Lunar Guards added to their forces. If they happen to find us, then we will do whatever is necessary to remain free. We will do the needful. A single dose of medicine, and -- well, I very much doubt they are truly prepared for what they will be facing. And as none of the ponies I named happen to be Bearers..."
He's talking about --
"You're. Talking -- about -- killing them."
"Should it become necessary," the stallion calmly stated, "yes."
"Killing. Ponies --"
"-- yes," he snapped again. "I believe you have some previous experience?"
A sharp inhale, partially cut off by spasm and sob.
"We will move towards a border," he mercilessly continued. "The griffons have a native pony population: it will be easier to scavenge in those lands. Eventually, we will reach the most distant of your patrons. From there, new halls will be granted. We will continue the Great Work: to correct your error, to save the broken. We will work with the foals who are sent to us, and perhaps one of them will succeed where you did not --"
"-- foals."
It had been an exceptionally soft word, especially given all of the razor-edged agony it had been asked to contain.
Not much further...
"Yes. At least three within the first year, I think, given the typical birth rate for the broken. Five to seven would be better. We will require greater numbers for the repetition, as results must now be compared within a group --"
The little gasp had been Pinkie's: she knew that, and that just enough had been choked back.
Stark. Plain. Almost toneless, but for the constant spikes of pain. "-- they could die."
"We will do our best to avoid that," the stallion told her. "When you are done with the food, go into the bathroom, open that cabinet and remove the bottles. Carefully. You are working by mouth, and mandible dexterity has limits --"
"-- but. If they. Don't. If they're. Like. Me. Or -- worse --"
The words were like hooves beating against Twilight's skull, pounding on bone so that another's memories could widen the cracks. "Who else would make your mistake?"
She moved her tail again: left to right, feeling some of the dried dirt flick away. The others began to move.
"But you will be fixed," the stallion said. "They will be fixed. All of this, everything, can still be made right --"
We call out to her and he has a few seconds to prepare. We just come into view and we could scare her. Every move is wrong. Everything we talked about on the way in might not work. Every tactic can fail.
There was no good time to try. There would never be a best time.
Which meant all that remained was now.
She shifted her tail one last time, heard wings flare to their full span and flap, hooves beginning to push off stone --
"But not by you," Twilight stated as she raced into view, Rainbow passing overhead, the burst of flight sending her to the left, the idea was to surround, distribute their forces to cut down on the chance of a single effort reaching them all, Fluttershy was going right, Pinkie following, they were going to create a circle and keep moving but there was still a chance for her to destroy them and everything else, all it took was one moment of fear and a desperate song shouted to the world around them --
-- she saw, with the colors lightly distorted by her own corona's light. Saw her, standing close to an open saddlebag, one she'd apparently been loading. Saw her head jerk up, a tear falling away from purple eyes as the soaked, lightly blue-streaked mane just barely shifted with the movement --
-- blue.
In her earth pony aspect, tail and mane were tan. There was blue there now, just a few strands. And her flanks were distorted, pushed outwards, as if something was trying to emerge.
She saw them, and so many emotions went through her pain-twisted features. One of them was fear. And this time, Twilight saw her trying to pull it back, to take it back, but she had already reacted --
-- and somewhere in a place beyond normal hearing, Twilight felt the last remnants of a distorted note fade into the absorbing soil.
Both groups had been slowed: one by injury, the other in dealing with the memory nodes. Time had passed, enough for her to be phasing out of the earth pony state, with the silver almost at the bottom of the green loop, perhaps moments away from moving to the white. And when the silver was at its peak on any loop, she was truly a pony of that race -- but for the first time, they'd caught her in a place between aspects. A state in which she wasn't enough of any one thing to truly access the magic, and so all that happened was that the room shivered slightly, as if somepony had just knocked over a particularly heavy piece of furniture.
She was helpless.
He, even with the restraint on his forehead, with Twilight able to see the bruising of impact coming up under the fur, was not.
He turned away from the bookcase (he was standing next to the bookcase, the bookcase she knew so well) towards the words, saw her, and she saw silver fly from the base of the restraint, flying everywhere, and it didn't initially occur to her that it was power without focus or direction, power which couldn't do anything. All she saw was what she had feared, that he could and was casting something past that barrier, and so she reacted on instinct, her corona surging, still on defense, intercepting the energy before it could touch any of her friends, the others were recoiling from the display and that gave Twilight a precious split-second of extra time to work with, more distance that silver had to cover, but it meant none of them were focusing on him and he'd tried, she knew he'd tried to attack them, that the display hadn't been meant as a mere distraction. But distraction was all he'd accomplished, and he used that. A wild glance around, seeing that even dodging, trying to get away from his field, they were still moving into a partial circle, trying to surround, and so he turned towards the bookcase, kicking off from the floor with a force that had no regard for what would happen on the other end, using every bit of physical strength he had --
-- the bookcase fell over. It nearly hit his daughter: he didn't notice, wouldn't even glance at her, simply screamed from the pain of the impact against his shoulder and left foreleg, brought the right forehoof up to tap at the wall and it swung inwards, he yelled something and moved into the passage --
-- she looked at them. There was a single heartbeat when she looked at them.
But then she followed.
Twilight kept her corona going, tried to reach out, surround the fleeing form -- but that was when more silver fountained towards them and she was moving, she was countering while calling to everypony to move, because that passage only went to one place and he had just trapped himself, trapped both of them, she knew that because she'd been there and --
-- she was the first into the hidden way. (It wasn't the longest of trots. It was easy to slip in and out, and once you learned to do it quickly...) She just barely saw him, beyond the larger body of his daughter. Saw how the other door had been opened, and the glow of gold which blocked the way.
She saw his head dip down. His teeth nipping at his garment, pulling it away from his body until something fell out. Something roughly rectangular, where the color phased from red to blue before it hit the ground.
