Seven Years Bad Luck

        For the Crystal Empire’s royal family, the day was one of mixed feelings. One one hoof, Sunset Shimmer, estranged former student of Princess Celestia, had finally returned home, and was met with the same kindness the princesses showed to all who needed it. While, of course, this was a celebration, it left a rather daunting task on the Empire’s shoulders: the very mirror that Sunset had used to leave and return now posed a unique threat should its purpose be discovered by anypony who might abuse its power. It was not made of glass, or crystal, or anything so mundane, for such simple materials would have warped and melted under the pressures exerted up them. Like many powerful artifacts, its exact make was nearly impossible to know, lost to the sands of time. According to what few official records existed, Princess Celestia had commissioned it from zebra artisans some two thousand years prior, and if they were somehow still alive, they most certainly wouldn’t tell anypony how they managed it.

        Possible composition aside, it served as a focus of transporting energies, like a supercharged teleportation spell. Attuned to her magic, the mirror would link to another focal point somewhere else for as long as it remained intact, or Princess Celestia lived. Obviously, the former was the most likely end to its function, and with it no longer holding a lost Equestrian, it was time for the magic powering it to return to its mistress. Destroying it was no simple task, for it had been crafted of something that resisted most conventional attempts at ruination, and required something a bit more subtle that a sledgehammer. Ritual magic, though a common enough practice amongst the educated unicorn magi of Canterlot and various universities, was complex when needed for a specific task rather than a general need, nearly ridiculously so.

        The mirror had been moved from its previous chamber, and now rested in a grand theater, carved from the palace’s crystal walls for this very purpose. Geometricians, hired from nearly every masonry guild in Equestria, had carefully, painstakingly, etched the entirety of the walls and ceiling with intersecting line, forming angles that twisted and shifted when one gazed at them for too long. Spirals, circles, and impossible shapes bulged out at the viewer, meaningless to any who did not understand them, and all were created only by those straight lines. The very air was electrified, filled with a tinge of ozone and the combined nervousness of the magi; it had been centuries since such an artifact was returned to the aether, nopony was quite sure how to go about it. Some records existed of course, but never in detail, all for fear somepony would repurpose the energies held within for their own ends.

        One by own, the lines ignited, energized by the theater’s performers in a grand show of light and sound. The torches along the walls darkened and died as the glow intensified, growing blindingly bright in the span of a few moments. The magi saw without their eyes as Celestia’s trapped magic filled the air, bracing against a howling ethereal wind. The gust was choppy and screamed as it blew through unseen corridors as the lines materialised in three dimensions. It was confining, squeezing, though not from pressure; it wasn’t that they were being pressed inwards, so much as being between two shapes that fit together perfectly. Blinding, oppressing, and violently hot, it was as if they had flown too close to the sun, and felt as though they were burning in its brilliance.

        Each magus felt the mirror unravel on a microscopic level, becoming one with the world’s ambient magic before returning to its mistress. It was a rush, a pure, blissful agony that lanced through their horns as they siphoned the energy from destructive ends, and returned it to the world. A brilliant aurora erupted from the palace, bathing the whole of the Empire in bright, colorful light. As it erupted, it imploded, drawing into itself until only the theater was illuminated with the power of hundred suns. It was mind-numbing, but swiftly ended. Of the ten ponies who entered, eight collapsed as the light fade.

        Two faded with the light, gone from sight as surely as the mirror.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

        He was dizzy, undeniably so, and his very bones felt frozen. He groaned in his delirious state, rolling over to find a warmer spot, only to be jabbed in the side by a sharp rock. He knew right away he was not in his be, and Cadance was not lying next to him. HIs eyes snapped open, and shut just as quickly; it was too bright to just jump up and go about figuring things out, so he opted to slowly ease himself awake. Digging his head into the ground, he realized it was both wet and cold, and there was the crunch of powdery ice. FInally used to the blindness, he opened his eyes.

It was snowing, and while not unusual, Shining Armor knew he was not in the Crystal Empire; there were simply too many trees, the sort that only grew in temperate climates. A few tenacious vines even clung to frost-covered trunks, too recent was the chill for them to have died off completely. All in all, with the mix of warm- and cold-weather plantlife, it reminded him of his family’s cabin in Coltorado Springs. He had been walking now for a few minutes, and still, there was no sign of Cadance. He didn’t want to call out for her, just in case he attracted unwanted attention from whatever was in the woods around him, and part of him felt he was being watched.

