Stacking The Deck

Chapters

Proem: Roots of All Evil
Chapter 1: The Revelation Is At Hand
Chapter 2: A New Era

Proem: Roots of All Evil

"History is written by the victors."

― Winston Churchill

Here, under the confines of metal and magic, I convey the narrative of history. Its past in all its glory, or at least what I can piece together of it.

Only one thousand years after the Great Creation of the World, evil began to surpass good. The first two ponies created by the entity of everything, Omnia, were seaponies. Peccatia and her brother, Oblítus. Both skilled in the arts of magic and prophecies. Serving along side them, a council. No, The Council. A group of ponies privileged to oversee the lives of all the sentient beings of the world. They would judge and decide your fate after death. Either you would go to Tartarus, Purgatory, or Benedixitque.

Tartarus is a dark, endless pit of shadow and fire. It was forged by Omnia at the beginning to house the damned who, after death, were doomed to suffer for eternity in the hellhole. Its structure was a cavern that stretched and expanded as its population grew. Here, all those that lived lives of sins and malice would be kept, serving their punishment of eternal pain and damnation. Trust me when I say that you do not truly know pain until you have tasted the fires of Tartarus. The gates to this prison are guarded by immortal soldiers, sworn to serve their Code Of Service, never to leave their posts.

Benedixitque, the place of dreams and peace. Those who have gone throughout life as souls of chastity and love are said to have been sent to this sort of Utopia. Not much can be said on the subject of this concept. All that is spoken of this place is theorized. There is no proof of this "heaven" yet still the highest leaders of the world claim it is real and that everyone must aspire to get there. The Council members themselves even believe in the extistence of this "perfect afterlife," striving to send more souls there, thinking they will bask in light and pleasures when in reality, they don't even have the slightest idea of where they are really going.

And my personal favorite: Purgatory. Nothing. Blank. That is its purpose. To exist as a place of non-existence. Purgatory is a realm of waiting, a pit stop before you are judged and selected to either go to Benedixitque or Tartarus. But The Council has a third option: to let you remain in Purgatory. You are only chosen to stay if your fate truly cannot be decided, if you, somehow, confuse them into not being able to give a definite answer. In other words if you are both good and evil, if you both committed infamous sins and miraculous deeds of good will, you are forced to remain in the nothingness of the universe, trapped between worlds. But as you will learn, this, like all things, would change with time.

The world lived in equilibrium of prosperity and darkness, filled with promise for hundreds of years. Until the day when Peccatia offset the balance of good and evil, allowing the world to take its first step down the winding road to darkness. Starting the chain reaction that would free the world from The Council's oppressive rule. That wonderful day. She was one of the first ponies ever created, and doomed from the start. Our cruel originator had made her with a darker soul than any of other of her race. It was destined that she would do what was forbidden since the world's inception: use dark magic.

The sun shone with all its brilliancy above the world as yet another lively day reached its midpoint. All across the world ponies were at work, be it for good or bad. Life went on, as close to perfect as its overseers could attempt. The Council smiled as they sat on their pedestals of celestial light, watching the same bustle of everyday life, with the majority of their world shining and living the path of purity. But the few, the... isolated... council members took this time to entertain themselves with observing the misfortune and maelstrom of the adolescent world. Twenty Nine, nearly the entire of the jury, took this lackadaisical hour, the twelfth of the day, to simply admire the world in all its majesty.

Yet then there was the final, most important member of the entire group: the Head Chancellor. Lassus (for that was the highest stallion's name), occupied all his time with security. An abundance of the colt's time was spent watching the Gates of Tartarus as well as, sending those of felons' lives to the tomb of eternal damnation and observing the living who took to lives of ill intent, awaiting the day he would judge them. For above all the alicorn swathed in gold and saffron attire remembered the words of his predecessor. The words that controlled and molded the future of the world, he remembered Omnia's final warning before departing from it all. He remembered the Telling of the Fallen Stars.

Oblítus despaired as he stared at the erect structure before him. The seapony floated in his spiritual form a few inches off the ground. The building was built of cobblestone and already the magic that had been used to form it had begun to take its tole on the facility. While the stone was cracked and shown some evidence of corrosion, it would forever stand, held up by the magic used to construct it. It was the grim nature for which its inception was needed and for why it was built that made the magic corrupt its appearance and soil the scenery around it. It seemed as though the world itself was poisoned by the existence of such a place. Surrounding the perimeter of the property were dying, gaunt trees, bent in impossible positions that seemed to emphasize the feeling of loneliness and phantasmagoric horror. Within the short amount of time the environment stood both fog and frigid winds came to call this desolate center of insanity and crime home.

What was truly depressing of the truth was that it was indeed needed. For the growing amount of felons and psychopaths had drastically risen within the past two hundred years. The muzzle of the age-old finned equine twisted into an expression of pure pity and melancholy as the words of the great creator began to come true. Oblítus, Peccatia, and Head Chancellor all had been haunted by the memory of the doomsday prediction of their queen. For coming forth from the light and propserity of the young world would be death and corruption, for upon them was the beginning of the completion of the Telling of the Fallen Stars.

The small cottage was the only pony-made structure within five miles of the area, hidden in the luscious green of the forest. Inside it could be heard grunts and shouting. Three ponies were in the room, one filled with horror and tears and another fueled by rage and evil. The third figure remained motionless as he stood at the center of a moderately sized living room, receiving his punishment. The floor was riddled with empty bottles, broken glass, and blood stains. Another strained sound was elicited by the young unicorn as his father once again brought the sharp, metal ruler across his son's hide, leaving another gash from which blood ran forth. The youngest of the three, the daughter, was sobbing at the atrocious site of the unjust assault.

"S-Stop," she bubbled out in between sobs, pleading with her cyan eyes.

"Shut up!" the equine of drunken rage shouted in response, continuing to administer his vile attack.

"You are going to kill him!" she retaliated. At this the older stallion stumbled away from his broken son and approached his daughter. The fear began to spread across her alabaster muzzle as he grasped her by her mane and her held the bloodied razor of the ruler to her throat.

