Old Friends
1
We all burn eventually. We don't die, we don't ever live, we burn. The fiery chasms awake for us all, and we all arrive; I just help along the way. -Circle of Thrice
2
Gray and dark the sky, overcast clouds, and miserable rain the sky was. Black in coat, silver in red streaked mane, cutie mark one of the full moon, and blank in expression was the sullen stallion, expressionless and dull, living yet another nightmare, wishing for it to end.
The rain poured from above him, causing the ground to become wet and saturated, becoming mud. Lighting filled the sky brightly and violently, stretching outward to the ground in amazing forks of electric and powerful energy. The mud parted below his hooves as he trecked through, his eyes darting back and forth, his magic lighting his way. He perceived the ruins of an old, crumbling stone building, locked, boarded-up, and abandoned.
He brought himself about to the door, kicking the boarded entrance open with his backlegs. The stallion trotted in, hoping to find refuge, but shelter was not to be found here, not anywhere; but, the crevices of the broken stone and masonry sufficed for the stallion as something similar.
The situations I put myself in, the stallion thought, my, they may as well have killed me by now; only my good graces has kept me alive this long. I have to close this place off; the west winds are blowing.
He trotted in and found an area underneath a broken set of stairs. The stallion trotted toward there quickly. The horn on the soaked stallion's head glowed a bright red as three white circles both one foot in diameter apart from each other appeared underneath a half-destroyed staircase. He stepped inside the center circle, whispering a blessing.
As he finished the blessing, he laid himself down on the cold, hard stone.
Witchcraft may be may only good graces, he thought again, chuckling, it has helped me over the years more than anything else.
The stallion laid his head on the cold, stone flooring of the dead, soulless house; his mind hazily drifted off. He thought of the rain as his mind drifted off to thoughtlessness, clear and dark.
3
He awoke, rested but drifted. His eyes peaked from their eyelid shelter, adjusting to the brightness of morning. The sun was on the horizon, also peaking out, showing only a fraction of its glory. The heat rose since last night, and the clouds cleared.
A slight explosion was heard off to the East, barely in earshot. He sounded oddly curious, and the black-coated stallion wondered if he should check it out. The explosion sounded alchemic not magical.
Now, what might that be? The explosion must mean it is one skilled with magic or alchemy. I could use a pony with those skills: I am in need of an acquaintance, aren't I?
Lazily, the stallion got to his hooves.
Better make sure I close the circle before I leave; I do not want any spirits coming into this world, now do I?
His horn glowed, the white of the circle reappearing, he planted his hooves firmly in the center, stretching outward his backlegs. His horn glowed brightly, in the same bright red hue as before, as he proceeded to reabsorb the energy of the circle.
His voice was clear and slightly deep as he spoke slowly and calmly.
“Inward, the magic re-flow; refilling my life's eternal glow; return, everything below me; return absolute, pure, and free.”
The circle broke, refilling his body with the magical energy he had cast. He almost felt refreshing to the stallion.
Refreshing... Now, I better be careful from here on; my sanctuary is now gone and dangers may await.
“Lūnae Plēnae~,” a female voice rang from behind the stallion, sung by a dark and powerful mare. Lūnae spun around immediately, casting a dark glare at the witch, his magic readying. The witch had laid on her plump stomach atop of decayed, broken, and old stone. Her coat was red with black lines running across it; her mane was black with red streaks flowing through it as well as her tail; Her cutie mark was one of three circles placed equally among a pentagram. As she spoke, she held her backlegs up in the air behind her while her forelegs supported her weight; her young marish face looked at him with big, innocent eyes.
“better be careful next time where you rest~,” the witch spoke, spinning circles in the stone with her hoof, “never know where a bad pony may lurk...”
The witch spoke seductively and fallaciously like a young, innocent foal. Her eyes seemed lively, but one skilled in the craft could sense an amoral being resided behind those colorful orbs.
“You speak as if you have met me, witch,” Lūnae spoke, noticing she had deep and ark magical abilities, he kept his magic full drawn and ready to cast, “Tell me! Who are you, witch? How have you came across my name and my path? Speak!”
“Oh, now, don't be coy~,” she said slyly, teleporting over to another stone ledge, now standing on all four legs, trotting with a sway in her hip slowly and gracefully, “you have met me, though, you may not remember it; we used to be very wonderful friends, you and I, as foals. We were both brought up on the belief of the Old Ones, that is how we came to be friends.”
Her face turned away, and her voice dimmed. “Though, we chose two very separate paths—you refused my ways!”
His eyes sharpened even more than before, wary for any malicious movement that she may present. He thought hard of her name.
“Yes, I do remember, Witch Circle of Thrice; I remember you well now. You chose to follow the dark magics, and not for any innocuous purpose either.”
Circle teleported herself once again, this time, directly beside Lūnae, standing on her legs close to him as if she was a very close friend to the black-coated stallion.
“Funny thing is,” Circle explained, “this is really my residence, and you are trespassing; but because I'm in a good mood, and we were once very good friends, I'll let you leave, and you will be doing yourself a favor by leaving right now.”
