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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Survey
Charred toothpicks that had once been mighty oaks lined the jagged scar cut through the Everfree Forest. Twilight pulled her gaze back from the chasm and returned her attention to a map that hovered among the scattered papers gripped in a purplish array around her head. Half a hut still stood in the burnt-out grove, its inhabitants long gone.
The nauseating feeling she'd been fighting all morning started to return. “This was part of King Aspen's domain?”
A rainbow-colored mane flowed into the periphery of her vision. “He sent a messenger to Canterlot after the incident.”
The summary of King Aspen's report was among the floating notes: Eleven deer had been injured and three were dead. Tirek hadn't drained the denizens of the forest – by that point he had all the magic he'd wanted. The picture of glee on his face as he tested his newly acquired power was permanently etched into Twilight's nightmares.
Tirek's actions, using Twilight's power. Using Celestia's power.
“You battled him on the plains to the north?” Celestia lifted her head and scanned the horizon.
Twilight lagged behind by a length as they walked in that direction. She began stacking documents into their proper order and hovered an inkwell toward her saddlebags. “About a mile. At least nopony lived there. Nopony got hurt.” At first she'd not understood the purpose of this survey, but revisiting her struggles against the mad centaur had surfaced the consequences of her actions in a way she knew she was having trouble dealing with.
“Two bears, five meadow birds, a fox, a mountain goat and more than a dozen rodents of one type or another. Your yellow friend was very thorough in her census.”
Twilight's quill snapped, flecking her mentor's pristinely white coat with speckles of black ink. She tried to apologize, but the words wouldn't leave her throat. The guilt that had been building up was kindling into something else.
She clenched her teeth. How dare you judge me for this! What was I supposed to do, let my friends die? She didn't allow the thoughts to surface verbally, though the scowl painted across her muzzle surely said it all. The broken quill threaded its way through a loop in her left pouch.
It allowed Twilight a moment to collect herself. “'Dear Princess Celestia. Murderous psychopath on the loose in Equestria. Please advise.' Let's pretend you hadn't been chained up in Tartarus. What would you have done?” The guilt was starting to return. “Do you regret handing me your power? Did I do more harm than good?”
The tall alicorn in front of Twilight stopped, but didn't turn to face her. The silence, amplified by the lack of wildlife in this burnt-out grove felt like an answer.
“If only actions were so easily divided into right and wrong.” Celestia started to pick her way forward again. “This is not about second guessing your actions, Princess Twilight, and it's not not a lesson about fixing your mistakes. You've learned those already.” Another few steps passed in silence. “Losing control has consequences. When one is responsible for the safety of an entire kingdom, one needs to be able to accept those things that one cannot fix, no matter how much one might wish to.”
They began to emerge from the forest's dead zone. Around them, new growth was starting to poke up through the blackened ground. Grasses, mostly, though some of the braver Earth Ponies had started to replant saplings here and there as well. The Everfree would eventually heal itself, but that would take some years.
“I don't like this lesson.” Twilight drew a shaky breath and set her mind back to the task at hand. The townsfolk would be glad to know that their efforts were beginning to bear fruit. A clipboard, still gripped a little bit too tightly in her telekinetic aura hovered up into view as she walked.
“Mmm,” Celestia confirmed. “Remind me to send a letter to King Aspen when we get back to the castle. Relations have been strained lately – it couldn't hurt to let him know we're concerned.” Twilight scratched a note using one of her spare, not-so-broken quills.
“Will do. Oh-” Twilight's hoof sank a little lower than she had expected, into a magical burn mark that drew a dark line several hundred yards long. She wasn't sure if it had been her blast or Tirek's, but in the end it didn't really matter. She scrawled another note.
“Moving on, then.”
The nauseating feeling she'd been fighting all morning started to return. “This was part of King Aspen's domain?”
A rainbow-colored mane flowed into the periphery of her vision. “He sent a messenger to Canterlot after the incident.”
The summary of King Aspen's report was among the floating notes: Eleven deer had been injured and three were dead. Tirek hadn't drained the denizens of the forest – by that point he had all the magic he'd wanted. The picture of glee on his face as he tested his newly acquired power was permanently etched into Twilight's nightmares.
Tirek's actions, using Twilight's power. Using Celestia's power.
“You battled him on the plains to the north?” Celestia lifted her head and scanned the horizon.
Twilight lagged behind by a length as they walked in that direction. She began stacking documents into their proper order and hovered an inkwell toward her saddlebags. “About a mile. At least nopony lived there. Nopony got hurt.” At first she'd not understood the purpose of this survey, but revisiting her struggles against the mad centaur had surfaced the consequences of her actions in a way she knew she was having trouble dealing with.
“Two bears, five meadow birds, a fox, a mountain goat and more than a dozen rodents of one type or another. Your yellow friend was very thorough in her census.”
Twilight's quill snapped, flecking her mentor's pristinely white coat with speckles of black ink. She tried to apologize, but the words wouldn't leave her throat. The guilt that had been building up was kindling into something else.
She clenched her teeth. How dare you judge me for this! What was I supposed to do, let my friends die? She didn't allow the thoughts to surface verbally, though the scowl painted across her muzzle surely said it all. The broken quill threaded its way through a loop in her left pouch.
It allowed Twilight a moment to collect herself. “'Dear Princess Celestia. Murderous psychopath on the loose in Equestria. Please advise.' Let's pretend you hadn't been chained up in Tartarus. What would you have done?” The guilt was starting to return. “Do you regret handing me your power? Did I do more harm than good?”
The tall alicorn in front of Twilight stopped, but didn't turn to face her. The silence, amplified by the lack of wildlife in this burnt-out grove felt like an answer.
“If only actions were so easily divided into right and wrong.” Celestia started to pick her way forward again. “This is not about second guessing your actions, Princess Twilight, and it's not not a lesson about fixing your mistakes. You've learned those already.” Another few steps passed in silence. “Losing control has consequences. When one is responsible for the safety of an entire kingdom, one needs to be able to accept those things that one cannot fix, no matter how much one might wish to.”
They began to emerge from the forest's dead zone. Around them, new growth was starting to poke up through the blackened ground. Grasses, mostly, though some of the braver Earth Ponies had started to replant saplings here and there as well. The Everfree would eventually heal itself, but that would take some years.
“I don't like this lesson.” Twilight drew a shaky breath and set her mind back to the task at hand. The townsfolk would be glad to know that their efforts were beginning to bear fruit. A clipboard, still gripped a little bit too tightly in her telekinetic aura hovered up into view as she walked.
“Mmm,” Celestia confirmed. “Remind me to send a letter to King Aspen when we get back to the castle. Relations have been strained lately – it couldn't hurt to let him know we're concerned.” Twilight scratched a note using one of her spare, not-so-broken quills.
“Will do. Oh-” Twilight's hoof sank a little lower than she had expected, into a magical burn mark that drew a dark line several hundred yards long. She wasn't sure if it had been her blast or Tirek's, but in the end it didn't really matter. She scrawled another note.
“Moving on, then.”