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The Dying Words of Starswirl the Bearded
“This is it, Spike! The Sanctum of Starswirl the Bearded!”
Spike didn’t share Twilight’s enthusiasm, holding himself close to her back as he shivered into her mane, not sparing a glance for the frozen tower. “Ugh, it’s freezing. Why did you have to bring me along, anyway?”
“Spike! You know why this is important.”
“Because you want to listen to some old wizard talk?”
“It’s Starswirl the Bearded!” Twilight stomped her hoof on the frozen steps.
“Can we argue inside? I’m cold.”
Twilight sighed and shook her head, her horn lighting up as she pulled open the great wooden doors, the rimed-over surface cracking as chunks of ice tumbled off them onto the stone landing. Spreading her wings, she leapt inside, slowly skittering to a halt as she pulled the door shut behind them with a loud thump.
“We’re inside! Oh, this is so exciting! No one has been here in hundreds of years. Can you believe it?”
“Yeah. It’s still freezing,” Spike grumbled, letting go of Twilight to cross his arms across his chest, shuddering. “So what’s the deal with this spell of yours, anyway? I thought you said there’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“There isn’t,” Twilight said, trotting towards the spiral staircase in the center of the tower.
“So how are you going to talk to him? He’s been dead for, like, forever. If there’s no ghost, how does your spell know who to talk to?”
Twilight shook her head. “The spell doesn’t talk to anyone. When a pony dies, they leave a psychic imprint on their surroundings, reflecting their last moments in Equestria. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to hear Starswirl’s last moments!”
“Why would you want to listen to a dying pony? Isn’t that kind of personal?”
“Because it’s important!” Twilight jerked her head, peering up towards the top of the tower before redoubling her pace. “Clover the Clever said that his dying words were so profound, mere words could not be used to express them on paper. Do you know what that means?”
“She was a lousy assistant?”
“No! That there are words that are so deep and meaningful that they can’t even be written down! That’s fascinating! A whole new branch of unknown vocabulary. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Exciting. Right.”
Twilight sighed.
The pair fell silent as they wound their way up the tower, Twilight’s frown turning to a smile once more as they approached the top of the stairwell, her horn lighting up to yank the door open before she even reached the top step. “We’re here!”
Spike looked up, tilting his head to peer past Twilight’s horn. “Isn’t much to look at.”
“Well, Clover took everything important when she left. Anything that was still here probably would have rotted away by now.” Twilight stepped into the empty room, her horn lighting once more to carefully pull the door closed behind her. “Now Spike, you ready to take a note?”
Spike hunched his shoulders, rubbing his claws together for several seconds before he nodded his head. “Yep. Just gotta get your ink out of your saddlebags.” He reached down. “And hope it isn’t frozen.”
“It’s not THAT cold.”
“Speak for yourself. So what am I writing?”
“The last words of Starswirl the Bearded!”
Spike blinked as he straightened up, an inky quill clutched between his claws. “I thought you said they couldn’t be written?”
“Right! So I want you to try and write them and see what happens. Now hang on!”
Spike tightened his legs around Twilight’s sides as her horn flared, the bare stone blazing with violet magic as her spell took hold before suddenly extinguishing itself as a faint, wheezing voice filled the room.
“It can’t end like this. Tell them I said something… profound.”
“…profound,” Spike muttered to himself, before brightening as he pressed the quill into the parchment at the end of the sentence. “Got it!”
Silence hung in the room for a long moment.
“What?” Twilight shouted shrilly, stamping her hooves on the ground. “That can’t be it!”
“I don’t know what to say, Twilight; I wrote it down just fine. I guess she was a lousy assistant, huh?”
“But… Clover the Clever said that his words were so deeply meaningful, mere words couldn’t express them! They moved her, Spike!”
“I dunno. Sounds to me like she just couldn’t come up with anything good either,” Spike said, chuckling to himself as he leaned back on the terribly still mare. “Right, Twilight?” He paused. “Twilight?”
