Esquestria: The House of the Sun - A pony cultist experience

[Maer]

To Struggle and Climb

---

You are Ashen Weaver, and you have started to realize something.

There are certain truths about the world as it is. Truths that belong to Honesty. After all, The nature of Light is to reveal, to make things known. It is Honest, True, a Lantern Light in the mist; and sadly, it so rarely has the chance to be Kind. But that doesn't matter. What matters… is that you have figured out a few important Truths.

Light is Honest, revealing and merciless. The Kindness of ponies filters Honest truth in Generous sweetness. It makes things more palatable. Loyalty ensures Honesty remains, while Kind Generosity brings out the best of the Light and Laughter helps soothe the harsher truths. The odd man out in the cute little five-man band of Harmony is Magic, which… it feels like there is a better name for Magic, as Magic itself seems like more a byproduct than the purpose and aspect mixed in.

But the fact of the matter is… you cannot lie to yourself. To burn the brightest you can, to share light and help it grow, you cannot remove that most fundamental and foundational key. Honesty remains the back on which everything else grows and can form, everything else is a Filter for it. You cannot lie and expect any kindness, generosity, or laughter to be true. Loyalty, by its nature, IS Honest. To be loyal, how can you lie to a friend?

Thus, your issue.

The nightmares have not stopped. The wolves prowl through your dreams, haunt your nightmares, and rest atop you in those rare days when your chest is heavy with paralysis before you can fully wake up. The creature chuffing in amusement and baring fangs in a hollow, aching smile of promised pain… promised Agony.

No, you cannot spread the light while lying to yourself anymore. You tried, for a month, and it failed. So… you stepped into a dream. You found some arcane secret kept intentionally or accidentally hidden from ponykind, and now you were in the thick of things. You could not play the blind fool any longer, and you refused to be another tragedy. So… how could you bring the light back? Well… Honesty was knowledge. Generosity and Kindness, even Laughter and Magic required knowledge. Every aspect of the elements spoken of so frequently in mythology surrounding the Sisters had knowledge within it. It was not an element, but something somehow even more foundational.

So, you needed knowledge. You knew of no one who had explored this place, nor anyone who could tell you the Honest truths you needed so badly. So… what else to do, but start actively exploring yourself? If nothing else, when you inevitably told others, you would at least know what pitfalls they could avoid.

As you climbed up to your apartment after a long day of physical labor, backbreaking for any other less physically gifted race, you considered your options and slowly nodded to yourself. You were determined to explore this 'Mansus' place, to face the wolf again.

This time, you knew what to expect. You settled into place properly, relaxed your breathing, cautiously clipping a section of your mane and settling in. You looked at the calendar as you settled in to rest. Hearthswarming would be soon… you needed to speak to your neighbors about how to start some event for the city… to spite the tragedy if nothing else. To mourn those lost, and celebrate those who survived. To show that they were not broken or made lesser by those monsters…

But those were thoughts for another time. Sucking in a breath, you lay down, looking at your empty bed and pondering on the odd feeling of Love that had hovered in your chest ever since the wedding. You… you wanted it. Somepony special to share your heart with, to build a life with. To be together with in this nightmare…

But you were alone. More than ever since the tragedy of not long ago…

Those lingering sorrows followed you down into what should have been a nightmare, and instead… you opened your eyes. Before you was a crossroads, a mess of winding paths… a place you had been before. You started walking, remembering the small trickle of secrets from the pamphlet. To be lost is to find your way. To know nothing, is to know everything. To be blind, is to see.

All idiotic rambling of somepony trying to be philosophical, but the main points, the meaning behind it… Well. That was something you grasped. Chaos, secrets, uncertainty. The world is full of wonder and horror, full of impossible truths and painfully realistic lies. The only way to tell them apart is to seek. To chase after that most precious and wonderous of things… the Light.

The very essence of the secrets in that pamphlet had all been surrounding the seeking of Light. Of something more pure and foundational to creation than anything else you could imagine or think of. Which made sense for a 'principle' called 'Moth'. It felt… right, as well. To chase the Light, like you had all your life.

So, you looked up. There was… the wasteland made seeing much beyond the heat and glare difficult, but there was… a Beacon. A Light. It was important, guiding, revealing the path, the way, the course that needed to be set. So you fixed your gaze on the Light, and started walking. You felt the path turn and twist under you, but ignored where your hooves took you, as long as your gaze remained fixed. And… and you yelped when you felt the burn of the Ash under your hooves.

It… you'd made it. To the ashen, sandy wastes. It… in truth, there was never any sand here, naught but ash, and the feeling of loss. It ached alongside the tragedy of what had been lost in the waking world, the truth reflected in this twisted dream. Still, whatever the case may have been in the past, you were here now, in a horrid wasteland of loss, ash, and laughing Wolves.

Every step was painful, a sharp, stabbing pain reminding you not to tarry. You felt, in some corner of your being, that you should try to fix this- to undo the tragedy, soothe the pain, and cool the heat. To make some fresh growth form out of this ashen nightmare. But you… you didn't know how. You were uncertain how to even keep yourself safe rigt now, much less how to heal this wound. Sadly, you were not talented in the healing of lands.

But… you may not have been specialized for repairing the lost ecosystem of this place, nor were you even sure how to start, but one thing you COULD do, was pave the path. Lead the way for others who knew more than yourself. You would become an expert in this place, learn its secrets, and share them with those that could help.

You pressed on, eyes fixed on the Beacon. You didn't know what you didn't know, but you DID know that you needed to reach that Light. Of course, the shift of Ash in front of you had you pause, and you slowly lowered your gaze. There, in the ash, sitting as though it had been there all along, was a wolf. A wolf already looking up at you with malice and gleeful cruelty.

You held back your shivers and fear, knowing it could still tell, but unwilling to grant it the satisfaction of seeing how badly it frightened you. Instead, you frowned, keeping your gaze on it. It bared its teeth in what could have been a grin, or a snarl- it was so hard to tell with its maw so cruel and full of sharp teeth… so harshly and hatefully eager to tear flesh from bone. The Pale fur and Yellow eyes haunting his mind as the Bloody teeth remained exposed.

"I see you finally came back… what took you so long? I've been wanting to say hello again for ever-so long…~" You found yourself shuddering as the mere sound of it left you aching inside, like your ears had been assaulted by some kind of torment- sandpaper layered in salt and glass shards, delicately avoiding the fragile parts and running roughshod across the less easily broken parts.

You swallowed, dearly wishing to step back, but… then it would sense weakness and chase. Instead, you refused to dignify it with a response. You walked past, giving it a Generous berth and doing it the Kindness of leaving it in peace. It flinched slightly at that, barely an ear twitch, but… you noticed. How could you not? It growled louder as you slowly moved to leave it behind, remaining fixed on the beacon. Though… you had to turn and leave your back turned if you wanted to continue. Could you make it…?

You turned and ran in the moment between one heartbeat and the next, hearing a howl the instant your gaze left the creature, and you could FEEL the ash shift under you, every step suddenly harder giving less power than expected. You were slower than you should be, and losing distance with every hoofstep of your gallop. The beast seemed able to glide across the ash, and the very ashen soil beneath your hooves clung to and dragged at you.

You heaved in air, air gushing out with each exhale as you pushed your innate Earth Pony strength into your legs and powered through the sheer awful burning, cloying ache of the ash as it dug into your hooves. Glancing up revealed the Beacon still in the distance…

And now far to the left. The very ground beneath you seemed to shift, guiding you further from your destination, and in some other direction. You gritted your teeth, already struggling to stay ahead of what felt like the beast snapping at your rear hooves- you couldn't even look back, too busy fighting to move forward.

You knew that wherever the beast was taking you would be horrendous, an awful experience, but you had to go through with it. To face this danger so you could prepare yourself and others to face it again in the future more safely. As it hounded your steps, you saw the temple you'd visited and fled last time in the distance, the awful thing full of horrendous and bloody knowledge you had refused to act on.

You knew… awful things because of that place. But it wasn't your destination, as you curved yourself away, and it vanished from view between one eye blink and the next. Just as rapidly, you could feel exhaustion beginning to fill your limbs, but you pressed on. You were asleep, it wasn't real exhaustion. You ignored it, and it faded as you pressed on. Though you suspected that you'd be paying for it later somehow.

Of course, when you eventually did find the place it was leading you, you dearly wished you hadn't. Here, a faint mist of ruddy, Brackish Fluid filled the air in a fine mist that seared with every touch against your fur. As you pressed on, bearing the agony with force of will, you saw the source. A massive and growing pool of Horrid Red that gushed from high above and fell below.

You had no idea how this had formed, or why a waterfall of horrendously Agonizing Blood would be falling from the sky, but it didn't matter. You were out of places to go. So you pressed on, then dove to the side just before the pool, whipping around and sending Ash flaring into the air in a faint dusty cloud around you as you turned and saw… nothing.

It wasn't there. It hadn't followed you. It- You screamed as pain FLARED in your rear left hoof, rearing and kicking your hind legs as you smacked into something with far too satisfying a CRACK. Turning again, now limping, you saw the wolf licking its chops as it slowly got up, your own blood leaking from the creature's maw as it slowly grinned, chuckling and chuffing, its eyes shining with malice.

"The first lesson of Heart, is that it never ceases to Beat. Through Agony, Suffering, and even when on the very verge of Death, it continues, forcing life to stay and attend it until every shuddering breath has been stolen away, every thought formed and faded, every Light dimmed and every Flame flickered out. And then, when all has been done and said, passed and withered and crumbled around you, it continues to Beat and Dance, to spite and howl against the dying of the light, and the Ending that all things must inevitably face. It is never ending, and it would deny all things their final rest, with no care for the pithy longings of those who Suffer in Agony. Do you understand…?"

