ECHOES: Harmony Conspiracy

"...It is a beautiful night."

The unicorn stallion gazed at the stellar display which was perfection, the very symbol of what he would soon give everything for. He was tall with a lean body that was a deep blue-silver coat, and wore a long, dark-purple coat, the same of the night.

The pony that was represented by it stood beside him, sharing his demeanor and sentiment. She was currently in her Nightmare form, her towering stance intimidating and powerful, yet gentle and graceful. Her mane flowed from the solar wind, radiating a shade of azure. Clouds of stars were illustrated in it, mystically portrayed.

The sky was painted with the stars and moon. They were walking through the lush forest, away from the white castle towering above the lights of hundreds of homes behind them. They reached a body of crystal water, the lake stretching all the way down to the horizon. Trees surrounded each side of the water, and the moon was centered in the middle of it. The water was still, the mirror creating a majestic curtain of light cascaded down from the silver orb.

They both watched its display of beauty. She replied to him whilst gazing at it.

"You say that every time."

"Is there a reason to lie?"

"I dare you." She said, the curl of a joking smile around her mouth betraying her threat. He chuckled, and she could not help but lose control briefly and laugh with him--how beautiful her laugh was to him. But the implications of what was about to happen returned, and their stoic attitude returned.

"What is before me, I behold as my truth and essence. Nothing else."

She took a moment to brace before asking. "Then I take you wish for this more than anything else?"

"Yes." He answered, without any hesitation. He knew the price he had to pay, and they discussed it many times. But he truly desired its reward, and required it to achieve their destiny.

She sighed, closing her eyes, conflicted against herself. She could not have asked for a more perfect, loyal, and capable being to stand beside her for the rest of eternity. He was a prodigy, a being that was truly special, carrying a great power within him. This was something she felt the very moment she encountered him, and had the privilege of taking him under her wing.

He excelled in absolutely every subject, blowing past all her expectations until her understanding and ideas of what he was capable of could catch up. His cognition, instinct, and reflexes were phenomenal--calculated, controlled, precise, lighting quick. His feats were of equal excess, fueled by ambition and greatness, but he certainly was not power-thirsty: he knew his limits, as well as the universe's with a balanced mind; he knew what was truly needed.

And that was what brought them here this night.

She would lead all the ponies to salvation, with him right by her side for the rest of eternity. They would share the glory of night, and bring life and prosperity to all before them. But for him to be able to do this, he would have to give up all his emotion, vitality, and essence. He would give up his heart, his soul, leaving only a shell. But he insisted that she was all he lived for, and it would be all worth it; that he could ask for nothing more than being able to stand by her side forever.

But for one to lose his soul, his essence of being and simply LIVING, was something to be taken very heavily. This phenomenon would purge and wipe it all, and replace it , so to speak, with what he determined to be his sole purpose, his only reason of existing. This would be the only thing left behind.

This was the ambition he showed since the beginning, what he emphasized each and every passing moment. He showed it in everything he's done. There was no doubt about it. There would be no reason to ask again, to assure him, or herself.

She gave herself a moment to set her mind fully, and embrace it.

"Alright then. Let us begin."

She gather her power, the threads of magic weaving through her. She manipulated them with a complexion and precision no  mind less capable could achieve. The amount of raw power coursing through her horn channeled directly from the Hyperverse was immense, but she held it all under control, the mastery of centuries of experience at work.

She finally found the perfect balance; the right texture and form for the spell to be safely relayed to him.

Without a single word spoken by her, Prophet knew it was time. His horn touched with hers, and impossible amounts of energy instantly surged into him. His being was ripped apart, his body unnaturally altered, yet perfectly, alienating into something that was beyond his understanding. The pain was almost unbearable, as every emotion seemed to be blasting into his mind at once, his body erupting with agony like a fire.

The closest comparison would be angst, betrayal, bliss, and confusion felt all at once--while electrocuted and incinerated. It seemed as if it were never going to stop, losing track of time.

After an eternity, it felt as if his emotions were drained, then suddenly depleted altogether, a shock of emptiness within his mind.

When the transformation was complete, they both collapsed onto the ground. His eyes flickered open, yet no light came in. He got up onto his hooves, but they did not feel anything. He heard the chirping of birds and the flowing water, except they sounded hollow. Looking up towards the portrait before himself, he could not feel its beauty, nor could he remember what it felt like. His memories didn't produce any color or emotion. They simply felt like dull words, blandly telling a history.

He did not feel joy or sadness, no pain or ecstasy, no passion or hate.

He felt dead.

"Prophet!" He heard a muffled call beside him, his senses still recovering from the experience. The voice came from his god, his one and only being he lived for. What she said, it must be his name...

...No, he remembered now. It was not just a name--It was what defined him, what his true purpose was. He was the prophet who would call upon the dusk, and preach the coming of the night. He would serve its ruler, and her kingdom of peace and prosperity. He would stand beside her, and create a world of...something... under the...

the...

He could not think of a way to describe or feel the emotions of his thoughts; they felt dull, empty. Beauty? Vastness? Perfection? These were plain words, descriptions assigned to what something was defined as--nothing more. There was no poetry, no depth, no true sensation as to what they were supposed to feel like.

"A-are you all right?" She asked again. He looked at what was now the form of Luna. Her face showed worry and concern, but they seemed like numbers coded to him, simply defining one's condition. They held no meaning otherwise.

When he answered, he did so not to reassure her, or to comfort her--those were things he did not know.

Everything he did would be to fulfill his goals, his principles, his reason of existence. Anything else would hinder him, deny him this dream. But reassuring Luna of her question would help them progress, and take them one step closer to their destiny. And so he did.

His mouth curled into a smile, an expression that portrayed an emotion that wasn't there.

"I HAVE NEVER FELT MORE ALIVE."

The memories faded away, fading back into the grey shadows of his consciousness. He let his eyes remain closed, meditating.

He sat on the balcony of a tower on top of the Canterlot Castle, standing atop the vast city which resided on the side of the mountain. His head faced towards the moon ahead. He wore the same cloak, stretching down his body. The hood falls over his eyes, unable to be seen by others. He never took it off, for it was a symbol of what he represented.

Prophet had the flashback every single night, always on the same hour of its occurrence centuries ago. He remembers all the feelings and emotions before they shred apart inside of him. He remembered the pain and misery it caused as he was crucified. He remembered feeling the emptiness of his dead heart; the feeling of dust pulsing through its veins.

And he felt it for every second of his existence since that night.

He never regretted the decision. He never looked back at his previous life. It was what he wanted, what he needed to achieve not only his dreams, but his goddess' as well. There was no sacrifice he knew that was too great to benefit them.

It was because of her why he made the decision. She was worth everything to him. She was his purpose for existing. No, he did not love her, but rather saw her as a ruler who would achieve their destiny. They shared the same visions, their dreams of a great kingdom full of joy and prosperity (both of which he understood in definition, but could not feel). He was her disciple, a pony that would help her shape its destiny. This dream he has every night fuels his aspiration.

Prophet opened his eyes, the grey world painted before him. He felt no different than when he lay down only an hour ago. He sleeps at the time the memory occurs, and awakes when the time of the memory ends. They were restless, but they constantly reminded him of her and each other's destinies. They were the hours he lived the most each day in his dead life.

He slowly got up, his body retaining a regal posture, as if of that a wise king with resolve and persistence. Bidding his goddess a good night, he returned inside, leaving her by herself in the starry sky...

...Their dreams would not be achieved sitting idly.