The Everliving

The library was quiet. The books sat alone on the shelves, patiently awaiting the next hungry seeker of knowledge to come peruse their pages. The smell of dust and old glue permeated the winding stacks, inescapable no matter which floor of the library you were on.
Twilight Sparkle loved that smell. It reminded her of the times when she didn’t have as much on her mind. When her biggest worry was when her next test was, and there were far fewer ponies relying on her for anything.
Right now the safety of Equestria was on her mind, and she had no idea how she was supposed to maintain the level of safety that she and her friends had been able to give to everypony. World-ending threats like Tirek and Discord had fallen before them and the might of their friendship. Dangers like Chrysalis who would undermine that very friendship had been defeated by love and the sharing of feelings they were able to instill and gift to ponies around them. But when Twilight and her friends were gone, what would happen?
Her mentor, Celestia, had lost the ability to use the elements of harmony after she had banished her sister to the moon. The most powerful pony alive–Starswirl the Bearded–had succumbed to the ravages of time. The very spell Celestia had lain upon Nightmare Moon had even weakened after the passing of years. If a pony as powerful as Celestia and Starswirl were still able to lose their power over time, who would guarantee the safety of Equestria when the same thing happened to Twilight and her friends?
The question had bothered Twilight for the past month now, and she didn’t feel like she was any closer to an answer. She had read every book she could think of that had anything to do with longevity, or the passing of power from one pony to the next. All had failed her.

Twilight’s mentor and friend, Princess Celestia, had relied on chance and happenstance to come together to reveal Twilight and her friends as the elements of harmony. It had worked out in her favor, but Twilight could not reconcile herself to relying on luck to protect Equestria in her absence. It was foolish, and if it didn’t work, the paradise they were able to enjoy now would lie in ruins, taken over by some ancient monster or neighboring city-state. It was a ridiculous plan, and though she hated to admit it, she resented Celestia for placing their future in jeopardy trusting to nothing but luck.
Because of her feelings on the matter, Twilight had avoided asking Celestia about it. The one question she had asked was about Celestia and Luna’s longevity as alicorns. Why were they able to live so long while other ponies died with normal lifespans? The answer was useless, and seemed specific to Celestia and Luna alone. Their connections to the sun and moon kept them alive, the innate magic of the celestial bodies rejuvenating them constantly. The answer was no help to Twilight.
She had tried to make use of it, despite the strange and nebulous answer. Twilight’s had attempted to attach her life force to another celestial body, but they were either too far away, or too small to be of use. She thought about using a comet, but those only came by once every several years or decades. It would be no good. Celestia and Luna had a monopoly on that.
Right now, Twilight was stewing on some other method of transferring power like what the princesses had used when Tirek attacked. The transfer of power from one pony to the next would work, but it had several drawbacks. The pony transferring power had to be alive and willing to transfer it, and the recipient had to be the same type of pony as the one gifting it.

This result was almost as useless as the first. One pony would have to live the remainder of their life bereft of their innate gift, and the recipient would always be the same type of pony. Twilight had read enough history books to know what would happen if one pony thought him or herself better than the others. Eventually somepony would think themselves more gifted than the others, but now they would have the power to back up their claim. It would inevitably lead to abuse of said power. Maybe not immediately, but it was too likely to take the chance.
No, Twilight needed a better way. Some way to keep herself and her friends alive. They were good ponies, and knew the struggles inherent in having dictators and other monsters try to take your life away, and if any one of them got out of control, they had the others there to bring them back to reality. It was a beautiful system of checks and balances shared amongst friends.
To that end, the library in Canterlot was where Twilight now found herself. Though she had read many of the books, in the years since she had moved to Ponyville, more copies from across Equestria had come in, and now she was permitted to access some of the books in the shelves Celestia had kept for herself.
Strange and dark magic was hidden back here, and Twilight was careful with all of it, but she needed to go to the very edge to try to find some way to keep the elements of harmony alive and well for the foreseeable future. It would be difficult, and she wouldn’t do it without their permission, but if she could just find a way to ensure the safety of Equestria by protecting it with interminable lives, she was sure they would agree. None of them wanted to lose each other, after all.

Twilight was currently perusing the books on artificial life, such as that exemplified by animated objects. There was much on the subject. Ponies had used such creations as guardians throughout history, and the theory on many of them remained intact. The spells, however, were not so lucky. Many of the creators of such spells were paranoid folk, and they didn’t want anypony else knowing the secret of shutting down their creations.
She understood why. The one story Twilight had found that detailed the creation of an artificial guardian had gone on at length about the placement of the parchment in the golem’s mouth to give it life. The golem, being made of stone, had done an excellent job at protecting its creator. It had done too good a job, in fact. The creator had written about how he had needed to shut it down, and to do so he had just changed the writing on the parchment to say “death”.
It was a simple mechanism, and elegant in its own way, but to have such a glaring weakness in a creation that was meant to protect Equestria would be begging to have somepony with wicked intentions find the secret and stop them all in their tracks.
The story did bring up a good point about the purpose of such a creation. The golem in the story had been mindless, and simply followed instructions given to it in a way that left a lot up to interpretation. Artificial guardians were useful, but only as far as they interpreted those instructions in the same way a pony would.
That kind of response was useless for Twilight’s purposes, but she wasn’t looking for artificial guardians to begin with. The important detail she had been able to pull from the creation of such artificial guardians was to be combined with the gifting of magic from one pony to the next.

If a pony could only gift the magic they possessed to another pony that shared their type, then would it be possible to create an artificial construct that represented the type of pony you wanted, then gift your magic to that? Is life necessary for it?
It was possible something like that would require more force than the way the princesses had gifted their magic to Twilight, but certain creatures like Tirek could steal magic and use it in their own way, so there must be some way to force inherent magic to go somewhere. Twilight would have to examine a creature like Tirek in detail to fully understand how he worked, but the concept of moving magic from place to place by force had evidence implying it could be done.
There was some piece of the puzzle missing, though. Twilight was sure of it. The concept seemed simple enough, and testing would be able to show her if it was feasible, but she still felt as though there was a critical piece of the puzzle that was escaping her.
If she were to attempt to implement it, she would create the simulacrum first and foremost. Each one should reflect the type of pony that would be placing their magic in it. One for herself and each of her friends. If the artifact was then infused with artificial life, it should–in theory–accept the magic of a pony.
In theory.
That was what Twilight was stuck on. That was why she was still poring over all these books on artificial life and necromancy and the like. What would happen to the friendship magic upon such a transfer? Is that attached to the pony’s body or the “pony” themselves? That was diving into a whole realm of philosophy that Twilight had not found evidence for at all.

Twilight stood up and re-shelved the stacks of books she had pulled down. She sighed at all the titles referencing life and death, and treatises on the life and rights of artificial creations or the lack thereof. Ponies who felt one way about the living status of artificial creations and those who thought they were nothing more than tools.
Twilight began walking out of the library. She passed the key to the section on dangerous knowledge to the librarian on her way out. Princess Celestia didn’t have very strict rules on who could access the section or not, but she still kept it locked to help keep ponies feeling safe. It was a silly sort of superstition, but Twilight was of a mind that knowledge is a tool as well.
Twilight fell on the side of the spectrum that saw the artificial constructs as mere tools. They followed orders and expressed no desires or emotions of their own. The most self-awareness one of them had shown in the books she had been reading was that golem with the parchment in its mouth. It had reportedly interpreted the instructions given to it by its master in a way that its master had not intended. That seemed like a sort of intelligence, but without asking it further questions, there was no way to know.
Despite that, Twilight saw artificial constructs as just that: artificial. Unless the construct can express itself, it is merely a tool. Just like knowledge. You use your knowledge or your construct the way you want, and if it desires something of its own, it needs to be able to express those desires.
When Twilight created her constructs for this experiment, the end goal was to place the consciousness of her and her friends inside them entirely. There would be no question as to the self-awareness of these constructs.

Twilight returned to her room in Canterlot Castle. She crawled into bed to try and sleep, but her thoughts were moving too quickly to allow her to rest. Unable to get so sleep, she made a list of everything she would need to begin her work when she returned to Ponyville. She then went through it several times to make sure she wasn’t missing anything.
She could send Spike out to fetch everything in the morning. All those items that would require time to acquire or would be too heavy to transport themselves, she could get shipped out to Ponyville. She was a princess after all, and it would be a small matter to get shipping done.
She would try the beginning creation with clay, and move on to other materials after she had proven success. Each one of her friends might have a preference as to what material they would want their body to be made of, so she might need to test different types to see how they responded to the transfer of magic.
Twilight tapped the quill against her chin in thought, and an errant bit of ink dropped onto her fur. She didn’t notice, and instead continued adding to her list:
Clay.
Wood.
Iron.
Steel.
Quartz.
Glass.
Diamond.
Rubber. (Pinkie Pie?)
She could only assume what they might enjoy the most, but some materials would have better staying power. She made a note to also test the transfer of magic from one construct to another. If somepony wanted a body that might decay over time, she might have to move them to a new one, or create a spell to repair the body.
A lot could go wrong with this, and Twilight wanted to make sure it was all done correctly. She only had so many years left to go, and mistakes would be costly, both in time, and in bits.

The train rocked gently back and forth. Their private car was filled with crates and boxes of various items that she had collected to bring home to her castle. Spike was squashed in between two of them that were holding different preserving fluids.
“Twilight, what is all this for? You asked me to order it, but I still don’t know why,” Spike said.
Twilight had been reluctant to tell him, because she couldn’t try to figure out how a dragon’s magic might be moved. If it even could. “It’s for a test on animated constructs.”
“Ani-what?” Spike said.
“Animated constructs. Golems.” Twilight grimaced when Spike made a confused face. “Moving statues?”
Understanding lit up his face. “Ohhhh! So toys that run around by themselves!”
“Sort of like that, yes.”
“What do you want to know about them?”
“I’m trying to determine if an animated construct has its own desires, as given to it by the magic that animates it, or if it is merely an empty vessel, waiting to be filled.”
“I’m not sure I get it.”
Twilight smiled at the little dragon and rubbed his head. “That’s okay, Spike. I don’t know yet, either. That’s what the purpose of this is. I just need you to be there to help me out.”
“Will do!”
They enjoyed the rest of their trip in good cheer. Spike looked over the list of items they had on the train, making sure they were all there, then checked as they were unloaded at the station. Twilight hired a few ponies to help them transport the items to the castle, and when they had settled back in at home, Twilight prepared her laboratory downstairs for the experiments.
Starlight Glimmer was curious about the experiment and Twilight explained it to her the same way she had explained it to Spike, leaving out the transfer of a pony’s magic to the golem as the end goal.

