A Most Unusual Little Island

Chapters

The journey so far.
The island.
The figure speaks.
Epilogue.

The journey so far.

Dear Journal,

Today marks the first day of our covert mission. Because of this seemingly never-ending winter, I and a collection of pegusi and unicorn on the Pony Ship Newstart have been given funding (from sources that wish to remain anonymous) for a secret mission. That mission, is to find new land at sea to settle, in case the peace summits of the three tribes fail, and the land becomes inhospitable. I have high hopes that we will succeed in this endeavor. However, I am somewhat concerned about the crew. Individually they are some of the best sailors you could find. Unfortunately, they are individuals from the three tribes, and it should go without saying that with current events, tensions are high among the crew.

Fortunately, they all seem to respect (and fear), Captain Seastorm. According to my bunkmate, a pegasus named Windmaker, Seastorm is a veteran from a war between the pegusi and the griffons not too long ago. Supposedly, he took down an entire squad of griffons alone. Only losing his eye, and one of his front legs in the process. I don’t know how much of this is fact or fiction, but what is true, is that he is indeed missing an eye, a leg and all of the pegusus do exactly what he says.

The earth ponies and unicorns were originally hesitant if not outright rebellious at the idea of following orders from a pegasus. But, after a several minutes of speaking, Seastorm put the fear of the gods into them. The contents of said speech are things best left unrecorded. It’s getting late and tomorrow is our first real day at sea, so I’d best prepare for bed. Here’s hoping I will have news of success in the future.

Sincerely, Assistant Quartermaster and Ship Chronicler Pensworth.

Day 3

The excitement is overwhelming. We have traveled beyond the cold winds and blizzards of home, and made it to the open sea. The reappearance of the sun has done wonders for morale. One of the crew members in particular, a former prospector by the name of Ash McGee, claimed that it was the first time he’d been warm since the start of the winter. Even, Captain Seastorm seemed to enjoy himself, if the half a centimeter he smiled is anything to go by. As for myself, I had almost forgotten what the sun even looked like, but upon seeing (and more importantly feeling) its magnificent rays, I am reminded of how vitally important our mission truly is. Even as I write, the chills of the coming night remind me that we still have a long way to go.

Day 5

I asked our navigator, a pegasus named Farsight, the general direction we were headed. He told me Far East, where there are legends of a land with pristine weather all the time. When I asked him why none have discovered it before, he informed me that in order to get there one must pass through the Wild Weather Sea, where the weather does whatever it pleases and storms can’t be affected by pegasus manipulation at all.

I thought he was joking when he mentioned that last part, however, he assured me that such a thing was possible. I mentioned this to Quartermaster Outa Stock, and asked him if he had every heard of such a thing. He said that not only was it possible, but it becomes increasingly common the further you go from land. The idea is bizarre, if not downright repugnant to me. But, I did go on this journey partially to learn new things. At the very least I’ll be able to tell my family at home about self-manipulating storm clouds. Not that they’ll believe me.

Day 6

I, and the rest of the crew have rediscovered an important fact that we had long since forgotten during this long winter season. The sun is hot. Not a comforting kind of hot like an old fireplace. The incredible, uncomfortable, sweat inducing, maybe an eternal winter isn’t so bad kind of hot. At least with the cold you can bundle yourself up but what can you do with the heat?

If you stay on deck you might catch the occasional breeze, but the full force of the suns rays are beating down on you. You can go to the shade below deck, but now there’s no breeze. If that weren’t bad enough, we are starting to run out of fresh fruit. Quartermaster Outa Stock, let the unicorns talk him into practicing some new food preservation spell that is still in the testing stages. When it worked it was wonderful, the fruit was pristine and it still looks like it could last for months. When it didn’t, the food became not only inedible but emitted a disconcerting green glow.

After three crates were ruined in this matter, Seastorm forbid the practice on threat of latrine duty. Without magic. Needless to say the practice has stopped and now the still pristine fruit is being saved only for emergencies, special occasions, or when the captain is in the mood for an apple. Fortunately, according to Outa Stock, we still have plenty of sour cabbage, and sea biscuit that could last for months if need be. Unfortunately, it looks like that’s all we’re going to get. Oh well, at least the crews spirits are still up from the weather, and truthfully most back home can only dream of having to be in uncomfortably warm weather, with nothing but sour cabbage and terrible bread to eat. I’m sure once I get used to it it wont be so bad.

Day 10

I was wrong, it still is.

Day 15

I am starting to look foreword to night. It continues to get hotter and hotter. This wouldn’t be so bad except it’s beginning to cause problems amongst the crew. There was almost a small clash between a pegasus, and an earth pony today. Fortunately, Captain Seastorm managed to break it up. I asked him if he was worried that this was a sign of bad tidings, but he told me not to worry, and that we were doing significantly better then expected. If anything he was surprised that it had taken this long for something like that to occur.

Nevertheless, the heat is starting to agitate the crew. In addition, we are starting to reach the Wild Weather Sea and already it’s affecting the pegasus ability to keep the ship moving at our rapid speed. Windmaker in particular is working as hard as he can just to keep the ship at its current pace. A process that grows more difficult by the hour. But, at least we continue to make progress.

Day 21

We are now trudging along at the proverbial “snails pace”. Without the pegasus manipulation of the weather we are forced to rely on this “self governing” weather to move us foreword. Apparently, it is a vindictive government as it has decided to be as uncooperative as possible. There is barely any wind in the air, and the temperature continues to rise, as does the temper of the crew.

Captain Seastorm is keeping it contained at the moment, by making sure the crew stays occupied lest they start some incident. On a lighter note Ash Mcgee grows more and more delighted the hotter the weather becomes. He spends every waking moment on deck, and is willing to do almost any task for the excuse to do so. In all honesty, it is starting to become uncomfortable how much he seems to adore our unpleasant situation.

Day 22

Well, it happened. We are now dead in the water. There is no wind whatsoever. Some of the sailors are starting to worry, but Outa Stock assured me that things like this happen. By tomorrow we’ll be on our way, and this day will just be a distant memory we can all laugh about.

