Chapters The World, But Better: Geometrical Will
It was too difficult.
No. It was too easy.
Shapes are such a simple concept. Aren't they?
...No no no. That’s not right.
Shapes are impossible.
...Right?
Clicking echoed importantly, bouncing tree to tree, through hazy darkness. Birds dare not break the unspoken promise of silence. No being in the world did.
But one.
Unusual, some may say. Unlikely, say others. But be it or not, it was truth.
To the top of one such great oak lay the location of a residence. Many question the lodger’s motives, yet none collect courage enough to face him. Many fear him, each to their own ‘reasonable’ cause. Be it terror of jinx, or curse, or misplaced spell, or devouring wood.
But relentlessly, he is there.
Clicking ceased. Silence reigned once more upon the Whispering Forest, broken only by a great creak, caught by fog.
The night itself was divine. The Princess had certainly spared no expense. It was the Winter Solstice, after all. Points of diamond stuck in blackness shivered in their chilled reaches, but casting beauty in every direction all the while. Not a creature on this good Earth would deny their magnificence. Silence was broken once more as a cold wind passed through nature’s pillars, waking sleeping leaves, and tossing them about.
Treetops pass. A home, suspended by luck, lay. Logs formed structure, and planks formed walls. Leaves of great stature prided themselves on being the roof of such a building. Small in size, large in meaning. Today. A home such as this, hidden as it may be, could not go unnoticed. For nature held beauty beyond imagination. Beyond time. Beyond this world itself. Many marvel at the man-made. Gasping at gadgets. Applauding appliances. As such, nature has lost many admirers.
Try as they might, none shall defeat the created. Nature rises above all.
...Right?
Windows pass. A single, lone character rushes between book and flask, eyes mad with movement. Hooves at delicate work with orange and green concoction, head swinging side to side frantically. Not a single essence in such a trade so much as attempted to remain stable. Not one thing.
But failure? Unforgivable.
A sprinkling of crushed petals, stained yellow, manipulated green liquid to blue. Hoof tilted one flask over another. Red resulted. It spread like blood through orange, unrestricted.
Finally. It was complete.
...But was it truly ready? ...No. The world would never be ready.
“...I’ll make them ready then.”
Red coated the floor in moments. Liquid seeped through cracks, dripping slowly, passing leaf by leaf, to the stopping ground.
Contact was made, and the Earth trembled. A great voice boomed it’s deep toll. A toll that would bring about the greatest unknown fear in all the expanses of space, past the limits of the universe.
A word.
A single word. Seemingly so harmless. So overlooked.
But known. And now? Feared.
And the word rang from the sky itself. It rang to the core of the planet. It rang to the ears of all. Rocks trembled. Trees, towering, shivered to their roots. The living stirred in fear, lost in their dreams.
And that word was etched in stone from that day onward. May it never be forgotten.
“Point.”
The World, But Better: Geometrical Will
“POINT.”
Magenta eyes shot open. An echo, immense, cascaded over walls. Nothing dared move. Time slowed. Eyes shot from doorway, to ceiling, to window.
After eternity, echo faded to shadows, lost by turn of wind.
Hooves made contact with cloud. The mare’s head snapped as far right and left, in turn, as possible. No threats. Her muscles relaxed.
Too soon.
Or too late..?
The world shook. Impossible. Clouds float. Clouds don’t experience earthquakes.
Normal earthquakes.
Footing was lost. The cyan one found herself upon the flooring of her home, hooves to the ceiling, shaking with the universe. No damage would be done; the nature of clouds would not allow it.
...Normal earthquakes.
Light broke shadow. Eyes were blinded. Vision; blurred.
World; changed.
The will of one, desires twisted as they may be, affect us all. Dormant fears return to life.
The cyan one opened her eyes once fleeting light had gone. As she did, one word crossed her mind.
Impossible.
This… was… impossible…
And blackness enveloped impossibility as consciousness fled.
“Rainbow Dash?”
“Ugh…”
“Rainbow Dash?! Where are you? Are you ok?!”
“...Ugh… Yeah. I’m fine.”
Clouds broke.
The world came flooding back.
...What had happened?
The Will of a Wizard is a curious thing. Many tamper with life and death, theurgy or necromancy. Others attempt to harness the natural elements. Fire, ice, storm. But none, heard of, have ever tried geometry to their desires. What good would it do? The other mages laugh. Useless!
Useless? If it exists, it is not useless. If no one believes, they will be forced.