She saw his hoof pushing on the chaos pearl, pressing it against the gold, and she had just time to recognize the insanity of it before most of the scattered silver hit it.
It wasn't the same kind of eruption: it couldn't be, not with a single pearl. But he'd risked everything on releasing the energy of change: that sheer random chance would make the result into something he needed instead of simply altering his form into that of a corpse. And in that madness, he found exactly what he'd desired.
The gold flickered. Shimmered. Receded, the lower portion of the dome shifting inwards by about a body length. And for a single moment, one in which her friends had yet to reach her and she was still trying to block anything heading towards them, winked out.
It didn't completely vanish. There was a hole, just large enough for a pony to go through. He went through it. Shouted (it felt so strange, hearing him shout) and she went in after him, gasped in pain as her shoulders and hips scraped against the sides, stumbled and fell as she went through, Twilight was rushing forward and then the shield closed in front of her snout.
She wanted to scream. Send waves of rage beating against the world, loathing the luck which had let him get just a little bit farther ahead. But she didn't, because she knew where they were.
Twilight trotted forward, found that the shield hadn't quite sprung back into the full dome. It was -- indented, leaving enough room for her to stand, and for everypony else to come in behind her, lined up along its surface. Above them, the energy contacted the stone, maintained the seal -- but they had an alcove.
Gold in front of them, just translucent enough to give them some idea of the room's contents (while horribly distorting the details) while watching its occupants. Gold above them -- but to go further up than that...
She was examining the shield, one which felt like nothing she'd ever felt before. Off, that was expected -- but there was more than that. It was as if there was something intangible about the solid construct, something she could almost sense but it kept slipping away from her: she could press it between her hooves and it would simply pass through.
And beyond that, something Other...
That was the gold. But the fire had burned away the flooring of the lost estate because the heat would have been most concentrated directly above this, and so the dome was the truest roof they had. Above that, color distorted by the closer spell, was what might have once been a pinkish field, one much lighter than her own hue, and the first time she'd seen that shield, it had been flickering a bit at the peak and edges. Substandard. Now it was doing much more than merely flickering. It was coming apart. Repeated impacts could weaken any shield, and with this one...
It was the storm. The sheer force of the rain, beating against a shield which Shining might still be laughing at, had been more than the fading construct could bear. There was nothing more than an uneven lattice now, irregular and riddled with holes and dying. The storm had pounded through, and so rain impacted against the golden dome, pooled where the curve began to slant away from the wall. Had been doing so for hours.
It was threatening to cover the peak. It distorted the tiny portion of Moon's light which had reached past the storm, made the flashes of lightning ripple and waver. It was like being underwater.
It was like drowning.
There were a few lighting devices inside the dome, ones which glowed with a stronger intensity than anything in her rooms. But for the most part, the illumination came from the shield. Nothing more.
He looked at her, from the interior of the dome. (She was just getting up, struggling to stand on hooves which felt as if they would split.) Twilight looked at him, on the other side of the barrier. Distorted by gold, and so much else.
This ends now.
She heard the others catching up, instantly chose Rainbow and Applejack to go with her, plus Spike for something truly unexpected. Looked back, registered exactly where they were, moved to be as close as possible to all three, and her corona flared.
She took them between. A short-range teleport, into the dome --
-- reappeared exactly where they'd been, with a small crackle of quavering gold light and the faint scent of rust.
No...
Her corona flared again, went double, with her field blasting against the shield. Nothing happened.
And Doctor Gentle, whose eyes had gone wide with fear when he'd recognized the initial working -- chuckled.
"You've studied magic, Princess," he reminded her. And his voice was somewhat distorted by the shield -- but it was also calm again, measured, making simple statements for the benefit of the audience. Lecturing. "She told me something about your previous encounters. Under normal circumstances, the two of you are just about a match for strength, yes? At least when she's in her best state."
(She was about a body length away from him. Next to something where wooden tripod legs just barely peeked out from the lower edge of a drapecloth. Looking around at everything, eyes wide with shock and fear. Trembling.)
"But this," he went on, "was created during a very special moment. The instant when a pony is stronger in their magic than they may ever be again. During the arrival of her mark, during the True Surge. It was... something to see. It's a pity you didn't witness it --"
Twilight felt her lips twist into a snarl.
I did see it. I felt it. The twisting you made from what should have been the best moment of her life, the grotesquerie --
-- but he just kept talking. "-- but you can see the results. This is beyond you, isn't it? I don't think you can break this." Thoughtfully, "I admit, I'm curious to know what you accomplished when your own mark came --"
She remembered. And then she pushed it back.
"-- shut up."
He shook his head, slowly. She noticed the way he seemed to be having trouble focusing on her. The labored breathing.
"Not quite the courtly etiquette which a Princess should display," he calmly said. "We spent moons in review. Even with all your time in the palace, it would seem you spent, at most, five minutes."
Rainbow's words came from a degree of altitude: she was hovering slightly above the floor, mostly because there was room to hover in. "You're done," she snarled. "You are so finished, they're going to need a whole new dictionary just to write down the definition of how done you are --"
"-- am I?" he calmly asked. "How so? Because from this side, it appears that in her desire to protect this place as thoroughly as possible, she created a lockdown effect. The Princess can't teleport in, and none of you can physically break through."
"You can't get out," Twilight half-hissed. "This was the only working door. You blocked all the others, permanently. I don't think you can undo that from the inside. You also don't have a lot of pearls left, if you've got any. And even if you tried the same thing again and got lucky twice, we've got the numbers. We can cover every exit."
He was staring at her.
"How could you possibly know about blocked exits?" A quick, angry glance at her. "Did she -- "
"-- let's call it a mapping spell," Twilight broke in. "You'll believe that before anything else. You're trapped."