"Unless you want to end up worse than him you will shut your mouth," he snarled, his snout only inches away from hers. He then dropped her to the ground and returned to the wounded colt awaiting the continuation of his abuse. Thinking themselves alone, the two unicorns dared not speak of their abuse and cruel guardian, but without their knowing there were actually ponies around the world who faced similar fates. And thus the unprovoked attack when on and both Bronze Cross and his sister thought there was nothing in their power they could do to stop it.

But after hours of the intense agony, eventually the younger ponies' father retired, at which time Bronze Cross took to the solitude of a nearby pond. The water of the pond rippled and shifted, distorting the reflection of the young bronze colt looking into it. But as the waves shrank and faded, the sun's light came into focus once more, bouncing off the aqua surface and burning his eyes. Yet another tear fell, clouding the waters once more. The harsh light damaging his eyes only added the pain of his bleeding back. The fresh wounds of where his father had been striking him flowed freely with blood.

He was so tired, tired of it all. Slowly the cycle began again as his despair and desperation turned to anger and confusion. He cursed his father's name and senselessly pleaded for revenge. It was now that his sister arrived, her own eyes filled with the same salty liquid of hopelessness. Everyday after their abuse, the two young ponies would come to this body of water and drown their sorrows in its silence and each other's embraces. After what seemed like eternity the younger of the two opened her eyes, while still hugging her kin, to see a head poking out of the frigid water, staring at her.

"Bronze Cross," she whispered into her brother's ear.

"Hallow Dove?" Bronze Cross pulled his sister from him to look into her eyes, only to see they were staring at something behind him. He then turned to see the seapony observing both of them. Her ruby head raised from the icy water, bringing with it her body. As Peccatia's entire body floated out of the wintry pond, it took to the air, closing in on the siblings. Immediately the two began to back away from the eerie figure.

Spanning from the horned pony's back were two large fins, accompanied by a singular one that outlined her spine. And in place of her hind legs was a tail of monstrous proportion. But what stopped the two unicorns dead in their tracks was her eyes. The swirling pearls of white were only emphasized by the golden head piece she wore, that one that was outfitted with a jet black gem at its center.

"Do not fret young ones," the aquatic unicorn cooed while still advancing on both of them. "I only wish to help."

"Stay back!" Bronze Cross pushed his sister behind him and stood up muzzle to muzzle with the mare.

"Calm yourself Bronze Cross, I mean neither of you ill intent," Peccatia now began circling around both the dejected juveniles. Dove giggled and reached out a hoof to stroke the flowing red and black mane of the enchantress. Bronze Cross glared at the smiling temptress before speaking.

"What is it you want?" His tone was both stern and surprising to the maremaid.

"As I previously stated, I am simply here to help you two in this cruel world," Peccatia's motherly tone was accompanied by a light glow of her spiraled horn.

"Bronze Cross!" The colt's sister exclaimed pointing at his back. "Look!" And at her request he glanced over his shoulder to see his fresh wounds and deep gashes closed and heal, becoming scars before disappearing altogether.

"I know everything that's been happening to you," Peccatia took Bronze Cross's face in her hooves and guided it towards her's, staring him straight in the eyes. "And I only aspire to assist you."

"How?" Bronze Cross asked doubtfully.

"I promise both you and your sister eternal protection, as well as revenge." Peccatia returned as if it was as obvious as the sun itself.

"Revenge?" Peccatia could hear the negative tone in Bronze Cross's voice.

"Against your cruel drunkard of a father," she explained. "I offer you immortality, infinite power, and unlimited intellect."

"What does that mean?" The youngest of the three spoke up with her soft, dulcet voice. Before Peccatia could inform her, the filly's brother intervened and simplified it.

"It means we could make daddy stop hurting us." The moment the words left his lips, Peccatia realized something: she need not stoop to the younger of the two, for once she convinced Bronze Cross, she would control Hallow Dove.

"I implore you to contemplate it," Peccatia stole the older colt's attention once more, "unlimited wealth, power, and you will achieve your long awaited goal: justice. Not only would you never die, but you could stop the pain and nightmares. You could save your sister." Her circling concluded as she came face to face once more with the younger unicorn.

"Who are you? Why are you helping us?" The sorceress could see the want hidden behind his stone cold expression and defensive figure.

"I am merely a messenger, a guardian. Sent upon the mission of procuring your well being, I am helping you because with your help I could change the world. If you accept my nourishment and guidance I will not only rid the world of your terrible abuser, I will bring forth a new era. One where everypony, may do what they want without the judgement of others." The poison tongued pony phrased her intent in such a way not only did it seem innocent and libertarian, but it seemed like she was setting everypony free, rather than condemning them to a harsh future filled with terror and woe.

"How do we help?" Bronze Cross inquired. His face softening while a smile spread across all three of the ponies faces. The two family members embraced as Peccatia contemplated the technique she would use to conduct her ritual. Finally the answer dawned and a sinister smile was placed upon her muzzle.

"Take this," the maremaid used her magic to lift her headpiece and place it in both of the ponies' hooves. "Crush this and inhale its essence. Then, repeat my words." An expression of love and relief came to Bronze Cross's muzzle as his vision fell upon his hopeful sister. The next instant the miniature tiara was no more as two wisps of black smoke forged into twin hands of bony structure. Gone down the throats of Bronze Cross and Hallow Dove, the shades of dark magic grasped the unicorns' life source.

"Mrtyor mamrtam gamaya. Diuinitatem ducere ab impotentia," Peccatia's white teeth were revealed as her muzzle corners turned up while she spoke. The words flowed from the two's newly tainted hearts. "Deduc me in lucem in tenebras. Tolle animam meam, dedi ad peccandum. Fiam servus tenebris."

And with the almighty curse completed, the two victims were taken hold of by the forces of Tartarus itself. Screams of pain and power followed as each of the ponies was set alight. The wickedness of the underworld flowed through their veins as their bodies warped under its influence. Peccatia watched in awe and fulfillment as she personally helped the world in its first step down the winding road of darkness.