Day 23

We weren’t, it isn’t, and I am quite confident we wont. In a desperate ploy, all of the pegusi tried moving the ship with nothing but their combined wind flapping. After an exhausting half hour they managed to move the ship a few feet before they were forced to stop. The unicorns attempts at combining their telekinesis wasn’t much better, if anything they might have moved us backward.

Or so the earth ponies and pegasus say. I just think they are just trying to find some outlet for their frustrations. Usually it’s so simple, if you don’t like the weather or how quickly the day goes by you have very clear targets. You know for a fact that some pegasus or unicorn is directly responsible for the unfavorable weather. Not so here, and the idea is still unsettling to me.

Day 30

It’s been more then a week since the wind stopped, and the unease is almost palpable. The crew is bickering among themselves more and more, particularly the pegusi and unicorns. Everywhere you go on deck you can hear the mutterings of “lazy cloud huggers”, or “stuck up horn heads” or some more vulgar variation thereof. Meanwhile, the earth ponies are just trying to stay out of the conflict. Although you can tell the animosity is still there.

The food continuous to fill our stomachs, and that’s about the nicest thing you can say about it. Meanwhile the sun seems to be getting hotter. Even Ash Mcgee is starting to become uncomfortable from the heat. This is doing nothing for the crew’s spirits. There is however something worse then the heat, and the “food”. The boredom.

Believe it or not, staring at a vast blue nothing all day starts to grow old. Some tried swimming in the ocean to cool off but after a few were almost eaten by sharks that swiftly stopped. Some have tried singing to pass the time, which might work if any of the crew could agree on a proper song. Outa Stock spent all day organizing our provisions alphabetically by the type of container, and by what was actually in said container. Or something like that.

Poor Windmaker spends his time making paper boats pretending he can move them with wind he can no longer make. Even Captain Seastorm seems under strain if his now permanent grimace is any indication. I can only hope that something happens soon. It seems that just about anything would be a welcome change to our current predicament.

Day 31

Well, something did happen today although none of us are entirely sure what. We were all lounging on the deck, when we heard a rumor that somepony had been diagnosed with cabin fever. Apparently most of the crew hadn’t heard of that particular phrase, and so many crewmembers began declaring that they had it too. Now this is where details get fuzzy. What we can all agree on is music seemed to fill the air. All of us starting singing and dancing although none of us can remember exactly what the lines were. All we remember is it was very well choreographed as if we had all rehearsed it.

Whatever happened we somehow ended up with several sailors in mariachi outfits, some playing fiddles despite having no past experience (or any knowledge of how they obtained said fiddles) as well as hats adorned with fresh fruit. The fruit was swiftly eaten after we came to our senses. Although this horrified some sailors as they claimed that the fruit was singing along with us, and deserved respect as befitted their newfound sentience. Though we may never know what happened, what we do know is the wind returned almost immediately after it was all done with, and we are now beginning to make progress again. We have also collectively agreed never to talk about today again.

Day 32

We continued to advance at a rapid pace until a small storm flew in. I will never forget the look of surprise on the crew’s faces as the first drops of rain fell. This surprise quickly turned to joy as the crew reveled in refreshing rain. Particularly when a sizeable puddle formed on one corner of the deck. A small line formed as the crew took turns jumping in this puddle giggling like little colts. The giggling suddenly stopped, as Captain Seastorm approached the puddle. We all became silent, waiting to see how he would respond. The Captain then jumped into the puddle and started splashing around while smiling a full centimeter.

He then told us to get back to work although he made a show of ignoring us as long as we didn’t crowd around the puddle. Really, the only pony that didn’t seem happy, was Ash Mcgee. He spent most of the day staring at the clouds with unusual suspicion. I didn’t think much of it, until he asked me to make an official notice that should he die he was to be cremated. I was curious where this sudden idea came from, but I agreed. He seemed very relieved after that, so hopefully whatever was bothering him has ceased.

Day 33

Today, has been, well… rather unfortunate. Nopony can quite agree as to what happened, but a fight broke out among a small group of the three tribes. Some say it was caused by a slip on the still wet deck, others a deliberate act of violence. Whatever the cause, a fight broke out leading to several injured, though fortunately not severely. Captain Seastorm was of course furious. Then as he was reprimanding the crew something… happened. We all felt a sudden chill and I can swear that the clouds grew darker.

I will never forget how Captain Seastorm suddenly ceased his rant with a look of concern on his face. This soon turned to surprise (as did the rest of the crew) as a horrific scream broke through the silence. The source of the scream was Ash Mcgee, who I briefly saw on the deck looking at the sky with what I can only describe as absolute terror.

He then immediately ran below deck, and broke into the storage room with strength fueled by fear. By the time we got there he had barricaded himself in with various barrels. We could hear his panicked mutterings from outside the door, most of it made no sense, but there was one phrase he kept saying that still disturbs me even as I write it down. “The Cold, its followed us.” Again and again, that same phrase.

Fortunately one of the unicorns can teleport, and managed to get in and restrain him without damaging any more of our supplies. When he found him he was completely covered in blankets, towels, really any spare piece of cloth he could find. I suspect he would have attempted to start a fire if we hadn’t caught him. He is currently in the ship’s cells, and after somepony finally gave him a blanket has stopped screaming. With any luck he will overcome whatever has befallen him. For his sake and the crews.

Day 34

I tried speaking with Ash Mcgee today; the interview was as short as it was disturbing. When I found him he was sitting in a corner of his cell completely covered in the spare blankets we had given him. I tried asking him questions but I don’t think he even heard me. All he did was repeat the same phrase “The Cold is coming”. This is causing serious problems for morale; even Captain Seastorm seems unnerved by all of this. I never thought I would say this, but I am starting to look foreword to this voyage ending. I would even take being back at that frozen tundra we call home. Although with the way the temperature is starting to drop, that may not be a problem…

Day 35

I suspect Ash knows something, unfortunately all he can do is repeat, “The Cold is coming”. Meanwhile it continues to grow colder as the rain turns to snow. The winds, which were once a gentle breeze, now feel like a sharp slap to the face every time I walk above deck. We lost our first crewmember today. His name was Shed Wooly. He was a nice unicorn with a gift for sewing although he did suffer a strange shedding problem.