The horrible thing was… you did. You could feel it, the knowledge beyond simple words burned into your mind. The agony of knowing you would live through this suffering… it wasn't escapable. You would live, and you would suffer, and nothing would EVER stop that… until the Heart no longer Beat in your chest. But… why. Why was it teaching you?

It grinned wider. "The first lesson of Winter is that all things end. Because all things MUST end. No matter the Agony, it will be relieved. No matter the joy, it will die. No matter the bliss, it will fade. Until everything is cold, and dead, and dark. Nothing can stop this, because Endings are inevitable. No Beating Heart can stave off Death forever, no pony, no thing, no idea is truly permanent, Aside from Glory. But Winter will remember all and hold you close in it's bitterly cold embrace, and beckon you sweetly into it's dark, endless eternity of Silence and Beauty. Oh, to End, to Finish and Cease... to Die. Is it not the most beautiful of gifts? So cruelly denied to those of us in Agony...~"

The pain of the teaching hurt worse than the bite had, and left you shaken, your mind struggling under the weight of it, each word digging deeper now, clawing at your insides. It left ragged, jagged wounds in your soul, and you weren't certain you could handle more. Another lesson would cause something to be horribly, irreversibly damaged you could tell. There was nothing you could do, either. It was too much, too quickly, and skipping over the baseline needed to know it existed, much less to have a level of understanding in it.

"The first lesson in Edge is-" You roared and lunged forward, spinning and kicking the creature again, it's pained yelping bark escaping it as it was rammed back, looking up in time to see you lashing out and throwing a hoof into its face, searing pain lancing through your hoof as you saw Wolven blood splatter across your hoof. Yet it was cackling and laughing, even as you turned and ran, certain you had not killed it and uncertain if you even could. It was so cruel and heartless, so cold…

You ran on your injured limb, your hoof sending Agony through every step as ash burned its way inside and bloody mist attacked the open wound. Seeking the Paths into your body, through the door exposed by your wound. It was… it was agony. Winter soothed the pain in your mind, while Heart soothed the agony in your leg, the suffering teaching a valuable lesson that itself sent your mind spinning with aches and pains. It was too much… you'd have to think this over for weeks or months…

But beyond everything else, you had to know… why. Why was the Wolf trying to teach you??? Why was it trying to kill you??? How did those overlap…? They couldn't, could they? What kind of horror was it spreading to you? Was there even a way to escape? It was so much, your mind spun and dove with the knowledge, the shifts in perspective, the sudden dives and dips in knowledge leaving you with no outlet for the buzzing in your brain…

You tripped before getting too far, tumbling and screaming as your wounded leg was buried in the ash. Looking back, there was the wolf. Sitting where you'd been running, and grin on its terrible face as you stared. It winked, then lunged with jaws spread and… and you sat up gasping for breath as you shook in your bed, the apartment dark and cold, but your body feeling rested… albeit, injured given the blood on your rear leg. Pulling it out from under the blanket exposed a bite weakly gushing blood, the pattern of your heartbeat strong and steady as you whimpered.

You stood, limping to your bathroom and beginning to bandage your leg, wrapping it in fabric you kept there for emergencies. After the tragedy, it had seemed like such a good idea, and it was paying off, but… but more importantly, there were secrets you had learned. Principles besides Moth. Winter, Heart, and you'd heard enough to know that Edge must be a principle as well, you had also felt something about your Wound, and how it… worked. You'd need to think about it for a while before risking another lesson with that Monster… or another encounter. It hadn't only taught, after all…

But still. You'd managed it. You'd visited that wretched place, survived, and… come back ultimately stronger. You'd fought the monsters, bloodied the unkillable, and stolen knowledge from the mouth of a biting Wolf. All while surviving. That was rare in stories, and difficult. You weren't sure it hadn't simply allowed you to escape.

But whatever the reason or cause, you were here. You were now. You had lived. And… and you would do this again. Whatever reason it had for taking you there, you were certain it had been important for more than just that reason, and you were curious. Still… you had a mission. One you'd already started on. It was a darker start than you'd hoped, but you HAD started. It was… something, at least…

---

You have learned the secret existence of the principles of Winter, Edge, Heart, and Knock Something about Wounds and Paths.
You must study a Knock and Edge lore object or book to gain a scrap for them.
You have gained 1 scrap of Winter, and 1 Scrap of Heart. You learned both in such quick succession, and from such an agonizing source, that you much spend an action each studying them to internalize the lesson and actually make use of them. Beware the Wolf.
You can FEEL the pattern forming in your mind. Edge leading to Winter, leading to Heart, leading… somewhere, before Moth. Knock at the center of it all. You're missing pieces you can tell, but you have not discovered what they are yet. Best of luck, Neophyte…~

---

So, this feels a touch rushed to me, but I'm fairly proud of it. Why is Ash teaching Lore to some random Pony?
Good question.

Anyways, if you notice points where it could be improved, please let me know! And if I made any major mistakes... also let me know.
Happy Holidays!

 

[AuthorTransient]

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In Which (S) Collide: Kosmic Conclusion

The ritual circle is a little smushed, especially the smallest circle for misdirection and obscuration. This dirt isn't exactly the best place to carve a circle, even without the shocks of the battle occurring outside. You grimace, but you should at least give it a try.

You had explained the ritual to Comet Feet as much as you could during the preparations. Now the both of you are as blindfolded as you had been able to scrounge up and tinker on such short notice.

Ideally, this ritual should take place on the eve of a battle and not during it. Luckily, the rules of this ritual allow for certain modifications or alternatives. You hope this will work.

Slowly, you breathe out. "Let's start."

Before you were seven of Comet Feet's knives. You pick up one and immediately cut yourself on accident. Buck.

This is fine. This works. After all, the entity you are trying to summon will not heed your call if blood is not split.

You need to open a path for him, after all.

You pick up the next knife and stab yourself, just enough for your blood to exit your body and cover the tip of the blade. Then you repeat for the next knife, and the next, going clockwise.

Though you know you are not alone, you feel as if you are being watched.

You don't let that stop you, because you cannot hesitate. Your daughter's life is on the line.

When you finish the seventh, you pick up the first knife again and throw it over your shoulder. Shink. It should land within a very particular triangle-shaped sigil in the outer reach of the third circle – which is also the sharpest circle of this ritual.

This, you know and had explained, was a very old game – or at least, that was one of the terms you had used to describe it. Truth was that you could only approximate as much as you could to its meaning with similar words, because there wasn't really a word that could correctly encompass all of its meaning in the modern lexicon.

Like a competition, or a bet, that could be done for fun but has also been done to determine the outcome of blood oaths and life-bets.

And you don't actually know how the winner is determined, but for the purposes of this ritual, you and Comet Feet really only need to merely land all of the knives within the empty space of that triangle.

While blindfolded. And throwing it at a spot behind your back. Without being able to actually see the result, and knowing that there can't be any restarts. And especially, that you cannot hesitate, because it is against the rules.

No. Fucking. Pressure.

And eventually, somehow, while panicking and fearing and disassociating, you pick up your seventh knife and throw it.

Nothing happens. In other rituals, there at least was a sign, or a feeling – your heart lurches -

Comet Feet's own knife goes whizzing through the air and doesn't touch the ground.

Spoiler: Summoning Rolls

Moth: 58 + 13 (Magic) + 40 (Moth Level 4) - 20 (Rushed) = 91

Knock: 16 59 + 13 (Magic) + 40 (Knock Level 4) - 20 (Rushed) = 92

Edge: 27 35 85 (Comet Feet) + 13 (Magic) + 40 (Edge Level 4) - 20 (Rushed) = 118

All summoning rolls passed.

-!!!-​

And still you cannot feel... No, what you feel is that nothing had happened.

There is no pressure in the air, no sensation of the world being opened, or cut, or that a new presence has descended upon the world.
Your face crumples.

You take off your blindfold and turn. "I think we're going to have to - "

But Comet Feet is looking at a very old stallion.

At the stallion outside of the ritual circle, who is very calmly and deliberately looking at the knives in that triangle. He has no wings, he has no horns, and he is wearing a cap and very old uniform that looks so battered and worn that it feels... soft, like folded paper.

And he is looking at the knives like an arbiter, or a judge, deciding the results of a competition or trial.

You can't help but cringe a little as you realize one of your knives had landed exactly on the edge of that sigil.

"Interesting..." he says, and finally looks up. "And you are my employer?"

Your heart freezes, because he is talking to Comet Feet. Despite the fact that he does not look at all or feel at all like he was in the Mansus, like an undeniable force of nature, as impartial as a storm or a natural disaster, or a cold impersonal wall built long ago that a pegasus had just pancaked into – you're rambling. What you mean is that he looks kind. Like a grandfather looking at his children.

But your own experience with the paternal side of your family was not kind at all.

But more importantly, your mind is going on this tangent, because you are sure that Comet Feet hates you. He hates you for knowing Fluttershy, he hates you for interrupting his ritual, he hates you for barging into his life and turning him... softer.

And this weapon you had summoned is now in the hands of that other.

You dread the result of this conversation, yet somehow - ! You can't speak up. Because somehow -! You cannot influence Comet Feet's decision.

And Comet Feet says, "no."

You blink and feel like your eyelids had just scraped against the edge of a scythe.

