For a Dream (Operation Alaska_Down)

Droning roar.

A lone pony stood in the blizzard. The dry, cracked, desert sand beneath him crunched beneath his hooves. Snow- or what looked like snow was rushing and howling like torrential rapids, yet as the snow hit the ground, it continued to flow, not accumulating in the least. The ground was undoubtedly hydrophobic. Coldness prevailed, yet the hiemal tempest felt compassionate and spared the poor stallion by moderating its fury. In all directions, thick clouds of the frozen precipitation matted the world, reducing it to a monochromatic prism. Grey hooves, faded yet vital brown hooded cloak, an iron-grey face, a black tail.

Advancing conflict.

Deep turmoil tore the pony’s heart. He was now in a land inhabited by nobody- or nopony. He had been walking for some time, his obscured head drooping low, his hooves now starting to drag from fatigue- or so it seemed.  He continued on in this manner. And continued. Interval.

Expended.

Twenty minutes- or two hours- or fifty seconds- passed. Something changed. Off in the distance, a form was starting to take shape like a slide of developing instant-film. It looked like another pony. It seemed to be heading in the same general direction as he, though on a path to imminently intersect his. The storm raged on. In symmetry, another form, at an orderly angle, was coming into view, also destined to gradually encounter him. Four more lines of destiny came into view until the fateful hexagon was formed.

Absolution.

The six, now the interior angles of the polygon, raised their heads. Black, dead eyes directed their focus to the center of the shape, devoid of direction. Two pegasi, two earth ponies, two unicorns- all obscured by the white curtain-flood. All shells uniform. All shells one. All ones naught but shells. All shells saw nothing but whiteness. Deep, somber silence. All words were depleted, vain, and empty. Only space and emptiness had value.

Interval. Interval. Interval. Interval. Interval. Solid stillness.

End.

The words, chanted by all in monotone unison were as follows:

“All is empty

Life is suffering

Weakness is power

All is impenetrable

Isolation is purity

Sadness is truth

All is grey

Still is one

Dead is ____ (a pause here, symbolizing the death of “worthy” words and the implication of a worthy word)

All is ended.”

With that, the voices resonated, reverberated off of the particles of the depleted souls present. A ray of light connected the ponies, forming a two-dimensional shape. The shape then developed ornate visual texture within due to the rising chaos emanating from the now-quaking hearts, captive within the stone-like neutral faces.

Their eyes then became white with light, and hidden ornate pieces of spectral neon-like ghost jewelry formed on the figures. A tremor had been compounding, and soon the very land around the ponies was quaking, fracturing. The tremor intensified until it seemed ready to destroy everything.

The desert now prepared to collapse or explode, time froze.

The ponies then vaporized and the world imploded.

A pony was jolted out of the nightmare. He sat up immediately in his bed sheets in terror, gasping for air, sweat almost dripping from his short scruffy mane. It was early in the morning, the equivalent of around seven A.M, the wan cyan light now diffused by the linen curtains. He had to wake up soon. His breathing and heartbeat now slowing, he found himself staring at the obscured window. This was the third weird dream he had had in the past two weeks. The first dream had been about running away from a stampede of angry ponies, the second about getting trapped in a strange world made of rivers, aqueducts and abstract metal structures. Was Princess Luna trying to convey some strange message to him? Nonsense.

Despite the fact that he was born, raised, and still studying and living in Canterlot, Spark was never directly addressed- or recognized by Royalty. Even though he was an adept intellectual and not half-bad at magic, he still remained just a unicorn. Worse still, he didn’t even have a real Cutie Mark- and he was a young adult in the Canterlot Higher School of Magic. The things he could do were not “worthy” enough [or something] to illicit a Cutie Mark. When he was young little colt, his parents created a Cutie Mark for him that was artificial yet completely authentic-in-appearance: a blooming plant seed which symbolized that one day, he and his real cutie mark would take the whole world by surprise. Thankfully, nopony noticed that it was just a type of tattoo. Spark told everypony who asked him about his cutie mark that he was a gardener, as he had a part-time job maintaining the gardens of the Goldenmane Estate- a property of Filthy Rich not too far from the Castle.

Five years prior, his small group of friends had dispersed all over Equestria to pursue different fields of study. Now, all he had were acquaintances. He knew a little bit about various people he met every day, but he was not friends with them. He lived, studied, ate, and worked alone- and yet in the company of many.

Despite Spark’s seemingly abject situation, both apathy and various forms of distraction had managed to postpone his struggle with identity. He just lived for the day- making it from grade-to-grade in the School of Magic while also finding various recreational activities to fill the time in between. He still had his coworkers, with whom he talked and shared some laughs. But deep within him, unconscious and dormant, was a sense of heaviness.