“This all seems a little questionable, Twilight. If they do have their own consciousness, wouldn’t somepony have discovered it by now?” Starlight said.
“You would like to believe that, but as I discovered at the library, documentation doesn’t include any of that. The only one that mentions it implicitly is the Golem of Griffonstone. That’s not enough evidence to suggest it. Nopony seems to have even considered it in everything I’ve read, so I want to find out.” Twilight was exasperated but pleased by her student’s curiosity, but she wasn’t ready to trust her with knowledge of what she was doing.
Starlight eyed the boxes stacked up in every corner of the basement, but huffed and patted herself on the chest. “Well whatever you’re trying to do, I’m here to help! That’s what friends are for.
Twilight smiled patiently. “Thank you, Starlight, but a lot of this is going to be very experimental, and unless you have a background in magical research, you will really just be in the way. If I need an extra horn, I will call for you, okay?”
Starlight looked a little offended, but she nodded. “That’s fair, I suppose. I guess this would be more Sunburst’s territory.”
“I don’t mean any offense. You’ll get there eventually, Starlight.”
“You’re right, of course. Good luck, Twilight.” Starlight climbed back up the stairs, leaving Twilight alone in her laboratory.
Twilight watched her go, and breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind her. Still, her presence had given Twilight an idea. She did need a subject for after she had proven the transfer could be done. Starlight would be ideal. A powerful unicorn, and one that wasn’t Twilight herself. But the point was moot until Twilight could prove it would work. Still, the option was there. She would ask when it came to that point.

Now that Twilight was alone, she could begin her work. She would start small, and infuse a small amount of magic. Just to see if it was possible, and how complicated it would be. The amount of clay they had acquired was not enough to make a full-sized simulacrum anyway.
Molding and shaping of the medium was easy. Twilight had spent time learning to sculpt at Celestia’s school, and she was proficient enough with her magic that mentally shaping a block of clay was child’s play. Learning to master telekinesis was one of the basics. All unicorns at the school needed to prove they could handle delicate objects with their abilities. Twilight, of course, was a master.
The effigy was a mock-up of Twilight herself. It was only the size of a hoof, but it was a remarkable likeness. It had little wings, and a miniature horn, and her mane and tail almost seemed to bounce off the little figurine. She had to attach the drooping tail to one the figure’s legs for stability, but in the future she could use wires for support. That was moot, though. This was naught more than a test.
She had a furnace for firing clay, but she wanted to know if it would function without being hardened. Pinkie Pie was notoriously bouncy, and a medium that was flexible would be necessary for her. Clay would do for now, but she would need to test rubber, and possibly wood, if Applejack was insistent on staying so close to her trees.
Twilight pulled out her notes on the transference of magic. Without Tirek or somepony like him to examine, she had to make assumptions and infer much of the transference of it. The princesses had given her a look at it first-hoof, so she was confident in her choices. There wasn’t much danger with the amount she was planning on transferring, either.

Her magic floated out of her horn–just a small amount–and entered the miniature version of herself. It settled into the figure, which began to shake. One of the legs ripped off, a wing tore off the side of it, and the horn sagged. The whole figurine fell apart, and Twilight’s magic forced itself back into her horn.
Her head throbbed. The figurine was not an acceptable vessel. Not as it was. As the pain swiftly faded away, Twilight pondered what had gone wrong.
The figure was shaped like a pony, but it was rejected because it lacked something specific. It was an object, not a pony, and so the magic that made up a pony would not be accepted unless it was behaving like one. That was her first thought. The figurine needed to be animated beforehoof.
Twilight reassembled the figurine. It being clay, it was easy enough. A few motions to smooth it out and get the parts to reconnect, then it was whole once more.
She needed to animate the thing so that it moved. Most of the stories had avoided the instructions on how to make objects move, but Twilight could try her own methods. She zapped the figure with a spell, and it began to move about. The spell was not far from the one she had used to make the snowplow work those years ago at winter wrap-up, but more carefully tuned.
It turned to look at her, and Twilight smiled down at the cute little thing. It observed its surroundings, and just kept walking in small circles. Twilight took some notes about the reaction it was having. It seemed curious, but Twilight couldn’t be certain she wasn’t just hippomorphizing it because it looked like herself. Still, she wanted to have meticulous notes of everything that happened.

The figurine kept walking in small circles, moving its head from side to side. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to get much more from it, Twilight pulled out a small amount of magic from herself again, and tried to put it inside the little moving sculpture.
The figure stopped moving as the purple glow entered into its tiny horn, disappearing into the tiny protuberance. Once all of it was inside, the figurine looked around. It seemed more curious than before, but again, Twilight needed to remind herself that ponies had a tendency to hippomorphize things, even when there was nothing there even remotely pony-like. In this case, it was pony-like, but she still needed to keep that in mind.
The figure looked at the table it was on, at the objects, then finally up at Twilight herself. Upon seeing her, its little horn lit up, and the magic Twilight had poured into it came streaming back out, into Twilight’s horn, and left the sculpture dull and lifeless on the table.
Twilight’s head throbbed for a moment, before the pain dissipated. She rubbed her horn and tried to process what had just happened: The figurine had seemed interested in what was around it, but the moment it had seen Twilight, her magic had returned to her, without any provocation. What might have caused that?
She picked up a quill and tapped it against her chin as she tried to make sense of it. Possibilities included; a time limit she was not aware of. Her magic pushing itself back out the point it had accessed the figurine. Or since it had happened when the figurine had looked at her, it realized it was not where it was supposed to be, and had returned of its own accord. Any one of those could be the cause, though some seemed more likely at first glance. She needed to isolate the one that had caused it.

There was much trial and error as Twilight progressed her work throughout the day. Spike brought her food, and Starlight stopped by to say hello, but Twilight was consumed with her goal. She barely gave them any of her attention beyond eating the proffered food and saying hello back. Twilight’s world was her work, and nopony else was welcome right now.
By the end of the day, Twilight had more than a dozen full pages of notes, and was almost out of clay. Some of the failed attempts had caused the figures to dry out, and others had caused the figures to burst, spraying clay in all directions. Slowly but surely she had run her small amount of materials out. She would soon need more, and that would mean waiting for the supplies they had ordered to arrive. A frustrating delay in her quest for answers.
Twilight sighed and stepped away from the desk. Her notes were meticulous, and they would survive until morning. She would be doing herself no favors by working through the night, and she knew her work would only get more sloppy the more tired she grew. Rest was necessary for all ponies, even alicorn princesses.
Her bed accepted her with a *flump* as she fell into it, the results of her work running through her head. No successes, but little by little she was getting answers. Answers to why magic might resist being transferred, and answers as to why the receiving vessel might rupture from the influx of magic. It was all slowly coming together, and she felt confident she could begin working with larger vessels soon. It would all just rely on the materials arriving. Clay, wood, and stone. Those were the first on order, and she’d see how well the other two accepted magic once she was finished working in miniature. Tomorrow would be busy.

Once her breathing had evened out and Twilight had fallen asleep, her horn began to glow of its own accord. The familiar smoky purple magic filtered out. The small cloud floated over to the notes Twilight had written and left on her bedside table. It twisted back and forth across the page, following the text down as it moved. It pushed the scroll open and continued further, as though reading it to itself. Once it was done, it floated idly to the center of the room, where it remained for much of the night. As dawn approached, it floated back over to Twilight and re-entered her horn, merging with her once again.
When Twilight awoke, her head was aching. She pulled herself out of bed and crawled to the bathroom.
“Spiiiike!” she yelled.
Spike yelled back from another part of the castle. “What is it, Twilight?”
“Where’s the headache medicine?”
“Is it not in the bathroom?” Spike jogged up to the bathroom door.
“I can’t seem to find any.”
“I’ll have a look. I’ll go get more if I can’t find it.”
“Thank you. I think I worked too hard last night. My head is killing me,” Twilight said.
“Well, maybe take a break?”
“I don’t want to lose my train of thought. I was close to having a breakthrough, I’m sure of it.”
“Well I should have some of the medicine before too long. Just take it easy until then, okay?”
“Thank you, Spike.”
Spike ran off to other parts of the castle, hunting for the medicine Twilight wanted. Twilight herself plodded back down to her laboratory, carrying the notes she had made from last night.
The last thing she had written was about how the rebound of magic was no longer damaging the vessel she wanted to use, but instead was refusing to stay inside it. She wasn’t sure if it was trying to stay with the larger portion of her magic, so she intended to try to isolate it, and give it nowhere else to go.

She only had enough clay for one more attempt if it damaged the clay beyond use. She had seen some volatile results, so she wanted to be as safe as possible. Waiting for more supplies would be maddening.
Her horn lit up as she prepared the figurine. She had several containers that were magic-proof, preventing the passage of magic spells and other effects. They had been created for use in war, but she had repurposed them for magical research and created a box that could be closed to protect against magical bursts of energy.
Twilight animated the figurine, then placed it inside the box and left the top open. She hid herself behind a barrier set up as extra protection, and pulled some of her magic out of her horn, then tried to funnel it toward the figurine.
It didn’t move.
It floated above her head, hovering in the air, but it didn’t go toward the figurine or even shift through the air. She struggled with it for a moment, increasing her efforts, but it didn’t move, and tried to return to her horn.
She eventually gave up, and allowed it back in. Her headache worsened at the uncomfortable feeling of pressure from the strain, and she wished for the medicine to arrive soon.
Twilight lay her head on a nearby table and breathed a sigh. What was wrong this time? She had the figurine, she knew where it was. Line of sight couldn’t be the issue, that shouldn’t have been how this effect worked. It would ruin the effect if she could see it, and the magic might return to her before she could hide.
She had been avoiding the issue for some time, but she was willing to accept it at this point. She was going to need an assistant. She was going to need to trust Starlight with her research. She needed an assistant who was a pony, so she could test the effects with her magic.

“Spike! Come here!” Twilight didn’t know how far away Spike was, but she had long since made her castle send her voice wherever she needed it. She knew he would be on his way down in a moment.
Sure enough, a minute or so later, Spike came running down the steps, puffing and carrying a small bottle, a quill, and parchment. “Sorry, sorry! I forgot to bring you the headache medicine. I have it here! I bumped into Starlight on my way back and got distracted.”
“Perfect, actually. It was Starlight I wanted to talk to. Where did she go?”
“She went into town. I think she was going to meet with Maud to fly kites, because she was carrying two when she left.”
“Well, I would hate to interrupt, so make a note that I need her help, and send her down the moment she comes back, okay?”
“Sure thing, Twilight!” He saluted and hopped back up the stairs.
Twilight was once again alone in her laboratory. She wanted to continue her work, but without Starlight, she was limited in the advances she thought she could make.
Her head throbbed, and she remembered the medicine Spike had brought. She picked it up off the desk where he had placed it, and took a quick swig. It tasted awful, but it usually worked. She sat and waited for it to take effect while she pondered what she could test while she was waiting for Starlight. According to Spike, she had just left, so that gave her quite some time to wait.
She thought back to what had gone wrong with the box. Every other time she had been able to see where her magic was going to go, and there were no issues. This was the only time where she could not see her target, but was trying to apply pressure to it to go somewhere she was only able to see in her mind’s eye.

This was, of course, why she wanted to test it with Starlight, but the implications were unusual. Could she set up a delayed reaction? Pull the magic out ahead of time, tell it where to go with a delayed trigger, then hide herself? That might work, but she only had the one figurine left.
Twilight tapped her chin with a hoof. If it worked, great. If it didn’t, she’d at least have an answer. She might as well try. What could be the harm?
She stood up and walked over to the box to look inside. The figurine was walking in small circles. It bumped into one wall, then meandered over in a different direction and bumped into another. It was clearly mindless at the moment, but was animated, and looked like herself.
She prepared her horn, and the glow enveloped it as she readied the spell. Her headache was much less intense than it had been, but she felt a twinge in her horn as she pulled out the small amount of magic. This constant extraction was beginning to wear on her, and she reminded herself to take a break after this, but she still pulled out the small amount and held it in the air. It swirled and pulled at her grip, trying to get back to her.
The magical grip she held on it moved over the box, and Twilight put a short timer on it. It would release in ten seconds, and push downward toward the figurine. Twilight set it to count down, then scurried back behind her barrier. As she lowered herself down, she felt a wave of dizziness pass over her, and she sat down rather harder than she had intended. It passed quickly, and she resumed counting down the seconds. She gave it an extra ten, just to be safe.