The Name of Edge nods, as if this had always been a foregone conclusion. Then he turns to you and speaks. "Then I am Biedde, soldier of the Colonel, at your service. I will be your employee until our contract is finished." He gives a short bow which you mirror back. " And what will you have me do, employer?"

You find your voice and, unhestitantly, give an order. "Kill her."

He smiles leadingly, the smoke of his cigar trailing up towards the red sky. "Pardon?"

And what an order you give this Edge's Name! An order that seems to have been inevitable from the beginning, ever since you met him standing before the Worm Museum. "I said, KILL HER!"

Your hoof comes down and it feels like a gavel. "DESTROY HER! MAREINETTE HAS BECOME MY ENEMY! CRUSH HER! STRIKE HER DOWN! REDUCE HER TO DUST!"

Biedde's lips quirk. His eyes suddenly glint with immortal madness. He chuckles, then breaks into laughter. "WELL SAID, MY EMPLOYER! THIS SERVANT...." He savors the words as he speaks them, "shall carry out your order."

With those words, you return to the battlefield in time to see Selene get bowled over by a fleeing Mareinette, screaming Celestia in tow. "GET BACK HERE YOU COWARD!"

A terrified whinney escapes the centuries-old horror as she charges and stumbles over the next hill, at which point a superpowered beam of white light smashes in front of her and sends her tumbling ass backwards and into a leftover still-smoking crater.

Celestia peers at her from above. "AND STAY DOWN!"

Mareinette uncoils and springs up as if in defiant answer and -

You try to understand what she had just witnessed. Did time slow down, or even stop?

The answer is quite simple – it is simply inevitable. Because what She wants, She gets.


Plink, plink, plonk, plink, plink!


What had happened was -- slowly, deliberately, the titanic shape of Mareinette had gingerly rose up, each of her five heads closing like ebony piano keys, snapping shut like spring traps to swallow the sun. Then you blink, you flinch backwards, your body finally understands what is happening – no, what was happening – no, what had happened.

A whine rises in pitch and the respective head explodes into a bloody deflating mess, but the distraction is enough – Selene falters in front of her bulk and unhinged maws – hay – in the second time in not as many minutes, a blazing comet smashes into Mareinette and sends her skidding backwards, digging deep trenches the size of wheelbarrows in the dirt.

The Mane 6 are here.

Wait, how?!

Twilight Sparkle stands radiant at the forefront, multicolored light forming a splendid horn, and if you think it silently then no one can know the way your heart clenches at the sight. Fluttershy is there despite your worries, and Rarity is there, and together with Applejack, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie, they are the Bearers of Harmony.

It means that, despite everything, Esquestria is still alive.

With two, no, you correct yourself as Selene repositions, three cardinal directions of escape cut off, Mareinette gyrates her heads around, searching for an exit. Her hindlegs tense.

In that moment, it's like you somehow manage to peer into the guts and wires of this great horror, somehow traversing space to see a fleshy chamber where a heart made out of clockwork and sinew reverberates like a great drum. Lub-dub, lub-dub.

And as you watch on, transfixed and powerless to move, its movement abruptly accelerates, cogs spinning and great arcs of lightning lashing out as the Heart That Fed goes into overdrive.

Then you are back in your body again, eyes so wide it hurts, with a deep and terrible feeling that if Mareinette is not stopped now, a disaster will occur. Rivers of blood will run across the streets of Ponyville.

Mareinette blurs.

...a knife is unsheathed. It is not a very large knife, but its edge is in fact quite sharp. Gingerly, an old stallion grips its handle between his teeth. And though this blade is not at all extremely extraordinary, it is currently being wielded with purpose and intent to be quite a fair bit lethal. The touch of a master's hoof turns it into a transcendental weapon.

And somehow, though there were many paths that Mareinette could have chosen, she chose the one path where she charges headlong towards this blade. Almost as if drawn to it, almost as if a force had pulled her towards it, a force she did not resist, or perhaps just a force she did not notice.

And so... inevitably, conflict erupts. And as it most often does, it erupts quite spectacularly in an orgy of savagery and is over immediately after, as quickly as it had begun.

Here it comes. Death.

You can see it now. She is coming closer, closer, closing in at your position, a mad rage in her eyes...

The edge of her charge is reaching, is meeting, meets - !

- it meets the Edge of Biedde's blade!

Moonlight glints off of it and the moonlight itself i / s / c

/​

u / t on that terrible, terrible Edge.​

It shatters Mareinette's charge. Mareinette shatters, tumbling backwards, pieces of her face falling off as if she was a mortal again and had ran into a woodchipper, bits flaking off. Her head snaps back into place jerkily and it is filled with pockmarks and all kinds of other wounds, like flays or whips or claws or drills or just a particularly sharp knife, shaving off a piece here and another layer there, so sharp that it is only now noticing that a wound is there, so sharp that even the fluid now weeping from it seems to disintegrate wholly by itself.

Her frame shudders.

The circle closes in. There is nowhere to go.

Mareinette tries to clamber back out, she tries to escape, but each time her attempts are parried and riposted, and each time she tries to open an avenue her distractions are dispelled. She is repeatedly returned to the (ever-growing) crater like a particularly obese homing pigeon.


Until finally, she stops.

And then just like that, it's over.


It's over.


So why doesn't it feel like it's over?

You can't move your hooves, but you can still see. And what you see is that everypony else has stopped moving as well.

Your breaths are coming in harried bursts. What is happening?

What...


⌈

!!!

THE THIRD BIRTH COMETH

!!!​

⌋​

This entire time, Mareinette has always been just that. A puppet.

And now, the puppeteer is showing its hand.

Because it is a hand, and not a hoof. You know this because Spike has hands, and that is definitely a giant five-digit limb sticking out of the wrinkle in space-time. Stretching it open, an omen of despair sneers at you.

Spoiler: BEEG PICTURE

File:Douglas-Scottish FFT(1901)-p162-Nuckalavee-illustr-J Torrance.jpg - Wikipedia

en.wikipedia.org

What is this thing?!! It's as if someone had grafted a monster atop a pony's back, but in all of its eyes only a sadistic maleficence gleams. It is more than double the size of Mareinette at her peak. In its open mouth you can see both canine teeth and molars as it pants its rancid breath.

And worst of all, it has no skin, only bleeding sinew, a towering skyscraper leaking warm hot blood that sizzles upon contact with the cool night air.

⌈

KNUCKLELAVEE
Evil Manifest​

⌋​

Then it shrieks. Your mane is thrown back at the force of it, your eyes squeezing shut. All around you is the sound of the foliage breaking apart, leaves and even branches tearing off at the sheer force of its scream.

Your ears ring. When you open your eyes, Celestia is yelling something, but you can't hear what. Her attacks are bouncing off its skin. Biedde rears forward and stabs the thing in its fingers, and it dents the knife.

Your only saving grace is that its still struggling with its entrance. You whirl your head over to the Bearers of Harmony and yell something you can't hear. Pinkie Pie is screaming too.

The light around them intensifies.

A concentrated beam of sunfire splashes over the side of the thing's head, causing it to to flail. On the other side, a storm of stars crash like hail on its bare midriff. But despite all of their efforts, it manages to awkwardly stick a cloven hoof out from the opening and descend it towards the ground. It shrieks again, and you feel a warm fluid leak out from your ears.

Then it falters, as a splendid beam of multicolored light blasts into its chest. Groaning, it tries to resist, but it is pushed further and further out. It is a light brighter than what you had felt manifesting during Nightmare Moon's appearance. Harmony itself is rejecting this Outsider.

With a final scream, its fingers slip back out through the portal and the fabric of reality reasserts itself, mending the wound in the world entirely. The beam goes a bit further forward before it too fades out into nothing.

In the heavy silence that follows, you take a deep breath. "I can explain."

Spoiler: Alternate Ending

Because it is a hand, and not a hoof. You know this because Spike has hands, and that is definitely a four-digit limb sticking out of the wrinkle in space-time.

Someone who has always been pulling at the strings. You can't sit idly, you can't move at all. You curse the name, the one behind it all!!!!!

DISCORD!!!!

He immediately gets hit by a Harmony Beam and is resealed. Good riddance.

"Phew, thank goodness that wasn't our history, right? Though it was interesting to see. Ah, but I've rambled enough. Tap here to go back to your proper history."

---

Spoiler: Author's Notes

Okay, I managed to finish this before the end of the year. Because I couldn't figure out how to resolve Overflow, I just didn't note down the combat rolls. If it helps, Selene rolled a natural 1 on the first round, which was immediately followed up the next round by Celestia rolling a 2.

The c / u / t is of course, credited to Reaper Man. GNU Terry Pratchett.

Also, congratulations on reaching 300 pages!

I'M FREE!!!!!!!!!!

1 2 3 4 J R 5 S 6 K​

 

[spiderhellian]

A Thing You Don't Know

It is the thing you don't know that kills you.

Sometimes Biedde is amazed his summoner has lived this long. Not least because she's been climbing the Mansus while only a too-hard breeze away from death's door, as so recently was made quite clear to her.

She simply doesn't know so much.

She doesn't know why the world is so askew. She barely even knows how it is askew. And she definitely has no idea how to fix it, besides the obvious.

Still, that's more of a subtle knife, creeping in ever so slowly. There are much more obvious deficits in her knowledge, which are about to have much more obvious consequences.

For example, her lack of knowledge about just how much one wolf-thing's request would cost her. And how that, when coupled with a few other "necessary" expenditures in the course of another favour, would leave her stockpile of funds sadly diminished. To the point that she could not quite afford a train ticket to Equestria's outer reaches, or a myriad of well-made baits, or the solid oak and springy willow necessary for effective traps.

