Time froze.

Star Swirl, however, did not.

The first thing he did was blink. Or at least, he thought he did. There was the sensation of blinking, same as there was the sensation of his hooves against the cool stone floor, of the weight of his tattered cloak against his back and his bell-laden hat on his head. He was breathing, his heart pumping, but those sensations seemed distant, as though they didn’t matter.

He could still see, certainly. He could see more than usual, in fact. He could see himself, for one—ragged, wide-eyed, horn sparking in desperation. He could see his teeth were bared, and that one of his incisors was missing.

And he could certainly see the deadly bolt of red magic screaming towards his face.

“Tsk tsk tsk. A fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into, isn’t it?”

The voice sounded like his own, but it was smooth, devoid of the raspy undercurrent that had settled in with old age. It was the voice he heard in his mind when reading or writing, but somehow twisted in a whimsical fashion. It was a voice he had come to hate and dread.

“Whatever this is,” he said aloud, “it is only made worse by your presence.” There was a tinny echo to his own words.

“Oh, is that any way to treat one of your closest friends?” The voice wrapped around his shoulders, spun itself into his ears. “And after all this time, still?”

“You are but a whisper in my mind. A whisper I know to be my enemy. A whisper I have long since learned to ignore.”

“Ah, the sweet smell of hypocrisy!” The voice chuckled, a noise that resounded behind his eyeballs. “You’re listening now, aren’t you? We both know you always listen.”

Star Swirl kept silent. Of course, that wouldn’t stop the voice.

“And as long as you’re oh-so-willing to listen, why don’t we see where this little conversation takes us?” Its next words carried a verbal shrug. “I’m going to keep talking anyway, so you might as well. What have you got to lose?”

He looked back at the scene before him. It seemed there was indeed little to lose. “Very well.”

Another chuckle, this time like a loving stroke to the base of his skull. “There we go. See? Friendship is really quite easy.”

“You speak of something you are ignorant of.”

“And whose fault is that, exactly?” It laughed, as though it had told a joke but kept the punch line to itself. “But let’s be serious for a moment. I know it’s the one thing you’re good at.”

“If that is meant as a slight, I instead take it as a compliment.”

“Of course you do. Anyway, let’s see if we can puzzle out just how you got into this great big bag of failure.”

Star Swirl regarded the room again. Everything was crystal clear, without the blur his old eyes normally experienced. Everything was also in ruins, with scrolls, gems, potions, and other small objects flying around him like a curio maelstrom. A great fireplace stood in the corner, its flames frozen even as they lashed out at the papers scattered on the floor. The ink on the pages glinted red in the light of the flame.

“No, no. It’s not the flames that have given this scene its… warm hue.”

Right, it was the bolt of magic. The one that was going to kill him.

“Are you really that afraid of death? Is that why you’re not looking at the whole picture? It’s okay if you are. I would be, too, since we’re sharing a head and all.”

“I am not afraid.” He punctuated the sentence with a stamp of his hoof. “I have lived long enough.”

The voice tapped a foot in annoyance. “Oh, come now, old chum. We both know you can’t lie to me. There’s a reason to all of this. There’s a reason you’re averting your eyes, even now.”

He was, wasn’t he? With a great effort, Star Swirl looked up from the stones.

“Let’s put it this way. If you don’t fear death, then why go to all this trouble?”

“There is nothing to fear. Death is part of life. And only a fool would attempt to challenge that.”

It flashed a knowing grin. “But you have tried to challenge it, haven’t you? Why else would you have dedicated your life to magic?”

“I have never once tried to gain immortality. That way lies madness.”

“I suppose that’s true.” The voice played its way around his hooves. “But there are many ways to immortality.”

“Time takes its toll, regardless of the path sailed through its flow. I know that better than anypony.”

The voice gave a snort. “Indeed you do, which is why you’ve tried to gain immortality through others. Remember what you once said when you first started practicing magic? ‘I will be the greatest conjurer in history!’ You want your name etched in the stones of time, even if you have to carve it in there yourself.”