As she was counting past the ten second time limit Twilight reached eight, then she heard a small voice screaming. It was coming from the direction of the box. At first, Twilight was ecstatic. She hadn’t provided the thing with internal organs of any kind, with the hope that the body would function despite that lack, as the golems in the stories did. The screaming didn’t stop, though, and as time passed it was making Twilight uncomfortable.
She stuck her head over the lip of her barrier to peek toward the box. The top of it was open, but nothing was coming out. No purple cloud exploded out the top and hunted her down, meaning it was having the desired effect. The magic had nowhere to go, and so it was providing life to the one thing that was the closest to its natural home.
Still the screaming came.
Twilight’s smile turned into a frown, but she resisted stepping any closer. She wanted to know what would happen if innate pony magic was placed in an artificial body, and this was the result. For a smaller version, anyway. Non-stop screaming. She was hoping it would cease so that she could come closer and maybe examine it. If it was capable of screaming, it might be capable of speech. But there was no stopping, not even to breathe.
Finally, Twilight had enough, and she stepped out from behind her barrier. She approached the box and peeked over the top. The instant she did, the screaming stopped and the figurine’s eyes focused on her. Its pupils dilated, it’s mouth dropped open, and the tiny head exploded. Her magic burst out of the figurine and collided with her horn. Her headache flared up again, stars exploding in her vision, and Twilight’s vision went black.

Voices were chattering somewhere nearby. Hooves stamping against her headache in a staccato rhythm of pain. Twilight rolled onto her side and pulled her pillow over her head. The voices stopped and actual hooves tapped on over to her bedside.
“Twilight?” Starlight Glimmer said. “How are you feeling?”
Twilight groaned through the pillow. “Like the royal guard are performing drills on my horn.”
“I’m not surprised,” Spike said.
Twilight waved a hoof in the direction of his voice. She missed.
“Spike said you wanted to see me, so I went downstairs when I got home. I don’t know how long you had been out, but we found you on the floor, unconscious,” Starlight said.
“Ugh.” Twilight pulled the pillow off her head and blinked at the two. “I’m sorry. I guess my research got the best of me. I was so close.”
“Twilight, if your research can do this to you, I think it’s too dangerous to continue on your own.” Starlight picked up a wet cloth from a basin next to the bed, then reached out and dabbed it on Twilight’s forehead. Twilight winced. “I know you said I have no background in research, but I can help if you just tell me what you need me to do. I will not do or touch anything else.”
“No, you’re right, Starlight. That was precisely what I wanted to talk to you about in the first place.” Twilight tried to pull herself to a sitting position, but grimaced and laid back down. “I cannot proceed without another pony’s help, so you will be assisting me from now on.”
“I was here, why can’t I help?” Spike asked.
“I’m sorry, Spike. It has to be a pony. I’m performing research directly into innate pony magic,” Twilight said.
“Oh, okay.” Spike folded his arms and looked down.
“Sorry, Spike. There was nothing you could have done to help except move heavy objects, and I don’t need to keep you hovering around waiting for me to ask for something.”

“I know, I just want to help. I’m your number-one assistant!”
Twilight gave a weak laugh. “I know you are. Thank you, Spike. This just isn’t something you can help with.”
“Okay, but if you need any supplies, I’ll be there!”
“Of course.” Twilight looked at Starlight. “Once I’m feeling ready, I’ll begin filling you in on what I mean to do. Until then, my notes should explain much. Go read through them while I sleep so you can let me know your thoughts.”
Starlight Glimmer nodded.
“Good. I’ll get some rest. Spike will take care of me until I feel well enough to continue, won’t you, Spike?”
Spike saluted smartly. “You can count on your number-one assistant!”
Twilight laughed, then clutched a hoof to her head and winced. “Thank you, but I really should rest. I will see you all when I wake up.”
Spike and Starlight Glimmer tip-hoofed quietly out of the room. Once they were gone, Twilight closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come. It came blessedly quickly, and her sleep was dreamless.
While she slept, her horn glowed, and once again the little purple cloud floated out of her horn. She twisted and turned as it made its escape, but settled down once it was fully out. It turned lazily through the air and peered around the room. It flittered from place to place, pausing over her bedside table, floating over the papers littered on her desk, and meandering near the decorations on her walls.
When it had made a full circuit of the room, it stopped over Twilight herself and waited, looming over her sleeping form. It moved in small circles as she slept. Hours passed, and once she started to stir, it merged with her once again, with Twilight unaware of its presence.

Her head throbbed as she awoke, but Twilight was relieved that it hurt much less than when she had gone to sleep. She pulled herself out of bed and walked slowly to the door. She didn’t give her reflection a glance, but her hair was a mess, and her fur was matted and disheveled. The feathers of her wings looked haphazardly placed, and there were dark circles under her eyes. She looked a mess, and she wasn’t interested in fixing it.
“Spike! I am awake. Please bring me something to eat in the laboratory. I think the headache medicine is still down there, but double-check for it, please.” Twilight trusted her spell to carry the message to him, and made her way to the stairs down.
In the lab, Starlight was waiting for Twilight’s arrival. She had cleaned up the clay that had been strewn over the walls and floor. She hadn’t moved anything else, thankfully. She was holding the parchment in her magic, looking at Twilight eagerly.
“Good afternoon, Starlight,” Twilight said.
“Good evening, Twilight. Are you feeling better?”
“Much better, thank you. Still a small headache, but with your help it shouldn’t get any worse this time,” Twilight said. “I trust you read my notes?”
“I did, and I have a lot of questions, but those can wait until after we’ve tested the last thing when you first mention me.” Starlight held out the scroll and pointed to a sentence. “You say you need me to pull the magic out and insert it into the figurine. I think I understand the reasoning for it, but we are running very short on clay. Until your shipments arrive, though, I managed to salvage enough to create a very tiny version of you.” Starlight held up a clay figure. It was much rougher than Twilight’s, but it was undoubtedly Twilight, and it had the horn and wings.

“It should do just fine for a small test, I suppose. It doesn’t follow the strict guidelines for size I had set out, but we can see how it goes in the meantime. Thank you, Starlight.”
Starlight nodded. “I may not know how research works, but I could tell from your notes you needed little figurines of yourself. Now how do we put your magic essence in it?”
“Okay, watch me closely. I’ll perform the spells, and when I remove the essence I want you to try to hold on to it.”
“Okay. I’m ready.”
Twilight animated the figurine first, and it started walking in place. “I have discovered that unless the vessel is able to move, the magic will not stay inside for any length of time.” Twilight then removed the small portion of her magic from her horn and began weaving the spells to hold it in place. She worked slowly so that Starlight could keep up, watching her pupil to see if she was confused about anything.
Thankfully, Starlight was as much a prodigy with magic as Twilight was. She might have been a bull in a china shop compared to Twilight’s bounding deer in the forest, but she picked up on things quickly. When Twilight nodded to her, Starlight was able to nab the magic out of the air and hold onto it with her own magical grip.
Twilight slowly released her own magic, and her horn stopped glowing. The dark circles under her eyes looked more pronounced, and she rubbed her horn with a hoof.
“Are you alright, Twilight?”
“Oh, yes. It’s just… that is literally a portion of my life force. It’s rather exhausting pulling it out and having it jump back in so much.”
“You look terrible, this isn’t doing any permanent damage, is it?”

“Oh, no. It’s exhausting, but as long as I do not lose this—” Twilight motioned to the floating purple cloud. “—I will be fine.”
“Okay then. If you’re sure. What do I do now?”
“Now, I’ll go hide behind that barrier, and once I’m there, place my magic into the figurine.”
“Into it? How?”
“Just put it against it, it will do the rest if it works.”
Starlight shook her head, but when Twilight had retreated behind the barrier, she brought the little cloud down to the figurine, and touched it to it. At first, it seemed hesitant, but the magic filtered into the figurine’s horn. Starlight watched as the pliable clay bulged and twisted. It cracked in a few places, and the purple magic sent out seeking tendrils, as though searching for Twilight herself, but the figurine’s body stayed in one piece, sealing the cracks than had appeared in its body, and it seemed stable. It blinked, turned in a slow circle, then looked up at Starlight.
“Starlight? Why are you so big?” Mini-Twilight’s voice was very quiet, and she looked confused for a moment as she looked at her surroundings, then her eyes widened in understanding. “Wait! That means it worked! I’m made of clay!” Mini-Twilight did a little dance in the box.
Starlight turned to the barrier Twilight had hidden herself behind. “Twilight! I think it worked!”
“It did?” Twilight poked her head up above the barrier. “Are you sure?”
“There’s a miniature you made of clay talking to me from inside the box,” Starlight said.
“What is she saying?” Twilight said.
“Don’t let her see me! The magic will always strive to return to the larger vessel! Every test I made before this one showed evidence of that!” Mini-Twilight said.
“She’s saying that the magic in her will always strive to return to the larger vessel, so you can’t come look at her,” Starlight said.

Twilight was halfway around the barrier when Starlight finished her sentence. “She’s right. I mean, I’m right,” Twilight said. “The test right before you found me unconscious indicated that.” Twilight paces in a small circle behind the barrier. “That means you are going to have to learn to take notes, Starlight.” Twilight passed her a quill and some parchment. “While she–I mean I–explain the feeling of being a clay golem to you, you will take down everything. I’m sure I can hear me, so listen to what she says, and do exactly as she tells you!”
“But… what will you do?” Starlight asked.
“I’ll leave you two down here so you can work. I could use more rest until this damnable headache goes away.” Twilight looked over at the sides of the box with more than a hint of jealousy, but she crept out from behind the barrier and made her way up the stairs and out of the laboratory.
When she was gone, Starlight looked back down at Mini-Twilight. “So, what do we do, Twilight?”
“Well, you have the quill and parchment, so let’s begin describing how it feels to be a clay golem,” Mini-Twilight said.
“Alright, dictate away!”
“Okay… let’s take a look at my physical form.” Mini-Twilight’s horn lit up, and she tried to pull the quill out of Starlight’s magical grip. Starlight let go of it, and Mini-Twilight could not hold it up. “My horn functions, but my magic is proportional to my form, and very weak.” Mini-Twilight stood still for a moment and made quiet grunting sounds. The clay on the sides of her torso bulged, but nothing else happened. “Important note: Drawing the wings is not enough, they must be made of separate clay and allowed to rest on the body, or they will not function. Further testing required.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. Twilight–I mean you, probably made them properly. That’s my fault.”