That is, she could not afford to fund his monster-hunting expedition.

That was a slight disappointment. The taste of a winter storm had whetted his appetite, but since then, it had remained sadly unfulfilled. Mortal guards? Soft earth and a corpse? Not the best the Wake has to offer, he knows. Not the kind of thing his Master accepts as propitiation.

On the other hoof, spending time on his religious affairs most certainly is. Since his employer could not quite abide his departure, that is what she has given him leave to carry out. Despite the fact that she does not know what it entails.

Delightful. This time, it will not be the thing that kills her. No, not her.

As he sets out from Ponyville, Biedde looks to the horizon. Yes, it is warped. But that's not the worst thing wrong with the world, he thinks.

It doesn't have enough scars.

His employer is a rare exception. But so many dance and twirl and laugh through this world, and never face the cut turned need to truly grow.

What wounds occur are papered over or covered up — again, he thinks of his employer — and not allowed to heal into a thin grey line imbued with memory.

Consider, even, the enraged Demi-goddess at the centre of this realm. How many blows did it endure? How many cuts adorned its limbs? And how often did it just choose to proceed along unfeeling, making a pretence of seamlessness, to avoid its subjects ever seeing a body in any way marred?

So many lessons, left unlearned. So much ignorance, embraced. With, yes, the obvious consequences.

Biedde knows the estate's wolf-pony has been offering her patron's answer to this tension at the world's core.

His knives are sharp. His stride is unyielding. His orders are clear.

It is time for him to do the same.

Spoiler: AN

Pondering Biedde, a little. And the link between scars and lessons, lessons and ignorance, and ignorance and… well, the obvious.

I think the only thing worse than giving him time for his religious observances would be not extending his summon. So let's best be confident we have the bits.

 

[spiderhellian]

The Same Day, A Different Mare

You wake up in the morning. Looking back, you'll realize today is a very important day, but in the moment you do not. Your mind is focused on the project you've been working on, turning over the words your mentor mentioned last night. She was worried you were a little too focused, that you should reach out to other people more. Oh — oh! Of course! You had been drawing directly from Starswirl's notes, but of course that was misguided! He was a genius, but he had contemporaries, antecedents, pupils! It was ridiculous to just pull your sources from one author, it would be like exploring with but one hypothesis! Time for another trip to the library, this time with a cart!

As soon as you stopped outside, however, you realized something was off. The whole town was abuzz with the latest news, and it would be no exaggeration to say that literal festivities were popping all around at the drop of a horseshoe, parades forming spontaneously on the streets as ecstatic ponies brought out their instruments and joined each other in songs. Food was practically being distributed for free by merchants and bakers, and everywhere one went the repeated cheers could reach even the ears of the most inattentive creature.

"A princess! A new princess has appeared! A pegasus became an alicorn! Hail princess Cadance!"

A new… a new princess?

A Pegasus, become an Alicorn?

Become. An Alicorn?

BECOME. AN ALICORN?

But… but… she had said— she had warned you away— and all this time—

Had you done something wrong? Had you made a mistake? Had you erred fundamentally, fatally, and your mentor was just too kind or too cowardly to tell you?

No Sunset. Wait. A true scholar doesn't leap to conclusions with one shred of evidence. Gather more data, and then your life can fall to pieces.

The story spread like wildfire, and you couldn't help but to overhear bits and pieces of it, slowly forming the bigger picture. You paused in your journey to the library, and the ebbs of the crowd pushed you into a bar. A bar? Well, perhaps that was the equivalent to the royal archives when gathering this sort of information.

The barkeep looked at you askance, and was clearly about to tell you to leave, when another patron laughed. "C'mon, Lee, let the filly stay! Everyone gets to celebrate on a day like today!"

The earth pony behind the counter gave you a look, and then rolled his eyes. He stuck a glass in front of you, filled it with milk, and then dropped a few ounces of some creamy brown liquor in it. You took a sip. Wow, delicious! You took a deeper sip, before the barkeep grunted. "You get one, and then you're gone," he said, before turning to the mass of other customers that had quickly formed.

Okay, you could work with that. You weren't going to turn down the free drink!

Apparently, from what you heard from several ponies around you, a certain pegasus named Cadance had performed some deed. The details on what exactly were a bit confusing, something about a potion and whatnot. You needed information, and all you were getting was rumor! But the bottom line was that in the end she turned into an alicorn. Horn appearing in her head and magic coming to her like second nature.

She did it. You had studied. You had worked. You had begged and pleaded and barely made progress.

And she just did it? How many hours had she spent in the archives, staring at books until her eyes ached? How many nights had she spent practicing magic, until her horn throbbed? How many lessons had she earned from Celestia, and how many concerned looks had they earned her?

Nopony was really sure of the details. Some insisted that princess Celestia transformed her, while others said it must have been some sort of personal merit or magic. A merit you lacked? A magic you missed? You needed details!

All you got was an agreement: the most important part was that a new Princess had presented herself to help rule Equestria. A new all-powerful, immortal alicorn had come to watch over the land alongside the Princess of the Sun. And it wasn't you. It was never going to be you.

That's the thought that turned you away from the cacophony. You finished your drink, slamming it a little louder on the counter than intended, and turned to leave. You needed to think, and this wasn't the place for it.

You walked through crowded streets, your busier than any of the parties unfurling around you. Ignore their judgments. Focus on the facts. She was young. She hadn't trained, you'd have known if she'd trained. You were doing everything you could to earn that power, to be able to bear it responsibly, and she was not.

Was this even a good thing?

You were startled out of your drinking, and your innocent eavesdropping from the background chatter, by a mare sitting by your side. It took you a few moments to realize that she was talking directly to you, and not just to herself or the ambient in general.

… that was probably your self-pity talking, wasn't it. Princess Celestia was wonderful, you loved her. Why would another princess be a bad thing?

Okay, run with the hypothesis. You can argue a position you don't believe in.

Okay, how could it be something bad? Hm. Your first instinct had been wrong — Celestia would teach her and train her just as she had been teaching you. Heck, maybe that's all you'd been, the test run! And that's why— no. Stop. Don't get sucked in, consider alternative hypotheses.

What does it mean to have another princess. It's a change. Is that bad? Wait, is it a change at all? Another princess to help out your mentor. Less need for her to teach others, to teach the nation, to teach you. Easier to keep things the same. To keep Equestria the way it is. And, and— is Equestria itself the way it was supposed to be?

Uh. What do you mean by that, Sunset? That is a peculiar research question, elucidate!

Your thoughts were startled by a particularly loud group cheers as someone hailed the name "Cadance". You gulped, and turned down a somewhat quieter alley. You needed… you couldn't… you just couldn't be there right now,

With a little fresh air, you continued your thoughts, how ever peculiar they might be.

Why would Equestria be different than what it's supposed to be? Well, well…

Oh.

You couldn't hold it in any longer. You sat on the cobblestones, and slowly started to cry.

Because Equestria had been so full of mysteries, so filled with unexplainable things… and you thought you'd be allowed to answer them. That if you were thoughtful, and studied hard, and worked diligently, you could solve them. That the way you men— Celestia kept it could adjust to include you. Would adjust, like a puzzle piece sliding into place.

But whatever world that is, is the one where some stupid pink Pegasus becomes an Alicorn, and the Unicorn who has studied for exactly that all her life is left with nothing. And that just … that just can't be right. That can't be how things should be. The regular course of the world cannot involve Sunset Shimmer sobbing in a lonely street as the capital erupts in parties around her. It can't.

Okay, take that as axiomatic. This isn't the way the world is supposed to be. What does that imply. If this isn't truly the nature of the world, then… something is off. If something is off, and it has remained off, it must be kept like that through constant effort?

That… you didn't know what that meant. But you it resonated with something inside of you, all the same.

Your sobs grew deeper. Your thoughts grew more disjointed. They ran down bizarre courses, the straight line of your intellect become spirals and zig-zags. By the time you drifted off, you only knew one axiom for certain: something was in the wrong shape. Although you couldn't tell if it was the world, or yourself.

But either way, the consequence was the same.

If something was in the wrong shape, you had to get out of here.

And you had an idea of how you might do just that…

Spoiler: AN

I still know next to nothing about this pony. I sure do hope her name is Sunset Glimmer, I may have gotten it wrong.

But if the obvious parallel is to Twilight? I think there's a less obvious parallel to a much more important pony. And it was one I wanted to explore here. Credit to Bird for so many of the words I lifted!

…Wait a second. I wrote this. It was fun. But I don't think I really want to see her? Sigh. I'll write a post about why.

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

Dreams of Velvet speaking modern slang turned into ashes, just like the dreams of the Woods...

Click to shrink...

Spoiler: Winning Vote

[Y] What is this "cellphone" all the kids are talking about? Why do you have one? And what is this "Internet" thing?
[Y] They are young and impressionable. Thankfully, you are a responsible adult. (Hang out with Rarity and Fluttershy, your real-life confidantes)

-lean closer towards Rarity, under the excuse of giving her a better view of your cellphone, and you pretend to ignore how the young woman is absolutely beaming at that. Well, beaming, and also blushing.

"So, I just press here and that finishes my registration?" you ask.

"Y-yes, Professor Covers!" she answers, nearly trembling on her seat.

Meanwhile poor Fluttershy, who is sitting opposite to you, is trying her best to appear as small as possible. In fact, she is also crouching down on her seat as she has her lunch.

And you don't blame her. You really don't. This is probably the most attention she has ever received (or rather, that she ever realized she is receiving) in her entire life.