Finally calm, Spark decided against going back to sleep. His classes began at the earth equivalent of nine A.M.  He crossed his dark room and stepped out onto his private balcony.

Equestria was waking up. Birds were chirping and flittering about; some pegasi were reorganizing some wayward clouds. A pink-orange light reflected off the white stone of Canterlot castle, which did not refract once it reached a nearby blue-water fountain. A cool zephyr breezed by. Flowers were opening their blooms as if to greet the ponies now commuting through the streets. On a balcony on the highest tower, Princess Celestia could be seen orchestrating the symphony that is an Equestrian morning. Spark looked down at his hooves. He was merely a speck in the macrocosm of Equestria—or even merely the CHSM (Canterlot Higher School of Magic). Shaking his head, he decided to lay down and enjoy the spectral experience that was the morning.

Two hours later, Spark was in the auditorium-like classroom. He gazed blankly ahead, his classmates chattering in vivacious conversations. Five minutes later his instructor, Arcane Silvermoon, a sage old stallion, took his place at the lectern.

“Good morning, everypony!” he said with his usual eccentricity.

“Good morning, Professor Silvermoon” reflected the classroom with much less energy.

“I have good news for everypony today. Today is a special day. Today, I am going to select one lucky pony in this classroom to accompany Azure Adventurer on a Field Learning Adventure in the Everfree Forest to study the mysterious Transatlas Flower.”

All ears in the classroom perked up. Field Learning Adventures involved taking a two-pony field trip (one student and one mentor) to some remote location to learn something that could be used for a significant portion the CHSM Final Exam, a requirement for graduation established by the Canterlot Board of Education.

Spark sat lost in thought. He usually tuned this part of the lecture out, as he never got selected from his class of forty, one of five classes in the CHSM, to go on Field Learning Adventures.

“Spark!” said Professor Silvermoon a second time.

Spark looked up.

“You’ve been chosen, Spark!”

His heart leapt within his chest. His classmates were clapping their hooves. He had finally been chosen. He was finally receiving some form of recognition.

The rest of the day didn’t matter much to Spark. He passed nigh-absent-minded through lecture and lunch. This was the opportunity he had been anticipating for years. It was a chance to learn something really valuable and maybe even get a real cutie mark in the process. He had trouble sleeping that night, as he was both nervous and excited about the next day.

“Good morning, Spark,” said Azure Adventurer, who was waiting for him at the city gates of Canterlot, vested with several saddle bags.

“Good morning, Sir Adventurer!” said the ecstatic Spark.

Out of nowhere, a cream-yellow pegasus zipped right between them at an incredible speed then pulled right back up into the sky. The two froze, their eyes wide open.

“Don’t worry—our adventure doesn’t involve random crazy pegasi. What was that about anyway? Do you know that pony?” asked Azure.

“I’m just as confused as you are, Sir Adventurer” shrugged Spark.

“There’s no need for such formality. Just call me Azure, Student Spark, “winked Azure.

“Alright, Azure. Let’s go!” said Spark—again with energy and authenticity that was a bit abnormal for him.

The journey to the Everfree Forest was a long one. En route, Azure explained the rules and guidelines and fine details of the Adventure in a casual manner. Spark listened and reciprocated attentively. In the meantime, in a cloud high above, two unknown pegasi were watching the two unicorns, their forms hidden by the cloud’s edge over which they peered inconspicuously.

“Heeeheee!” squealed the first, the same cream-yellow pony that had passed between Azure and Spark, “do you think he’s going to find it?!”

“I’m certain. I have faith in him,” said the other - a dark grey concrete-like pegasus in a solemn tone. His sharp petrified (but not afraid) grey eyes focused sharply on Spark.

The first pegasus was but a filly and was now bouncing and flittering about on the cloud.

“Stop that. If you weren’t so freakishly light, you could have zapped or drenched both of them by now,” snapped the first, “He can’t know about us. Not yet.”

The two pegasi’s wings now appeared luminous and glowing and the colt now lie still beside the stallion watching the surface-bound ponies.

At long last, Spark and Azure came to the Everfree Forest, the edge of which grazes the little town of Ponyville. A short walk saw them to their first destination—the home of Zecora the zebra.

“To this forest, I am no stranger. I know its every boon and danger. But for you adventurous two, I have prepared a brew. This drink will protect your mind in a bind. I know the danger of the flower but also that it may hold some power,” said the sage zebra granting to the two adventurers each an opaque white bottle of liquid.