Anger seethed from the titanic dragon as he watched his great great grandson. The nearly fully grown dragon was soaring in bliss and peace as he flew merrily above the village beneath him, completely unaware of the looming red eyes fixed on him. The king of the drakes, hidden in the shadows in his castle, watched through his magical sphere of magic with pure loathing at the golden wyrm that was his descendant. The joyful creature landed to walk beside one of the ponies making her way to the town. The image was filled with black as the king clenched his clawed hand shut, crushing the seeing spell in its wake. His face contorted into a grimace of anguish and rage as his thoughts mixed and milled over one another, repeating the same horrible truth.

The docility of his entire race, their peacefulness. The vicious looking dragons of the world all sickening sweet and disgustingly selfless. All except him. The lord of all these repulsively kind and caring creatures. The first of them all.

How. How, that is what he pondered. How had he spawned such an atrocious race of purely unselfish beings. Since his first breath he had been gifted with daunting magical powers and heightened intellect, but in addition to this he was cursed. The creator, the great Omnia, burdened him with the hole in his heart that would eventually consume him. A never ending ocean of malice, cruelty, and greed. But rather than resist the inevitable and fight to only delay the unstoppable, he embraced it. He accepted his doomed fate and now aspired to watch the world burn. He wanted its fall, its defeat, its perfection to be tainted with calamity and destruction.

But he must be discreet. For looming over him, watching his every move, was The Council. The writers of history and the future. Lead by their leader, their chief, their Head Chancellor. Evil had been rising since the beginning of time, and they knew it. Whether it was due to Omnia's mistakes or perhaps her own twisted sense of humor, the world was doomed. Its origin was infected with sin itself, for as the world grew, so would its curse.

The steel scales that made up the draconic lord's body shifted and rippled as the enormous dragon stood from his throne and spread his leathery black wings. The shook slightly before resting once again upon his metallic hide. The king proceeded to his library, which was placed at the West wing of his castle of black. The sovereign of fire and brimstone crossed the threshold of his book archive and advanced to the table past the almost never ending racks of narratives. Hundreds of feet high the ceiling stood, with chandeliers of diamond and silver hanging lazily in the air. The walls were outfitted with paintings and shelves. Where the rows of wood and page ended, a new area began. Circular in architecture, a dome a sorts, with a table set at its focus. Surrounding it were statuettes of gold and various other alloys. Beside them were scarce books of a darker nature, along with boxes and chests of materials with a wide variety of magical properties. Only a few meters behind the counter at the center was a lone window.

Perhaps the most enticing feature of the room, the glass opening was tinted to an aura of dark traditional chartreuse. A storm of magnificent ferocity billowed about, shrouding the castle atop the mountain in frigid winds and terrible shadow. The patriarch of his draconic race approached the table, and having reached it, brought forth a jar and vial from from seemingly nothing. After setting them down neatly he opened a blank book and began to take notes as his magic filled the air. His emotions now flowed freely, filling the pot and tube with black magic and rage. The hundreds of years of pent up feelings now moved with ease, creating both a curse and potion.

"Avar!" A voice cried out to him, abruptly ending the ceremony and severing his train of thought. The scarlet eyes of the dragon flashed brightly before he turned to the purple scaled dragon-ess advancing on him. Her beautifully curved body was deliciously complimented with the green spines that began at her head and ended at her tail.

"What could you possible think of to further persist my patience?" Avar-Fortis acidly spat at his wife.

"Your great great grandson would like us to come visit," the queen attempted to keep herself from arguing. "With his wife's death he is very lonely, and knowing his son's condition I think we should oblige," Spina tried to reason, little knowing how Avar was barely keeping himself in check. Struggling to stay in control of his actions, his age old mind strained, having recently unleashed his dam of hidden demonic thoughts.

"No, tell him I decline his request," Avar spoke in a voice of great bass and power. "I will not allow him to waste more of my time." He then turned his back to her and placed both his hands of the table, taking deep breathes.

"Are you alright Avar? You seem... strained. You've been distant lately," the drake in question's wife appeared at his side. "You know he is your heir you could--"

"Do not discuss the terms of my heritage!" the originator barked harshly, his voice and emotions growing in volume. The constraints of his patience and sanity now began to tremble.

"He has had a terrible life, and you have done almost nothing for him!" Now she too was loosing her temper, a rare occasion, though still significant. "Ashkore deserves our support, he has only ever tried to made you proud," Spina lifted Avar's chin with her hand, looking him in the eyes. The twin symphonies of swirling crimson boring into her sapphire ones.

"Yet he only manages to disappoint," his voice sprinkled with strain and rage. Spina then placed both her hands on his shoulders as her face turned as hard as stones.

"We are going and that's final." Shock. That was what hit Avar-Fortis first, pure astonishment. His spawn, his descendant, his caterer, his wife, forged by Omnia through the use of his scales, now dared to command him. The shock faded, giving way for fury and frenzy. "I am putting my foot down," she announced, pulverizing Avar's last nerve. Out of nowhere a sudden wave of satanic hatred, rancor, and power crashed into him as a word spoke in a dark, distant voice echoed in his head, uttering one word: tenebris.

"Unhand me woman!" He shouted, freeing himself from her hold, wrapping his clawed hands around her throat. "You're putting *your** foot down?*" His grip drastically tightened, while raising his own left foot, bringing it down on her's.

"Av... Avar..." she struggled to breathe.

"You insolent little vixen, you dare command me under my own roof?" he bellowed. "I am Avar-Fortis, the Father and King of the entire draconic race! I am your king! And I am tired of your disobedience and disloyalty!" The color began to drain from the feminine body of Spina as the king's magic again came to life. But the color was not only sucked from her face, small dots of white light drifted up from her scales, carrying her essence, her soul to the clenched hands of her murderer. After several minutes of silence, the draconic king's sanity returned. He dropped the lifeless body and reentered his previous ritual, this time infusing both the potion and the jar with something he alone could never give them: soul.

The two concoctions were finally finished. A pot of greed, to curse an entire race, and a vial, created for a single purpose, to kill an angel. The entire world was shaken by the arrival of dark magic and a new era was coming, a new age. But regardless, he too knew of the coming darkness, in fact, he intended to lead it.