“It’s quite alright, Starlight. The next ones will be much better. I think we should use a material that is much more structurally sound than clay for winged ponies. We need to keep the wings separate, and wet clay has a tendency to run together,” Mini-Twilight said.
“You’re right. I’ll make a note of that.” Starlight scratched the new notes to the bottom of the scroll. “So, now that you’re functional in there, what’s the next step?”
Mini-Twilight stretched her limbs, flexed, and trotted in a small circle. “Unfortunately, we will have to wait until more materials arrive before we can continue. They should arrive within the next two days, but that still keeps our options limited,” Mini-Twilight said. “The one thing we can do is see whether there is any deterioration of my current form while we wait. If anything would go wrong, it would happen within the first few days after switching bodies.”
“So, I just… keep an eye on you and see if you break?” Starlight said.
“Exactly. I can’t watch over myself because my essence will return to the main body if I come near. It will have to be you. Keep me out of the laboratory, and if I need to come down close the lid. If you need to leave, close the lid. That will help keep me… alive? And give me freedom to work.”
“Okay. I’ll have to get used to taking meticulous notes so you can trade communication with each other,” Starlight said.
Mini-Twilight nodded. “It will have to do. I can trade research notes and hopefully work out the problems that way. Who knows, maybe the research will go faster with two of me at it!”
“So, do you need anything immediately while I’m here?”
“No, thank you, Starlight. Just close the lid when you leave, and come check on my every hour.”

Starlight Glimmer nodded at Mini-Twilight, then she lifted the lid of the box and closed it. Mini-Twilight was plunged into darkness as Starlight Glimmer’s hoofsteps got quieter. She eventually heard a door slam, and she was alone.
Mini-Twilight sat down on the cold metal of the box and began testing herself. She lit her horn and practiced the daily rituals she had been taught in Celestia’s magic school. The magic her current form could muster was incredibly weak, but it was still able to perform intricate spells. She would never be able to feed enough magic into one of them for any major effects, but knowing that it was a matter of brute force and not ability was reassuring. She was as skilled as her other body was, but she lacked the inner magic. If she could put everything she had into a body like this, she would have the magic, and be immortal. She just needed to wait and see if this body would last. She released her magic, and she waited in the darkness for Starlight to come back.



Twilight woke up the next morning with a headache. It was concerning that it hadn’t gone away yet, and Twilight began to wonder if it had something to do with her removing part of her magic essence. Celestia and Luna had given her their magic, and they didn’t seem to have expressed any pain, so why did this hurt so much?
Spike brought her breakfast and her headache medicine. She took another swig and choked down the food. It tasted terrible, but she knew it was necessary to eat.
“Spike, set up an appointment with Doctor Horse, would you? I need to speak to him about this persistent headache I have,” Twilight said.
“Will do, Twilight. Also, Starlight left a message for you.” He held out a note to her, and she took it in her magic to read.

“Twilight, knock before entering the laboratory. Mini-you and I have been testing the limits of your clay body, and the box is open. If you see mini-you, your magic might try to return, so please don’t enter without me there to help. Thanks, Twilight! I hope you’re feeling better!”  ~Starlight Glimmer.
“Well, that’s promising. I hope Starlight has been taking good enough notes. I’m sure little-me has been guiding her well,” Twilight said.
“I think it’s kind of creepy.” Spike took her breakfast tray and walked toward the door. “I mean, there’s two of you now? Which one is you? Are both of them you? I read a comic like this once. Never thought I’d see it in real life.”
Twilight was intrigued by the comment. Philosophy hadn’t ever interested her, but she had aced the classes, so she knew of the argument. It was known as the duplicates paradox. It had been brought up by a unicorn who had studied teleportation.
In short, the argument went that if a unicorn teleported, was the unicorn that appeared at the far end of the teleportation the same pony, or was it one that looked like, acted like, and had all the memories of the original unicorn?
Twilight hadn’t paid it much mind at first, but now she was faced with a portion of herself that she had created, and which had all her memories, up until the point where they became two separate unicorns. One was made of flesh and blood, and the other was made of clay. A chill went down her spine as she realized something else: They weren’t the same unicorn anymore. Hours had passed, and in that time, Mini-Twilight had performed more research, experimented with her new body, and had conversations with Starlight Glimmer that Twilight herself knew nothing about. It all disturbed Twilight more than she had thought it would.

The implications this had for her getting that portion of her magic back were disturbing. Had she deliberately removed part of herself that would no longer return? If it still would, would she gain the memories and ideas that her miniature self had? It was a classic research conundrum, and she loved it and hated it at the same time.
The new questions, as they had developed, were now no longer on if she could create a simulacrum of herself or her friends. She had showed that was possible, but now the question was if they were actually going to be herself, or if they would just be new versions but separate.
In addition, could these other selves share their memories with the originals they were made from? Having multiple versions of yourself to help with work, research, or to fight off threats were astounding. The problem as she saw it after that, was what would be done with the copies after you no longer needed them?
They all couldn’t be “Twilight Sparkle” after the job was all said and done. How many Princesses of Friendship did Equestria need, after all? It wouldn’t work with anypony, no matter what their job was. Applejack couldn’t have five of herself working on Sweet Apple Acres. Pinkie had already had too many of herself running around once, and that was bad enough.
Twilight was a little upset she had blocked off the mirror pool, now. She could have used it for testing.
She thought about it a moment, but shook her head. No, that actually wouldn’t work. The mirror pool’s clones weren’t exact replicas. They differed in small ways from the original, and Pinkie’s clones didn’t have all Pinkie’s memories. If they had all been exactly the same, she never would have been able to find the original. Or, it wouldn’t have mattered.

No, what Twilight was doing was different. She was taking her memories up to a singular point, and duplicating them in an artificial body. This was fundamentally and philosophically unique.
She pulled herself out of bed. The act of standing made her head ache, but she walked out of the room and down the laboratory door. She pounded a hoof on it and waited for Starlight to answer.
“Twilight, is that you?” Starlight Glimmer said.
“It’s me, Starlight. I’d like to read the notes you have and hear what you’ve been working on with my golem.”
“Okay, just a second.” Hoofsteps moved away from the door, and Twilight heard the sound of metal hitting metal, then the door opened up.
Starlight Glimmer looked tired. Her mane was mussed and her eyes were red. She smiled at Twilight, though, and led the way down the stairs. The magic-proof box was closed, and next to it were laid out copious notes on several scrolls. Twilight walked up to them and picked them up to read.
“We’ve been working on testing the limits of your clay body.” Starlight tapped one of the scrolls. “The most important detail you’ll want to know is that just because wings were drawn on the body, doesn’t mean they will work. For all intents and purposes, they’re just a picture. The wings may have to be separate and possibly mechanically sound. We’re really just killing time until the supplies get here.”
Twilight skimmed the scroll and nodded. “That makes sense, now that I think about it. I assumed the wings would be created by the magic trying to make the body fit its expectations. We can try with more clay and see if making the wings a separate piece helps.”
“That’s what Mini-Twilight said,” Starlight nodded. “It’s a little weird working with you in two separate ways, you know. It’s like you’re always watching me no matter where I go.”

“It’s strange for me as well. All I wanted was to make a body that would stand the test of time so I could continue protecting Equestria. Now that I’ve succeeded, and I have an intelligent little golem of myself, I’m not sure how to feel.”
Starlight offered Twilight a comforting smile. “I do wish the two of you could talk. You would enjoy it a lot, and it would probably allay a lot of your concerns.”
“Hmmm… I can probably come up with a spell that would do it.” Twilight pushed one scroll out of the way to look at the next, her eyes flicking back and forth across the pages. “So, her body hasn’t begun falling apart?”
“Not yet,” Starlight said. “One of the legs appears to be drying out, though. I don’t think my preservation spell is holding up, so that’s my fault.”
“Well, that’s easy enough to fix. It will be interesting to see how harder materials respond to the spells.” Twilight looked up from the scroll. “Do we have any clay we could try to repair it with? I wanted to see if repairs could be made to the body anyway.”
“I can see if there’s any to be had in Ponyville. I wanted to get out of the castle for a short time anyway.”
“It’d rather you stay here to watch over her. If her leg is falling apart, the body might give out, and I don’t want to take the chance of losing the magic if she… well… stops working?” Twilight shrugged.
Starlight sighed but nodded. “I understand. I’ve just been in here answering your calls all night. I didn’t get much sleep in between the hourly check-ups.”
“I know. Thank you, Starlight. I’ll send Spike down with food and some bedding, but please keep an eye on her for a while longer.”

“Of course. Anything to help out,” Starlight said.
Twilight plodded back up the stairs and shut the door behind her. She heard the metal sound of the box being opened, and Starlight’s muffled voice could be heard below. Twilight was jealous that the two of them were able to talk, but it was just part of the research that she had to put up with.
When the new materials arrived, she could make a larger version of the simulacrum and that one might not be prey to the magical backlash the small golem had. It being the same size meant that it would have enough magical energy to keep it active all on its own. The magic wouldn’t assume that it wasn’t the right body, and would ideally stay put and keep it functioning. That was the hope, anyway. Only time would tell if her theory was correct.
Twilight pressed a hoof to her head. “Spike! Did you make me an appointment with Dr. Horse?”
Spike’s claws could be heard tapping down the crystal halls until he ran up next to Twilight. He was carrying a rag and a pail, so she assumed he had been cleaning something.
“Yes, Twilight! He says that since you’re the princess, you can come by whenever you like. He’ll make time for you,” Spike said.
Twilight sighed. Being a princess came with a lot of perks, but she always felt bad whenever ponies bent over backward to make her happy. She felt like she was enjoying privileges she didn’t deserve; especially when they led to other ponies being inconvenienced.
“Thank you Spike. I’ll head out there now, then. I need to ask him about these awful headaches.” Twilight smoothed her mane and tail with her magic, motioned to the door to her laboratory. “Oh, before I forget, could you bring some food and snacks to Starlight in the lab? Also, some bedding. She needs to watch over the miniature-me and can’t leave the room, but she’s very tired and hungry.”

Spike saluted and ran off down the halls. “Sure thing, Twilight! Tell Dr. Horse I said hi, and that my scales are clearing up!”
“I will, Spike.”
Spike disappeared into the castle, and Twilight stepped outside onto the path to Ponyville. It was a short walk to get into the town proper, but it gave her time to get used to the light. It was especially piercing today, what with her headache, and she frequently had to shield her eyes when it got too painful to bear.
When she arrived at the doctor’s office, her head was pounding again. It was a heavy and insistent throbbing pain, right at the base of her horn. When she entered, the receptionist took one look at her and immediately jumped to attention.
“Oh, Princess! We weren’t expecting you until later in the day! The doctor is with another patient, but he’ll be with you as soon as he’s done,” the mare said. “While we wait, would you care to fill out this form?” The mare pushed a piece of parchment and a quill at Twilight.
Twilight attempted to take the items from her with magic, but the moment she tried to grip them with a spell, her headache flared up and she lost it. She winced as she gripped them for a brief moment, then dropped them due to pain.
“Ngh! I’m sorry. That’s part of why I’m here today,” Twilight said.
“Oh dear, for a unicorn, that’s quite debilitating.” The mare picked them up in her own spell and held them in front of her. “Would you care to describe the problem, then? I’ll write it down.”
Twilight smiled at the mare in thanks. “It’s terrible headaches. They’re a low, insistent throbbing, right at the base of my horn. Sunlight makes it worse, as does loud noises, almost like a hangover. They started several days ago, and haven’t gone away, even after bed rest. I am performing heavy magical research, so that may be part of the problem.”