The seas started getting rough and an unexpected wave took him over the side. By the time we caught him he had already drowned. Or froze to death we are still not entirely sure. Its fortunate he was able to make such a distinctive scream, otherwise I doubt we would have found him at all. He was given a traditional burial at sea, a morbid ending for an awful day. I pray things do not get any worse.

Day 40

Things have gotten considerably worse. We are currently suffering a horrific blizzard, and I’m not sure how much longer we can hold out. It started about five days ago and doesn’t show any signs of stopping. We have lost most of our sails, an unseen rock tore a hole in the ship that we just managed to fix, and at least a quarter of the crew is suffering from severe exposure. Meanwhile, poor Ash Mcgee is literally frozen in a block of ice. We have no idea how considering he is in one of the warmer parts of the ship.

I convinced the crew not to throw him overboard, though it’s highly unlikely he’s still alive. It wasn’t that hard to convince them, considering we have more significant problems to deal with. I’ve gone over our supplies, and the situation is grim. The bread is so frozen it’s practically inedible, and the pickled cabbage isn’t much better. And that’s not even getting into the difficulties of trying to drink frozen water. Even with the unicorns using their heat spells, the water seems to revert to ice almost instantly.

Despite all this, Seastorm says we must press on. He says we are so close to the land and if we can hold on a bit more we can make it. I would like to think he’s telling the truth. I would like to think that he’s not just saying that to give us a sense of hope no matter how feeble. But I cant. The way I see it, the best we can hope for is to freeze to death.

Then if we are really lucky, and the ship doesn’t sink something will find us one day. Our corpses will be preserved in the ice and they will wonder “How did these ponies get here?” Then they will read this journal and see that we all died meaningless deaths, to fulfill an expedition that was probably doomed to failure from the start. Maybe we will be a footnote in the history books. Our names will be things some filly will have to memorize for some history test. All in all I suppose there are worse legacies to leave behind.

Day 41

Ink frozen, hard to write, 5 more dead. Feeling sleepy. Just going to rest head for a minute.

The island.

Day, actually I’m not entirely sure.

We made it. I don’t know how, but we have made it to safety. Somehow, Captain Seastorm and a few others were able to keep us on course. Several of the crew are missing, most likely long dead. The ship seems to be held together on nothing but hope, and last minute carpentry. We are all in various stages of exhaustion, hypothermia, and seasickness. But, we are alive, and we are here. Now, we just have to figure out where here is.

The weather is rather temperate, and the sea is calm. In fact, there seems to be little if any movement at all in the ocean. I stood on the upper deck to join the rest of the crew, and we saw one of the most beautiful things we have ever seen, land. It took most of the day but we managed to catch enough of the wind, with what remained of our sails, to make it to what I can only describe as a most unusual little island. Perhaps it’s just the darkness playing tricks on us, but from what we can see of it, there is nothing. Just a massive field of gray nothing. Then again, perhaps our opinion is being darkened by the memory of our recent escapade. I’m confident that in the morning when the expedition goes out we will find a bountiful land of limitless possibilities.

Day 1 post storm.

Note to self; stop making optimistic assumptions, they never work out. So far, it appears that our original observation is unnaturally accurate. There does not appear to be anything here. A pegasus scouting party was sent ahead followed by a small landing party. The landing party was made up of myself, Farsight, Grizzled Hoof an earth pony with some military experience, and Harry Hypothesis some scientific unicorn with a needlessly complicated name. The oddness began the moment we set hoof on the beach. What we had thought was a trick of the light, proved all too real, the island was gray. Not a shining silvery grey, or a foreboding dark grey, but pure simple gray.

As we explored this massive beach of gray sand, Grizzled Hoof noted that it looked like the waves haven’t touched the shore for a long time. There were no shells, rocks, or plants of any kind. The sand itself was completely gray even near the shore. We are not sure how far the island goes, but it seems to stretch many miles. It might even be a small continent. Or at least, we hope so, if it is then that would mean it isn’t an endless nothing. No island this size could be devoid of plants, or well, anything. Could it? The pegasus scouting party should be here soon. In the meantime we will continue to search for well, anything that isn’t sand.

Day 1 cont.

It has been several hours since the previous entry; in that time we have made a disturbing discovery. It all started when the pegasus scouting party returned with their information. They had already been to the other side of the island, which is apparently only about fifty miles. As far as they can tell, there is nothing. No plants, animals, or anything aside from this strange gray sand. Even that is up to debate, as Grizzled Hoof tasted a small sample of it, and almost immediately spit it out. When asked how it tasted he said, like nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He went on to describe how everything with a direct connection to the earth such as sand or dirt will have some distinctive taste. Sand tends to be salty, dirt high in nutrients etcetera. But apparently this gray material was nothing of the sort. Whatever it is, it was not made naturally. However shocking this revelation was, it was nothing compared to what we noticed next, our hoof prints. Or more accurately, lack thereof.

It was Farsight who noticed it as we turned around to return to the ship. There had not been so much as a breeze the entire time we were on that island, and yet none of our hoof prints were visible. It was like they had been covered up, or were never there in the first place. As we continued walking, I told our group to stop and look behind them. In doing so we saw that none of our hoof prints were there, even the ones we had made no more then a few second ago.

Wanting to test this, we had Farsight flying backwards keeping an eye on our hoof prints. Things were fine at first, we walked for several minutes and he noted nothing unusual. Then, he suddenly sneezed. It was for no more then a second, and yet when he looked back at our hoof prints they were already gone.

For the second test, all of us started walking backwards to maximize the number of hoof prints being created. As we continued walking there was nothing unusual. Then one of the pegasus decided to check our hoof prints further back, just outside our field of vision. The news he returned was unnerving but not entirely unexpected. Any hoof prints outside our field of vision were gone.