Twilight’s eye twitched.
Spike didn’t share Twilight’s enthusiasm, holding himself close to her back as he shivered into her mane, not sparing a glance for the frozen tower. “Ugh, it’s freezing. Why did you have to bring me along, anyway?”
“Spike! You know why this is important.”
“Because you want to listen to some old wizard talk?”
“It’s Starswirl the Bearded!” Twilight stomped her hoof on the frozen steps.
“Can we argue inside? I’m cold.”
Twilight sighed and shook her head, her horn lighting up as she pulled open the great wooden doors, the rimed-over surface cracking as chunks of ice tumbled off them onto the stone landing. Spreading her wings, she leapt inside, slowly skittering to a halt as she pulled the door shut behind them with a loud thump.
“We’re inside! Oh, this is so exciting! No one has been here in hundreds of years. Can you believe it?”
“Yeah. It’s still freezing,” Spike grumbled, letting go of Twilight to cross his arms across his chest, shuddering. “So what’s the deal with this spell of yours, anyway? I thought you said there’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“There isn’t,” Twilight said, trotting towards the spiral staircase in the center of the tower.
“So how are you going to talk to him? He’s been dead for, like, forever. If there’s no ghost, how does your spell know who to talk to?”
Twilight shook her head. “The spell doesn’t talk to anyone. When a pony dies, they leave a psychic imprint on their surroundings, reflecting their last moments in Equestria. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to hear Starswirl’s last moments!”
“Why would you want to listen to a dying pony? Isn’t that kind of personal?”
“Because it’s important!” Twilight jerked her head, peering up towards the top of the tower before redoubling her pace. “Clover the Clever said that his dying words were so profound, mere words could not be used to express them on paper. Do you know what that means?”
“She was a lousy assistant?”
“No! That there are words that are so deep and meaningful that they can’t even be written down! That’s fascinating! A whole new branch of unknown vocabulary. Isn’t that exciting?”
“Exciting. Right.”
Twilight sighed.
The pair fell silent as they wound their way up the tower, Twilight’s frown turning to a smile once more as they approached the top of the stairwell, her horn lighting up to yank the door open before she even reached the top step. “We’re here!”
Spike looked up, tilting his head to peer past Twilight’s horn. “Isn’t much to look at.”
“Well, Clover took everything important when she left. Anything that was still here probably would have rotted away by now.” Twilight stepped into the empty room, her horn lighting once more to carefully pull the door closed behind her. “Now Spike, you ready to take a note?”
Spike hunched his shoulders, rubbing his claws together for several seconds before he nodded his head. “Yep. Just gotta get your ink out of your saddlebags.” He reached down. “And hope it isn’t frozen.”
“It’s not THAT cold.”
“Speak for yourself. So what am I writing?”
“The last words of Starswirl the Bearded!”
Spike blinked as he straightened up, an inky quill clutched between his claws. “I thought you said they couldn’t be written?”
“Right! So I want you to try and write them and see what happens. Now hang on!”
Spike tightened his legs around Twilight’s sides as her horn flared, the bare stone blazing with violet magic as her spell took hold before suddenly extinguishing itself as a faint, wheezing voice filled the room.
“It can’t end like this. Tell them I said something… profound.”
“…profound,” Spike muttered to himself, before brightening as he pressed the quill into the parchment at the end of the sentence. “Got it!”
Silence hung in the room for a long moment.
“What?” Twilight shouted shrilly, stamping her hooves on the ground. “That can’t be it!”
“I don’t know what to say, Twilight; I wrote it down just fine. I guess she was a lousy assistant, huh?”
“But… Clover the Clever said that his words were so deeply meaningful, mere words couldn’t express them! They moved her, Spike!”
“I dunno. Sounds to me like she just couldn’t come up with anything good either,” Spike said, chuckling to himself as he leaned back on the terribly still mare. “Right, Twilight?” He paused. “Twilight?”
Twilight’s eye twitched.