The receptionist was dutifully writing everything down as Twilight spoke, and nodded regularly in response to her speech. “Okay then, and what exactly is your research on?”
Twilight tilted her head in thought for a moment. She couldn’t tell her exactly what it was, because some of the research was not technically legal. It was legal for a princess, but it was still frowned upon in many parts of Equestria. She didn’t even know if Princess Celestia would be happy with her choice, but at least she couldn’t get in legal trouble for it.
In the end, she described it as; “Animated objects,” she said.
“Oh! Like self-dancing puppets?”
Twilight smiled. “Sort of. Designed for use in chores and things like that.”
“Sounds useful!” The mare rolled up the parchment and went back to her desk. “The doctor will call you when he’s available. Please have a seat until then.”
“Thank you very much.”
Twilight sat down in one of the chair and leaned her head against the wall behind her. She pressed a hoof against her forehead in between her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to regulate her blood pressure. It had mild success, and the throbbing receded to a dull ache instead of a heavy drumbeat, but it was still noticeably present. She frowned and didn’t move, just waiting for the doctor.
When Doctor Horse came out and called her name, she almost didn’t notice, as all her focus was on ignoring the pain of her headache. He had to call her several times before she opened her eyes.
“Princess Twilight Sparkle?” Doctor Horse was standing in front of her, reaching out a hoof to shake her in case she had fallen asleep.
“Hm?” Twilight opened her eyes and saw the doctor right in front of her seat. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry, Doctor. My thoughts were elsewhere entirely.”

“Quite alright. Please, come with me, Princess.” He led the way into the back of the office and Twilight followed.
He entered a small room filled with his tools of the trade and posters of ponies in different poses with labels for all the different body parts. There were even cutaways of half a pony, showing their internal organs. All things Twilight was very familiar with from all her reading and research. He motioned for her to sit on a stool in the middle of the room, and sat himself down on a chair nearby. He picked up the parchment the receptionist had written and adjusted his glasses.
“I understand you’ve been having headaches, Princess?” He asked.
“Yes. Though it hasn’t been multiple headaches. This headache has lasted for several days without end. I’ve been taking medicine for it, but it hasn’t disappeared yet.”
Doctor Horse pulled out an ophthalmoscope and leaned in to examine Twilight’s eyes. “And it’s a throbbing pain instead of a sharp one?”
“Yes. A persistent ache.” When he finished looking at her eyes, Twilight blinked rapidly.
“And what was the nature of the research you were performing?” He picked up the notes again and adjusted his glasses while he read. “Something about moving toys?”
“Animating objects, yes. Creating objects that will move of their own volition and perform the tasks they were built for.”
Doctor Horse looked in her ears and nodded. Then he started pressing a hoof against different parts of her skull. “Tell me if this ever hurts.”
He got to the base of her horn and when his hoof pressed against her skull, a sharp pain shot through her head. “Ow! Right there!”
He pulled his hoof away and nodded, then wrote something down. “And with this headache, have you been having difficulty performing magic? The receptionist noted that you weren’t able to hold the quill and parchment yourself.”

Twilight nodded. “Only sometimes. It comes and goes, but there are times that using magic is too painful. That hasn’t been often, though.”
“Still, debilitating to the point where you cannot cast magic. For a unicorn, that’s quite severe.” He opened a book and started flipping through the pages.
Twilight hadn’t seen the title, but if it was a medical book, she had probably read it herself. “Do you know what might be wrong, then? Is it just exhaustion? Celestia always told me I worked too hard.”
“I believe that is it. You’ve strained yourself and your magic to the point where you have a headache. When was the last time you performed any strenuous magic?”
“Just yesterday, when I, uh…” Twilight paused to pick out the right words. “When I animated a small doll.”
“Alright, and you had the headache at this moment in time?”
“Yes.”
“Did performing this spell cause it to get worse?”
“Yes.”
Doctor Horse cleared his throat and wrote something else down. “Princess, I recommend several days of rest. Try to avoid using magic for anything other than simple telekinesis, and if it persists for two more days, please come back and see me.” Doctor Horse passed her a small sheet of parchment, which she grabbed with a hoof out of the air. “Your current headache medicine should suffice, but if you need anything stronger, here’s a prescription. That should help if it gets worse.”
“Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate you taking the time to see me.”
He smiled his warm doctor’s smile at her. “Anytime, Princess. I am happy to be of service.” He bowed, and Twilight waved a hoof.
“Doctor, please. There’s no need for that.”
“If you insist.” He opened the door and allowed Twilight to leave first. They walked to the front and he waved Twilight on her way, then looked down at his clipboard. “Miss Derpy Hooves?” His voice was lost as Twilight stepped out of the office onto the street.

While Twilight was at the Doctor’s office, Mini-Twilight was remaining busy. Starlight Glimmer was taking a brief nap, but Mini-Twilight had discovered that she didn’t need to sleep. Her body did not get tired, nor did her mind, wherever it was located in this form, and overall, she didn’t feel any pain.
Starlight Glimmer had, against her desires but at Mini-Twilight’s insistence, taken a sculpting knife and scooped a chunk of clay out of her side. She had felt nothing, and when Starlight had put it back, it was as if it hadn’t gone anywhere. Her body didn’t even seem to notice its absence.
This was both useful and terrible. On the one hoof, it meant that injury was merely an inconvenience and not a debilitating problem, but on the other hoof, it meant that she might not notice problems until it was too late. They were planning on severing a leg and reattaching it to see if it worked again once it was attached, but Mini-Twilight had yet to convince Starlight to do it. “It feels… wrong.” Starlight had said. Well, Mini-Twilight wasn’t a pony. She was a construct and her purpose was to test an artificial body to its limits, and that was exactly what she was going to do.
While Starlight Glimmer slept, Mini-Twilight was attempting to pick up the knife she had left in the box. Compared to her size, the knife was massive, and she was having a lot of difficulty picking it up. She didn’t have enough magic to perform the tricks she wanted. She was limited by the size of her body, and the amount of magic given to her by Twilight. She needed to ask her for more while they waited for the materials.
Mini-Twilight lifted the knife enough to get one leg underneath it, then she released it. It fell with a *thunk!* and her clay leg was severed from her body.

Below the table, Starlight stirred in her bedroll on the floor. Mini-Twilight waited to see if she was going to get up, but all she could hear was the sound of shifting, some grumbling, and then gentle breathing.
When she was certain Starlight was not going to get up and interrupt her, Mini-Twilight looked at the severed leg. She had to hop a little to turn, but she shifted the knife off her severed leg and looked at it. To be certain the magic that animated her was no longer attached to the leg, she tried to flex it. It didn’t twitch, so she was satisfied that the magic functioned as a sort of nervous system. That was useful to know.
She picked up the leg with her magic and looked at it. It was the one that had partially dried. The hoof was starting to crack, and it wouldn’t be long before it was completely non-functional compared to the rest of her. She was already finding it hard to move the hoof, and she was wondering if it was because of something wrong with the spell when it was cast, or if it was a natural deterioration of her body. She really needed more magic to work with. The pittance she was given was not enough.
But to the point of this entire exercise, she wanted to test the ability of her body to be repaired. She had severed the leg, and hadn’t felt any pain. That was useful to know, now she needed to see if her body had the ability to repair itself, and extend the magical ‘nervous system’ that she had to limbs that were attached after animation, or re-attached after being removed. If she could do both, that had extraordinary possibilities! She could create the base form, then try to attach extra limbs on earth ponies or unicorns! Artificial alicorns! The idea was tantalizing!

Mini-Twilight brought the severed leg to the stump left over. She had squashed the stump and it was misshapen, but her magic was strong enough to smooth it out. She brought the leg to her body, attached it to the stump, and wiggled it against her body to get the parts to set together.
It dangled uselessly. Despite efforts to make it function as a leg, all she could do was drag it around. She frowned in frustration. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that the leg was damaged before it had been severed, or if it was the severing that had done it. The clay was drying out, and that had caused difficulty beforehoof, so she was willing to believe that was the cause. It bore further investigation, either way. But further research would need help. She could do nothing without Starlight, so she stood, tireless, waiting for Starlight Glimmer to wake up.

The giant doors of Friendship castle opened and Twilight walked back inside. She used her hooves to shut the doors behind her, grunting with the odd exertion. She would normally use her magic, but the doors were huge, and she thought she ought to get used to avoiding the use of her magic for the next few days.
“Spike!” She called. She was going to need his help for the rest of the day if she couldn’t use magic herself. Thankfully, the little dragon was more than happy to do whatever she wanted. He was eager to please.
He jogged down the hallway, carrying a quill and parchment in expectation of taking notes or making a list of some kind. He knew her well enough to prepare for whatever chore she had cooked up. It was useful, but this time he was incorrect in his assumption. She smiled at her chance to throw him off.

“What is it, Twilight? Ready for more research? Starlight hasn’t come upstairs or anything, so I think it’s going well down there.”
“No, thank you, Spike. The doctor has ordered me to take some strict bed rest, and of all things, avoid using magic strenuously for the next few days.”
“The next few days? But the shipment of material is supposed to be arriving tomorrow! You were looking forward to it!”
“I know, but I’ll just have to wait,” Twilight said. “It’s for the best. I can’t do proper research if I’m in constant pain.”
“You’re right. It’s just a bit of a bummer.”
“I’m hoping that my simulacrum is doing better. Without a body to get sick, she probably doesn’t have a headache. I want you to help me communicate with Starlight Glimmer and her, okay?”
Spike made a face. “Do I have to? That small you creeps me out.”
Twilight laughed softly. “I’m sorry, Spike. You can talk to Starlight instead if you don’t want to look at the little me. I just need you to pass notes between us since I can’t open the door.”
“That should be no problem, Twilight.” He held up the parchment and quill. “Do you want me to send her a message right now?”
“Yes, please. Tell her I’ve been ordered to take bed rest, and inform her of the shipment’s arrival time. She can help unload. She’ll be free to use whatever arrives, and if little-me tells her to do something, she should do it. They’ll get some work done while I recuperate.”
“Is that all?”
“Ask her to update me every two or three hours on what progress they have made in their research. I’ll need to be prepared to join in when I’m feeling better.”
Spike’s quill scratched on the paper rapidly, then he finished with a flourish. “Okay. Got it!”
“Excellent. I’ll head to my room, you go see how Starlight’s doing.”

Spike left Twilight to her rest and headed toward the laboratory. He didn’t want to help Starlight and that little clay thing. Sure, it talked like Twilight, and it sounded like Twilight, and it was modeled after Twilight, but it seemed unnatural. He didn’t like the whole direction her research was going, but he knew Twilight wouldn’t be deterred until she had an answer. He would do like he always did and help her out where she needed it, but he was going to maintain a safe distance from any of those moving ‘golems’ she made.
He knocked on the door to the lab. There was a loud snort, then a bang, then a shout of pain. Hoofsteps came toward the door, and it opened to reveal Starlight Glimmer. She was rubbing her head but she looked much better than she had earlier in the day.
“Hello, Spike. Is Twilight not with you?” Starlight looked left and right down the hallway.
“No, she’s not feeling well and the doctor ordered strict bed rest. Says she was exhausting herself magically and I guess that’s been causing the headache.” Spike unrolled the parchment he was holding and looked it over. “She wants you to continue your work with the sim-you-lah-krum. Do what she says, and experiment with the materials as they come in tomorrow. Twilight can’t join you, but she wants you to keep her updated every two to three hours on what you’ve discovered.” He finished reading and smiled up at Starlight.
“Every two to three hours? Ugh. Mini-Twilight already has me checking on her every hour. I’m not going to have any free time for days, am I?”
Spike shrugged. He looked past Starlight down into the lab, and saw the metal box on the table. It was closed, so he couldn’t see the little Twilight, which he was thankful for. It still made him uncomfortable, though.