Eventually, we grew weary of these tests and decided to simply get to the ship as quickly as possible. But then, one of the pegasus grew restless, and flew high into the air while he waited for us to catch up. He returned shortly afterword’s telling the other pegasus they had to see what he saw. They returned shortly afterward, and asked me what a shape with six sides was called.

Confused I told them a hexagon. When I asked where this random line of inquiry came from, they all looked at each other as if not sure how to put it. They then told me that the island was a hexagon. I did not see the issue in this; it is odd but not impossible for landmasses to have a vague shape. I told them this and they insisted that this was different and that I had to see it for myself.

Deciding to humor them (and have a distraction from the trek to the ship) I allowed them to carry me into the sky. When I looked down, I saw that they did not exaggerate. The island was not shaped like a hexagon. It was one. A perfectly angled, symmetrical, (this can’t possible be real but I’m looking right at it) hexagon. The scientist was of course aghast to hear such information, he prattled on for the next several minutes about the odds against such an event occurring. I didn’t catch the details, in fact I starting tuning him out after the first twenty seconds.

As we returned to the ship, we looked back to the shore, and noted that there was no sign that we had every so much as set hoof on that island. We told the crew of our findings. At first they thought we were joking about there being nothing. Then, they were simply confused as we tried to tell them that no hoof prints stayed in place, and what a hexagon was. Fortunately, the Captain was able to placate them by reminding them that we had good weather, and would be able to repair the ship without worry of another blizzard.

He then took me aside, and asked me if it would be safe for more of the crew to go to the island. After thinking about it, I told him it should be, but that he should be ready to evacuate the crew at a moments notice. He agreed, and asked if I would be comfortable returning. After much mental debate I said that I would. Despite how that island unnerves me, it will at least provide me with something to distract me from the fact that we are in uncharted waters, almost a month from home, in a damaged ship, with diminishing resources. With all that as a comparison, vanishing hoof prints and impossibly shaped islands doesn’t seem so bad.

Day 2 post storm.

I accompanied a group of the crew back to the island. The Captain decided we need a break of sorts. I suspect its also an excuse to keep us out of the way while the ship is repaired by ponies that know what their doing. One of the first things the crew did was test out the hoof print story I told them. After the initial shock wore off they dedicated most of the day to trying to figure out how it happened.

Soon a complex system of spotters, and hoof print makers was formed. Then one earth pony had the idea to make as big of a mess in the sand as possible. Sand castles were formed, surrounded by little moats, with water brought from the ocean.

Some ponies were buried up to their neck in the sand, and then quickly dug out after it was found they suffered from a severe fear of paralysis (again we’re sorry Windmaker). After that simple holes were dug. Followed by one very big hole, which was then filled with water and converted into a salt-water pool.

In all honesty, this was one of the most enjoyable days I have had in a long time. I think we all enjoyed seeing the mess we had made of this preposterously pristine place more then we should have. As we all turned around to head back to the ship, one of us remembered why we had caused such a mess in the first place.

We immediately turned around and saw nothing. Like we had never even been there at all. At first the crew was angry, if not indignant that the lovely mess they had worked so hard on all day was gone. That angry swiftly turned to fear as we all realized that the same mess had been wiped away in no less then a few seconds. Needless to say none of us feel like returning to the island for a while.

Day 3 Post Storm.

Good news today. The ice trapping Ash Mcgee has finally melted and somehow he is still alive. When we found him he was soaking wet and in a state of shock. After making sure he was properly restrained we took him up to the deck and he spent most of the morning staring at the island. We were starting to fear that he had become a vegetable, until he asked for something to eat. Captain Seastorm still wants him in the brig after his initial incident, but I don’t think he minds. It is one of the warmer parts of the ship after all, and he complains that there is still a slight chill in the air.

In other news, the repairs are coming along even faster on the ship. Yesterdays little incident has provided excellent motivation for the crew to get us as far away from here as possible. It wont be easy, we have used up almost all of our spare materials to repair the ship. Even when we get it done, we still have to get home and hope we don’t have a similar storm. Meanwhile, every last bit of sea biscuit and sour cabbage has to be rationed as our supplies dwindle.

Hopefully we’ll be able to, hold on. There appears to be some sort of commotion happening on deck, I will return shortly although it’s probably nothing but an argument among the carpenters.

Day 3 cont.

I find my self at a lost for words. Although perhaps the simplest explanation is the best one. We are not alone, there is something on the island.

During Farsight's break, he noticed strange shapes on the island that we know weren't there before. Word of this spread nervousness among the crew like a fungal infection. This evolved into a full blown plague of panic after Farsight used his telescope in an attempt to decipher the shapes. They proved to be remarkable simple to discover which did nothing to sooth our concern. The shapes weren’t shapes at all, they were letters. Bold geometrically perfect letters spelling out a simple yet ominous message.

GO AWAY

A head count was made, but every crewmember was accounted for. Due to the small space of the ship most of us have an alibi. Those that don’t are earth pony and unicorns that couldn’t possible have reached the island without somepony else knowing. Whatever made that message was on the island. And if the message is any indication, it isn’t fond of us in the slightest.

Day 4 Post Storm

We looked upon the island this morning, and were shocked to discover that not only was the message GO AWAY still there, but it appeared to be bigger then it was before. There is no doubt now that something must be on this island as the whole ship was on lockdown last night. Every half hour now there is a crewmember claiming to have seen something moving on the island. But of course when we all look there is nothing there. Nothing but the island and the message.

I would write this off as hysteria, spreading among the crew except; well I think I’ve seen it too. It was only for a second, but I swear that I saw some shape moving on the island. I could have almost sworn that it was a pony, except there was something… off about it. Something unnatural. I don’t know how to describe it except from what I saw it didn’t seem to move right.

It moved unnaturally fast and yet if I didn’t know any better, I would swear that its limbs never left the ground. I’m all for exploration, but I hope we leave this island soon. Not because of our lowering supplies, or restlessness, or even homesickness. But because for some reason I can't quite explain, I am horrified that we might come into contact with whatever that thing is. And the thought of it disturbs me in ways I don’t understand.