She was shaking faster now. Her gaze moved to Twilight. To Pinkie, and then Fluttershy. The drapecloth. Back to him.
"I," Gentle Arrival said, "simply have to be patient. You can't break this shield, Princess, or the lockdown: if you believed you could, you would still be trying. Instead, you stopped. And that means all we require is a few hours. Long enough for her to become a unicorn. And then we depart. She can teleport, as can I. We find each other after emerging from between, or head to the same place. Who knows? Perhaps she can even escort me. We have yet to test..."
He was smiling.
"You can't get help from Trotter's Falls," he told them. "Your closest aid is gallops away, with no means of contacting them. You can't get through. All you can do -- is watch. So, as we have some time --" his volume dropped "-- why do you hate foals so much as to see them go through their lives broken?"
She keeps looking at the draping. He won't.
Sun and Moon, where she's standing...
Rarity had also seen it, and so she stepped forward, shaking her head to clear the sodden manefall away from her face.
"It may interest you to know," she said, "that we were told to find the beginning. I am considering telling you who said that -- but as you noted, we seem to have some time. So for now, Gentle Arrival, let me ask you something --"
"-- if I had wished to hear from a weakling," the stallion steadily interjected, "I would have let Coordinator --"
"-- when does something truly begin? Because to me, there is a choice of options, a rather extensive one. Was it when you met Primatura?"
Orange eyes narrowed. Ones which were slowly phasing towards deepest purple widened.
"You have no right to speak of --"
"-- or perhaps the night of conception. The first date: that would seem to be an option. Or, as false beliefs are passed down across the generations, the moment a parent whispered hate into your ears." And with rising volume, cutting him off before he could ever speak, "We have not found the beginning, because a single touchstone may not exist. We have merely found one of them. But now we will use it -- to reach the end."
"You can come with us." Pinkie, because those words had to be Pinkie's. "You know that. Because he doesn't love you, does he? I don't think he ever did. Maybe there was a moment before he saw you didn't have a horn. Moons while he was waiting for you --"
"-- Pinkie." And now the stallion's voice was choked. "Pinkie, you don't understand --"
"-- but he's never loved you. Not..." And now the baker was beginning to tremble. "...for yourself. There was always something else, wasn't there? Something he didn't say, something I think you heard him not saying every day --"
The next word came across as an order. "-- Pinkamena."
A bright pink forehoof kicked the shield, and Twilight just barely noticed the tiny flicker. "-- you don't love her! Nopony would ever do this to somepony they loved! You love a ghost, and ghosts aren't real! You love something you want, not somepony you have! You had a gift, one last gift and then it was two, but you rejected her, you never gave her a chance to be herself -- "
"-- I. Failed."
It was the sound of pain. It was the voice of agony. It also meant she was talking.
"He failed!" Twilight shouted. "He found out things nopony had known for centuries, and all that let him do was ignore everything real! To ignore you, to do everything he could to block you off from who you are!" Her corona was surging, the borders beginning to spike from rage. "And he spent years trying, and he failed! You found yourself anyway! The real --"
Silver surged at the base of the restraint, and it stopped her.
"You don't understand, Princess," the stallion furiously stated. "I shared my pain with you, the pain for all who must suffer the broken, and still you do not --"
"-- how much pain were Quiet's parents in?" It was an oddly soft question. "When they killed his sister, I mean -- oh, sorry: sent her on. Did they regret her death? Or were they just satisfied, because they were taking righteous vengeance upon taint?"
She was shaking all the faster now. Trembling as her muscles visibly spasmed, vibrating as if her entire body might come apart.
The stallion was silent for a few seconds.
"So you spoke with him."
Twilight nodded.
"And still," he softly continued, "knowing what the emergence of a broken foal cost him -- still, you oppose me. I do not know what happened to that foal, Princess. I inquired on his behalf, at least among the staff. Disposal of the matter was given to a servant, and that one left her post shortly before I learned of the incident. And to speak directly to his parents -- no. That would breach all etiquette. Foals are sent on, and foals will continue to be sent on, until the day the broken can be fixed -- "
"...you're sick," and now Fluttershy was weeping. "Doctor Gentle, you're sick. I think -- you've been sick for a long time. Please, let us help..."
"You," he stated, "are one of mine."
Fluttershy hesitated. Nodded.
And in a burst of anger, "Then why don't you act like it? Talk to them! Make them believe! You owe me your life, Fluttershy! She owes me her life, she owes me a debt for Primatura's death and she has spent her lifetime trying to pay it! Why can't you give me five minutes, just five minutes of reason --"
There might have been more, but that was when Fluttershy, softly sobbing, turned away. Those outside the shield moved to face their friend.
"I could search the rooms for spell notation scrolls," Spike whispered. "Try to send for help. But I don't think she'd have any. Not even for practice, not as an earth pony, because she couldn't have practiced the feel. He probably would have just given her paper. And without the right ink..."
Applejack's voice was even softer. "Can't tunnel up from underneath. They're on rock, Twi: enough that I don't think I can break it. And the base is worked stone. It doesn't always answer the same way, if it answers at all."
"And we can't go far enough to get help," Twilight finished. "Rainbow can't move fast enough in this storm, not to reach anypony we know might try to help. I don't have a relay system of safe arrival points..."
A standoff, and a temporary one. Time would pass. She would pass through the pegasus state. Then the horn would appear: first as a protrusion under the skin, then -- did it emerge in blood? Did the skin break around it, and the announcement of their approaching escape would be made in a new gout of liquid, leaving behind --
-- Twilight turned to face the shield. The stallion waiting patiently within.
She kept looking at the drapecloth. Over and over, with eyes flickering to so much else as her flanks bulged, with the first outline of a wingtip starting to make itself known.
"You think I can't break this," Twilight told him.