After all, you are well aware that just like in Ponyville, you have just monopolized and concentrated the three most beautiful mare-female humans in a single place.

Plus, you may or may not have orchestrated the extremely unusual event of having your lunch at the school cafeteria. On the table that is at the very center of the school cafeteria, even. Using the innocuous excuse that you forgot your lunch, and that it is important to check if the students are being given quality food, and that the lunch lady would never report you anyways.

So, here you are, sitting next to Rarity, opposite to Fluttershy, and currently being watched by probably a hundred wide-eyed teenagers.

Well, at least you had the decency of not putting your arm around Rarity. You also don't think she would have remembered how to keep breathing if you did that.

"Ah, thanks Rarity! And please, just call me Velvet. At least when we are outside classroom," you say, just loud enough for the nearby tables to hear.

"Oh, I couldn't possibly do that, Velvet," the young woman answers, twirling her long and smooth hair with a finger for some reason.

"I see, I see... Still, now that I'm registered, how can I join that conversation group you told me about?" you ask.

To which Rarity answers by almost freezing, and Fluttershy reacts by letting out a small gasp.

"T-the CanHigh chat room? I mean, i-it's an invitation only group, Professor. A-and besides, it's full of students! There isn't anything interesting going on there. N-nothing at all!"

An instant conversation group where all the students are present, she says? Well, now you are more interested in joining it. After all, you are here to look for someone, and you have not yet discarded the possibility that they may be students!

"If it's invitation only then you can let me in, no?" you say, watching Rarity bite her own lip as if she had just fumbled with her words. "Besides, what if I need to get in touch with someone from school? I'm sure there is nothing wrong with you putting me in this virtual room, no?"

"I... I refuse, I won't do it!" she says, suddenly sounding desperate. Almost as if she is hiding something.


"I'll do it Professor, I'll send you the invitation!"
"No, me! I'll do it! Give me your phone number and I'll add you there!"


But to Rarity's horror (and you really have no idea why she is so horrified) several students from the nearby tables begin to chime in.

And soon enough, a new profile has joined the CanHigh chatroom.

...

"Huh, this is... a lot of messages," you say, as you try to familiarize yourself to how this thing works.

Because this "group" has hundreds of students. And perhaps hundreds of thousands of messages. It feels like a fool's errant to read the whole archive, so you won't, and from what you gather the running culture is only to interact with whatever ongoing conversation is happening.

Still, you are happy to see that the latest conversations have all been about you. You cannot identify who is saying what, since everyone uses pseudonyms, but a few users like "PreciousDiamonds3" have already declared their undying love for you.

You wonder who this user is.

"But there's also a lot of words I just don't understand," you say, to a Rarity who has been deathly quiet since you started reading. "I mean.... cleavage... milf... hagmaxxing? Rarity dear, what does any of this means? Why are they using these words when they are talking about me?"

The young lady refuses to answer you, unfortunately, and you decide to be kind enough not push the issue.

Still, you learn quite a lot before the lunch period is over.

For example, you gleam that you will be able to attract even more attention if you undo the two top buttons of your shirt, so you do just that.

And you also take your first "selfie", to use as your profile picture, where you pull in Rarity and the two of you make cute little "V" signs with your fingers. Although unfortunately poor Fluttershy adamantly refused to join in for it.

Of course, you make sure to display the medallion you are wearing on your picture, on a place you know most of the students will be looking when they zoom in on this image.

Still, inevitably, the school bell rang, and you had to leave your students behind.

Well, you are sure you will bump into them at some point, as you give your classes.

Spoiler: Author's Note

Is it a gift, to allow one a peek? Is it agony, to know what opportunities were lost? Who knows. But for now, a glimpse.

 

[Sveta08]

Well. Call me selfish and foolish and dumb, but I had thoughts from this.
Thoughts on the nature of this space, on the consequences of this space, on the result that created and ran with it and so on...
I am curious. And hungry. And as is my want, I wrote about it.


In which There is a Hole

---

Normally it's easy to find where pieces fall.

You pick a piece up, you drop it, and there it is. You pick a path, weave that option in, and it is clearly attached. You grab the threads, shake them a bit, pick what one is laying on top, and it naturally is there.
Everything functions like that. Everything has functioned like that. All things that are are things that were, are, and have been.

You are... well, that's not really important at this juncture. Everyone has the same question, even if not the same focus.


Where did she go?


You can see her, obviously.
In the grand tapestry of the moment, it's very clear and very obvious. There to the left is the past. The grand illuminated strands of everything that has been, both real and imagined. All layered in on top of itself in a beautiful dimensioned portrait. Words as much as images as much as ideas flowing together to create a beautiful world that you could spin your hand, and visit any point that has been. Even with the cuts. The patches. And even now, a vast majority of it is swathed in darkness and uncertainty.

To the right, the unknowable options that might be. Every thread that could be presented as tools, as options. Every path those might take and lead, how they connect to innumerable threads both past and future, and where they all hinge. All the threads, all the words, all the potentialities that are, knowable and unknowable, are displayed there. An endless array of cobwebs of what might be. Normally it's difficult if not impossible to pluck one of those threads out before it arrives. But as of now...

Right in front of you, is the present. The exact moment every one of those potential paths become known histories. And there, she is. As always.

But she isn't.


There is a hole.
A hole she is in.



There had been discussion of what it would be beforehand. Whether it would be a trial, or an adventure, or a journey, or an impossible task. Dozens and dozens of possibilities that were what it could have been. One or two even guessed something like this. But a hole...

The threads continued on. Feeding, funneling on into the hole the same as before. Choices were argued over, calls made. Words had and decried the paths picked, mourning for the options that were left astray. And it all funneled back in. What needed be done was the same as it ever had been. But why...


But where is she? Where did she go?


It was a simple enough question to answer. There, obviously. But that's not what was asked.
She had flown to a place more distant than tomorrow's horizons. But she wasn't in the future. You'd be able to see that, it would be obvious. There would be a break from the past to the present, there would be speckling in the threads that were to become the future. There would be signs if this were the case.
In the same way, this wasn't simply another history. It wasn't a layer of backing on the canvas of the past, nor a pressing space that bubbled up in the shown thread that was the visible past. It didn't fit that way, and there were too many things that it wasn't and didn't to make that true. Not the least of which being, who helped bring her there.

So where did she go? What is this place?


The obvious answer... was a hole.
A space cut away to touch upon the fundamental backing that was true. But it wasn't just that. It was...
Murky. It was distorted. It was things that were true no matter how you looked at it, yes, but it wasn't... just that. It was full of things that weren't true, no matter how you looked at it.

A hole through the present. One that wasn't truth, nor was it wrong. And it wasn't attached, but was made of things that had been attatched.


Maybe.



The obvious question came to mind. Did that matter though? Did it matter where, or when, or what it was?
Of course! But... did it really?

Maybe. Too many unknowns flitted around it. But maybe it did. Maybe... it was real. Maybe it was something that was true. Maybe.

In the end, however, it did matter. Not because knowing the truth of it mattered... but because how people would react to the truth.
The simplest question was why it mattered.


Do the actions here have consequences?


Here? In the Hole? Of course! Directly.
Outside? That... was a bit tricky. And that's what people wanted to know. The question that was fought about... even if that wasn't what was fought about. The truth behind words unsaid.

If things here changed the world outside.

If it did, there was weight. There was consequence. There was chances to do the impossible outside that were possible here. It excited people. Thrilled them. Terrified some. And frustrated others.
If it didn't, then what was the consequence? Take what need be, claim what was wanted, take what was needed, grasp what power could be and run.

If it mattered, it mattered. If it didn't, it didn't. But no one knew which was true.





But maybe.
Just maybe.
That's... not quite how it works.

Things here don't reflect, that much is obvious. There is space that is real, and space that isn't. Space filled with ideas and space filled with things.

And that's where the idea started. Where the question grew.
What if it wasn't a hole? Or maybe it wasn't always a hole.

There were threads in the hole. Words that seemed to echo, parts of the world that echoed in different ways. In different words. The world there... it had space that was real. Space that reflected things that were true through a murky lens. But... But the lens wasn't murky? Or maybe it was murky, but that is not why the rest of it was what it was. Because there... the world was two made of two things.

Real things. And Context.

Context didn't exist. It wasn't real. It was made of the stuff of dreams and nightmares and was nothing more than-
A Hole.


It was a hole. It was a hole full of holes. But the holes didn't matter. The holes just proved that something burrowed through them. Something made this not space. That this was




KNOCK




... an idea.

What if this place hadn't existed once? True of all places yes, but in the context of this... time. This history. This potential histories. In the lot of it.
What if this hole... was a hole?

A space. An idea that had been so burnt. So cut away. So embodied by




KNOCK




that the ideas of it still corroded? That the reflection that it was was still reflecting truth because Reflections show Truth. And when it tried to reflect upon the holes it had to reflect back truth, but you can't see a hole. All you can see is Context.
But Mirrors had to reflect. They had to be true. But there were holes.
And on a mirror, that's fog. That's cloudy. That's murky. Inside, that's




KNOCK




which was already true! And the things inside that she was looking for were-! They would be able to do that. They would be-! So of course actions would have consequence! Of course it would reflect back, because it was the reflections which was being touched!
But how? How to prove this wasn't simply an idea, and might be true? How to look for the evidence that said it might be? What could be...

A reflection. True. Undeniable. And one that was absent.



So you formed a question. Asked a damnation. One that would lead to the right questions. Form the right ideas. Align the right notions.

