The Herald

“If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself.”

― George Orwell, 1984

        Beyond the eyes of The Creator, beyond the collective sight of The Council of the Gods, The Herald sat alone on the edge of Creation.

        The stars themselves, even The Ocean Astral halted here, giving way to a darkness unlike what the Mortal and Immortal had ever seen. It had been beheld only by The Herald, The Creator, and such ancient beings as them.

        The Herald extended a tentative hoof of Shadow to touch the Darkness, for even The Herald was not beyond the fear of it. The Darkness rippled like water, but accepted The Herald’s touch. As it slipped through, the misty Shadow that coated the ancient one was stripped, and The Herald’s true form was exposed.

        If any of the Aspects had been there to see it, their view of The Herald would have changed drastically. The Herald’s hoof was a pure white, with a golden glow radiating from it. Staring at it with an academic curiosity, The Herald mused,  “How odd it is, that such a being as me is radiant. Many would think that having been in Shadow so long would have affected my form, but the true form of an Old One never changes. Even if nobody can remember my True Name, or even what I am, I will not change.”

        A voice echoed, kindly and wise. “Herald. You are still following my will, I see.”

        The Herald turned to look, and made a sound strange and forgotten. Laughter. “I follow your will, Creator, but only because it is the only way for anybody to survive the Last War.”

        A being of purest white, radiating wisps of gold and silver, stared at The Herald with glowing eyes of black. “You know what must be done?”

        “Indeed I do, Creator. At first I thought to undo your works, but I saw quickly what your intent was. But do you see how much pain you will cause, Creator?” The Herald’s eyes flared, wisps of red leaking in. “Can you see how you will break their hearts? Can you see how much pain they will go through?”

        The Creator winced. “I do. It is necessary.”

        The Herald did not care. “Many of them still have mortal friends, Love even took a mortal husband. Magic is still so very mortal in her feelings, and holds many of them dear. Both of them have mortal parentage, Creator. Can you understand that, brother?” the force in The Heralds’ voice was causing ripples in the astral magick around them.

        He sighed. “Magic will still have some of her own blood, my brother.”

        The Herald reeled back as if struck. His eyes lost their anger, but shock replaced them. He had been Named as a deity, after being Nameless for three ages of the world. “I have been left as a Nameless for so long. My own name escapes me, even... but I will remember. Perhaps, perhaps she will not fear me, when the time comes.”

        “I pray, for all of our sakes. Her Bloodline would have birthed the Aspect of Magic anyways, and now the Blood of Creation is in her veins, as well... She may well have power close to our own.” mused The Creator, swirling trails of pure matter around in front of him.

        “But not too close. I remember, in those beginning times, how you ripped a hole in reality with a tantrum. Magic did no such thing, though being turned into a potted plant was quite an interesting feeling.”

        In Twilight’s childhood, there was an old oak door that nopony opened but her father, a room that nopony could get into but him. Twilight, out of curiosity, had tried to open in it on her last visit, but it wouldn’t budge. The room, she decided, was woven with a legendary kind of ward- the Blood Wards. They would only open for the weaver of the spell, but the downside was that it would vanish after their death, and took over seven years to weave.

        If she had gotten in somehow, she would have been severely underwhelmed. It was a simple study, with red velvety carpet and bookcases crammed with books, a fire crackling merrily in the marble fireplace.

        Night Light was in there now, sitting on a green cushion that was worn from years of use. He wasn’t reading, writing, drawing, or planning, but waiting. He was waiting for a being that was supposedly forgotten and locked away until just recently.

        A dark wisp tricked out from the shadows, running upward into a body wreathed in Shadow, with the occasional gap showing white and gold light. In a completely un-godly action, it lifted a hoof and cracked its neck. “Ahhh... So much better than that cramped shadow-wisp form.”

        Night Light nodded sympathetically. “I know how you feel. I had to use it on myself and my wife to avoid the Changelings. Hurts to Tartarus and back.”

        “Speaking of Tartarus, something tells me that will be a better place to be than here very, very soon.” muttered The Herald glumly.

        His son raised an eyebrow. “Really? What makes you think that?”

        “Celestia just put all of the pieces together, from what I can sense. And the picture she got... well, she gets that Twilight has my blood.”

        The unicorn chuckled. “Well, it was only a matter of time, you know? You’d think the fact that the ‘Children of Unicri’ birthed the Aspect of Magic without any apparent involvement of all the magic branches would have tipped her off.”

        The Herald shrugged, his mood lightened by the observation. “She forgets Shadow branch quite a lot. Tartarus, most get Shadow and Dark Magic confused.”

        A knock at the door made both of them jump, and The Herald melted into Night Light’s shadow. Night Light coughed a little, then said, “Yes?”

        Twilight’s voice called through. “Remember, Dad? We’re going to have tea with Prin- ahem, Celestia and Luna at noon!”

        The shadow of Night Light, oddly, facehoofed without Night Light actually performing such an action. Night Light replied, “Oh, silly me! Coming!”