He smiled.
I don't think I can...
"Let's find out."
Her corona surged. Went through the partial and single stages before they could truly be registered, was at the double within heartbeats, and she kept pushing, moving towards committing everything she had, everything she would ever have, every last part of her --
-- he took a step back. He couldn't help it. But it just gave him a slightly more distant vantage point to watch as her field pounded against gold, tried to find any weakness, attempted to counter, and nothing was happening, she was pushing harder and harder, all four knees were starting to feel weak and she was attacking a solid which would not give and something intangible which she couldn't touch, something she could almost feel, she knew it was there by the way it insisted on not yielding to her --
-- she made this. While she was changing, over and over. Made it to protect everything. To keep out the fire.
She shifted heat.
This isn't one shield.
"Rainbow!" It was a shout. "Whatever a pegasus does to counter something, unweave, whatever the word is, I need you to do it now!"
The weather coordinator moved. Did so without thinking, on instinct, shifted the hover until it was right on top of the shield, legs and wings frantically shifting as Twilight's corona intensified, became blinding white at the base, went into the full triple...
I am one moment of sharp contact away from death.
It was an oddly calm thought. She had just committed every tenth-bit of power she personally possessed until success or collapse, and collapse was the kinder option. And it still might not be enough --
-- but hers wasn't the only power available.
"Rarity! Please! Everything you can give me!"
And soft blue erupted, forced itself against the shield, and Twilight could just see the look of concentration on Rarity's face, the utter focus, and the stallion within was pulling back all the more because now the shield was starting to ripple, the gold shifting in waves, but it was holding, it was still holding --
-- created while she was changing --
There was only one thing to say now.
"Applejack! Hit it!"
It was, in a way, a lie of omission.
The orange body spun, kicked, and powerful hooves repeatedly pounded the shield. But Twilight almost felt as if she'd just heard a distant note, and knew her friend had understood, was searching for a debate, an argument, a countersong which would undo whatever portion of earth pony magic had gone into the shield's creation. And it was having an effect, the rippling was getting faster than ever, but it still wasn't enough --
-- the pearls.
That's what let the essence change her. Part of that power is still in her.
The shield had responded to the pearl. And then it had flickered --
-- part of that power is in us.
"Pinkie! Fluttershy! Do it!"
And now they were kicking, flapping, staring, bringing everything they had to bear against it, the ripples were still speeding up, they were drowning but they were fighting for air from below, they would not stop fighting and the stallion was still pulling back, Twilight saw the fear in his eyes at the same time she felt her front knees threatening to buckle...
Hours. Hours of fighting, of pain and confusion and having their world torn apart. She was giving everything she had to give. She just didn't seem to have that much left. None of them did. And what remained was almost enough, it felt as if they were on the border, that something had to give and it just might be all six of them --
-- it's not six. It was never six.
It's seven.
"Spike! It's a heat shield! Give it the test of its life!"
He moved quickly, got to the absolute edge of the alcove, pursed his lips and sent a narrow jet into the gold. Kept it up, maintained the flow, Twilight was starting to feel the temperature rise as sweat rose from her skin, as froth started to appear on all of them, they were reaching their limits and
the gold directly in front of Fluttershy was becoming -- pale. (She could barely see it, between the coronas, the fire, the battle to keep the white away from her eyes.) The hue at the edge of Spike's flame was intensifying. The shield was diverting power to the area which the effect sensed as being the most at risk. It meant pulling thaums away from other portions, and Fluttershy's section faded, thinned --
-- there was a tiny hole. Just large enough to put a pupil up against.
It was a start.
"Keep going!" Twilight shouted, and immediately regretted it. She didn't have enough strength left for a shout. "We're doing it -- !"
They would get through. There was a moment when she knew it.
So did he.
He turned, fear transmuting into rage as he spun to face her, injured hind leg dragging, silver sparking from the base of the restraint.
"Change! Change into a unicorn, now! Get this off me, then take us out of here!"
Her eyes were frantic. Her hooves skidded against stone as her legs shifted, pain and fear combining to form something of a dance. "I... I can't, I -- it's two -- I can't --"
He reared back, and nearly collapsed: the injured leg would not take his weight in that pose, not for long. But all he seemed to care about was roaring directly into her face.
"NOW!"
And she tried.
She tried, because she loved him.
The bulges under the skin became more prominent, fur seemed to thin, blue thickened within her mane and
she collapsed.
Collapsed, screaming in pain, on top of the stain which had never been fully removed from the floor. Writhing, spasming, kicking out in all directions, screaming and screaming and screaming and
he didn't care.
Perhaps it was only the second time he'd said the words (at least in front of her), and the first as a unit. Vocalized something which had always lurked somewhere in what should have been his heart. Because in a small way, Twilight knew him, and so she understood why it happened, the exact reaction. There were ways in which he and Coordinator were very much alike. It expressed itself in different ways -- but in the end, it was very much about control. In Twilight's case, she had been sent into Ponyville, her life had changed, and ultimately, she'd just -- gone along for the ride.
But here, control had broken. And so had the pony.
"You! Useless! CLOD!"
The kicking began.
Twilight just barely heard Pinkie's scream over her cries, tried to push, tried to keep going, but she couldn't divert any portion of her strength through the hole when doing so might mean it would close, even redirecting Rarity's power might destroy the effort and Spike's knees had just hit the floor and he was trying, but he barely had any flame left, they were reaching their limits and the stallion was kicking her over and over and she just took it with eyes squeezed shut, she didn't resist him and the screaming went on and on, the final expression of the agony which had always been there, rendered into physical form by chaos and essence and something which had never been love. Screamed as silver surged at the base of the restraint, seemed to coalesce, silver without sparkles moving towards her in fits and starts. Screamed as if she was about to die, and screamed as if that death was all she could ever wish for.