"I wonder if Spike is dead here too."

 

[Flaregamer82253]

Probably the core of my beliefs on Pony Twilight is just that I don't believe things are ever going to improve because there is no one left who Twilight would let in.

Let's go down the list of all those who remain:

Starting with the Mane 6, Twilight's friends, the problem is that they aren't actually friends. The world got interrupted 4 months from the day that Nightmare Moon returned. A friendship has to be maintained, and for whatever really happened beyond our vision, regardless of why or who, Twilight's burgeoning friendships didn't survive. Twilight wasn't ever inclined towards friends in the first place, so I wonder how she must look back on that night with Nightmare Moon. Probably only with depersonalization.

Celestia next. I'm going to put aside any and all consideration of how the Daybreaker situation will resolve. I'll also put aside most of the changeling situation too. The real question here is "Why would what Celestia says matter to Twilight?"

Consider Twilight's perspective here. When Celestia left to find Luna, what happened to their relationship?

"But…" you hear her say, almost in a whimper. And you can't help but raise an eyebrow as Twilight…

You can't help but feel a slight jab on your heart as Twilight Sparkle says something, with a voice that makes her sound a lot younger than she actually is.

"But Princess Celestia… she is not here to teach me… she doesn't answer my letters and I…"

You see her curl up slightly at that, her eyes leaving your own and going towards the floor as the unspoken words that "she doesn't know what to do" hang in the air around her.

Ah… you should have realized it.

Rarity didn't mention she was this close to the Princess. Maybe because she didn't know.

But from what you have seen, and from what you have heard, she must really be close to Princess Celestia. Extremely close, that is. And it makes sense that her current state couldn't have been caused just by… her rather unfortunate research, after the two of you parted ways.

Click to shrink...

Celestia never responded to Twilight, not sparing her a thought. This is critical for two reasons. First, Celestia has a clear priority to her sister even at the cost of all other personal relationships. Second, it is the initial indication to Twilight that she isn't worthy of even a moment of Celestia's attention.

In itself, this isn't all that much, but Twilight is a smart cookie: she can recognize a pattern. We saw a bit of that in another history.

"Velvet…" she says, and you can hear that her voice is trembling, "do you know where we are right now? Do you know what they call this place?"

You feel a knot inside your chest growing tighter and tighter as you see her mane fluttering slightly. As you see her whole body shaking as she asks that question.

You don't have it in you to answer her, so you just shake your head, even though she can't see it.

"This place," she says, and you can hear her swallowing something dry, "is called the Apprentice's Tower. And I know that sounds obvious… I know it's something everypony knows… but still, I only found out that is what it's called today."

She says that, and then she turns around to face you.

"Isn't that funny?" she asks with a smile.

Click to shrink...

"For the longest time… for years, even. I thought of this place as my home, I thought this place was called Twilight's Tower, or something like that. After all, this place was all mine, and I spent every… I was here all the time. I only ever left when I had something more interesting to learn somewhere else."

Her tone is so low that she might as well be talking in whispers. But still, you don't dare get any closer to her.

And that is because… her eyes are so hollow and her smile so faint that you think she will crumble into dust if you take even a single step towards her.

"Princess Celestia said it herself, even. That this place was all mine to do anything I wanted. That is, to study anything I wanted," she continued, turning her gaze towards the surrounding bookshelves. "And I remember how happy I was… this place was a like an amusement park, like twenty different libraries mashed together in a single place. And I thought Princess Celestia had prepared all of this for me, Velvet…"

Twilight lets out a dry cough, her chest shuddering so much with the motion that you have no doubt that it was actually painful for her.

It takes you a few moments to realize that was a chuckle.

"That's the thing, Velvet. I just realized that she didn't. This place… all of these books, on all of these subjects, and all of these tools… they are all leftovers. They are all the interests of her previous students, things that were left behind and that piled on top of each other as the years and decades passed. They were all left here for the next occupant of this place to pick up, because this is what this place is for. This is the Apprentice's Tower."

Click to shrink...

"But in the end… that's what I was the whole time. Exactly what Princess Luna said. My whole life, I was just a passing interest, one more student in a long line of ponies who caught Princess Celestia's eyes…"

A single tear comes out of her eyes, slowly making its way down the fur of her cheek as she says those words.

"And when she said I was her faithful student… I can see that she meant I was a faithful student. Not her faithful student, or the faithful student… Just another pastime she decided to take under her wing and…"

The young mare suddenly shivers, as if a cough or a hiccup came up to her, interrupting whatever she was going to say next.

And with that, her whole demeanor changes. As if she just realized where she was, as if she was suddenly afraid of what was happening, Twilight's eyes suddenly shoot wide open. Her breathing becomes ragged as she looks around herself, and her horn lights up as she starts walking backwards, away from you.

"Twilight, wait!" is all you can say, running towards her after the split second it takes you to realize what she is about to do.

But before you even finish speaking those words, the light of her horn flashes a brilliant light purple, and then she is gone with the soft puff of a teleportation spell.

Leaving you alone, with nothing to keep you company, but the memory of Twilight's frightened expression.

And no matter how much you think about it, you can't describe it in any other way but as the expression of a pony who can no longer recognize anything around her. Not even herself.

Click to shrink...

Twilight isn't special.

She knows that. It's something that has been proven to her multiple times throughout the course of this quest from multiple people, but really, the important part right now is that Twilight knows she's not special to Celestia. Furthermore, it's not as though Celestia has taken any action to disprove this. Daybreaker or not, Celestia hasn't reached out to Twilight, not even with a condolence for her losses, in 16 months now. And you know, Twilight didn't even have much faith in Celestia saying that she should get some friends at the beginning of the series. So really, I have to wonder why anything Celestia says to Twilight beyond the role of ruler and subject would make a difference when she hasn't been a mentor or a friend to her at all.

I have no faith in Celestia making a difference in the Twilight situation.


Alright, moving on to Shining Armor. Between the leash and the Lunar Bureau, I'd imagine we've had a good handle on what Shining Armor's doing on the Twilight situation:

"And that is why he wouldn't take the job with us. Vanhoover is too far away for a commute, and well… he just has to be there for her sister. Even if she only eats when he is out of the house, and even if they only speak through a closed door. She is still… all that he has…"

Shining says that, and for a short moment you can see how his gaze becomes unfocused.

More than just that, you can also tell that… you can also feel certain thoughts running through his mind. The idea that his words should mean something else to him personally. The impression that the story he is telling is… not only relatable, but also familiar. Coupled with the impression that he, too, should be doing… something about it. Just like the detective is.

But just before he can reach a conclusion, just before those disparate thoughts come together with his mind in a way that makes sense-

-you also feel the tug of the Leash he has in his mind. Stopping from taking that final step.​

And just like that, Shining Armor is looking at you once again. His expression focused and attentive as if nothing just happened.

Click to shrink...

In order to prevent Shining Armor from following up on Twilight, Velvet had to stop Shining Armor from thinking about Twilight up to the point where Shining got married, where I find it unlikely at best to say Shining followed up on Twilight afterwards in any way that she would be receptive to. As far as Twilight believes, Shining Armor doesn't believe her, and thus, she has a lack of faith in Shining. I can't see her being receptive while Shining thinks she's crazy, and us and Velvet would/will continue to ensure that Shining thinks Twilight is crazy as long as our survival depends on it. Shining Armor can't help Twilight.

Alright, lastly, Cadance. How did Cadance help Twilight before the Wedding?

However, not even the soft light of the moon could hide the fact that…

"She… Velvet, are you sure this is the place?"

"… yes. I have already been here before. It looked a lot better, months ago. And I mean a lot better. But…"

"I… oh no… I should have come here before, I should have thought about her before… but it was just so much that…!"

Click to shrink...

She didn't really do much in the 3 months between her rescue and wedding without us prompting her, even though Twilight also lost her parents and little brother and her horn/passion.

What about Cadance's perspective? She actually tried. We know very, very little about what came of this conversation, but I can't imagine it was positve.

She knew what she should do next. She knew what she had to do next. And yet, she hesitated. She hesitated because she was afraid. And she was afraid because she knew that… she knew, as she looked into that dark library, that…

… that there was no love inside that place.

And despite everything other ponies thought about her, despite everything she knew about herself, she still didn't know if she would be enough, even as she set hoof into that darkness.

Click to shrink...

"Cadance, I feel like I need to ask… how did that night go? How… how was Twilight?"

You ask that, and you watch as Cadance's eyes move here and there. You watch as she lies back on the chair she is sitting, as if thinking about what words she should use to answer you.

Still, she looks fine. In fact, she looks like you just asked her about the weather, or what time it is. Or as if you just asked her about something related to the wedding that she has already decided.

And not long after, she opens her mouth to speak.

Although what she tells you is… well, it's not the answer you are waiting for.

"Did I ever tell you about my family?" she asks.

Click to shrink...

"Well, not long after that day… several things happened, and I became a Princess."

Still, you can only watch as she completely dismisses the thought. You can only watch as her previous lost expression… changes back to normal. In fact, you can only watch as she once again begins to smile, of all things.

"And things were great after that. They really were! Shining's parents were lovely. And of course, Princess Celestia herself took me in. She really was like an aunt to me for the longest time. I don't really feel like I lacked anything, back when it was just me and dad. But I definitely gained something I didn't have, after Princess Celestia brought me to Canterlot."

She says that in a tone that almost sounds distracted. As if she is telling you one thing, but thinking about something else entirely. In fact, she is so deep in her thought that she doesn't even notice her magic is slipping away. What little concentration she was focusing on the magical drawing finally fades, and her long-gone cutie mark disappears right after.