Day 5 Post Storm

Today we were all awoken by the surprised shouts of whoever was on watch this morning. I was content to ignore it, as it was probably just another false alarm, but then, more surprised shouting followed. Finally, Windmaker burst into my room and told me I had to come onto the deck immediately. After pushing my way through the crowd and onto the deck I saw it.

Whatever it was, it looked like a gray pony. Or more accurately, a sculpture of a pony. Or even more accurately, a sculpture made by an artist, that had only heard about ponies from hearsay, and drunken ramblings, and was half drunk himself when he made it. Staring through the telescope, I saw that its legs looked like tubes, with no visible joints or even hooves. Its torso was similarly designed, almost looking like a smooth rectangular barrel.

The head was nothing more then a rectangle. It had no visible ears, mouth, or even nose. But what it did have were eyes. Which weren’t so much eyes as they were empty black holes. Despite this, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was watching us, waiting to see what we would do.

There was much bickering among the crew, as to what to do about this apparition. Some wanted to ignore it and finish the repairs, some wanted to go see what it was, and some wanted to move the ship as far away as possible, no matter what state the ship was in. We all turned to Captain Seastorm, who had been oddly quiet during the proceedings. Finally, he decided that a small landing party was to investigate what that thing was and to leave at the first sign of trouble.

To ensure this, the landing party would be comprised of two volunteers. Guess who drew the short straw? Fortunately my partner was the pegasus Windmaker, so at least I knew I had a somepony I could rely on. So, we flew to that godsforsaken island to see if we could figure out what that thing was. It was quiet as we flew there. Neither of us could think of anything to say, and the trip ended much too quickly, as all trips to dreaded destinations do. We landed a few feet away, and slowly walked towards it to get a better look. I must also note that our hoof prints continued to disappear as they had in days past. As we approached the thing I couldn’t help but note how it looked even more unnatural up close.

Despite the uncanny pony like shape it had no visible fur, mane, or even cutie mark. Its “skin” was comprised of a simple unreflective gray material that was almost metallic in nature. As we continued to study it, Windmaker noted that it was the same color as the sand. In fact due to the lack of hooves, it seemed to have grown from the sand itself. Then as we argued over who would have to touch the thing, it did perhaps the most horrific thing of all. It spoke to us.

“Why are you here?”

The figure speaks.

Day 5 post storm continued.

It spoke to us. On one hoof, I should be excited. We have discovered what is obviously not a pony, or anything that we have ever heard of. On the other hoof, what we discovered was something so unnatural so bizarre that it disturbs me to even think of it.What unnerved me most, wasn't the fact that it talked, but the way it talked. Its voice had no emotion in it, but there were fluctuations. The first couple of words were in a high pitch that got lower and lower as it went on. It was spoken in a tinny tone, as if the words were spoken through a throat of metal.

I was the first to respond, although all I did was ask the thing why it was here. It then turned to look at me. But, it didn’t turn its neck, it simply moved its entire body to face my direction. All without lifting a single limb, as if the island itself moved the thing. It stared at me for what seemed like minutes, and responded by telling me it had always been here, that this was its domain. Neither of us knew how to respond.

It then confused us more, by asking us if we were and I quote “servants of the abomination”. To which we responded, that we had no idea what it was talking about. If a statue were capable of looking confused, I would swear that this being did just that. It then asked, “If you are not servants of the abomination, then what are you?”

Surprised (and after deciding to make the conversation as simple as possible) we simply said that we were ponies from the Three Tribes. The thing expressed more confusion, saying it had never heard of such a thing, and demanded that we explain.

So we briefly explained the basics. We gave a brief summary of our homelands, of the strange weather that affected our homes, and of our mission to discover new lands should the peace summit fail. The thing then interrupted us, and asked very simply “Why would it fail?”

Well, I explained to it how the Three Tribes did not necessarily get along. This seemed to cause the thing much distress as it very visibly shook. After it had calmed down it said to me “But you all require each other to survive. Why would you not do everything to ensure your mutual benefit? Even if you found new land you would still need the other tribes to ensure your survival.”

I tried to explain that there were many factors that complicated things. Things like a history of distrust, and military matters. It responded that these were inadequate excuses, that the only logical explanation was a mutual insanity of our species. Then, its tinny voice seemed to soften slightly, and I think it was attempting to display pity as it told us that we are and I quote, “Not servants of the abomination, merely its pitiful playthings. That is the only reasonable explanation.“

Windmaker, not one to take insults lightly responded that the pegusus were the playthings of nothing, and angrily asked “who the hay” the being thought he was. The being seemed to be lost in thought, as if it had never considered this question before.

It then said to us “I am eternal. I existed when this world was nothing, and I will be there when this world becomes nothing again. I existed when the first living thing grew, and I was the one that destroyed it. Under my rule, the whole world was like this island. I delayed the spread of the abomination throughout the millennia, even as it shaped the world and created things such as you. The very rules of the universe itself are mine to manipulate whenever necessary to maintain peace. My true form cannot be perceived by the likes of you, forcing me to adopt this crude shell. But, everything must have a name, this I understand better then all. You may call me, Order”.

Taken aback by this explanation, Windmaker (much more politely) asked what it wanted from us. Order responded, “Did you not see my sign? Can you not follow even the simplest of instructions? I want you to leave.” Still confused, Windmaker asked why, to which Order responded that our presence brings madness to the last bastion of sanity. Confused, I asked it to explain. It told us to move to the right.

Still confused, but not willing to anger Order we did. As we did a miraculous thing happened, our hoof prints remained where they were. As we continued to stare, the prints disappeared, as if some being were filling it with sand. Order told us that this land had been in a constant state of stability, never changing always perfect. Until we came that is.

“Every step you take tarnishes the perfection of my land. I have been most fair in allowing your continued existence. Now I give you this ultimatum. Leave, or I will make you leave. “ I did my best to explain to the being that we had no desire to stay, and would leave as soon as our ship was repaired.