There was nothing Twilight could do to stop it. There was nothing any of them could do. They'd used everything --
-- everything except the very last thing. That which Twilight hadn't truly thought about for days, because it meant thinking about him. The only thing...
"Fluttershy!"
Who understood.
A tiny blue bubble appeared at the nape of the caretaker's neck. Detached, floated forward.
And then it all went wrong.
Twilight had expected it to contact the shield. To make the barrier between them go away, give them free passage to stop the beating. Instead, it passed through the tiny hole, seeming to drift through the air like the most fragile soap film, moving towards --
-- no.
She'd thought Fluttershy would have understood what she'd meant. But that wasn't what was happening. They were all nearly out of strength, they had failed to truly break the shield on their own, there was a mare who was in pain, who would always be in pain, who might survive the beating and still go with him and spend a lifetime in agony beyond cure and
Fluttershy would leave no poor thing to suffer.
Unnoticed by the stallion, tracked only by the terrified gazes of six others, the bubble touched her.
It stops.
Everything stops.
It's all she could have asked for. Everything she could wish for, the last desperate plea to arise from the depths of her failure. An ending.
But... there's something left. Something which is aware of that ending.
Is this the shadowlands?
She opens her eyes (for it seems as if she has them to open) and...
...there are memories. Memories cover walls made of shade. They are memories of ponies she's never seen. They move. They shift about within the borders. They turn to look at her, and their regard is an oddly peaceful one. It is the attention of shadow, and it brings nothing more than a strange sort of feeling, something which could almost be comfort...
And then she hears hooves.
She turns, and white forelegs (not quite the proper hue, white seen through shadow) have hooked themselves over the edge of a memory. Unseen hind legs kick, and a body tumbles out, falls to something which isn't so much a floor as the concept of one.
The mare struggles for a moment, as she approaches a pony who does not know of the Great Work, but the mare is the only other pony in this strange place and she looks --
-- she gets up.
They look at each other. And the mare's eyes slowly close as those shaded white forelegs stumble forward while she can't move, for there is nothing in her still capable of movement. There is only fear, and self-loathing, and the knowledge that even at the end of all things, she will be confronted with her sin.
The mare reaches her. Opens dark purple eyes, purple shading towards black, looking up. And then the mare is looking down at her (and it feels like a natural thing). Speaks words of pain and sorrow.
"What has he done to you?"
And with phantom tears flowing from eyes of shadow, she offers a nuzzle.
The nuzzle meant for family.
The bubble vanished.
She was still there.
He hadn't noticed, not any of it. He didn't see the confusion on the other side of the shield, didn't spot Rainbow's abrupt landing or an exhausted Rarity starting to collapse, much less the sealing of the tiny hole. He just kicked her again, and her eyes opened and her legs moved and then there was a pegasus on the floor.
She twisted her body away from the next kick, flared out her wings, used a single hard flap to get herself up and before the stallion could react, could even begin to understand what was happening, those wings flapped again, doing so at the exact moment Fluttershy spoke. Words he would never hear, the only words which mattered.
"...I took her pain away..."
And nearly all of the air inside the dome blasted into him.
The force took him off his hooves, sent him into the shield, right flank making hard contact, and he fell to the floor in front of Applejack, tried to look up, focused everything he had left on whatever had attacked him, silver streamed and the unicorn's field blazed gold and took his effort apart, surrounded the restraint as she raced up to him, gold sundering metal until she yanked it off to expose a blazing double corona and in the moment before he realized he'd been freed, the earth pony's hoof crashed into his horn.
Sparkleless silver went backwards. Went into him. And there was one last scream.
She looked at his fallen form for a few seconds. Looking down, as they all were, with Applejack trying to prop Rarity up and Pinkie giving Spike something to cling to, while Twilight's corona flickered, dropped, and finally winked out. Looked down at him, as her tears silently pattered into graying fur, watching his ribs as they slowly shifted.
After a few seconds, she looked up. Her features tightened with concentration, and Applejack winced at a too-loud sound which could only be heard by the soul. It was followed by the pegasus flapping her wings, and then the unicorn took most of the shield apart. Leaving just enough to protect everything within from the storm.
Slowly, they crossed what had been the barrier. Approached, with Fluttershy as the first to reach her.
"...you're breathing too hard. It's an effort, isn't it? To change that fast. You have to rest..."
The unicorn shook her head. Colors shifted, and then the earth pony was back.
"I..." Stopped. Closed her eyes, just for a second. Looked down again once they'd opened, and then glanced backwards. Gestured with her left forehoof, then began to steadily move towards the stain. Towards what had been placed next to it, and they followed.
Her neck arced. Teeth nipped at the cloth, and it fell away.
"I -- just..." Her eyes closed again, and she took a slow breath. "At first, I just wanted to imagine her. Because I thought I took her away from him, so I -- asked him what she'd looked like. Every detail, for years and years, so I could picture her in my head. But then I thought -- I could give him a memory. His memory."
They all looked at the masterwork which was the painting, and the beautiful unicorn mare who smiled at them from within. A smile which felt as if it radiated something very much like love. A radiance to spend a lifetime basking in.
"But it isn't her," she softly finished. "It's just how he thinks of her, added to how I wanted her to look. I... know that now. It's close, I came close... but this isn't her." More tears fell. "I'll -- have to make a new..."
Shaking again, and the trembling stopped as Pinkie pressed against her.
"How many of these did you make?" Rarity breathed. "Some are from your mother, I know, but you had to practice..."
"There's one for every pony who came to teach me," the earth pony told them. "They're -- hidden. Behind hers, and under them..." A foreleg gestured.
Twilight had just enough strength to levitate a few things out of the way, and no more.