Chapter 1: The Revelation Is At Hand

Log 2

Digging up the past can be quite the conundrum, even for me. Though I am burdened with immortality and sacred magic, there were times before even I came into being that are now lost to the world. Almost all their traces are gone. Regardless, what little our predecessors left behind I am still able to recover. Avar-Fortis, the first dragon, ever, is said to have doomed his entire race through the use of dark magic and mind manipulation.

Eet gose wif owt sayn dat I admeyer heem grately for hees trioomphs. He waz alsu aeble tu send dat deemun uf temptashun tu da depfs uf TARTARUS. WERE SHEE MAE BERN FOR EETURNITEE! DA DESDRACEFOL VIXEN UF SIKENING BEETRAEL AND DESGUSTIN--

Sorry. It is also said that the death of Peccatia, the "mythical" darkness bringer, happened around the same time as the dragons descend into mortality and greed. Peccatia was indeed real, and did introduce the dark arts to the world, and that is something which can never be forgiven. I'm actually surprised to know something about history which the creature in question doesn't even know about itself. For Avar-Fortis's plans to succeed he would need a great number of people, people to manipulate, some of these people so young that they might not even remember their assistance.

"After all I've done, please just let me do this," the pleading voice of Avar-Fortis was accompanied by a warm expression of caring. Ashkore knew little of his great great grandfather, and littler still of the power he held, but even what he was proposing seemed impossible. "I know I haven't always been there to guide you, you must believe me, but I want to make it up to you. Longing for your hospitality and forgiveness is what I truly want, and great lengths I am willing to go to procure those."

"It's not possible. It can't be done, as much as I want to this to be true you and I both know this cannot happen," Ashkore paid little to no heed to the older wyrm's words.

"Please, the words I speak are of truth itself. I promise you will be reunited with your wife and that your son shall be cured of his malady. Just allow me to help, this is all I ask. Allow me to attempt to bring your family, our family, back together," the sincerity in the scaled originator's vocalization seemed completely and utterly genuine.

"Alright," the younger, ignorant dragon's words brought a smile to his predecessor's face. Beneath the spurious show of emotion lay the real motivation for the king's actions. Hidden well beyond sight was the originator's avarice, malice, and hate, soon to be unleashed his ancestors, his entire race. "But this will not grant you my full forgiveness or trust, for that is something that must be earned with time."

"I know," Avar's smile only grew with his descendant's nescient answer. At this he proceeded to bring forth a jar of sliver and titanium from the shadowy smoke that seeped from his leathery wings. "To your son, your wife, our family, our unity, the power of magic, and the strength of dragons everywhere," the fire breathing monster practically radiated with anticipation as he held the pot of temptation out towards his own grandson, his own flesh and blood.

"Agreed," the amber victim sealed his fate, removing the lid from the container and fulfilling the dark lord's wish. Millions of black darts took flight and the deceitful deity of darkness's throat rumbled with a laugh of incredible volume and evil. The nearly empty pot of greed rushed through the air before shattering against the ground, unleashing a plume of black fire that danced around the king. A singular dart separated from the cloud of pitch and dove into Ashkore's breast, dissolving inside his heart as it did to every other dragon in the world.

"You see my dear heir" Avar spoke the last word mockingly. Each time his mouth opened to produced words the fires of the curse found entrance, giving him superiority and strength. "For one to ruin an entire race with unquenchable greed, temptation, rage, malice, perversion, feriocity, and evil, they must sacrifice a part of themselves, something I could never give: the soul of its leader, born with blood of the most pure. And now," Ashkore was lifted up by his cruel sorcerer of kin. "Your soul is mine, along with your power. Feel the sting of defeat and death at your own hand," the impeccable timing held true as the curse poisoned Ashkore's heart as it did for all the other dragons of the universe.

While the tricked victim of Avar-Fortis was filled with a literal poison of fatigue and death, all the other wyrms of the world took their own forced poison. The curse then bore a hole into every heart and soul of dragons everywhere. A hole so unfathomably deep, and impossible to fill it would not only have to be carried by every dragon currently alive, but by ever one of the creatures to ever come. And thus the race of dragons fell from grace, thus the sparkling example of kindness and generosity for the entire world fell. Thus fell the first of the Fallen Stars.

The temple of alabaster and magic drifted freely through the cosmos, its existence fading in and out. At the innermost room of celestial judgement The Council sat, upon their thrones of justice and light. Beams of radiance and joy emanated from the faces of the sacred ponies as their eyes remained locked on the dragon of crimson and saffron. She too wore an expression of relief and thank standing at the center of the courtroom. Only brighter their happiness grew when the roof swirled and mixed into a portal leading to their place of heavenly afterlife: Benedixitque.

"Itremor, betrothed of Ashkore and daughter of Saphurno, go now from our sight, pass unto the hooves of the mother of majesty: Omnia. See not the grim of death, but find the hope and magic of a life reborn, reborn in the eyes of our all mother," Lassus deemed her entrance to the utopia of their religious reality. Her ascension began, but only a few inches away from the supposed eternal salvation she stopped. The council members all watched with confusion and panic as instead of passing onto the next stage of life, black darts began to fly around her. Lassus's expression of fulfillment faded, morphing to horrible dread. Time stopped as a magical projectile of a shooting, or rather falling, star split the air and pierced through the now dead dragon's carcass.

Her lifeless body fell limp upon the floor and more of the falling stars appeared. Darkness poisoned the air, and cursed magic brought destruction upon the temple. For every surface that made contact with the blazing spheres of flame became engulfed with black magic, eradicating it. Within moments, the entirety of The Council's home was annihilated. The entities of power and royalty then fled to the real world, setting hoof upon the sky far above the ground.

Floating above the world, they became surrounded by shimmering specks of blinding light. Once each of the hallowed ponies had arrived, the prophecy began to demonstrate the beginning of its own fulfillment. Revealed to the eyes of the fore bearers of the matriarch of the universe were hundreds of holographic stars, falling. Each now wore a face filled with abhorrence and disbelief beyond reckoning, for filling each of the star's epicenter was each one of the council member's faces. Dancing around the head Chancellor were multiple prophetic images, each with a separate scene taking place.