Circle's face turned toward Lūnae's, and their muzzles met, they starred into each other's eyes: his eyes showed hate as well as thankfulness; her eyes showed no emotion, blank and dull.
Circle teleported once more, this time, toward the kicked down door. She motioned outward the door.
“Ta-ta,~” the witch sang, “better go now!”
The black-coated stallion trotted toward the door, stopping at Circle. He held out his hoof toward her.
“If you remember any of the old ways at all, Circle of Thrice,” Lūnae started, looking down at his hoof, pausing for a few seconds before speaking again, “merry meet, merry part.”
Circle held out her hoof toward his, smiling, then agreed to shake it.
“Bright the cheeks,” she finished, “warm the heart.”
Then, with that, he trotted out, and Circle went back to her malicious activities in the abandoned stone fort.
4
I'd rather not go through that again... Lūnae thought as he trotted away quickly; remembering the sound of the explosion he heard, he trotted toward the East, I remember that mare; a crazy nutcase she is! Abusing The Craft like that for malicious gain: what right does she have to abuse it?
The mud below his hooves was dry, as he trotted angrily past, almost cracking by the scorch of the sun and the force of his trot. It was mid-July, waxing crescent moon, hot and dry weather. The wind was still, allowing no relief from the heat.
Soon, as he trotted Eastward, through the scorching, almost surprisingly, heat, he came across the figure of a mare. The first feature Lūnae noticed was her fine, red coat. Then, came in the other details. Her mane and tail—blue with white streaks and pink with blue streaks—came into view after that, frizzled and unkept as if she had not kept it for months. She was wearing goggles to keep her eyes safe, and their was a crater sizzling with black smoke in front of her. On top of that, there was a alchemy table, consecration altair, and a tent complete with a fire place laid out behind her.
So, it is an alchemist! Or... At least, an aspiring alchemist. Lūnae thought.
Lūnae trotted faster toward her, and tried to stay in the open as much as possible to make himself appear as innocent as possible. No friends were ever made by appearing malicious, after all. The silver-maned stallion brushed his mane back with his magic as he trotted behind her.
The red mare was using her magic to hastily scribble down notes onto a piece of yellow parchment, mumbling to herself incoherently. The mare did not mind his presence or simply did not notice his very being; she was extremely focused on her work.
Upon closer inspection, she was scribbling down formulas, crossing out items farther up the page, and jotting down notes. Her entire front body was covered in black soot, obviously from the explosion she had created and endured.
Maybe I should not speak to this mare; she seems incredibly busy and appears incoherently indecipherable.
“Hey!” The mare exclaimed in a squeeky, high-pitched voice, causing Lūnae to wince in pain, “why don't you help me?”
“Mare,” Lūnae replied, annoyed slightly, “what possible reason would you need my assistance? I am a wander, and you have not met me.”
“Well, that doesn't matter, and as they say: two brains are better than one!” She grinned brightly.
It seems that, with this pony, I may have not much of a choice...
“Very well,” Lūnae replied, straightening his stance into his normal gentlecoltly posture, “how may I be of assistance?”
“Well,” her eyes trailed off to the crater, “I need a little bit of help... Only a little! With this one potion I am trying to make, you see?”
“I see that pretty well as a matter of fact,” the black-coated stallion replied sarcastically.
“Point is: I need a powerful unicorn's magic, one much more powerful than my own, to get this potion—or tonic, whatever it is—to work!”
More like an explosive...
She continued, “Just stand right here and focus your energy into the bottle I'll put over there! Foucs all you can, but not too much! It will turn blue when it has enough energy! Too little, and it will blow up! Too much, and it will blow up!”
With everything with this mare, it'll blow up apparently.
“Sure, but, what is this... Potion supposed to do correctly anyway?”
“I'm not sure!” Her eyes closed in joy, “but that's the fun of it!”
In the names of the Old Ones...
“Very well, mare, but I do not like the looks of this in the very least.”
She galloped over to the area different of that from her last experiment and laid a bright green bottle, filled with a dark purple liquid that bubbled ecstatically. Focusing his magic and straightening his stance, Lūnae began to chant a small verse to himself as pure, unadulterated magic built-up all around him, gathering around his horn and his body. As he completed the last line of the chant, he glarred at the bottle, his black, magical aura condensing into a ball at the tip of his horn. Slowly, he tilted his head down, pointing the horn toward the bottle; then, as he changed his stance to a tight butwide position, he released the magic, recoiling his head backward. Almost immediately, though, he regained his posture.
The black orb of magic traveled slowly toward the bottle. It stopped around the glass, flowing and swimming around the air around it. Lūnae kept his focus on the energy—it followed his command and will.
Now, she said it would turn blue in color when enough magic entered it, huh? Better keep a close eye on that most definitely.
Slowly, the magic began to seep into the bottle; the bottle began to turn bright colors all except for blue. As more magic entered, the faster the phases of color went. Lūnae kept his magic flow slow and steady.
Suddenly, the bottle flashed blue quickly and without warning, but Lūnae managed to stop the magic just that moment. The liquid glowed a bright blue, and the black aura surrounding the bottle started back toward Lūnae and sept back into him.
The bottle stood there, bubbling excitedly as it did before.