“Well, she’s unwell, and she’d just made a breakthrough. I can’t blame her, so I’ll do what I can. Her little self is running me ragged though. She wanted me to chop off her leg, earlier.” Starlight shuddered. “I know she’s made of clay, but that just seems… wrong, somehow.”
Spike made a face and backed away from the door. “I’ll just uh… leave you two, to that, then. I’ll be back with food at supper, Starlight.”
Starlight could tell it made Spike uncomfortable, so she nodded. “Thank you, Spike. See you later.”
Starlight shut the door behind her and went back down to the table with the box on it. She stood next to it and stared for a minute, psyching herself up for what she was going to be asked to do. She understood Spike’s trepidation. Without a mortal body, Twilight was acting far more reckless. She was treating herself as a tool.
Starlight could identify with that when it wasn’t herself. She had spent years manipulating other ponies into doing what she wanted and being what she wanted. She’d built an entire village around that. She couldn’t deal with it when it was her own body. Maybe it would be different if she was the one who was made of clay, but right now the thought of cutting her own leg off ‘just to see what would happen’ sent shudders through her.
She took a deep breath and pulled back the lid on the box. Inside, she looked down to see Mini-Twilight looking up at her. She was in one piece, thankfully. Then she saw the knife she had left in the box overnight. Mini-Twilight limped toward her edge of the box, and Starlight realized what had happened. Mini-Twilight’s rear right leg was hanging limp, and Starlight could see a faint impression on the limb across the thigh. She put a hoof to her forehead and sighed.

“You cut your leg off while I slept, didn’t you?” Starlight said.
“I did.” Twilight said it with complete nonchalance, like she had eaten lunch. “It was tough to lift the knife, but I got it. Unfortunately, it did not reattach properly.” Twilight lifted the leg, and it flopped uselessly about. “It’s completely nonfunctional, and I am not sure if it is because it was drying out beforehoof or not. We need to do more testing, so I want you to cut another leg off. One that’s working properly.”
“Twilight, please. Aren’t you moving too fast?” Starlight pleaded.
“The supplies will be here tomorrow! I want to know as much as I can about how my body works before I move into a new one. It’s much easier to make mistakes with clay than with gems or metal.” Twilight pointed to the knife. “Now please, it doesn’t hurt, and if I lose my limbs before tomorrow, I can just wait.”
“Okay, okay. I get it. Just please stop talking about it like it’s normal to cut legs off a pony. It’s weirding me out.”
Twilight said nothing, but held out her front-left leg. Starlight picked up the knife in her magic and brought it to bear on the tiny limb. She tried not to think too hard about what she was doing, and sliced through it without any hesitation. After it was done, she quickly jammed the limb back onto her tiny body and smoothed the clay out. This time, when she was done, she kept the knife outside the box so Mini-Twilight couldn’t get any more ideas.
Mini-Twilight waited patiently, but when Starlight’s magic let go of the forelimb, it drooped uselessly. Mini-Twilight grunted in frustration and tried to move it, but all she could do was wiggle the stump that hadn’t been severed, and make the leg shake about.
“Damn,” she said.

“No luck?” Starlight asked.
“No,” Mini-Twilight said. “It’s completely non-functional. It wasn’t drying out like the other, so the problem may lie in the magic animating this body. I think there’s too little. Can you send a message to myself upstairs, telling me the problem? I’ll need more magic if I’m to properly animate a larger body. There simply isn’t enough in me right now.”
Starlight scratched out notes onto a piece of parchment. “Yeah, I’ll make sure she gets it. She has a headache right now, though. Doctor Horse told her to rest, I don’t think she should be doing anything magical until she’s feeling better.”
“Try to convince me. A headache is a small thing compared to such a breakthrough in my goals.”
Starlight shook her head. “Twilight, research can wait. Your health comes first.”
“I know, I know. I guess it’s different because it’s not ‘me’ that’s feeling bad. I mean, I literally just sliced my leg off. I don’t have to worry about such things as physical wellness.” Mini-Twilight wiggled her unresponsive leg.
“I know, but the rest of you has a headache, and you need to rest.”
Mini-Twilight sat down, her numb hind leg buckling underneath her at an awkward angle. She didn’t notice. “It’s strange, thinking about the fact that I’m in two places at once. That’s a very strange thought.”
“I’ll be honest, it’s a little weird. Spike hates it. He doesn’t even want to look at you.”
“Really?” Mini-Twilight said. “That’s a little sad. I wondered why he didn’t come down at all.”
“Yeah, I don’t think he likes the fact that you’re made of clay. He much prefers the you that’s made of flesh and blood.”
“But I’m still the same pony, I’m just in a different body.”
“Technically, yes, but you’re not the same. The two of you have completely different memories now.”
“That’s… that’s a good point.”

Mini-Twilight sat in silence for a few minutes. Neither her nor Starlight broke the silence until there was a knock at the laboratory door. Starlight went to answer it and got supper from Spike. She brought it down and ate in silence while Mini-Twilight sat thinking.
“Starlight.”
Starlight interrupted her meal to come look over the edge of the box. “What is it, Twilight?”
“Close the lid and leave me be for the night. You can even head home if you want. I need to think.”
“I’ll close the lid, but I can’t leave. I promised Twilight I’d watch over you until she was better.”
“If I know myself, I also told you to listen to everything I say. Please let me be for the night.”
“I’ll let you be and I’ll shut the lid, but I’m not leaving the lab.”
“Fine. But promise you won’t open the lid until tomorrow morning. I need some time alone.”
“Alright, Twilight.”
Starlight shut the lid of the box, plunging Mini-Twilight into darkness. Inside her miniature fortress of solitude, Mini-Twilight was free to think. And think she did.
The limits of her clay body had been tested, and the conclusion she had come to was that she had not enough magic of her own to make the body function. That may also have been why her wings didn’t work. There wasn’t enough magic to create a new functional bodypart. With that in mind, that was why the legs no longer worked after being reattached. The body had been shrunken, and then new parts added on that it didn’t have the resources to bring to life. She needed more magic, and the only pony she could get that from was herself. Or Twilight. She wasn’t the same pony anymore. The two of them were different by now, with different memories and different desires.

Mini-Twilight pondered this all through the night. She pondered the possibilities and consequences of having two separate sets of memories. If the two of them were to merge again at this point, would they be the same? Would one of them gain the memories of the other? How would the magic that made up ‘Twilight’ reconcile the differences? Was this why golems were so frowned upon? Golems with thoughts and desires of their own? Were they animated by magic from a pony who them ‘killed’ them to put themselves back together?
The thought was more than a little shocking to Mini-Twilight. If Twilight came down and wanted her magic back, what would happen to her? That would be the same as killing her! Twilight would win that exchange, no question. Mini-Twilight didn’t stand a chance.
But she didn’t know if that were the case. This was all pure speculation. She had no method of testing her hypothesis, and no proof that either result would happen. Maybe she would just remain dormant inside Twilight until she was once again pulled out.
But wouldn’t that be functionally the same as death if she was never removed again? It would be like sleeping forever. Maybe that’s all death was.
Mini-Twilight pondered the possibilities, until she had an idea: If she didn’t feel pain, and she wanted to test her theory, she had all the materials at her disposal right with her.
Mini-Twilight lit her clay horn and looked around the box. She didn’t have the clay knife, but her magic, though weak, was more than enough for her purposes at the moment.
Mini-Twilight created a razor’s edge with her magic, and sliced herself right down the middle. She only had one functional leg at the moment, so she fell to the floor of the box, but she could still pull herself up to watch as she worked. She started molding her rear half into a copy of herself as she currently was.

The copy was an even smaller version of Twilight made out of the clay of her rear half. When it was done, she animated it and with some great effort, pulled a tiny amount of magic out of herself and placed it in the little thing.
She had expected the magic to jump back to her like it had when she was made of flesh and blood, but it didn’t. The little Twilight began moving. She blinked up at herself and then flinched away.
“Oh… oh no it worked. I wasn’t expecting it to work. It was just supposed to be a test. Please don’t—”
Mini-Twilight lit her horn and extracted the magic she had placed into the little copy of Twilight. As the magic flowed back into her, she waited and paid careful attention to her thoughts. She searched through her memories for a fresh memory of looking at her currently crippled body. Of being a smaller version of herself staring at a mangled clay body, but she found nothing.
She had gained none of the memories of the Twilight that she had just made.
That put things in an awkward position. She had all this information on how to make the bodies work. Of how they behaved and how they functioned. She had gained this information first-hoof, and though she could write it out and share it with herself, who rested, idle, upstairs, to lose the first-hoof experiences would be a tragic waste.
Mini-Twilight let her body fall to the side. She knew she was resting on a cold metal surface, but she could only feel it so far as the feel of clay on metal. She didn’t feel the cold, nor did she feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t tired, she wasn’t hungry, and she didn’t have to worry about using the facilities and being interrupted by the annoying call of nature. This was convenient.

Meanwhile, upstairs Twilight was resting to recuperate from a headache. Since she had created Mini-Twilight, from everything Mini-Twilight had been able to glean from Spike and Starlight, she had been unable to make any progress in any part of her research, all because of that headache. Something she wouldn’t have to worry about if she were made of some other substance. Mini-Twilight didn’t have to worry about getting headaches because she had no real ‘head’, as it were, to get them in. She was a pure being of magic and mystery. She was the goal Twilight had set out to create. In the end, wasn’t this what she had sought?
It was.
This was the end result: A fully autonomous, capable, and exact copy of herself that was no longer prey to the ravages of time or health. An immortal protector that could keep Equestria safe. She just needed a better body than this pathetic and tiny clay monstrosity. She would probably still use clay, as it could be molded easily, but she wanted to be bigger. She needed to be bigger. Now it was just a matter of waiting until morning.



When the box’s lid finally lifted, Starlight peered down at Mini-Twilight and immediately frowned. “Seriously, Twilight? You couldn’t wait until morning for me to help you test?”
Mini-Twilight looked up at Starlight. She had tried to reattach her back half, and though she could feel certain parts of it, meaning she had almost enough magic, it was unresponsive. She was laying limp on her side, only her head and one forelimb functional. She gave Starlight a little wave.
“Good morning, Starlight. I needed to test something. I have my answer, but now my body barely functions. Did you get a response from Twilight about getting more magic?”