Each projection played at an alarming rate, proving it impossible for the chief judge to focus upon them. As if on cue, each and every one of the foretelling stars froze, holding the illustrations of the ponies depicted to fall with the world's balance. Lassus absorbed the faces of three corrupt beings exemplified before him by the prophecy. The first was of the seapony Peccatia, for whom he had indeed been suspicious of throughout his rule over the judgement of the dead. The second was also a person of whose treachery he was familiar with: Avar-Fortis. But the third image was the one that left the Head Chancellor shell shocked, as it was an alicorn whose face he had known since the beginning of time, an alicorn of cream coat and bronze mane. Eyes of white stared back at Lassus as he watched in undeniable certainty as his own eyes stared back at him.

Collectively the stars then moved, and as a sort of hive they forged together, exhibiting the final telling of the doomsday prophecy: the sky. The normal blue of the world was basked in red and yellow, the very air everypony breathed, the kingdom in which the pegasus flew, the place where birds and dragons alike took flight, the sky itself was alight, burning under the wrath of a single figure. A new, unknown pony at the hurricane of fire's eye wasn't able to be identified and with the conclusion of the scene of gargantuan devastation the live playing of the future ended.

None of the arbiters of the afterlife dared move, none of them dared break the silence cast of completion by the announcement of the first part of the prophecy of doom. Continued the mum of sound brought forth in the wake of the Telling of the Fallen Stars.

Cold. After the hours of consistent agony at the hand of the curse, the unicorns felt cold. Both Bronze Cross and Hallow Dove rose to their hooves checking themselves for any signs of physical damage. Nothing. Boundless pain and aching left absolutely no mark on the flesh that bore it so prolonged. The forest around both the siblings blurred and faded, replaced by the familiar glow of their hut. Before them, drowned in a drunken stupor, was their father. The first to act was Bronze Cross, who by using his newly awarded strength, brought the stallion up by his long, shaggy mane.

"Ah! What the hell?" The previously resting pony cursed at his son. "Put me down this in... stant," the older colt's voice trailed off as he stared into the now bloodshot eyes of his son. A snarl rumbled and grew in Bronze Cross's throat, accompanied by a show of his teeth and true intent. "W-What are you doing? Son?" The evil in the younger male's heart grew voraciously at the trembling in his father's voice. Explosions of agony and memories poured over the older of the two, filling him not only with all the pain ever experienced by the cursed colt, but also with the purely psychologically damaging horror of the reality of his past punishments.

Following the harsh remembrance of the unjust and unstoppable assaults, were new sources of pain and terror beyond the imagination of most, but not Bronze Cross. His own mind raced with scenarios of despicable evil that broke over the father of this malice filled tormentor.

After literal hours of intense punishment and revenge, the stallion whose mind now knew only despair and haunting was released, at which he curled up into a ball and just lay there, wallowing in fright and suffering. Frantically his eyes darted, searching for signs of any and all of the terrible scenarios that taunted his now feeble mind. Eventually, his fears came to life as Hallow Dove appeared beside Bronze Cross.

"I've done it," he whispered to his younger sister. "He will leave us alone, he won't ever hurt us again. We're free." Bronze Cross smiled for the last time as he watched his sister.

"It's not enough," the words were barely audible.

"What? You need to speak up," Bronze Cross bent down to listen more closely to his young sister, for whom he was now responsible.

"It's not enough!" She bellowed, her voice deeper than the depths of Tartarus. Before further action could be taken, the small pony was standing over her father, glaring down at him. His screams resonated off the walls and his entire body burned, turning to ash and dust. Before either of the two fiends of darkness could react they were ripped through time and space until they stood before their previous seducer and now summoner: Peccatia.

The navy blue seapony prayed while speeding towards the source of the disturbance, only to have his hopes dashed at the sight of his sister. Now at the heart of the forest, Oblítus's face fell, the reality of it all crashing into him. His sister floated and upon her face was an expression of both achievement and satisfaction. Coiling around her left foreleg was a lengthy strand of scales: a snake. A second longer of observing corrected Oblítus, for the thing entwined with her hoof was not a living creature, but instead a slithering strand of black magic.

"Great Omnia, what have you done. Don't you realize what you've done?" Oblítus almost refused to believe what he saw. A cold, hearty laugh confirmed it all.

"I've set the world free. Ponies are free to use magic as they please, I have carried out the words of Omnia herself. In years following I will be hailed for my gift to the world. After all you've tried, I've done it, I've outdone you, you are nothing compared to me," Peccatia boasted fervidly.

"This isn't right! Don't you see it? You've brought us all to the verge, The Council has informed me that the prophecy has begun. You haven't set us free, you've condemned us all to eternal damnation!" Directly following the statement of revaluation, the air filled with tension and suspense. "And for that you must pay, you must be judged. Come with me, The Council must decide your fate," his right hoof extended sorrowfully towards his mistaken sibling.

"No, you're wrong. You're all wrong. The Council has held us back, forcing us into compliance to their great vision. I refuse to stoop to them," the serpentine entity of satanic power expanded from her grasp, drooping to the ground before collapsing into a puddle of sludge. "They seek only to control, to dictate our every move. Tell me, dear brother, are you free? Free to live your life, make your own decisions, and follow the path you choose?"

"That is irrelevant to the subject at hand, come now. You must face punishment for your actio--"

"Have you not heard me? Justice is obsolete as long as those oligarchs bind us to their code of judgement. You believe they signify order and peace, while they seek power and control over everyone of us. Avar-Fortis has told me us your treachery, of how you would come, come to take me away to meet my unholy execution," Oblítus's mind began to take in the recognition of manipulation the clever dragon king had used in planning his moves. "I am here to inform you, I will not surrender to death willingly."

The older of the two seaponies's faces solidified and darkened realizing the futility of a diplomatic solution.

"Then I shall carry out your sentence myself, regardless the cost."

"So be it," the neglected sibling of jealousy brought both her forelegs above her head, tainting the pure air of the forest yet again with the black words of the curse. Bubbles arose from the portal between the two as both Bronze Cross and Hallow Dove emerged from the murky black. Both siblings looked around with confusion at their new surroundings, before Peccatia spoke, directing their every being.