“Thank you, Zecora. We will be careful” nodded Azure, imbibing the tonic alongside Spark.

“What did Zecora mean by ‘protect your mind in a bind?’” Spark asked after they had resumed their venture.

“The Transatlas Flower is not like a normal flower—it’s a dangerous flower that thankfully only dwells within this forest. You see, when anything living approaches it, it emits a poisonous fume that will daze its prey and send it ‘into another world’ back the way it came. If you approach it very slowly, it might not sense you and you will be safe. Thankfully, the potion Zecora just made for us will protect us from that poison and allow us to obtain a petal of the flower, the essence of which can supposedly be used in powerful magical spells.”

“Are we sure this potion works? Has anypony ever tried this before?” asked Spark again.

“Of course! How else would we know anything about this flower?” Azure assured him.

The journey through the Everfree Forest was a very gradual one. Azure, whose very cutie mark was a symbol resembling adventure, knew all of the hazards and wonders of the forest. He knew which ground was solid and which could give way beneath one’s hooves. He knew which creatures of the forest were hostile and which were docile. He could even navigate the forest by looking at tracks and patterns in trees. Maybe the Daring-Do could learn a thing or two from this master forest ranger.

At last, the two found themselves pausing as Azure attempted to scope out their next move. He held a pair of binoculars to his face and stepped forward, searching for sylvan clues.

“Hang on just a moment. We aren’t going to be lost for long.”

Spark finally allowed himself to take in the essence of the Everfree Forest. It really was a strange, almost hostile place. No wonder only the most vigilant ponies lived here. The trees could be hiding a predator animal, something found only in this forest. His eyes scanned the stifled horizon then wandered upwards into the tree canopy and then to the free-moving clouds beyond. Why was this forest the only place in Equestria where everything natural could roam free? Why was freedom confined to a dangerous forest? Was it really that dangerous? What was freedom?

While absorbed in thought, Spark allowed his hooves to wander freely—like the rest of the forest. Before he knew it, he had stepped off of the path Azure had guided him on- and on to a patch of soft ground.

“Alright, Spark. I think I- Don’t step on those vines!” exclaimed Azure, rushing to the wanderer.

It was too late. The vines retracted upon sensing Spark’s hoof, sending him tumbling down a deep dark hole.

Once the world had come to a stop for Spark, he found himself in a damp moss-lined cave. Every part of his body ached.  He had a headache already. The air smelled strange.

“Are you alright?!” came Azure’s voice from the surface.

“Yeah,” came the reply after a pause.

“Stay where you are! I am going to make a rope and come get you!”

And with that, silence.

He was alone in the dark—or—almost in the dark. There was still light from the surface pouring in, highlighting him like a stage spotlight. He could see a hazy outline of the cave and naught but thirty feet away, the Transatlas Flower. He remained very still, not wanting to disturb the bloom. Out of nowhere, he heard hoofsteps getting louder and louder. Was it Azure Adventurer? He stood up.

A tall, solemn veiled shadow approached, ominous and threatening. It was a pony—but it was not Azure. It passed right in front of the flower, and sure enough, fumes were emitted with a hiss—but it kept approaching.

“Who’s there? Who are you?” asked Spark, now frightened, placing his hooves over his face.

“I once asked myself the same question,” came a dark, somewhat muffled, expended voice; the origin of which was starting to become more visible.

“What’s your name? What do you want from me?”

“I- you- are the beginning of the end of this world. I- you- are the dawn of the death of the star that is Equestria,” said the voice, now coming to a stop.

“What? What are you talking about?”

A flare of light appeared and remained sustained before the figure, revealing it. It was a powerful-looking unicorn clad in tarnished iron armor from head-to-hoof. Its hateful-yet-sorrowful eyes appeared yellow through the tinted glass lenses in its gas-mask-like helmet (which also coated his horn in iron). A black hooded cloak was draped over its body. He looked somewhat like the old tyrant king Sombra.

“Behold your self,” it said, its words piercing through Spark and reverberating off of the stone walls. “Alas, the world truly is cruel, as you will soon learn.”

“Are you King Sombra?” asked Spark, quaking in fear.

“No. Not at all. Sombra wanted to see Equestria in chains. I want to see it in flames- starting with you.”

An orb of firey red light was materializing around the menace’s sharp horn as it resumed advancing upon Spark, who was now retreating.

“No! Please don’t!” the latter cried.

“I’m sorry, but this is for the best,” said the voice, with a hint of authentic regret.

With that, the terrorist reared up on his hind legs, the light now becoming intense, and came down with a thunderous stomp, blasting Spark with an intense red laser beam and sending him flying into the rear of the cave.

All went dark.