“If you are going to accuse me of being a narcissist, I suggest you look in a mirror.” He pointed to a mirror that was indeed sailing across the room.

It barked a great laugh, rattling his teeth. “Good one! See, it’s much more fun when you try being funny. But let’s look past the motivation for now. The point is, you’ve done quite a bit to try and make your life meaningful.”

“Doesn’t everypony?”

“Yes, but you may have gone too far. I mean, just look.”

Slowly, deliberately, Star Swirl brought his gaze across the room, to the source of the red bolt. A hooded unicorn stood there, and around its neck was an amulet.

“Hmm… Lovely craftsmanship for such a heinous bit of jewelry. I’m not one for art, but even I can appreciate this piece. It says everything you need to know at a single glance. The red wings, the angry eye, the big red gem in the middle… it just screams ‘bad news.’”

“I simply used the components I had on hoof. I didn’t pay attention to the aesthetics.”

“Whatever. The fact is, you made that.”

“And?”

“Well, what was the point, exactly? Oh, yes, some crazy idea about moving the sun and moon yourself!” The voice laughed, though not in mockery. “I will admit, I love the concept.”

“…Yet another reason I regret crafting it.”

“Love the sin, hate the sinner. Regardless, you were just out to control one more aspect of things, weren’t you? And you wanted to make sure it was just you who was in control. That’s why you enchanted it so that only the wearer could pry it off.”

“And I did, as soon as I understood its ill influence.”

“…But only after you’d demonstrated your newfound power for all to see. That’s the sort of thing that gets ponies thinking. That’s what makes them curious. And when ponies get curious, they get unpredictable. Did you really think you’d keep her from her quest for knowledge?”

He grit his teeth, knowing what was coming next.

“Ah, and here we get to what you’re really afraid of. Come on. Look.”

With a sigh, Star Swirl opened his eyes, and finally allowed his gaze to fall on the face of the pony beneath the hood. Her coat was purple—almost blue—her turquoise mane cut simply and swept to one side. She was young, but he knew her to be wise far beyond her years.

And that made the glaring hatred in her green eyes all the more heartbreaking.

“You never wanted an apprentice, did you? You always tried to keep yourself too busy.”

“I didn’t ‘try’. I simply was.”

“…Until you realized you could be even more busy when you had someone to cook your meals. She’s little more than a glorified housemaid. You know, you ought to get her a proper outfit. I bet she’d look adorable.”

“I have taught her much. She has learned much.”

“You’ve barely scratched the surface and you know it. The proof is right there in front of you. Why else do you think she went and tried that amulet on? She’s wanted to show you her ‘true power’ for ages now. You just haven’t let her.”

“She is not ready for those teachings. This is also proof of that.”

“Ha! And here’s the heart of the matter. You don’t want to let anything out of your control, my friend. You want everything in order.”

“There is an order to everything.”

“But only if you impose it! You’ve tried to put a halter on the world, but some things just can’t be guided like that. Some things happen. Things you can’t control. There’s always something like that.”

“No, there is always an order to things. There is always control.”

“Really?” It laughed, bristling his mane. “Then by all means, prove it! Prove there’s some grand order to this scene in front of you!”

Star Swirl looked around once more. There was certainly no obvious evidence. Between the whirlwind of papers, flying furniture, and the two ponies locked in battle, it seemed a perfect picture of anarchy.

And then he saw it. It hung in the air in front of the bolt, its surface glinting in the red glow. It was so small, almost trivial. He smiled.

“That,” he said, pointing to it, “is my proof.”

“What?” It took a moment for the voice to understand. “That tiny locket? What does that have to do with anything?”

“You know what that locket is.”

“Yes, a little trifle given to you by your apprentice. You’ve never even worn it. It’s been on that table, the one flying across the room, for weeks now.”

“Yes, and it is because of that I will not perish today.”

The voice frowned. “And?”