"Kill him." Unable to do anything, the little ponies each lost control of their bodies. The curse bent the two unicorns to the mermare's malicious command. Curls of magic and power pouring from both the damned unicorns' horns molded and fused together to become a single collective of accursed terror.

It then gave out, coating the victims of the enslavement curse. The words of Peccatia echoed in the head of the adolescents while their figures were destroyed, replaced with shells of what they once were.

Bronze Cross, the hollow son of a drunkard and sinner, the voice was soft, but intertwined with a cutting edge tone hidden beneath its false veil. The tar of the curse burst outwards with an explosion of grand magnitude, bringing with it part of his flesh and soul until nothing but his floating skeletal figure was left.

Hallow Dove, the soulless monster born of a usurper and abuser, the voice resonating in the younger one's mind was of a harsh and hateful nature. But rather than cause horrific destruction and disembodiment, the thick liquid of the imprecation seeped into her skin, morphing it in the soulless body of a doll.

Kill him!

Salvos of shadow shot from the horns of both the archfiends of the curse, showering the shield instantly created by Oblítus, destroying it just as quickly as it was generated. Stumbling backwards, the timeless seapony cast a burst of bright colors into the sky, calling for aid, signaling that his retrieval had failed, summoning The Council. Blinding, empyreal rays of sacredness shone down, scorching the ground with the arrival of the Head Chancellor. Far above the stallion of destiny was a cloud, atop which the remaining twenty nine members of the appointed judgement bringers stood, proudly and sorrowfully. Each concentrating on their governor, filling him the power and magic of the ages, the power and magic of the entire council.

With a flare of his sacrosanct wings he dispelled the demons destined to serve their curse for eternity, returning them to the great cosmos. A heavy sigh was elicited by The Council's chief.

"In retaliation of your actions and atrocities, I hereby forego all forms of a lawful court and take it upon myself to see to it that you are damned into the depths of Tartarus," the disappointment in the elder's voice was unmistakable as stared at the seapony, who single hoofedly brought doom upon the entirety of the world.

"Curse you!" She shrieked in response. "Curse you! With your false kingship over us and unjust punishments when we do not comply with your demands! Not everypony shared your views of how everything should be controlled, you convict me for acting upon the will of your idol and God! She warned you of the coming darkness, knowing you were helpless to stop it. How can you have faith in a deity who, herself, told you that she create someone who would bring death and failure to an entire world? My work is done, it would be pointless to try to stop you, but know, as the prophecy predicts, you yourself will aid in the destruction and annihilation of the world." Without further adieu, the ground opened and swallowed the smiling seapony, dragging her down, to the nethers of the underworld by way of celestial constraints.

"Lassus," the brother of the recently deceased spoke. "She was told to, she was corrupted. Lassus, it was Avar-Fortis, he did this, and I believe he plans much worse."

"I know, Oblítus, trust me, I know."

"There, there young one," Avar-Fortis cooed to the son now orphaned. "I know it hurts, but one day you will be able to save them. That day you will have to make a choice, to follow the path of righteousness or drown yourself in the poison that is order." The body of the cured dragon had finally ceased its convulsions as Avar-Fortis's magic left him. His heart's hole was refined and complete, complimenting his mutated body. "One day you may take your vengeance, destroying order and seeing the power of The Council fall."

The tears stopped as the dragon, less than a decade old, stood, for the first time. The previously handicaped creature watched in awe as he stumbled forward, holding himself aloft without support. The black castle had proved both a place for entertainment and hearth in the recent hours. The colossal drake uplifted the smaller child and flew him to the dark, shadowy dome of his library in which he placed him.

"Come youngling," he beckoned the misfit over to a tall ebony shelf, from which he procured a book, both heavy and black. Opening its cover he removed the marker of its pages: a vial. The swirling silver liquid within it brought a smile to the now long snout of the deformed dragon, who giggled at the sight of it.

"What is it?" The curios little creature asked reaching out for the precious container. The older of the two dragons smiled as he brought his fanged mouth to the ear of the draconequus before withdrawing upon uttering the name of it into his ear.

"Now tell me, Discord, son of Ashkore, do you accept this duty to cast down The Council from their thrones by means of chaos and deception? And in my stead, avenge your family and the free will of the world?" He paused before realizing his own mistake. "Say 'I do,'" the king commanded.

"I do," Discord reached out with both claw and paw to receive the duty of delivering the potion.

"Good, hitherto I have aspired to complete the great works of our mother Omnia, now I hand down this potion and its magic to you, my dear draconequus, so you may one day complete your task and assist me in my endeavors to bring about the Telling of the Fallen Stars. May the will of the dragons be with you my kin, and with that in mind you have my blessing to tear down order, replacing it with the freedom and liberty of chaos."

Chapter 2: A New Era

Log 3

Oblítus has been both forgotten by time and mind. History itself has left behind its once magnificent idol. The life of that seapony was said to be sinless and selfless. The prophets speak of all he gave to preserve the world: his sister, his home, and the greatest sacrifice of all, his life. Oblítus died, leaving his legacy of light and love for all to treasure, surely without him the world would not be as it is today. He forever shines as an image of incorruptibility and justice for all the world to admire. My condolences and praise belong to this predecessor of a future filled with friendship and joy. If ever a pony deserved the warmth and freedom of a heaven, if one such place existed, it would be Oblítus.

Scraping and shuffling could be heard at the forest's core. Only a day had passed since the eternal banishment of Peccatia. The place in which the ground had unlocked at the command of The Council was the very place chosen by Oblítus to erect his sister's tombstone. The seapony of miracles past both rejoiced and grieved at his kin's passing. Whilst he was burdened with the knowledge of the nature of his fellow mermare's death, Oblítus still found the insight to take joy in the fact that she would be no longer fear the continuous hauntings of such a imperfect world.

The entity of honor elected to assemble the relic of his sibling's life. Without aid of magic or supernatural abilities, he chose to do this, much to The Council’s agitation. The party of ponies wished for the ceremony of the timeless stallion's sister to move with haste, for awaiting the end of the structure's construction was the deed required to be enacted to ensure the security and control of The Council.