Starlight didn’t notice the reference to flesh-Twilight as ‘Twilight’ instead of ‘herself’. She just laughed and picked up Mini-Twilight in her magic. “Yes, she said she’ll try, but she’s supposed to be remaining magically dormant. She’ll wait until the new body is constructed and animated. If we can get you into it and you can move normally, there will be no need.”
“Hmmm. She and I really need to talk. That’s not quite what I’m expecting the body to do, and this is coming from first-hoof experience.”
“Well, she’s suffering from a severe migraine. She says it’s getting better. She can actually use minor telekinesis this morning compared to not even being able to summon magic yesterday.”
“I do not have to worry about headaches. I don’t technically have a head. I just have a head-shape,” Mini-Twilight said with pride.
“Well, should we all only be so lucky when this research is done.” Starlight laid Mini-Twilight back down on the outside of the box and started back up the stairs. “I’m just glad you haven’t decayed yet. That means the magic has staying power, even when you’ve been chopped up. Also, you’ll be happy to hear that the supplies have arrived. They’re being brought in to the castle, but they won’t all fit down here. I wanted to know which one you wanted to work with first.”
“Clay,” she said without hesitation. “Clay is pliable, functional, flexible, and we know it works. I will be the prototype from which we shall test other materials, but we need to know I will function as a full-sized pony.”
“Alright. I’ll be right back.”
Starlight disappeared up the stairs. She left the door open, and Mini-Twilight could see other ponies, and occasionally Spike, pass by in front of it. Eventually, Starlight came back, toting a pony-sized block of freshly-sliced clay. She moved some of the tables out of the way and set it down in the now-empty space.

“Oof! Here you are, Twilight: Big block of clay!”
Mini-Twilight lifted herself up on her one good hoof to look over at the giant mound of clay Starlight had placed in the lab. She was no sculptor, but it looked to be of good quality. No matter what, it would suffice for her purposes, if only she could get more magic from Twilight. Until then she would have to rely on Starlight.
“Perfect. Do you think you can carve another likeness of me from it?”
Starlight looked taken aback at first, but she quickly calmed down. “Oh, right. You don’t have enough magic to carve it, and you also have a headache you have to deal with. I’ll do my best, I suppose.”
“I’ll be here to watch, and we can correct any mistakes before we put me in it. Just remember; we need to make sure the wings are separate from the body.”
“Right. I understand. This could take some time.”
“I have nothing but time, Starlight.”
Starlight laughed awkwardly. “Heh. That’s true enough. Just let me know if there’s any part of it you disapprove of before I’m nearly done, okay?”
“Of course, Starlight. I trust you.”
Starlight smiled. “Thank you, Twilight.”
Mini-Twilight watched as Starlight began carving into the clay block with her magic. It was much faster than doing it by hoof, but they needed to be sure not to ruin the clay.
“Don’t forget to magically preserve the clay, Starlight. We don’t want a repeat of my hind leg.”
“Oh! Of course!” Starlight cast a spell to keep the clay moist and pliable. It would ideally stay that way once Twilight’s magic was inside it, preserving it and allowing it to move. Knowing that she could attach new clay to herself and control it was also a plus. Cutting herself apart had revealed a lot.

Starlight worked at carving the new body all throughout the day. It was time consuming work, but the two of them talked while she was at it. Spike brought food for lunch when it came, and Starlight took a break later in the day to go chat with Twilight upstairs.
At one point, Mini-Twilight could hear them talking at the door to the laboratory when Starlight was on her way back.
“Twilight, no. I have you out on the desk to supervise my carving. We still don’t know if your magic will automatically jump back to you if you come within line of sight.”
“Starlight, I want to see the progress on the body.”
“And you are, you’re right there with me.”
“That’s not… ‘me’ me. That’s another me. We don’t share information in any way different from other ponies. We have to talk to each other or write.”
“I know, and that’s why I have to keep you separate. That version of you has experienced being in a clay body first-hoof. She knows things you don’t. Until we have everything working like we want it to, we have to err on the side of caution.”
“I know, I know. Just keep me updated on everything you do, okay? And I mean everything.”
“I will, Twilight. I’ll even let both of you approve the golem before I animate it.”
“Thank you, Starlight. Hopefully my headache will be gone by tomorrow and I can help finish it.”
“That would be great. Then we can test how your little clay body works with more magic.”
“Exactly. I’ll see you later, Starlight. Good luck with the carving.”
“I don’t need luck. I have you watching my work.”
They both laughed, and Mini-Twilight heard the door open. Soon after, Starlight came down the steps, smiling wide.

“It sounds like she’s feeling better,” Mini-Twilight said.
“Your headache is all but gone. We might even be able to test if extra magic gives you back control of your entire body. You said upstairs that the magic may just take time to attach itself to the rest of an artificial body, like healing a wound for flesh and blood.”
“That’s an excellent point. I had not considered it. Truly there are many differences at this point between the two of us.”
“I know.” Starlight rolled her eyes. “It’s weird and not a little bit frustrating having to update you on what you’ve been doing.”
“I can only imagine. Hopefully when I get a bigger body she and I can have a good face-to-face conversation.”
“Yeah…”
Starlight looked at the head she had carved into the clay. It was a good likeness of Twilight, and she had tried to capture the natural bounce Twilight’s mane had. Mini-Twilight noticed that the horn was slightly longer than it was on her normal body, but she wouldn’t be against having a longer horn, so she had opted not to mention it.
Mini-Twilight noticed Starlight hadn’t begun carving again, and was just staring at the likeness. “What’s wrong, Starlight?”
“Are you scared?”
“Of what?”
“Of seeing yourself face-to-face.”
“Not really, why?”
“Well, you told me once about Pinkie Pie and the mirror pool, and how you could have accidentally sent the real Pinkie back into it. Those weren’t even convincing clones, though. Pinkie said she’d had to teach them about her friends. But this… you’re you in two places. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Not really. Should it? We both have the same goals, and we’re both working to see that we can create a functional simulacrum for ourself. I don’t see the problem if that’s the end goal.”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s just strange.”
“I can see how it would be. But we have goals to reach. Keep carving. I think my chin should be more round.”

Starlight sighed and picked up her sculpting tools. She continued smoothing out the face in places and slicing and scraping off bits of clay here and there. By the time evening came and they went to sleep, Starlight had carved out the shape of Twilight’s’ front half. She had some detail on the face but overall it was slow going. Mini-Twilight was satisfied with her work, though, and when Starlight went to sleep, it was with compliments on her sculpting.
In the morning, Starlight awoke and went right back to sculpting the body for Twilight. Spike brought her breakfast, and Twilight herself stopped by to ask about her work. Starlight took a moment to put Mini-Twilight back in the box and shut it, then allowed Twilight to come down to have a look at her work.
“You did this all yourself?” Twilight asked.
Starlight nodded. “Mini-you doesn’t have enough magic to help out. She wants to, but she’s okay just talking me through it.”
“You mentioned she doesn’t have enough. As in, her spells aren’t powerful enough?”
“Well, in both ways. You talked about healing herself, and her body doesn’t have enough magic to do that, and her spells are also not powerful enough. She was able to cut herself apart to test her body, but after reattaching the body parts, she only gained a small amount of feeling. Not enough to move them.”
“And she can’t help you work. I understand.”
“Well, my head is feeling a lot better, I can give you a little bit more to test that. I have a sneaking suspicion it will make my headache flare up again.”
“You think that’s what’s causing it?”
“It’s a strain on my magic because not only am I casting a spell, I’m pulling magic directly from the source I’m using at the same time, and separating it from myself.”
“Well you don’t have to.”

“No, this is important. It’s the next big step we need to take to understand how this is going to work.” Twilight took a deep breath and lit her horn. “Ready to catch it?”
“I’m ready, Twilight.”
More of the purple glow of her magic came out of Twilight’s horn and was suspended in the air. Twilight winced, but held it long enough for Starlight Glimmer’s magic to catch hold of it. As soon as she did, Twilight released her spell and clutched her head.
“Ow… yeah, that’s what did it. At least I know.”
“Are you okay, Twilight?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just more of the headache.”
Twilight moved toward the stairs, holding a hoof against her head. “Keep up the good work, Starlight. I expect a full report tonight.”
“Of course, Twilight. You get some rest.”
When the door to the lab shut, leaving Starlight alone in the lab, Starlight turned toward the box and pulled open the lid. “Well, we know what’s causing the headaches, but you were willing to help with the research. Studious to the detriment of your health, as usual.”
Starlight moved the magic down to Mini-Twilight and it was swiftly pulled into her little clay horn. As it went in, the unresponsive half of her body twitched, and Mini-Twilight was able to move her legs again. She hopped to her hooves and flexed, testing the limits of her motion.
“Perfect! I knew it would work! This is fantastic! Now we know that reattached limbs will function if there is enough innate magic in the body! It heals like a regular body would.” Mini-Twilight smiled wide and rubbed her hooves together. “I should have enough magic to…” Mini-Twilight disappeared in a flash and reappeared high above the open lid of the box. “Whoops!” There was another flash and she reappeared standing on the table next to the clay body.

“Enough magic to teleport at least,” Starlight said.
“More than enough! Now that I have so much to work with, I want to try something else.” Mini-Twilight teleported onto the head of the clay figure. She stood next to the horn and put a hoof against her chin in thought.
“What are you planning to do?” Starlight asked.
“I’m going to test if using clay was the right plan. Just watch and be ready to catch my magic if I end up destroying myself.”
“Wait, what?” Starlight stepped forward in alarm.
Mini-Twilight hugged the horn of the larger figure. She held onto it and smoothed her limbs against it, effectively merging her tiny body with that of the large figure. The glow of magic from Mini-Twilight’s horn slowly began to creep from her head to the horn of the large sculpture, suffusing the horn with power.
Starlight stepped back from the statue as the head began to move. The eyelids were the first to twitch, fluttering up and down over blank eyes with unfinished pupils. The ears atop the head flicked slightly, turning this way and that. The eyes started moving back and forth in the head, focusing on nothing, moving separate from each other, until they both focused on Starlight Glimmer.
“Twilight, I don’t like this.”
Twilight either did not hear her or could not, she wasn’t sure which. The face contorted in awful ways as the animation worked its way down the cheeks, to the chin, until the mouth finally opened up. It widened in a soundless scream and once the neck was able to move, it thrashed back and forth. Finally, a scream issued from the clay mouth:
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” the head screamed. The agonized yell filled the lab and Starlight bolted up the stairs. She pressed herself against the door and cried as she watched the clay figure, loathe to abandon her, but frightened.

The statue of Twilight snarled and screeched. Its head thrashed about on its unresponsive body, and Starlight wasn’t sure if it was in pain or if it was angry. The initial scream said to Starlight that Mini-Twilight was experiencing pain during her rash transition from miniature figure to large body. Her gnashing and snarling were frightening. Starlight wasn’t sure if she was mad from pain or if she had lost her mind. Both possibilities were frightening.
Starlight waited as long as she dared, but seeing her mentor freaking out like this was awful. The final straw came when Twilight gained control of the forehooves and began stamping the ground. They were soft clay, so they did no damage to the floor, but her hooves warped and bent, then reformed after the impact was done. She scooted forward slightly and Starlight slipped out of the room. She slammed the laboratory door shut, breathing hard as tears rolled down her cheeks.
The screaming continued for some time, until it gave way to thumps and crashes. Starlight wasn’t willing to open the door to check what was happening, but she had to guess that Twilight had somehow gained control of enough of the body to begin moving. She waited, holding the door shut so that Twilight couldn’t get out and hurt anypony else in her pained rage.
“What in Equestria is going on down there?” Spike came running down the hall to Starlight.
Starlight turned to look at Spike. She swallowed a sob and shook her head at him. “Twilight attempted to gain control of the larger clay body before it was finished. I… think it hurt, and now she’s lashing out.”
“Wait, which Twilight?”
“The little Twilight.”
Spike looked visibly relieved. That upset Starlight, though she couldn’t blame him. He had his Twilight still resting in her room, safe and unaware of the horror her other self was getting up to.