After quickly explaining what a ship was, it seemed placated. Saying it had forgotten how limited beings such as us could be. Order then demanded that we leave the island immediately, and not return unless told to. Not willing to risk the wrath of this being, we immediately complied. Upon returning to the ship, we were besieged with questions regarding our encounter. After explaining as best we could, it was decided almost unanimously that we could have the ship fixed by tomorrow and leave immediately.

Even as I write this, the crew continues to make repairs and set a course for the most probable path home. And, even as I write this, I know that this thing that calls itself Order is still where we left it, watching us. I shudder to think what would happen if we dared to return to its island. Although, I also shudder to think what would happen if it every left its island. Maybe it’s just beyond my understanding, but the way I see it, you can’t just be by yourself for countless millennia, make contact with something, and then just forget about it. Can you?

Day 6

We were so close. That’s all I can think of as I stare into the infinity or whatever void we are currently floating in. I don’t know what’s happened to the crew, half have fallen asleep. Or are they in a coma? It’s impossible to tell. The other half seem to be frozen. Not in a block of ice sense (well, except for poor Ash) but frozen as if time itself doesn’t work for them any more. And to top it all off, my silver pocket watch has gone missing. Although, I feel like I’ve gotten ahead of myself. For the benefit of any that may find this well-worn journal, I will attempt to recount the events that led to our state for as long as I can.

We were finally all set, and in passable condition. We were going to sail away from Order and his little island, and do our best to forget about the whole ordeal, when it happened. The blizzard returned. I know it sounds absurd but it’s the same blizzard. There’s just a strange feeling in the air that could only belong to that great storm that tormented us not so long ago. Well, that and Ash Mcgee huddling in his cell yelling “The Cold is back! The Cold is back,” also helps.

The crew of course, started panicking, caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. I must say, I did not envy Captain Seastorm when he was asked what we should do. His response was simple, “we know what to expect with the blizzard, and I for one don’t want to know what the crazy on the island can do”. Of course, this didn’t mean we had to sail right into the blizzard, so we decided that sailing in the opposite direction would be the better plan.

As we sailed, Farsight noticed an odd occurrence with the storm. It had stopped, as if it had run headfirst into a wall. Absurd as it sounds, that’s exactly what it looked like. I started to wonder if we might make it after all. Then, I felt a slight breeze. A chilling all to familiar breeze. I swear that I heard a cry of sadistic joy as the blizzard slipped through whatever barrier was there and floated straight towards us. Then, a horrid unnatural shriek filled the air, like metal scraping against a massive chalk board.

I looked and saw it came from the island, more specifically Order who still stood where we had left him yesterday. However, he didn’t look like a statue made by a drunken sculptor anymore, or any living thing for that matter. Instead, what we saw was a massive hexagonal column erupting from the island, and extending toward the sky. As the blizzard blew by, the column literally punched it. It punched a blizzard. And it worked.

The blizzard stopped in its tracks, and then responded with a horrid howling as the wind picked up again. This was silenced by a loud and audible booming noise. Then, strange appendages grew from the column. They were massive limbs, with what looked like talons at the end of them. Talons with a strange round shape instead of claws, but talons nevertheless. The limbs then proceeded to beat the blizzard into submission.

As this occurred, the wind began to sound like hundreds of ponies crying out in fear. None of us had any idea what it meant, and I’m sure none of us (except maybe Ash) really cared. All that mattered was the blizzard was gone. Destroyed. It looked like our problems would be over, and we could sail home to whatever awaited us. Then, the column turned to look at us with what I can only describe, as a face. A hexagon shaped face comprised of six equilateral triangles, but a face nevertheless. Even with such a vague shape, we could tell it wasn’t very happy with us, and it was coming closer.

Before we could continue, its limbs reached out and grabbed our ship, holding us in place. Despite its gargantuan size, when the structure spoke, it didn’t scream, shout, or even raise its voice. Instead, it spoke in that same quiet unnatural voice we had heard before. Yet, we understood it clearly, as if it was speaking right next to us.

It is at this point that the details are starting to leave me, although I recall the basic idea. It referred to the blizzard as a “wendigo” or some such thing, accusing us of bringing it to its home. Despite Orders monotone voice you could sense the anger it hinted at. He went on about how only a truly vile and idiotic race could call a windigo storm upon itself, and that we deserved whatever punishment the wendigo saw fit.

Now, this part I remember clearly, as Order continued to speak about how we have forfeited our right to continue as a species or something, Captain Seastorm flew right up to his face. When he was less then a few feet away, Order stopped his prattling, as if finally recognizing the presence of the Captain. The Captain then promptly shouted an inelegant but effective “SHUT UP!” and bucked him right in the face.

The Captain then went into a tirade that is of a colorful nature and therefore not fit to be chronicled. However, the idea was he had no idea what Order was talking about, what gave him the right to judge us, and where he could shove various “things” into assorted orifices.

Order accused the Captain of not just madness, but of being suicidal. To which the Captain responded, “Death would be a welcome reprieve, as long as I don’t have to hear your rattling”. Order seemed to be stunned by this response, and for the longest moment nothing moved, not even the waves. It was as if the ocean itself was holding its breath in anticipation.

It was then that I realized, that we weren’t waiting to see what would happen next. We were waiting because we literally could not move. Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and the image of a hexagon comprised of six equal triangles was burned into my mind. None of us remember what happened next. Although we can all agree that there was pain. Terrible searing pain.

As if the deepest recesses of our minds were cut open with surgical precision. Not out of malice, oh no. By a much worse and potentially destructive force, ignorance, and curiosity. Beyond the pain, I remember nothing of what happened, except for a single phrase muttered by Order. “Perhaps there is potential with these creatures.”

When we came to our senses, well those of us that did, we found ourselves still on the ship. However, we were, and still are floating in what appears to be an empty void. Somehow, we can still feel movement as our ship is propelled foreword by some unknown force. I can only hope that it will end soon.