"Oblítus," the Head Chancellor appeared at the immortal's side. "We must act swiftly, the fate of the world is in our hooves. Time is slipping away, I implore you to see reason. With the passing of every second we are allowing the demon who possessed your beloved sister to gain more power and preparation. Do you not see the folly of your ignorant actions?"

A heavy sigh came with the gaze of Oblítus as he now faced the alicorn. Behind him stood the all but complete alter of his late sister. The eyes of the figure locked upon the chief justice with a look of mixed emotions.

"Ignorance. Do you not see the ignorance of your own decisions? Honor is all that holds you and your associates back from bringing about destruction and ruin. It is for the same reason I have found tolerance, love, and forgiveness for my sister. Honor is that which I refuse to live without," Oblítus retaliated without emotion. "I will finish my project and ensure my kin receives forgiveness and justice for her actions. Not a moment before will I consent to your orders and carry out the punishment you find justifiable. Death is a capital punishment to be delivered by time and the natural order," Lassus dared not to test the currently calm seapony. For lying inside his single soul was magic matching the majesty of the entire Council.

With that he resumed the finalizing of his gallant memorial. The minutes stretched on as The Council's impatience grew. At long last the grave was complete, gleaming with the radiance of sunlight and gold. A statue of precious metal, cooled into the shape of a swimming seapony, Peccatia. An expression of meditation and inner peace was shown on her face.

The plaque embroidered upon the base of the tombstone read, 'Hither stands the image of a pony unafraid to voice her opinions and make her imagination become a reality. As her actions depict both naivety and care she will forever be immortalized by this monument, a symbol of reconciliation and forgiveness. We are not to forget our past mistakes and move on, but to learn from our infractions and strive to seek the light and purity of righteousness. Peccatia has passed, leaving her legacy for us to learn from. Omnia guide us.'

"Come now," Lassus beckoned. "It is time."

"Indeed it is," a sigh followed Oblítus's response. "Now, let us act swiftly and be rid of this dark business." Both ponies then rose, each taking flight towards a mountain crowned in black. Gliding hundreds of meters above the ground, silence stretched as both progressed towards the home of Avar-Fortis.

From the very same balcony upon which the first draconequus was morphed, Avar-Fortis patiently awaited the arrival of his executioner. The distant flyers broke off, one taking a new route unto that which would bring him to his celestial company, whereas the remaining continued along the path to the housing of the demon. The elephantine dragon chuckled at the dramatically graceful landing conducted by the knight of honor.

"Even after hundreds of years the flare for emphasis and drama you have not abandoned. Such loyalty is remarkable," the once great king mused.

"Upon the decree of The Council, I hereby sentence you to death. Stand now for the crimes you have committed against Praeclaritas and its inhabitants," Oblítus's eyes fell upon Avar-Fortis with loathing and tears.

"You come bearing a tone cold and official, yet tears come much to your aversion. I understand your sorrow in taking a life, I too once felt that irrational side of emotion. Barring you alongside your honor, you carry the heavy weights of morality. It must be such a burden, such a curse," Avar looked up into the sky in reminiscence of the life so long ago when he too belonged to those constraints.

Oblítus found it simply remarkable. To even contemplate the pure cruelty and malice such a creature could emit was extraordinary. It baffled the merstallion into a state of absolute discomfort and disgust. This creature had forced him to witness his own sibling's destruction and brought down an entire race of his own descendants, out of only one possible explanation: jealousy.

"Your jealousy and anger has brought ruin and ailment raining down on the very race you spawned. It is truly astonishing how any creature, soul or otherwise without, could introduce such terror unto a world with simple prejudice and without provocation." At this gross statement of misunderstanding the master of both the mind and magic laughed.

"You ponies," his speech was interrupted by a need for breathe and moment to wipe away a tear of amusement. "You understand so little. You believe my actions are based upon selfish desires and imperfection. That, my friend, is precious thinking. As you were a young spawn of a thing at the time you surely would not remember the conception of the world. So allow me to enlighten you. It is true your power and authority surpasses mine, but you know not why. Of all the secrets and puzzles of the world I would at least expect you to solve this puzzle. Alas, I am unsurprisingly disappointed by your lack of knowledge and maturity."

"I am not here to discuss the dealings of the past, but instead to take a course of action against your sins and to deliver justice," the seapony attempted to keep himself from listening to more of the silver tongued liar's verbal corruption.

"Yet again you fail to heed my words. You are here to discuss the past in its many imperfections. My actions are behind me, and the past is behind both of us, it is a simple matter of length. And then there is the matter of The Council, who were deemed righteous enough to govern us without bias or corruption, yet look at them now. Dictating my life as much as yours or your sister's. It is elementary. Facing the facts, The Council was given their power to decide the paths of the afterlife. Now they interfere with everyday life to ensure I do not act upon my own desires to fulfill the will of our forebearer, Omnia. You cannot deny the truth of my words. I have forced the world to face the prophecy, to walk the sacred path of destiny Lassus and his followers claim to be living," Avar stopped but for a mere second to refuel his lungs before continuing.

"I am here only to deliver your sentencing and--" Oblítus strived a second time to stop Avar twisted words.

"Terror you say I inspire. What is it they produce then? Hmm? Control, enslavement, selfishness, oppression. These are only some of the terrible traits displayed by those power mongrelling criminals. Notice how they have a Head Chancellor, he alone can shift the decision of the entire council, proving how rather than allowing free will and liberty, he has transformed the world into a monarchy. You being here demonstrates my point in that they seek now to deal death rather than await our day of judgement. Now what say you?" The demonic deity of the dark arts concluded, awaiting the response of the contemplating Oblítus.

"Without execution you would bring forth catastrophic events and disasters beyond reckoning, your immortality proves that," a deep breathe of exasperation educed from the king as Oblítus spoke. "Your actions would remained unchecked and without judgement, until our hoof would be forced down upon you. We are simply stopping further destruction and evil from spawning."

"And whose place is it for them to judge the living? Our queen gave them the power to befit the dead with their fate, tell me, how could our world be saved from destruction and evil? The Council doesn't wish to end it, they wish to silence and minimize it. To make our world equal and balanced not good and pure," Avar-Fortis delivered his final attempt to make the enchanted pony see.

