Pass/Fail Grade

Twilight stood alone in the main entryway to Canterlot Castle, resisting the impulse to shiver as a puff of breath escaped her, visible in the cold.

The lights were all out, and the sky outside was dark and moonless, but she had cast a night-vision spell on herself, which allowed her reasonable sight. The walls were all covered with a thick veneer of frost, and the carpet crackled beneath her hooves as she nervously shifted her weight. She was sure she’d already failed, but the test hadn’t ended yet, so she had to keep waiting.

Seconds turned into minutes into hours, and the sky outside remained as static as always. Twilight’s legs felt numb and prickly, and she was sure her coat was beginning to frost over. The deep thrum of magic emanating from her horn kept her from completely freezing, but it was still a struggle to keep her teeth from chattering. An observer might have thought her a particularly realistic statue, her face set into a neutral expression, but inside, she was beginning to panic. Shouldn’t the test be over by this point? How long has it been? Am I doing something wrong? Am I missing something?

She’d never say it out loud, but she hated test days. They were always different, they were always painful, and above all, they always, always, left her feeling inferior and weak and stupid, like all her frenetic studying from the previous month had been for naught.

Obviously this is a test of endurance. But to cold, to dark, or to something else? She felt hungry, her mouth dry. Any moisture in the air had frozen by this point. And what does this have to do with the second philosophic theory of thought? She had no idea how much time had passed, as the grand clock at the top of the stairs was locked behind a thick sheet of ice, it’s usual ticking inaudible. The room was, in fact, completely silent. I wish this would just end!

It seemed her thoughts were suddenly answered, as a gust of wind abruptly blew open the main doors, the ice receding into nothingness. In the space of five seconds, the room had been returned to it’s usual state, and Twilight was free to collapse on the floor. She did not dare to, however, forcing herself to stay upright, because She was coming down the stairs.

Her legs were long and slender, hooves bedecked in slippers made of iron and silver. Her form was strong but lean, made for a perfect balance of speed and force. Her wings were enormous, extending well past Her even when folded up, and fully outstretched like they were now, seemed to engulf the room. Shadows seemed to coil out of Her dangerously sharp horn, wreathing the room with Her presence. Her mane flowed without wind, stars twinkling in the ethereal mass, contrasting with Her pelt, which was darker than black, an empty void that seemed to draw everything in toward Her.

But what truly captivated Twilight, keeping the small unicorn rooted to the floor in fear, was Her face. It was beautiful in a wicked way, angular and thin, unnatural. Her eyes were fixed on the unicorn, slit pupils gleaming with cruel amusement. When She spoke, it was in a dangerously low purr, colder sounding than the most frigid northern winds. “I’m afraid, my student, that you have failed this test. Meet me tomorrow in the study, and we will discuss your next lesson plan.”

Twilight gulped, tried to speak, failed. She tried again, but only a small croak escaped. Despite herself, her vision became blurry and tearful as She began to move down the stairs with a measured, graceful intent.

“Well?” She was now standing before Twilight, smiling at her with insincere sympathy. “Are you agreed to this course of action?”

Twilight didn’t trust herself to speak, but neither could she give even a simple nod, frozen by Her malevolent presence. She wanted to cry, but to show any sort of weakness before Her could only invite disaster.

But even if she could, she didn’t want to speak, for she knew she’d be forced to say that wretched word, the lie that they both knew yet that She insisted they pretend was truth.

She didn’t move, but Her face gradually shifted to one of authoritative disappointment. “My student…”

Twilight remained mute, but her eyes were still wide with fear. She didn’t even know what the point of this strange defiance was, but she kept silent regardless. “Twilight…” Her horn began to not-glow, emanating it’s unique aura of shadows. “Twilight, you need not persist. Are you agreed to this course of action?”

Even with the open threat of Her horn, Twilight didn’t speak. This was stupid and suicidal, but it was like there was some voice telling her not to give in. What did she have to lose?

“Twilight,” She sighed, sounding like a disappointed parent, “I am trying to be patient, but must you force me to go through with this?” She began to slowly lower Her horn towards Twilight, but the unicorn stubbornly remained silent. She would not speak that lie one more time, if she had any say in the matter.

It turned out she didn’t. “I am sorry, Twilight.” She said, and a heartbeat later, too quick for the unicorn to react, shadows sprung from Her horn to strike the unicorn.

It did not hurt her. In fact, she felt empowered, the raw eldritch energies filling her with the strength to crush a mountain, the feeling of immense freedom to surpass even the best flier in the land, and all the knowledge and confidence she could ever need or want. It was euphoria personified.

But it kept coming. Twilight began to feel like she was drowning in the sea of energy, the euphoria replaced with panic as it began to scald. She feared that she would burn up and freeze and drown and fall all at once, and that even the slightest movement on her part might accidentally shatter the world.

And then she opened her eyes.

If She was terrifying and beautiful normally, it had nothing on Her true form. Twilight dared not even dwell on it too long, for fear of going mad.

And then it was over, the unicorn collapsing to the ground, coat smoking slightly. She felt drained, broken, but still found it in herself to look up at Her. She wore a pained, regretful expression, but quickly put on a mask of indifference as Twilight forced herself to her hooves.

“Y-yes.” There was no point in fighting anymore. They would live the lie another day.

“Yes…” She let the statement trail off, looking at Twilight expectantly.

“Yes, M-Mother.”

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Emeral Bookwise

Emeral Bookwise #1 · Aug 28th, 2012 · · ·

Hmm... interesting. All the descriptive flavor I would expect from you is there, and the premise is enticing.

The use of colored formating is novel. I really liked the early use on all the pronouns relating to HER. I do think the technique breaks down though when the color shifts over more completely; at that point all it really does is make the text harder to read.

The Test - ColdGoldLazarus

Pass/Fail Grade

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