Pinkie's attention focused. "I know that pony! He was at the party! And -- Spike, do you think you could move the next one? If you can still -- thanks. Sorry -- okay, I don't know that one. But she was hanging out near the bar! And -- no, just sit down, Spike, it's been a long night..."
Rainbow was now inspecting the fallen stallion. "Um -- I kind of hate to break in here --" and for once, there was an actual note of regret "-- but what do we do with him? He's gonna wake up eventually, and now we know the restraint won't work."
"I don't know," Twilight replied, forcing herself to move in that direction. (She could barely move. Each leg seemed to weigh twenty bales. Her tail added another forty and given that, she didn't want to think about how Fluttershy was feeling.) "I don't know what we do now..."
The paw softly touched her shoulder.
"As the mission is over," the draconequus said as the first hints of dawnlight touched the dome, while gasps sounded and the earth pony froze at the sight of an entity she'd only seen in pictures, "we leave."
The talons snapped against each other, and they were in the palace.
What the bleeding Hell now?
At long last, the resolution begins. Without the pain of changing, She is certainly a force to be reckoned with. Well done, Fluttershy. And now, hopefully Discord can help the team wrap things up.
...finally.
Now for the recap, and to pick up the pieces...
*slow clap*
Oh my god,
Wow.
All that great subversions of my expectations!
Everyone lives! Well, except Coordinator... And possibly Quiet... What I mean is that what I thought were going to be deaths, weren't!
And everyone participates at the end! So nice! ... I guess Discord was notified when his gift was used!
If Trixie is going to Trotter's Falls, I wonder if she'll get a notice before then, or arrive and find something.
----
Typo:
"memory started to inflict it burden of pain" > memory started to inflict it's burden of pain
EDIT: Whoops, you got it right. "its".
YES!!! I was hoping SO MUCH that Fluttershy would use the Unmaking exactly that way! Wonderful!
and now they have a way to find the ponys that were part of the great work, it might not be all of them, but it’s a start.
It did not went as I was thinking it would. She choose the pain to erase when almost everyone thought it was going to be the cutie mark.
This is a master stroke. Its perfect in it own way and so satisfiying. It was almost as if Discord knew what was going to happen. Or he had faith in Fluttershy.
And MAN was it satisfying to see her curb stomp him like he little shit he is. But its not over, oh no, RETRIBUTION is comming and its going to be awsome. I hope he goes in Tartarus to suffer for a looooooooong time.
Whoa, that was intense.
I suspect that any future missions will never be just six, but always seven.
Epic, just fantastic work.
Well, taking away her pain was one option. I thought they'd simply reverse the event that causes her to shift, leaving her back to her original form, Earth Pony.
Didn't exactly see this coming, though others did
You've got, what, 1 or 2 more chapters?
https://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=lyrics+long+and+winding+road&&view=detail&mid=68D7909D3F803A5A655B68D7909D3F803A5A655B&&FORM=VRDGAR
This was amazing.
I love your work Estee, it's always a pleasure to see you've updated.
9255041
There are ways to make a pony talk. They will talk, if only to save their own skin.
That. That was... quite the epic.
I was not expecting Her to retain her power of transformation and alicorn level might
Hoo boy so much is going to need to be done for Her she needs therapy and training in that order.
It's going to take a small army of specialists to give Her everything she needs. So that explains why we haven't seen her in any of the post Triptych stories. She needs to be in a secure location with ponies the Princesses can trust absolutely. Alas Ponyville only qualifies for the second.
9254977 Hell ain't bleeding; it done froze over, son!
9255098
Imagine what kind of thinking spots Vanilla Bear will get up to after the first set of examinations.
9255098
It is not alicorn might. She may be able to use alicorn levels of power in one pony type but not all at once. The only reason twilight could not beat her was because she had no training in earth pony or pegasus powers. The princesses would have crushed her.
She is not an alicorn but really just has the ability to be a strong unicorn, pegaus or eath pony.
Also did fluttershy stop her from feeling all pain. That is still a problem.
Also she is more of a chimera made by discord than an alicorn.
At the end of all struggle, Fluttershy does what she always has. And ye gods, Estee. When you make a villain...
So. I never actually sat down and typed this out.
I have often wondered what exactly discords plan was here.
I mulled over it for a little bit and reached a baseless conclusion that I will now share with you all.
I think Discord wanted to see if Fluttershy and her friends would practice what they preach.
In my mind I imagine Fluttershy telling things like "killing ponies is wrong", and going on to explain all of the reasons why. Discord believes her, but is skeptical. Ponies kill each other all the time after all!
So he was given a mission. A lovely mission. He takes it as an opportunity.
He could go, and have some more fun for a short time, or he could tell the sisters to do it themselves, and Celestia would kill or mind wipe everyone involved like the last time it happened.
So he doesn't tell Celestia what he found, but demands the main 6 go deal with it. Since both Celestia and himself surpressed this in the past, and it just came right back.
"Let's see if the main 6 can manage something dreadfully inventive and clever."
So he gives them a teeny weeny bit of help and sends them on their way.
I think he knew most of what would happen here. I think he knew how much it would hurt all of them. I do not think he cared about them being hurt at all.
I think he wanted to see if they would stick to the much lauded "morals" when put through hell.
And... Think they did. So kudos Estee. I like your world's mane six. Especially together.
Let's see if you can make me like discord after he pulled this shit.
Wow just... wow. So much growth in this story, growth and loss.
Part of me things Discord’s whole plan was to help his ‘child’ or even children plural seeing as how many lives have been touched by the chaos pearls.
My theory is having barely learned about friendship that Discord just didn’t know how to help.
And now, we head towards the resolution of this story. We can start by giving Her a name.
That was an experience. An amazing one. So much left that I don't understand though...