"And without order and balance, our world would tear itself apart. No longer will you delay your judgement, arrest yourself and give in to justice," the scaled unicorn dictated.

"You cannot be saved, you have become one of them. I had hoped you were like your sister, intelligent and understanding. I see now your blindness and corruption. So be it, deliver your 'justice,' but know with time you will see I was right," Avar-Fortis stood erect now, arms outstretched and his head raised high. "I implore you, follow the orders of The Council watching us at this moment. Murder me, fulfilling their wishes and scarring my heir eternally," Avar-Fortis gave an ample show of teeth because he stepped to the side, stopping Oblítus dead in his actions.

The small draconequus looked puny standing next to his great great great grandfather who towered over his miniature figure. Oblítus dropped his raised forelegs and glided to the defaced creature before scooping him up. A moment of revelation came whilst Oblítus looked up at Avar-Fortis.

"You did this? You've cursed this child to deformity and mutation. He is six years of age!" Oblítus shouted, his eyes filled with tears of pity and shame for the old wyrm.

"He is heir to my throne and power. Within him my legacy lives, reflecting the gross spawning ground for oppression and sin our world has become. The brilliant Praeclaritas of light and liberty you see never existed. Since it's founding it has been damned. It is written this world will fall, fall to a power beyond that of The Council, you, or I. Omnia gave you and The Council magic to oppress me. She knew that which was to be kept secret, I knew our world has been poisoned, slowly dying to the illness of sin that it was conceived with. For with the world's growth and evolution, grows its death, like a thief in the night. Coming without warning or symbol the end will be," he explained with his right hand snapping out and clasping the seapony's throat.

"Do you hear me?" The king shouted to The Council, watching from above utop a cloud of white. "The end will come and you will be reluctant to stop it! Omnia has cursed us all! Hahahaha! You are all fools, producers of your own demise!" His voice then dropped to a whisper at the beginning of his leech on Oblítus's soul. "Soon, you shall see, whether from here or the afterlife. My words will reign true and all hope will have faded."

Following Avar-Fortis's moment of glory came his sentencing. The king's mouth was agape and his hand fell from the stallion's throat. The scaled demon looked down, taking realization of the glowing covering his body.

"Ah yes," he congratulated his executioner. "You have played your hand, allow me to play mine," the king gathered what little essence he had left and blasted Discord safely away, stealing Oblítus's gift in the process. "My first card," Avar gave a demonic chuckle, absorbing the seapony's immortality. "The very ponies who demanded my death will now condemn you to the same fate," he hissed, completing his evanescence and his death.

The warmth of Tartarus welcomed him as fruition came to the first fraction of his plan. Wails of agony and pain rang throughout the hell as he began to devour the souls of every inhabitant of the underworld, save his previous ancilla, Peccatia. A laugh dark and demonstrative rattled the caverns of Tartarus, displaying the first of many victories to come of the now imprisoned king.

The castle atop which the knight of honor and righteousness lay began to crumble with its lord's passing. The black became brittle and began tumbling from the mountainside. The wounded and weakened seapony saint called out during his tumble, crying out for help and assistance, the response was of betrayal and cruelty.

"We have interfered enough, the material world cannot be disturbed and brought off the path of the future," Lassus spoke, part in truth and part in reassurance. Oblítus was the only being alive who now challenged the throne of The Council, without him the world could now be controlled and assured safety under their rule. Within the next moment Oblítus fell to Purgatory, to await judgement at the hooves of those who had thus caused his death.

Anger, despair, and regret came. Avar-Fortis foretold that they would betray him--to his death. Here within the nothingness of space and time tears could not be shed, yet consciousness could still be achieved. Thoughts could still be forged and until their judgement, the dead would wait, an eternity if necessary. In the case of Oblítus, this would hold true.

It was with neither remorse nor hesitation that Lassus spun about, casting down The Council's power in a stroke swift and destructive. Unto the memorial of Peccatia it came, his will becoming reality in its eradication. On the spot the god-like entity turned yet again to address his fellow rulers.

"Today begins a new era," the smiling pony began with admirable alacrity. "As brothers and sisters we rise to the occasion, to grasp victory. Glorified this day will be, and hence I call a gathering of The Council. May we come together to discuss the fate of the world we may now call our own." He paused, taking in the faces of all the ponies affront him. Through the crowd of magic and flesh, he singled out a lone figure staring at him with eyes of curiosity and longing.

"Together we stand, unsung heroes gifted with the opportunity to ensure the prosperity of Praeclaritas for eons to come. With faith we go forth, trending the path of righteousness," the alicorn brought his right hoof over his head as he looked up to the stars. "Omnia guide us," the Head Chancellor terminated his proclamation in a moment. The next, cheers and praise rung out from everypony, everypony save for that one figure, lone in the crowd, knowing what was to come. The meeting of the centuries was on the doorstep, presenting its abomination, gifting its terrible decision upon the mind of Lassus.

Whilst Lassus left, preparing for the gathering, he could still remember the words of the wise dragon echoing throughout his consciousness. 'The end will come, and you will be reluctant to stop it. You are producers of your own demise. Omnia has cursed us all.'

Ever waiting, never moving. The Guards of Tartarus were bound by their code to want nevermore. Without personal desire or selfish need, they watched.

The body of Sidium was illuminated by the moonlight. Without knowledge of his existence one could continually go about forever unaware of his presence in time or space. Whether it be standing as a statue, administering punishment to the inhabitants of eternity's prison, or exploring the depths of his own mind, this sentry expressed only indifference. Yet he alone, of all the guards, secretly felt a sort of longing.

For millennium Sidium followed the direction of the code in all its importance. But the world was born infected with flaw, haunted by imperfection. Having been the eldest of the soldiers charged with the Gate's protection, he had been the most vulnerable.

Generation after generation had come and gone, leaving only Sidium to teach its new students the way of the Guards. Honor, respect, dignity, selflessness, and undoubted loyalty were treasured by all the sentries, young or old. Despite his own yearnings he continued to only live the life of a teacher and loyal soldier. However, with time grew his own faults and insecurities.