“Fluttershy… do you see what happened to us?” The cyan one raised herself from the puffy flooring.
“Yes, but I’m not sure how it happened. The only odd thing I noticed was a big, loud boom last night. It scared all the animals.”
Rainbow walked over to the nearest wall with unmatchable caution, and prodded at it like it was a new substance.
Which it was, in reality.
“Well, I’m not sure how we’re going to get around like this…” her eyes covered her hoof, examining changes. “Maybe Twilight knows. We should ask her. But I can’t fly. Not like this.”
And it was true.
“Well, you could do what I did to get here, and use a cloud.”
“Or you could all just plummet to the ground.”
At the unknown voice’s command, the ground opened. Two Pegasi, incapable of flight, prepared to meet their demises. The dotted ground flew up to meet them.
...But the Will of a Wizard was prepared.
The ground reformed. Spreading. Widening. A world of pointillism is quite malleable, according to the Wizard. Darkness seeped forth from the depths of Equestria.
And two screaming souls were captured that day.
The Will of the Wizard demanded it.
But plans were to be put in order. Things were to be done.
They would see. They would ALL see.
Black liquid coated the floor of the small hut in the Woods.
It was time. The progression was undeniable. A boom locked itself over the skies of the world of calm.
Another change? So soon?
Very well.
The boom, alike the first, was the birth of a new world.
A world, bent, to the Will.
“LINE.”
The World, But Better: Geometrical Will
“LINE.”
Their screams were caught; their world was done. But only for that day. That sole day. The start of the end. The end of the start. Perhaps. Say then, the world began. It must have. So let it begin anew.
The figure in the woods snickered. Shadows clothed him; light dare not give him away. For this world would end in shadow…
...And begin anew in more than the rainbow. Light would proceed. Light would conquer. Pure? Incorrect. The pure would be purged. Wavelengths vary. Lights change, with times. Yes… light and time.
Greet your new rulers.
A world of beings, beasts, creatures and plants, yet six are targeted. Solely six. A reason? Wills need not a reason. Though they shall exist, acknowledged or no. For this true purpose, six would be caught. Killed, need be. For six control six. Beings control elements. Six belonged to two, before. The “rulers” of this land. Yes…
Blasphemy shall be purged with the corrupted light. Rulers shall be struck down, their lives, eternal, crumbling at their feet. They shall be no more.
...Eight would be caught. All killed? Perhaps. For six elements control the universe. Indirectly, through the strength of celestial bodies. Bodies unaware of change. Indestructible.
What nonsense.
The keepers of days and nights would, in turn, channel the power of six. Six become two. Two become one. One. One, conquered only by one ruler, controlling two. The Will. The Wizard, King of Time and Light. King of all. King of geometry.
They would see… And let them all perish. May their flesh form as one, and their screams drowned by droning! Let their pain show as they scrape against the ground! MAY THEY KNOW WHAT OUTCAST IS! WHAT PAIN IS! MAY THEY FEEL UPON THEMSELVES THEIR GIFT UNTO HIM! THEY WILL BURN AS ONE!
And as one… One body. Infinite soul. And may their blasphemy teach them… May the “rulers” learn of their lies. Their falsehoods. May they be shown pain. Show them agony. Let them watch as six control the suffering of their followers! MAY THEY FOREVER FLEE FROM WHAT THEY HAVE CREATED! THE SPEED OF LIGHT ITSELF SHALL BE NO MATCH FOR THEIR OWN! FOR THOSE WHO SCRAPE, THOSE WHO ARE ONE, THOSE WHO WILL BURN WILL TORTURE THEM IN RETURN!
...And for their sins they will die. Time and time again, death shall embrace them. Chillingly, grippingly. And they shall be reborn. Two become one. One flee the infinite. Six power them all. For, truly, Each one shall line. Line themselves together, joined at their ends. Their beginnings. For lines know no bounds. No stop. No finish.
And may the base of this world be set as geometry would have it. Six sides. Six forces. One essence, preventing entirety. Collapse.
...Long live the Kings. Long live Time. Long live Light.
Long live the King! Long live THE WIZARD!
And a toast was made to the earth that night. And the earth partook. It fed upon it’s gift. Blue liquid seeped into it.
And at it, another toll was taken. From it, may the world shift again. May the King be known as loudly as the change! May the earth tremble and shout his name!
“TRIANGLE.”
The World, But Better: Geometrical Will
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. The World, But Better: Geometrical Will
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. 