Congratu-pony-lations everyone. Especially Estee. It's amazing the work you can do despite stressful times
One of the payoffs of a story is watching a villain who thinks they have control over everything lose control. To see what they are like in their most raw vulnerable moment when the cookie crumbles.
This story had a good one. And it managed it with only three words.
I look forward to Gentle's day in Court.
Damn you really had me going with that short but poignant middle segment. Estee you're a god damn great writer. The twists executed here were set up excellently and it's been a joy seeing the sweet payoff finally.
I don't even have to mention how fantastic and satisfying it is to read your full cast of mane six interacting with each other. The way you have developed them so well both in how they play off each other and exist as individuals is nothing short of some of the best group dynamics I've ever read. Her keeping her transformation abilities (and therefore a fairly power-breaking version of each race), I didn't expect. Wonder how that will play out post-game.
Don't be afraid of the next chapters, get as excited as we are to see what you'll come up with. I was about to be really fucked up over how she died without ever getting a name, but you came back from that. Great misdirect with Fluttershy too.
And don't feel like you need to sprint and rush through events now that we're getting closer to the ending. Everyone that's stuck around this long is more than willing to let the ending have the room it needs to breathe. To stick the landing.
Thank you for writing this and finding the strength. I forgot to say that on last chapter's comment, but I meant to.
9255049
If anyone would be an element of harmony, it'd be her. It's even partially (flimsily) justifiable.
9255334
Actually, I was referring to Spike. He hasn’t always gone along on missions. To me, this chapter proves the Bearers need their Protector more than ever before. I’d say that during the attack on the shield he was invaluable. (I’d hate to think what might have happened if he hadn’t been with them during the events of Goosed.)
I'm glad that you were able to write, what with everything else going on. (And how did I miss TWO chapters?)
I had guessed that the bubble was going to remove either the pain or the talent. However, the payoff is in how it is used to do it, and boy did it pay off big time here. That was a very well written scene. As was the scene reducing the shield.
So, did discord teleport seven, or nine ponies?
9255363
You're right. The wordplay was too hard for me to pass up though. Estee's done more for the Spike cause than any episode sure has. Their's is the only 'verse I've seen that really tries to utilize him to his fullest potential and make him feel like part of the mane six, not just discard him because he's not interesting enough.
My, another one? I hope that writing is helpful, or at least neutral, for you, Estee, though I am glad you're able to do it.
"But she'd had been bracing"
"But she'd been bracing"?
...Well. Quite a chapter, again, and the story begins to reach its close. I'm tired and need to be getting to bed now, but I don't regret making time to read this here. :)
https://giphy.com/gifs/slow-clap-citizen-kane-GQnsaAWZ8ty00
Huh. After everything they'd learned last chapter, my guess for this one had been "Criticism."
And here I thought the ominous proclamations were over after the jailbreak. More fool I.
...Oh. Or it could just mean that we've well and truly reached the endgame.
Gentle's control fraying with the shield, the bubble of nothing put to its best use, the shadowed reprise of Twilight's ascension... This is a brilliant culmination of everything that came before. There are still some loose ends to tie together—Trixie's going to be rightfully peeved when she gets to Trotter's Falls, to say nothing of Cadence's letter or what they'll do with father and daughter both—but the mission is complete. Exquisite work. Sorry as I am to see such a sweeping story end, I'm still looking forward to the conclusion.
A resolution! I genuinely expected it to take longer for one to come. I'm happy though.
It's really satisfying that ultimately, it's her who delivers the final beatdown on Gentle. It feels right, for her to do that. She could never beat him enough for what he's done to her, but there's some tiny amount of justice still in the thought that after all those years of abuse, she got to fight back a little. I can't wait to hear about what his ultimate fate will be. I wonder if he'll ever be able to understand the depth of his own cruelty. Probably not. He never ended up seeing the painting, did he? What would he have thought of it? If he saw that his daughter inherited Primatura's talent for art, would it be enough to make him see that her heritage was already expressing itself? Probably not...
I also like the scene between her and Primatura. Did they really meet at the border of the shadowlands, or was it all in her head? I have to say I like both interpretations. The former would mean that she finally got a measure of love and forgiveness she deserved so much, but the latter would mean that she forgave herself. Both are beautiful in a way.
That the transformation power was preserved was unexpected. I also wondered if Fluttershy wouldn't take that/the mark away rather than just the pain. Like this... she's very versatile, but it also means she'll never have the mark and associated powers of her true talent, doesn't it? That's a little bittersweet...
It will be interesting to see how things will proceed from this point onwards, and how much of it we will get to read about. Her recovery, Discord's reaction to how the mission turned out, Celestia and Luna's reaction to her attempted ascendance and... everything else really, Cadance's letter, will the other Hybrids be told about their status, if the hybridisation will perpetuate itself in the next generation, the question of what will be done (if anything) about the secret, how the mane six will recover. A lot of that will be shown in hints and glimpses at best, I suspect. Still interesting.
I've been following this story for so long that seeing it end will make me both happy and sad. It's my favourite work in this fandom. I've been following it for years and years so to imagine it finished is strange. But in a good way. I know how hard it is to maintain the effort on writing such a long story for such a long time, and I know how amazing it can feel to pull through and finally finish it. You can be really proud of yourself. In spite of all the hardships you faced, you did it - you're almost there now. And you created something amazing that a lot of people ended up loving.
You'll probably need a break after all of that, but... I'm already looking forwards to what you'll write next
Using the pearl for that; I didn't see that coming. Bravo.
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It says a lot about what kind of pony she is that she only used just enough force to incapacitate Gentle, no more. She stopped him but sought no vengeance.
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Yeah, that's very true. It's as Twilight thinks at the beginning of this chapter; she's a good pony. Kind of amazing considering the upbringing...
Loved every chapter of this. I can't wait to read it all over again when it's complete.