However, despite her upbeat words, you think that… you think you know what she is truly talking about.

Despite her content and distracted expression, you think you know what she is truly thinking about.

After all, she is talking about Shining's parents. About Shining's mother, who introduced her to her current husband-to-be. About Shining's father, as she vaguely recalls the lessons on magic he taught her while she was still getting used to the horn on her head.

And of course, she also tells you about her… "Auntie" Celestia.

However, it is painfully obvious to you that none of those ponies are around anymore.

And she knows that.

Oh, she definitely knows that.

Click to shrink...

I can't help but notice that Twilight is very blatantly not spoken about here.

"Can you promise not to judge me?" she asks.

For a moment, you think about answering her with a joke of sorts. To try and alleviate the heaviness in the air, if nothing else. For a moment, you think about saying something like no promises, or trying to dismiss her concerns that you will judge her as silly. Because of course, you would never judge her, and you very much want to put a smile on her face.

But still, you also realize that what she needs right now is the serious, no-nonsense and honest answer.

"I won't," you say.

She doesn't look towards you. Instead, she keeps looking straight ahead, towards the center of the room, as if she could still see the disappeared drawing of her former cutie mark.

That is, until she lets out another, longer sigh.



"Promise you won't leave me?"

Click to shrink...

It's very clear to me that Twilight isn't going to let Cadance in, and I'm pretty sure Twilight cut ties with Cadance entirely.

Cadance knows this, even in her nightmares:

"You just what? You are going to blame me? You are going to blame somepony else? Swear up and down it is not your fault? The same way it wasn't your fault when you let the country fall apart, right when Celestia needed you most? The same way it wasn't your fault that the pony you claim to love the most lost his horn? The same way it wasn't your fault when you failed to save Twilight?!"

Click to shrink...

See, this is Cadance's nightmare, but it's important to understand where the distortion is here. Every event that happened is a fact, but Cadance's distortion is that she is at fault for them. I take this to mean pretty definitively that she failed in that conversation, and that she can't, or at least won't try further, to save Twilight in respect of her wishes.


So who's left? Twilight has no friends, no faith, no mentor, and no family that she would listen to. She said it herself after all.

"And ever since I moved here… ever since I met you, my life only got worse… it got worse… and worse… and worse… and now I have nothing left."

Click to shrink...

As far as I'm concerned, Twilight Sparkle is a closed system that has exactly two people who could make a reasonable difference.

Velvet Covers

and her Apostle.

You get up from where you are sitting, on the dark corner of the room.

You watch as the mare begins to quietly cry, as you approach her.

But you also know that she doesn't want you to go away. Because even though everything you just told her was painful, her entire life is pain right now. So, what you are saying at least make sense. And since it makes sense, it helps her at least ground herself. And since it helps her to ground herself, she wants you to tell her more.

You have no idea what you are doing.

But it is working, and for some reason it feels easy.

Almost natural.

So, when you reach her, you very carefully put your lips close to her ear, and you whisper to her. Almost as if you are sharing a secret.

You whisper to her a question. A proposal. An invitation.

And finally, the mare begins to… talk.

Things become much, much easier after that.

And your heart hammers inside your chest, with tension at the thought that you are making progress, and maybe just a hint of pride at the fact that following your guts worked.

But most of all, you feel glad because…

Because you are helping Mrs. Velvet.

And that is exactly what you will strive to do, from now on.

Because you owe her too much, and it's about time you start paying her back.

Click to shrink...

(After the Wedding)

And that is because Amor is currently staring at what is, or perhaps was, the town library. A treehouse, or a house that is literally built from a tree, that stands in one of the roads near the center of Ponyville.

Although, like anypony else, she can immediately tell that said library had seen better days.

After all, she can barely tell that the place is shaped like a tree. Because there are no leaves or flowers to speak of, and most of its branches have already rotted and fallen down.

Furthermore, to say that the structure is in disrepair is an understatement. The "natural" parts of the tree look rotten and sick, but the "pony-made" parts of the structure look no better. And everywhere she looks, she can spot a broken window, or a misaligned door, or some other sign that this place is in desperate need for the attention of a cutie-marked carpenter.

But most of all, this place is unique because of…

Most ponies prefer to just ignore this place. In fact, most ponies in Ponyville either pretend this place doesn't exist, and just avoid this road altogether.

However, Amor… doesn't. In fact, it is the opposite with her.

And just like every other week, she spends… more than just a few moments staring at the rotting tree-house. Just like every other week, she can feel the thing that is emanating from that place. Like a strange warmth that comes from an invisible bonfire, or a strong smell that sticks to the coat.

And just like every other week, she… slowly, cautiously makes her way towards the worn front door.

Amor makes her way towards the front door, noticing that the sign that used to hang over the door is no longer there. Although she was sure that it was there last week. Another sign of disrepair, no doubt. Another thing that was simply lost.

She reaches the front door, and she can almost taste the feelings that are covering this place.

And she knows that… she knows that it would be so simple. It would be as easy as picking up a ripe fruit, that is hanging from a low branch.

She could call whoever lives in that place right now, and she knows that pony would follow. All she needed to do was knock on that door. All she needed to do was extend a hoof, and the denizen of this catacomb would practically lunge to hold on to it.

Amor slowly raises her hoof, inching it closer and closer to the front door…



But like every other week, she stops.



She stops herself. She stops her hoof. And as painful as it might be, she wrangles herself away from that temptation.

Because there are rules to this. There are rules to their… gathering, that she knows she must obey.

In fact, she was the one who wrote them.

And just like every other week, she almost broke the very first rule that they all must follow.

Do not invite any newcomers, unless She was the one who called for them.

Yes… yes. She must follow the rules.

No matter how inviting this place seems to be.

No matter how obvious this option might look like.

The pony who dwells in this place has not yet been called by… her friend. Her one and only very best friend has not yet called for whoever lives in this place. She has not yet mentioned this place, or looked at it, or even thought about it. Which can only mean that something, perhaps the gathering, or perhaps the pony who lives here, is not ready yet.

Click to shrink...

Information control is something OurLadyOfWires maintains very well. If it isn't something we would become aware of or otherwise must need to know, we won't be directly told. Soft Sweeps has visited Twilight Sparkle and has set something in motion. Despair, the Wolf that devours thought. I am pretty sure, even if I can't confirm, that Twilight is rolling against something, perhaps Dread, every turn at this point. And I believe that at some point, Twilight will take any decisions out of our hands. I firmly believe that the moment she fails enough times, Twilight will become a critical member of Soft Sweeps cult, and I doubt anyone would be able to do anything to help her in the ways we would hope at that point.

What I'm trying to say is that regardless of what will happen, in a way similar to figuring out what the Master was up to, waiting for someone else to make a move for Twilight, or waiting for Velvet Covers to have an opportunity is a bad idea. Everyone is an actor with agency in this world, and I've seen no indication that people are making or are able to make a positive impact in Twilight's situation, and Twilight has a standing offer she's been sitting on for a while.

So I want to end this off by saying that if you don't believe that the method we have in front of us is one that can be abided by, then that's okay! I completely understand that some of us won't agree with each other on these decisions. My main purpose with this post is to stress that we have no guarantees that we will have another opportunity and that I don't ever see things changing without an action by Velvet Covers or Soft Sweeps, and the latter is the only one "active" with Twilight.

(That's enough effort for one day...)

 

[OurLadyOfWires]

Spoiler: Winning Vote

[Y] Return home, with Diary, Frangiclave, and something else besides. Or rather, someone. (End the dream, bringing Twilight Sparkle with you, and redistribute your remaining action points.)

The Velvet estate is home to many rumors and gossips.

Granted, maids and servants are as prone to whispering secrets to each other as they are to attending their actual duties. And everypony knows that, as a rule, noble households are already a nexus of gossiping to begin with.

However, over the last few months, the Velvet estate of Ponyville has certainly become… something else.

Its corridors, or at least the mind of its servants, have been filled with more intrigue than the average noble household. And it certainly has seen way more activity than it should have, considering how far it is from Canterlot and how unremarkable its Lady had been for so many years.

But rumors, just like fire, neither care nor discriminate, and they will spread as long as there is adequate fuel for them. Regardless of the past or pedigree of those they envelop.

And the recent guests of the Velvet estate, as well as the scandalous actions of the Lady herself, have been more than enough to spark many a controversy.



"You know, I have been thinking about our summoner these last few days. And I couldn't help but see a few parallels between her and the adepts of our time."



One of those rumors is about nopony other than good Baldomare.

Now, this isn't exactly a rumor per se. It is not a scandal, or a gossip, or even a peek into her elusive and tightly guarded past. This particular tidbit of conversation, that floats here and there among the servants, isn't really something that is either gleefully shared or jealously kept secret by whoever hears it.

In fact, it is more of an opinion than a rumor.

And that opinion is…

… that good Baldomare is actually a very bad conversation partner.



"[SECRET HISTORIES]?"

"Why I'm saying this? Wait, you haven't heard? Or perhaps it hasn't happened yet? What day is it… ah, but of course. Yes, yes, my apologies. I just happened to look ahead a little bit. You see, our summoner is coming back tonight, finally, and she will bring somepony back with her. A new guest, I suppose, to fill this house with."



Of course, good Baldomare is not without her fair share of fans and admirers. And those ponies will quickly jump to deny such slanderous claims.

However, the fact remains that, well, everypony agrees Baldomare knows everything.