Day unknown

I awoke today with half the crew asleep, a quarter of the crew delirious, and a few still apparently frozen in time. We have no idea where we are or how we got here. The last thing I remember was freezing in the blizzard. I have tried reading my journal to fill in the gaps but it describes what must be mad ramblings. Some nonsense about an island, hoof print eating sand, and a pony that was a statue or something like that.

I have tried speaking with Windmaker and the Captain or really any crewmember that can still talk sense but they are just as confused if not more so. Poor Ash is still frozen. And to top it all off my watch is missing. Now, I wont even be able to tell what time it is as we drift in this vast impossible void. Glad I at least remember how to keep my priorities straight.

Entry number oh who am I kidding it doesn’t matter anymore.

Good news, none of the crew is delirious or frozen in time anymore. Bad news, they are all asleep. Or in a coma, I can’t tell, I’m not a doctor. Still in the void, and I now think my pocket watch must have fallen off or something. Nopony has stolen it, I checked. The entire ship. Limbo gives you a lot of free time.

If anypony, or heck, anything should find this journal, please know I tried to hold on for as long as I could. I have been awake for several days now. Or has it been hours? Without my watch I can't tell. I have been forced to reread this journal countless times just to remember where I am now, I think

Yes my memory is definitely going, it seems to be vanishing faster now. I must keep writing before I forget not to fall asleep. If I do I’m not sure I will ever wake up again. I am continuing to write just to have something to do, but I’m not sure how long

Going faster now. Even as I write, I cant remember how we got here, and I just read it not twenty seconds ago. There are notes written on the pages sides and everything

Feeling sleepy, but must keep writing, wait how much ink is

Going to bed. Will continue in morning.

This was the third time that I had read the journal, and I was still unsure what the best course of action was. Things were precarious enough in the new Government of Equestria that had been set up only a year before. The sightings of the “ghost ship” that had appeared in the harbor of the old earth pony territory had caused enough of a stir. Detaining the sailors until we could figure out what had happened, wasn’t doing anything to help quell the rumors.

“If you ask me, the best course of action is just to tell the truth. They were a small expedition force sent to find new lands to live should the worst come to pass. What’s the harm now Violet?” Asked my associate Miss Inform.

“Nothing, for now,” I replied. "However, until we fully understand what happened on that ship, we cant risk releasing them. One of them was frozen for goodness sake!”

“Oh yeah, what happened to that pony anyway?”

“Well he died. Like you would expect a pony that was frozen and thawed out twice to do.” I shuddered at the memory of the corpse, its face frozen in a mixture of fear and hatred. If what we were beginning to understand about the wendigos was correct, that hatred was probably his downfall.

Looking around my office, I sighed at the mess in front of me. The three tribes coming together sounds like a great idea on paper. Of course, most ponies don’t realize how much paperwork goes into combining three completely different forms of government that were at each other’s throats a year ago.

My desk was covered in small mountains of forms. Covering everything from land disputes, reports from foreign nations, the progress of immigration into Equestria, and other such things. And it was my job to help make sense of it all so our boss could let the higher ups know what was going on in the nation. And more importantly, how much the public needed to know.

In the slight confusion, I had forgotten about my third associate, a unicorn doctor named Dr. Tibia. I asked him for his most recent analysis regarding the sailors.

“Well physically they are in remarkable shape considering what they have been through. Although, some are still suffering from the effects of frostbite that didn’t quite heal properly, and they are having difficulty adjusting to food that isn’t sea biscuits and sour cabbage.”

I waited for the inevitable but.

“But, mentally they all suffer from various stages of anxiety. From nervousness, to full-blown fits of panic. Some haven’t so much as uttered a single word since they came ashore, and some are trapped in comas that they will most likely never recover from. The only constant is that they all seem to suffer from collective amnesia of anything that happened after they were caught in a blizzard. All except for Pensworth, to an extant.”

“How is he doing Dr. Tibia?”

“Well, he’s calmed down and doesn’t need to be restrained if that’s what you’re asking. I personally think he should be moved to a proper facility, at least until he can get his panic attacks under control. Also he would like to speak with you.“

This took me by some surprise. Especially since it was my questioning that had caused his first violent panic attack. But, I also took this as a good sign, we might finally find out what really happened. Or at the very least, get enough information to placate the public.

I turned to Miss Inform and asked, “Well, shall you see what our writer has to say?”

“Might as well Violet, anything to get us out of this office for a bit."

We continued our conversation as we headed to the containment cells. “May I remind you Miss Inform, that we could be dealing with the threat of a new hostile species from an unknown land?”

“Or just a bunch of sailors that got some bad sour cabbage, and got lost in a storm for several weeks. Either way, this whole thing is a waste of time if you ask me.”

I sighed, mostly because I agreed with her. But, as a part of the National Security Council in the New Equestrian Government, it was my job to examine any potential threats to the government. With Dr. Tibia leading, us we made our way past the various cells that housed the rest of the crew. I didn’t personally approve of this measure, but command was very serious about security. I would have objected more, but most of the crew would be released soon enough, most likely under observation for months to come, but released nevertheless.

Then we got to the writers room. Peeking through the window I saw him in the corner of his, “cushioned room”. I smiled a little remembering how Chancellor Puddinghead had rooms like this built into all major government buildings to help her during her more manic episodes. My smiled vanished as I saw its new, lest jovial occupant.

He was sitting in the corner staring at the wall. His dark mane was a mess and looked like it hadn’t been maintained in months. His orange fur wasn’t much better. Dirty and disheveled, with little signs of attention to hygiene. But, it was the eyes that unnerved me the most. What had once been the vibrant blue eyes of a thorough writer and note taker, were now dull and listless. With a hint of paranoia, as if he were in on a secret he knew endangered him.

He looked at me as I entered the room and gave a relieved smile.

“Ah Mrs. Veil, I was wondering when you would show up.”

“Yes Pensworth. Dr. Tibia said you wanted to speak with me?”