So on a scale of 'Tartarus' to 'shot to the MOOOOOOOOOOOOON,' how screwed is Gentle Arrival right now?
She’s going to need a name. My first thought was Spectrum, both for the painting and her physical nature. Palette conveys the same idea. However, upon reflection I suspect that Estee has had Triptych picked out since the start.
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Thinking about Gentle the relevant considerations can be broken up into pragmatic and moral points.
Pragmatic points:
His acts were a serious threat to the safety and stability of Equestria as a whole.
He is an unrepentant fanatic who will just pick up where he left off if given the chance.
A conventional prison cannot hold him.
His knowledge of pony magical essence is potentially revolutionary. The magical and medical breakthroughs he could facilitate are beyond counting.
Moral Points:
His acts were reprehensible. Experimenting on pregnant mares and their unborn foals without consent is pretty up there on the scale of vileness. Also it's pretty clear he didn't kill anypony (that we know of) more through dumb luck than anything else. He also wouldn't have stopped even if he had.
Any concessions he would require to provide his knowledge are probably unacceptable to the Mane 6.
The measures that could contain him are morally questionable at best or effectively the same as killing him. For example Discord removing his horn or turning him to stone
My opinion all things considered is that he presents more potential dangers than benefits and the best way to deal with him is a quick, clean and painless as possible execution.
9256003 Quick and clean, yes. Painless, not so much. He deserves to suffer some for all the pain he's inflicted on not just her, but all the ponies he's experimented on and all the ponies his experiments affected.
As for the practical aspects, I think they should at least try to get everything he knows. Horn removal would probably be necessary, and they'll need to figure out how to get him to talk (not torture, obviously: it's excessive and doesn't even work). Ultimately, I have no idea how they'd go about that, if they'd even be willing to put pragmatism above morality.
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It's been my theory since figuring out the gist of what's going on that Discord handed over the reigns to the main cast because he doesn't trust himself to do it correctly:
From the monologues from his perspective, we're treated to the knowledge that he has begun to develop empathy - enough to know something is wrong - but he's still very new at it. He could have gone in and twisted things until he was satisfied, but a small part of him knew that that wouldn't solve the problem. He was planning to, even, at the beginning, but after seeing everything that happened:
I certainly don't think he did what he did to be entirely altruistic, but I think he recognized that this was something that he could not - or perhaps he recognized should not deal with entirely on his own. Imagine if he had gone in and dealt with the situation himself, with only his own conscience acting as a guide? I've been puzzling on that for a bit, and I don't like any of the routes I see it going.
--
On that note, though, I am so immensely satisfied that She got to meet her mother, even in such a limited way. That one line from a shadow of a soul held more love than She had ever received from her father, who had just let his own true colors show. She has been healed - not entirely, perhaps she never can be entirely healed from a wound inflicted upon her since birth - but the infection has been lanced, and the draining can begin.
The question is now where to go from here - and to answer that, we first need to know; are villain and victim both a part of "they" at the end?
Wow. What a climax! I've already read this chapter twice. There's so much to love about this chapter, so I'll break it down.
First off, I love how the delays with the memory bombs actually worked in their favor because it gave the change time to arrive at a hybrid point that wasn't strong enough to be a threat. Some might dislike coincidences that favor the heroes, but in this case I like to think of it as Providence in action.
I could have said this at multiple points, but I find "Gentle's" breakdown over the chapter absolutely fascinating. You know how a lot of stories talk about how if you remove someone's morals or give them power you see who they truly are? Well, I don't think that's true. If you want to see what someone is truly like, make them powerless. Break their pride and show them how little control over their lives they truly have and see what happens, see what they truly care about when there is nothing they can do. Mr. Incredible lost his family, but couldn't bring himself to kill his hostage. Job from the Bible lost his wealth, health, and family, but chose to continue following God. Gentle showed that when he loses control, he is an irrational monster who will do anything to get it back.
Now, that scene where they all hammered the barrier, that was oh so epic. Talk about the power of friendship. Also, I just had to play You Say Run while reading it a second time. It may not go with everything, but it definitely went with that.
I have to admit, Fluttershy's choice wasn't what I was expecting, and it will have some downsides, since, you know, while her pain was going out of control, pain is still important to stay healthy and avoid getting yourself killed, but under the circumstances it worked out for the best. This is actually the second time you've done this, where you've given a character blessed-with-suck/cursed-with-awesome powers and then removed the worst parts of it, which could be very interesting.
I'm not sure what to think about what she saw, since I'm not sure if she actually did what Gentle had been trying to make her do or if that was something else.
I know you mentioned the "memories" she'd made of all her teachers, but I never considered how useful they'd be as evidence. That will make cleanup so much easier.
Time to start winding down. What was in Cadence's letter? Will Discord take Gentle's horn so he can be both ironically punished and safely contained? How will the Sisters react to knowing all the Bearers know The Secret? Where will they send her, since you can bet even if they don't decide to cover things up she'd be a target, either from fanatics who consider her a freak, foreign nations worried about her abilities being used as a dangerous weapon, or people who think she'd make an excellent test subject. I am highly excited to see how this concludes!
Woah.
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No, I know the perfect punishment: transfer Her suffering to him. The pain, the anguish, the confusion. All of it. Let him drown in the sorrows he caused to be built.
Talk about a crescendo. Yikes.
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Ah, but IS it all pain, or only the pain of The Changing?
For sticking the landing I think you are well on course.
I love love love Fluttershy taking away her pain. The bit with Primatura seems especially perfect because I guess that a greater part of her pain has been the mental anguish from the feeling of guilt she's been living with her entire life believing herself responsible for her mother's death. The acceptance from her mother with that nuzzle... Yeah it seems about the only thing that would let her step away from the guilt.
Love the story, can't wait to see the rest of the wrap up.