And that makes her a great storyteller, for sure. A great storyteller, a wonderful advisor, and a very mischievous fortune teller for those who dare ask.

Still, wouldn't that make her a terrible conversation partner? After all, how can you have a proper conversation with somepony who already knows everything? Wouldn't that make it a lecture? A monologue? Or perhaps an exercise in futility?



"[FORGE]?"

"No, no, not that kind of guest. But you are right, in a sense. Or maybe you are coming from the right place? Well, it doesn't matter. Although I agree with you. Because maybe I shouldn't call that newcomer a guest…?"



Whatever the truth may be, the fact remains there are still ponies who are willing to engage good Baldomare in conversation.

Well, that's not exactly right. Baldomare is quite the approachable mare, and she is willing to talk to anypony. Even if, most of the time, she will be the one doing most of the talking.

So, it is better to say that there are still some ponies who are capable of engaging with her in a conversation. And despite the obvious gap in expertise and knowledge, there are still ponies who can sit down with Baldomare and have something to say, without the exchange slowly turning into a lecture of sorts.

There is old Biedde, who has on occasion had lengthy conversations with her about… well, about fantasy books that they both read, apparently. But that they appeared to be discussing as vigorously as if it was actual history.

Firefly Breeze, a relatively young and innocent maid, is spoken of as one of the few ponies who can make Baldomare change her mind after she made a decision. And Rusty Nail, a farmhoof who has worked on the estate since before the Lady arrived, is said to have gotten into a messy disagreement with Baldomare about the effect of sunlight on crops.

Maddeningly, young Silky Stream has supposedly already outwitted Baldomare, precisely once, in a subject nopony seems to agree on. Some of the servants insist it was on a topic the filly must have studied about in school, while others reason it must have been about something like the result of a game of chance or a coin toss.

And then, of course, there is…



"[MOTH]?"

"No, no, it's not that either. Our summoner and the guest are separate ponies. But as I was saying, I shouldn't call her a new guest. I should call her an… acquisition."



And then, of course, there is fair Mareinette.

Fair Mareinette, who so often invites good Baldomare for a drink or three in her humble room within the wine cellar.

Fair Mareinette who, in her great charity, convinced the Lady to let some of the farmhoofs keep their jobs even after they lost a hoof or a leg. Who took them in, even, as their favored and "dedicated" servants.

Fair Mareinette, who is beloved by all in the estate, and who can do no wrong, and who would be delighted to have you in her company.

Yes, that Mareinette. It only makes sense that a mare as grand as she would be deemed interesting company to good Baldomare.

So, as it happened several times before, it just happens that the two mares are currently engaged in conversation, as they stroll around the great farmlands of the estate.



"But again, the more time I spend here, the more I see our summoner reflecting the habits of our time. Maybe it was inevitable? Or maybe these are just the timeless habits of those who dabble on the Lores? Who knows. There probably isn't a difference."

"[SECRET HISTORIES]?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I mean by that… but fine, I'll indulge you."



The two mares walk through the long roads of beaten dirt that stretch across the farmlands. The ones that are used by the farmhoofs to go here and there, carrying their carts and their tools, and the ones that serve as lines that divide the different harvests.

Every now and then they stop, to look at a group of farmers at work. Every now and then a group of farmers stop, to gaze at the fair mares as they pass by. One pale and shadowless like an intriguing mirage, the other large and regal like a black-clad Princess.

Still, their presence in the farmlands is as magical as it is mundane. Like a cool breeze on a sweaty brow, or the sight of a beautiful bird flying overhead. Their passage is something that is welcome, perhaps even celebrated, but also something that everypony understands is beyond them.

And so it also happens that their words, deep and mysterious as they may be, are also being lost in the wind and forgotten by the breeze.



"I once read that words, or perhaps language itself, are nothing but a convention. An agreed-upon way that we use to understand each other. After all, even though secrets are precious, the ability to understand one another is both useful and important. In fact, it is so important that the means we use to nurture that ability are far more diverse than just the use of language. It extends to culture, to habits, and several other things besides. Why, I daresay our desire to understand each other is one of the reasons why we both wear this pony-like form. Because we wouldn't be able to do much if the first words out of our mouth always had to be be not afraid, no?"

"[HEART]."

"Sure, sure, semantics. The point that I'm trying to make is that our summoner… well, maybe she realizes it, or maybe she doesn't. But still, she stumbled upon a particular habit from our time."



The sun is still high in the sky. The irrigation-clouds that will be brought in near the end of the day are nowhere to be seen. And all around the two mare-things, everything is in peace.

Everything is where it should be. Everything is predictable. Everything is in its proper place.

Everything is under control.



"Because it is easy to ignore these conventions when you don't even know they are there. It is easy to let your legs guide you as you walk, and let your pace quicken or slow down as you please. But once you realize there is a tune? Once you realize there is actually a song on the background, that you have been dancing to all along? Well, once that happens you need to make a conscious effort to keep up with the pace."

"[LANTERN]."

"Exactly! After all, despite their disagreements, Lantern and Moth are still neighbors. And it is so easy to go from one to the other and… No, that's not right. It's easy to fall from Moth to Lantern. But there is no easy way back, once you do it."



All around them, farmhoofs and supervisors keep to their tasks as if it was natural. All around them, the world continues to spin as if that was the ordinary way of things.

An old farmer tips her straw hat at them while she pulls a cart, as she walks by the two pony-like creatures. A trio of farmers nervously consider approaching the two mares, for their advice or their blessings or just their presence, but fail to muster their courage before it is already too late. A group of foals, newcomers to the town, nervously gaze at them from their distant hiding spot, wondering if today was the day they would dare step a hoof into the property and trespass into the mysterious noblemare's land.

All around them, the world continues to spin as if everything that happens is utterly normal.

All around them, everypony continues living under the idea that everything around them is natural. And not that everything around them, from the seeds under the dirt to the clouds in the sky to the very sun and moon on the heavens, are not being moved by pony hoofs and pony will.



"It seems that our summoner realized that her life, or maybe everything, is a masquerade. It seems she finally realized that everything we do, from our habits to our thoughts to our very lives, are masks that we wear. That the very world, even, is nothing but the continuance of these conventions and habits and words that we jointly agree carry a particular meaning. And tonight, when she bring her new guest… when she brings back her latest acquisition, she will have taken an important step in accepting her place in all of this."

"[GRAIL]?"

"Oh, no. I wish that was the case, but it is much worse than that. Because she thinks of herself as a... the Hostess. And after tonight, after this latest decision of hers, our summoner will become obsessed with it. With keeping this masquerade running, with keeping this delightful party on rhythm with her music. With keeping the ignorant in ignorance, and the performers dancing. Of course, that is all well and good, and I think she will be a good host. After all, it was the hosts and hostesses of old that kept us all from killing each other back then, no? Somepony needs to keep the wheels spinning. And more importantly, somepony needs to keep everypony else from noticing there are wheels to begin with. Quite fitting, then, that she has the word covers on her name."



Mareinette stops, as she listens to those words. She stops, and she looks down at good Baldomare, and within the dark depth of her empty eye sockets she considers what the bright-mare just told her like a sommelier might consider a fine glass of wine.

She thinks, and she ponders, and good Baldomare inevitably begins to answer her unspoken question before it is even properly formed.



"I think you would approve of her, yes. I think this will be to your liking, in the end. Because just like the hosts and hostesses of our time, our summoner is not without her own habits and likings. In fact, I think you will come to the same conclusion when you see her. Our summoner does not care for her latest acquisition. At least, she doesn't care for her with the same fixation she does her family, and she will treat her like any other of her pawns. And yet, she made this decision all the same."

"…"

"Because this isn't about her latest acquisition. This isn't about the student herself. Oh no. This is about what she represented. Because the reflection of her acquisition, the one that will be whisked away by the snake in a few hours, was a failure. Worse than that, she was evidence of her failure. Living proof that our summoner couldn't protect somepony she took under her wings. She was… a crack on our summoner's mask. And that crack would only widen and grow, if left unattended, until it snapped her mask in half. And that simply wouldn't do for the Hostess of this masquerade, no? So… she did what every good hostess would do. She did what was necessary to continue the masquerade."



The wind stops blowing, as Baldomare says that. Not by design, and not due to any particular reason. This is, in truth, just a coincidence. Still, the wind stops blowing nonetheless, and the very world seems to hold its breath as Mareinette considers the implications of that.

She considers the implications of that… and how that might reframe her associate's previous actions… and how that might educate her decisions in the future… and also, and also…

…

Ah.

The wind begins to blow once again. Fiercer, this time, as if to make up for the short pause from a few moments ago.

The wind blows at Mareinette's regal cloak or red and black. And it pushes and presses against the nearby crops and fields. And it leaves Baldomare completely untouched and undisturbed as if the Lantern-Name was light itself.

The wind blows long and hard, and in its smooth gale it carries a new sound, that is now coming from the Grail-thing.



Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack-clack



It should be impossible for a skull to smile. It should be impossible for a bone-dry corpse to feel mirth. It should be impossible for a thing that is oh so thirsty to feel sated.

And yet, if only for a moment, all of those things were happening.

Mareinette's delight makes itself known to the world, sounding at the same time like the laughter of a filly and the dissonant song of castanets.

And by the time the wind finally dies down, the two mares are gone. Both of them disappearing once they are satisfied with that conversation.





Mareinette is delighted by your recent decision, she has decided to reward you with [REDACTED]

Well, there is no reason to delve too deep into what could have happened, or what you might have gained. After all, this is just a Was Not now. Right?

Right?

Move along now, dear. Back to where you came from.