And with that, the pony was left in the room on his own, staring as the shadow of the dog disappeared from the lit hallway beyond his broken door, the disturbed dust of the floor and the armchair the only hint of his presence. Thunder let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding and looked at the pages and books on the floor. The parchments was nearly black with ink from the intricate symbols and calligraphy that filled them. His head was already feeling foggy. Clouds gathered at the edge of his mind, memories fading into obscurity, as if he were watching them play out from behind frosted glass, the price of his folly and his years of use of the magic catching up with him with a finality that frightened him.