Pensworth walked to the other side of his cell, placing his hoof experimentally on the other cushioned wall. He then looked down for a moment as if trying to gather his thoughts. Suddenly his head shot up as if he had just remembered something.

“Is it true that Ash died?”

“Yes, were you two friends?”

“Eh, I would say more like acquaintances. I just wanted to make sure that he would be cremated. He made me promise him that.”

“Don’t worry, we’re already contacting his family and it shouldn’t take that long.”

“Good, good.” He replied now looking nervous again as he thought about what to say.

I was about to ask him if he was ready to speak today, when he interrupted saying “Well, I suppose you want to know about the island.”

Relieved, I replied that I would. He sighed again and had that same suspicious look in his eye before he surprised me with his next statement. “It is vital that you restrict as much information regarding the island as possible. I don’t care what you do, but nopony must know.”

“Why is that Pensworth?”

“You’ve read my journal! You should know!” he yelled, his calm demeanor now replaced with a look of agitation. I had my hoof at the door ready to leave in case he suffered another panic attack. Fortunately, he seemed to calm himself down.

“Look, I might not remember entirely what happened, but I can assure you that what happened in the journal is real. And we cannot allow whatever was on that island to escape!”

“Why is that? Do you think whatever is on there means us harm?” I asked.

His agitation was replaced with a tired calm as he said, “How I wish it were that simple. That thing could have destroyed us at any time, but it didn’t. Why? I don’t know. What was it? I don’t know. But what I do know is this, it let us go for a reason, and if we ever go back to that island, we are not going to like what the reason is."

Intrigued, I asked, “What would you suggest the best course of action is?”

“Burn the book, burn the papers, act like it never happened. I don’t know, as long as we make sure nopony ever goes to that island. Look, I don’t thing you understand. The things, it did to us, it ripped our minds open to see what it could find. Not to make us suffer, oh no just to learn. And it gave it no more thought then you would cracking open a walnut. If it would do something like that, out of simple curiosity, then I don’t want to imagine what it would do if it ever left its island properly motivated.”

Pensworth returned to his corner, he looked as if he were trying to remember a dream from long ago. I waited for several minutes, until it was clear that he wasn’t going to be speaking again anytime soon and left his room. I found Miss Inform waiting outside for me.

“Well, what did the esteemed Pensworth have to say?”

I looked back at the broken pony in the cell and said “ Essentially, that we should stay away from the island. Maybe burn everything related to it for good measure.”

“Well, what do you think?”

“I think, that anything that could do something like that to a pony, as well as punch a storm of wendigos, and teleport an entire ship, is not something we want to have anything to do with, considering how things are.”

We began walking down the hallway back to our offices so that I could prepare a report for the higher ups. I thought again about what Pensworth had said. Burning the papers was out of the question. If this thing that called itself “Order” were real, we would need to know everything about it. But should we deal with it now?

I decided no. We had enough problems just getting the pegasus to reduce the size of their army, without having to deal with a living island or whatever this Order being was supposed to be. For now, we would just have to let the matter go. And hopefully, get these sailors recovered from their ordeal as soon as possible.

Then, I thought again about the state the crew had been in when we found them. The others suffered from similar bouts of paranoia, panic, and minor delirium. Well, except for Captain Seastorm. Whose agitation manifested as anger and defiance at still being here, and not back on his ship were he said he belonged.

Not that he would have been able to anyway, the ship would take days if not weeks to be in truly seaworthy shape again. But, the point remained that something had harmed citizens of Equestria. It was my job to let those in command know that when the time is right we must find this being, this Order and make sure it never happened again.

I had finished my report; the official story for the public would be that the ship drifted off course due to a massive storm, leading to the damaged state of the ship and its crew. Its reappearance in the harbor was nothing more then a strange shift in the weather patterns returning them home.

The weather does become stranger the further you are from land after all. I started making decent headway into my other assignments, when there was a hesitant knock at the door. Annoyed, I answered it to see a disturbed Dr. Tibia standing in the hallway.

When I asked what the problem was, he replied “You remember Ash?”

“Yes?”

“Well, we recently got word from his family authorizing the cremation process, and there was a slight complication. “

“What sort of complication?”

“Well, when we put him in there he, he...”

“What is it doctor?”

“He got up and told us he appreciated the heat, but if we could turn it down a notch it would be great.”

I stared at him for exactly fourteen seconds. I’m not sure how I knew that’s what it was, but I knew. I took one last look at my still massive pile of paperwork, knowing that when I returned it would have grown at least another inch. As I left my office with the still confused doctor, I couldn’t help but look at a nearby clock. It wasn’t even twelve o’clock yet.

Epilogue.

On a strange gray shore stood a being that called itself Order.

His home was restored; there was no evidence that anything but he had ever existed on the island. He should have been content, but he was not. The creatures that called themselves ponies, had by their mere presence tarnished the tranquility he had maintained for millennia.

They were an unsettling race. Looking into their minds, he saw that they were all mad and seemingly incapable of all but the most basic of rational thought. Then again, so was anything that could attract the attention of creatures so base and simple as wendigos. And yet, despite all logic there was potential. Best exemplified by the pocket watch he held.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A collection of complex moving parts that somehow worked together in a perfect state of balance. How could a race so chaotic create something so flawless? And more importantly, what would he do when they returned?

He looked around his home, for the first time seeing it for what it was, a reminder of how he had failed and let the abomination win. He could no longer seclude himself from the world. He would take it back, not to restore it to its former glory, but to improve on it. And the ponies would be his tools for that task.

But first, he had to prepare. He would need a new body of course; the crude pony shell he had constructed would be inadequate for his purposes. Even with a new shell, he would be vulnerable to the chaos that still controlled the world and weakened his power.

But, as he looked at the pocket watch again, he reminded himself that he had time. When the ponies returned to his island, he would be waiting for them. Ready to help save them from themselves. As he began forming his new body, he experienced something he had not felt for a long time, anticipation. It was almost enough to make him smile.

If he were capable of understanding such an act, he probably would have.

Author's Note

Hope you enjoyed the story. Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought of it.