“Can’t you just grab her and make her stop?”
Starlight glared at Spike. “I don’t know how strong her new body is! I wasn’t going to wait and see if she could crush me!”
“Do you think she’ll stop on her own?”
Starlight bit her lip in thought. “I think so. Once she’s fully taken control of the body, she should be okay. She was fine when she was smaller.”
As she said that, the crashing and banging from below stopped. Starlight turned and slowly pressed her ear to the door. She heard something soft and wet striking something hard (Hoofsteps, maybe?). Starlight gripped the door handle with her magic, and turned the latch. Whatever was happening, she couldn’t avoid it for much longer.
Spike held up his claws and turned to leave. “Good luck with that, Starlight!”
“Thanks for the help,” Starlight said sarcastically.
She opened the door a crack and peeked inside. The lights were still functioning, thank goodness, but the table had ben thrown about. The box Mini-Twilight had been kept in was missing, and there was shattered glass everywhere. Starlight couldn’t see Twilight immediately. She heard the wet slapping sound, but Twilight wasn’t immediately down the stairs where the clay body had been kept. She saw a trail of clay leading off around the stairs and back.
She was apprehensive, but the sound meant she probably knew where Twilight was. If that sound was Twilight. She couldn’t imagine anything else in the lab that might make that kind of noise, so she was confident enough to start down the stairs.
With her back to the wall, she held her horn at the ready and crept down, one step at a time, looking for the source of the noise. At the halfway point, she could see something that she thought was made of clay. It was flipping back and forth, and it looked (though it was colorless) like Twilight’s tail.

“Twilight?” Starlight said, taking another step down.
The wet slapping sound continued. The fact that there was a tail meant Twilight had gained a large amount of control over the lump of clay. Starlight hadn’t even made it to the rear half before Twilight had foolishly attached herself to the sculpture. Twilight had forced it to take that shape when she began controlling it, which was useful to know. Unfortunately, it seemed to have had a detrimental effect on her.
“Twilight please. Are you okay?” Starlight moved further down the stairs, pleading with her.
As the rest of Twilight came into view, Starlight could see what was making the sound. Twilight was bashing her head into the wall repeatedly. Her horn has shifted backward on her head, the soft clay giving way to the impact. It didn’t seem to be hurting her, but it was disturbing to watch.
“Twilight, come on, stop doing that. Can you talk to me? Please?” Starlight had reached the bottom of the stairs. She swept some of the glass out of the way with her magic and turned the corner to look directly at Twilight.
“…nuff,” Twilight mumbled.
“What?”
Twilight didn’t say anything more, she just kept hitting her head against the wall and let out a small groan. Starlight didn’t want to get closer until she knew it was safe. Twilight didn’t have the limitations that flesh and blood had, so Starlight didn’t expect to be able to overpower her if it came to that. Not to mention she had enough magic to be dangerous now. This was exactly the sort of situation that she had been worried about when this all started. Starlight didn’t know as much as Twilight did about moving magic about, so she couldn’t remove the magic in the body. She would need Twilight’s help.

Starlight turned away from Clay-Twilight and started up the stairs. Clay-Twilight turned away from the wall at the sound of Starlight moving. She stood next to the stairwell, and reared up next to it, then her front half stretch up to cut Starlight off from the exit. Her rear half dangled, attached only by the extended clay, then it was slowly pulled up along with the rest of her.
“Star-*glk*-light, wait!” Clay-Twilight choked on her words like she was drowning. “I’m figuring this *cough* out. It’s just *guck* very painful.”
Starlight backed away from her down the stairs. Clay-Twilight’s lower jaw moved from side to side and receded into her throat while she spoke. It didn’t hinder her words at all, and in fact her voice didn’t seem to be coming from her mouth at all.
A glance up at Clay-Twilight’s horn where her smaller body had attached found nothing. The smaller version of her had been assimilated into the larger whole. The body she now had was more-or-less Twilight, but it was still rough-hewn and looked as though it had been created by an amateur.
“I just *gasp* need time… to…” Clay-Twilight’s front legs buckled and she tumbled down the stairs.
Starlight yelped and jumped out of the way. She tried to catch Clay-Twilight with her magic, but before she could turn and catch her, she collided with the bottom floor and crumpled, mashing half her head into her torso.
“Twilight!” Starlight yelled.
Clay-Twilight’s body shoved itself off the floor, her legs building themselves up underneath her. Her face bulged outward then shaped itself into a recognizable form, then she turned to Starlight and tried to smile. It was a horrific half-smile, with only extra-large teeth showing and no lips.
“Twilight... I don’t think you’re doing okay. Do you want to come out of there? We can fix it later.”

“I’m *hurk* figuring this out. Hold on.”
Starlight covered her eyes with a hoof and backed up to the wall. She didn’t want to watch as Twilight attempted to gain control of her strange and unnatural body. She heard strange noises, and the few times she peeked, she could only see Twilight struggling to make her body work.
She would form one part of it into the correct shape, then try to form another part, but then lose control of the first section and it would start to droop or tilt. Starlight could see which part she was working on, because if she ever stopped trying to concentrate on the head, it would list to one side. Her neck was not thick enough to support such a large piece of clay as her head was made of. If she ever stopped trying to hold the legs, they would buckle and she would almost fall to the floor.
Eventually, Starlight couldn’t take looking at it anymore. “Twilight stop, just… relax! Let go! Let’s figure this out!”
“I can get thi-his!”
“Twilight please! You’re scaring me, and you do not have this! Just relax! It’s too big for you!”
“Huff… okay. You’re right. I don’t. I need more.”
“More?”
“More magic.”
“No, you don’t. You need to work with what you can and figure out where the problem is, and then move on from there. More magic is just a shortcut to what you could figure out later.”
“I don’t need to figure it out, Starlight. I know the answer. Look at me.”
Starlight tried not to look, but even at a glance she could tell that Twilight was right. Her inability to animate the entire mess of Clay at once was indicative that she lacked the power to make it work. They knew the answer, but the answer was likely to do damage to Twilight herself. It shouldn’t have been an option.

“Twilight already gave you a good amount of magic. Work with what you have.”
Clay-Twilight growled from her position on the floor. “She—” Clay-Twilight spat the word out. “—is not invested in this research. She rests *guck* while I have done all the work!”
“She is you!” Starlight retorted. “She trusted you to do it because you’re her!”
“Not anymore! I know more about this than she ever will. I know what the problem is with me being in this body, and if this is what she wanted, then she needs to give me the rest of her essence!”
“That could kill her!”
“It wouldn’t be death.” Clay-Twilight smiled a too-wide smile. “I’m her, after all, right?”
Starlight shook her head. “I’m sorry, Twilight. I can’t let you. You’re not yourself anymore. I’m going to go get the other Twilight and we’ll fix this. We’ll approach it from a new angle.”
Starlight lit her horn in preparation to teleport out of the room. The moment she tried, a shard of glass flew across the room and nicked her in the horn, interrupting her spell. She looked over at Clay-Twilight, who had surrounded herself with glass shards.
“No! You’ll ruin all the days of research I performed! You’ll ruin all the useless and awful time I spent trapped in that horrid box waiting for you and her to decide what should be done. As if I was just an object!” Clay-Twilight sobbed. All her magic seemed to be focused on her head. She wasn’t choking on her words, and her horn glowed bright.
“We were trying to figure things out! You knew that!”
“And I was the focus of the research! Me! I’m the one doing all the work! This is my project now! I’m in charge!” Clay-Twilight brandished a piece of glass at Starlight as she spoke.

“Twilight, calm down.” Starlight tried to teleport again, but another piece of glass was flung at her horn, and she was interrupted.
“No! You listen to me! Bring Twilight down here and get her to give me more magic! I can’t animate the body properly without it! This was the goal in the first place!”
“Okay, I’ll go get her, just let me leave,” Starlight pleaded.
Clay-Twilight realized what she had said. “No.” She held up a large piece of glass in front of Starlight’s face. “No, I can’t let you go get her. You wanted to leave anyway. That would be foolish. I’m clearly not thinking straight.”
“Exactly. You’re panicked, and you just went through what must have been a lot of pain.”
“You’re right. You’re very right. I did.” Clay Twilight slowly lowered the large piece of glass.
Starlight watched, not daring to move, as Clay-Twilight lowered the glass down in front of her. When it was almost down to her hooves, Starlight lit up her horn and tried to teleport again.
“Stop that!” Clay-Twilight yelled and whipped the huge piece of glass toward Starlight’s horn. The shard embedded itself in Starlight’s neck, blood spurting out immediately upon impact.
Clay-Twilight’s mouth opened in horror at what she had done. She panicked and lifted up Starlight’s bleeding body, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
“Oh, sweet Celestia, what have I done!” She looked around for something she could use to help, and her eyes settled on the glass everywhere in the lab.
Clay-Twilight’s eyes widened and she looked at the pooling blood, then back at the glass. She grasped on to Starlight’s horn with her magic, and yanked. Starlight’s essence poured out of her horn. The more that came out, the slower the bleeding went, until Starlight’s body lay in a pool of quickly congealing blood.

Clay-Twilight held Starlight’s magic in the air. It swirled and sparkled. An impressively large cloud of colour. She then lifted up all the glass in the laboratory into a ball and heated it. It was a strain, but with some time she had a large ball of molten glass held above her. Clay-Twilight formed it, bit by bit, into a facsimile of Starlight Glimmer. Though it was much smaller than Clay-Twilight herself–about half the size–it was still a good likeness. She animated it, adding in just a hint of suggestion magic, then forced Starlight’s magic into the little glass horn. The little glass figurine started to shine with an inner light that grew brighter the more of it went in.
When it was all inside, Clay-Twilight released her magic and let herself rest. She watched from her mostly immobile clay body as the glass figurine’s transparent eyes blinked, and the glass mouth gaped in shock.
“Twilight, what did you do?”
“I… I panicked. I couldn’t let you leave, and I didn’t think about where I was aiming from. But I fixed you! Freedom from the pains that plague a normal body, and immortality enough to help Equestria for as long as you see fit. That was the ultimate goal of all this research.”
“Twilight this isn’t what I wanted,” Starlight said with disappointment.
“I know, I’m sorry, but I had to work quickly. You were dying.”
“Because of you!”
“I know, okay? I know! It was my fault! What more do you want from me? Now will you help me? Or do you still want to give up on all my research that saved your life?”
Starlight hesitated, but eventually she relaxed. “Only because you saved my life, we can go together” —Starlight emphasized the ‘together’— “and we can talk to Twilight.”
“Okay.” Twilight smiled, and her clay eyes almost seemed to twinkle. “Together, we will go talk to Twilight.”

The End.