“That... Was... AMAZING!” The mare sang once again, making Lūnae wince in pain once again, “You must be a very, very powerful unicorn! What was that little chant you did at the beginning? How did you know the bottle would turn blue just then? Huh-huh?”
“Mare, mare, mare,” Lūnae shook his head, smiling, “don't you know a magician never tells his secrets?”
“Ooh~,” the red mare exclaimed, “but can I be the first to be told?”
“No one will ever be told except for other magicians themselves,” Lūnae explained, turning his body away from the mare playingly.
The red mare followed tight on his side, standing at maybe half his height, but it mattered as little to this mare as the news matters to an insect.
“Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!” The mare incessantly demanded, staying on his hooves like a foal wanting candy.
She seems knowledgable, just not... Centric... Or sensible for that matter.
“Tell you what,” broke in Lūnae, looking toward the mare, “I'll teach you everything I know on one condition: you join me as my first apprentice.”
“That sounds... AWESOME! Let me pack!” With that, she zoomed off to her camp, pressing a single button that caused the machinery to condense it into a small, metallic cube.
As she came back, she calmed down quite a bit, placing the sphere into a saddle bag she placed on herself.
The mare's voice calmed, “My name is Fire Streak, and I am ready to serve under you as your apprentice.”
And, now she is calm?! This mare is a character! No doubt!
“Forgive myself for my earlier excitement,” Fire Streak continued, “I am very hyperactive when it comes to anything alchemic.”
“You are forgiven, Fire Streak,” Lūnae replied, smiling to her as a friend would, “let us get going! To the East!”
5
They trecked, and they trotted for what seemed hours. The hot sun receded behind the treeline of the west, the final glimpses of the sun were obscured by the foliage and the limbs of the trees. The only sight of the sun was now in the clouds of the high sky, showing bright orange, red, and pink streaks wide and far.
“Uggh,” groaned Fire Streak, collapsing on a patch of grass in a prairie the duo had trotted into, “can we stop here? I'm exhausted,” she panted. Her previous dignity melted and she returned to her foalish state.
Lūnae stopped and looked toward the sky. He stared at the sky for a very long moment before looking back toward the red mare.
“The moon is not quite out yet, but I guess, considering the circumstances, we could set up early.”
“Finally!” Fire exclaimed, rolling onto her back, “I thought we would never stop!”
Lūnae chuckled. This mare—I'm not sure if to think she's adorable or if to think she is an annoyance.
“Night will fall,” Lūnae spoke in a calm tone, “and we must prepare the fire. Mare Fire Streak, have you the knowledge to set up a fire pit? I will gather the firewood.”
Fire Streak rolled over, facing the black-coated stallion. “I can set it up, but can I ask you a question first?”
“Hmm?”
“Well,” she mumbled, “why do you speak like that? You sound like one of those ponies from ancient times.”
“Oh,” Lūnae blushed, “it is not that ancient; you must trust me on that.”
“Okay...” she paused, “but you didn't answer my question: why do you speak like that?”
“I would rather not say, Mare; it is—how-would-you-say—private,” Lūnae replied, looking back toward her then back to the horizon.
“Prepare the fire pit, Mare Fire Streak as I search for suitable firewood.”
“Sure thing!” She spoke in enthusiasm.
“As soon as I rest first,” she muttered underneath her breath.
Lūnae proceeded off Westward, heading for the forest line. Already, night was coming, quickly and fiercly, and the light of the sun has quickly retreated. With magic lighting his way, he proceeded to the edge of the near forest, searching near the ground for dry limbs to use as kindle.
As he proceeded along, he gathered all the kindling her could find, then proceeded for the more earthy and large firewood. Lūnae soon found a collapsed pine tree not yet touched with decay. Using his magic, he sliced the tree into logs and branches. He hastened his way back to the camp as darkness fell.
6
Fire Streak was fast asleep when Lūnae found his way back, but to his surprise, the fire pit was built and primed. Smiling, he placed the firewood strategically into the fire pit, moving his friend with his magic over to the side far enough from the heat. He kindled the campfire with his magic, instantly igniting the logs into an instant blaze.
The fire popped and swayed periodically, spewing bright flames upward and smoke all around. The wind had died down, and the smoke flowed systematically upward.
The cool air soon came, with no wind at first, then with strong gusts. Lūnae pulled a blanket large enough for one pony out of his saddlebags, and he placed the one blanket over Fire Streak. His coat was thick, and he did not need the blanket.
The moon was in its full, shining brightly among the stars of the night sky. Lūnae starred at the moon, admiring it and examining it as if he needed something from it.
The East wind blew in hard gusts, setting the trees and his mane in motion. The flame and smoke of the fire went Eastward as well.
“It's no use wishing for her to come back;” Lūnae muttered to himself silently, “why must I torture myself so? No amount of magic will bring her back, and no amount of hope will either.”
Lūnae sighed, looking down to his hooves. He felt no anger of his loss, only a sense of abandonment and guilt.
He brought himself silently and sullenly to Fire Streak, laying beside her. He casted no circle that night, and whispered no blessing.
The next morning, he would come to regret it.