“That locket is carved from obsidian. Obsidian, which has the unusual property of absorbing magical energy. Were the bolt to connect with it, it would likely dissipate enough energy to negate the bolt’s lethality.”

“And who says the bolt is even going to hit it? It looks like it’s going to miss to me.”

“True, here and now, it appears that way, but once time resumes that locket will fall. I would need time to run the calculations, but even without them, I can tell it will fall just enough to make all the difference.”

“So that’s your argument? Really? Because a little thing, which could have flown anywhere, managed to be in the right place at the right time, it proves there’s a grand order to things?”

“Yes. It was I who placed it on the table. It is I who will be saved by it. It can only be called providence.” He stamped a hoof down. “Even here, where everything seems to be in disarray, there is an order to things. There is control.”

For once, the voice went silent. When it spoke again, it was barely a whisper.

“So, that… makes sense to you?”

He looked up defiantly, though there was no need to. “Yes, it does.”

It was quiet again, but then it slowly laughed. It built from a low chuckle to a boisterous guffaw, and this time it seemed to reverberate throughout his entire body. “Well, that’s that. There’s nothing more for me to say.”

“There’s always more for you to say.”

“Oh no, I’m serious. You’ve come this far, there’s nothing more for me to do but sit back and watch as you continue down this path you’re ‘destined’ to travel.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Aw, you caught me. You’re right. We’re going to walk along that road together. And I’m going to love watching you trip over all the little cracks and holes. Like it or not, you and I are inseparable.”

“One day, I will be rid of you.”

“Hmph. Promises. You can try, and try, and try until your horn bleeds and your mind breaks in two, but like the sun and moon, like your little apprentice, and like your own death, I will always be beyond your control.”

“We will see.”

He could swear he heard the voice grin. “We will see.”

Time flowed again. The bolt connected.

---

“Master?! Master, please wake up!”

The voice sounded like that of his student’s, but it was pained and terribly sad. He blinked his eyes open, and beheld the face of a young mare. Her expression was alien—twisted in an agonized grief that he had never seen on her face before.

The warm light of her green eyes, however, he could never mistake.

“Clover…” he gasped.

“Oh, thank the stars! No, no, lie still! I put you in a healing trance after I… I hurt you.” She hung her head, her tears glistening as they fell to the floor.

He reached a hoof out to her. It fell on her bare neck. “Where is the amulet?”

“There.” She pointed to where it lay near the fireplace. “I tore it off and threw it over there.”

“This is why I told you not to trifle with it.”

“I know. I… I can’t say how sorry I am. I won’t ask your forgiveness, Master.”

“We can talk about that once we have some ti—Ah!” He cut off as a sharp pain jabbed into his lower lip.

“I’m sorry! I tried to bring back your missing tooth, but it… Well…” She held up a shard of mirror for him to see. “…I overdid it.”

Star Swirl gazed into the reflection, grabbing hold of the mirror to point it properly. She had certainly brought the tooth back, all right. In place of his missing incisor, there was now a long, curved fang.

His breath quickened. It was ugly, hideous, monstrous. It was all out of order. It ruined the dignified look of his face! It… It tugged at his beard! For a moment, he thought of screaming.

But no, he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t let her see him that way. Not now, not ever. He would have to take control of the reins once more. He grinned wide—a necessity now—showing the tooth off.

“Peace, my student,” he said. “Leave it as it is. That way, whenever we look at one another, we’ll be reminded of this moment.”

She still looked uncertain, but she smiled through her tears. “Are you sure, Master?”

“I’m sure, Clover.”

Her smile widened, her lower lip curled. She hurled herself forward, wrapping her hooves around him and trembling as she buried her face in his chest. She made some strange choking sounds, as though sobbing and laughing at once. Perhaps she was.

Star Swirl simply held her there, silent and composed. There was still so much to take in, but he’d just give it time. He’d find a way to make this all work, he was sure.

And he was sure. The laughter echoing through his soul was proof of that.