He took a step forward, snapping a twig under his hoof, and jumped as the bark of the tree next to him exploded outwards. A dull thunderclap echoed through the woods, shattering the relative calm like a cannon’s report. Not thinking, he ran, kicking up a wave of powdery snow and he took off. He zigzagged to avoid the mini thunder cannon that  fired from some unseen vantage point, and felt the heat as a projectile crossed just over his nose. They were fast if they reached him before he heard them, so he’d have to be faster to keep the shooter’s aim off him; even then, though, it was rather close.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the thunderous cannon ceased firing, and Shining Armor let his coat blend into the white snow, hoping it would blanket over his mane and tail enough for him to avoid any more unpleasant surprises. A warm, wet dripping on his cheek drew his attention, and he dabbed the dribble of blood away; he gasped, realizing his ear had been torn, only now feeling the pain as his body slowed down. What’s worse, his blood left a vivid trail for whatever was watching him to follow at leisure. The snow was falling heavy, maybe enough to cover his trail, maybe enough to hide him and his blood, but not so long as his ear kept streaming fresh, warm liquid to melt it off and leave a bright mark against the stark white.

Crunch

Something was walking at a slow, steady pace, sure-footed in the snow and slick ground.

Crunch

It was closer than first anticipated as it stepped into view. A living shrub on two legs, clutching a staff or weapon of some sort in its hands, was what hunted him. The thing in its hands was of wood and metal, bundled in white patterned cloth to camouflage it in the snow, easily identified as artificial by Armor’s eyes. Whatever it was, it was intelligent, hostile, and blended in perfectly in the snow, but it was very much a flesh and blood creature, as proven by the steaming breath that billowed from in front of what he thought to he its head. Luckily, it was on the wide away from Armor’s injured ear, so perhaps it would avoid seeing the bloody mess. Growling, it fluttered its hand over a bolt near its weapon’s grip, expelling a brass shell; it then dropped a small box from the weapon’s underside, and quickly stowed it beneath its shrub-like fur, before replacing it.

Its task completed for the time being, it sniffed at the air, and let out an exhausted, throaty grumble, seemingly irritated at losing Armor for the moment. As it walked away, Armor realized the snow wasn’t crunching as loudly as it had been before, and with the odd gait it had adopted, it was nearly silent against his thundering heartbeat. It was intelligent enough to use oddly advanced weaponry, and blend into an environment that had changed quickly enough for vines to still be alive while covered in snow. Now, it seemed deathly agile, so much so that Shining was left wondering just how quickly it could move when needed. Had it chased him while he fled the cannon, unseen and unheard, hidden by his own motion and noise? Had it been the one firing the cannon, and now stalked through the woods after him?

Shaking the snow off, happy his ear had stopped bleeding, he made sure to watch out for the stalker as he crept through the underbrush. He needed to find Cadance, and quickly, and return to the Empire, and he could hardly search as well as he’d hope to while this monster chased him. A sudden gust of wind howled through the trees, sending piles of heavy snow from the tree tops. He kept low, eyes darting this way and that, looking for any out of place shrubbery that would turn into hungry animals. Armor came to a full stop as he saw a deer in the distance, looking alert, but ignoring him for the time being. He thought to call out and get the buck’s attention, but something was off about it; it kept repeating the same motion over and over again, rigidly and without variety.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked, trotting up to it and the bush it was repeatedly snacking on. At first, seeing the plastic body and movement lines, he wanted to run, but morbid curiosity drew him closer. The buck was animatronic, like something one would see in a carnival freakshow, a thing for amusement and wonder, so why was it in the middle of nowhere, where nopony would ever see it?

“Oh, so you talk, eh?” the shrub said, as it yanked him to the ground. There was a needle jab, and his vision jumped for a moment. “I hope you don’t mind that I used a sedative reserved for mountain lions and bears. No hard feelings, right?” Armor struggled against the stalker for a few moments, feeling himself slowly weakening as the tranquilizer wreaked havoc on his nervous system. For the second time that day, Shining Armor was put to sleep.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

        He awoke sometime later, when the sun was setting, or perhaps rising? He was indoors now, in a cabin or house that smelled of incense and wood smoke. His body felt heavy, his muscles sluggish and his mind cottony with the sedative’s lingering effects. He must have metabolized most of it, and awoken before his captor wanted, leaving him the chance to plan a counterattack. He shifted in the bed he lay on, creaking hidden springs louder than he thought possible, and cursed his own clumsiness. His hooves touched the wooden floor gently, without much sound; he knew the stalker could hunt by sound alone, so he needed to be very careful, lest he alert it.

        There was a rack of weapons on the wall, each similar to what the stalker had used, but all different; Armor didn't trust himself to use one at the time, with his mind so addled. He quietly stumbled through the cabin, careful not to trip over anything, and quickly found himself near the front room. The stalker lay in a  limp pile, and Armor realized that it had been wearing clothing, and merely discarded the brush-like camouflage it used to ambush him earlier. The smell of incense was heavier now, cloying and choking; Shining could barely keep himself from heaving at the overwhelming scent. The stalker seemed to like it, and maybe that hid his own scent enough to avoid it, so he took it as providence enough against this odd enemy.

        There was another scent in the air, one of oil and metal polish, accompanied by a dull, scraping noise. Armor sneaked around to find its source, hoping to avoid the stalker’s attention if he could, but he needed to know where it was to avoid it. It, or something with a similar build, sat at a table, its weapon in pieces before it, as it polished and fitted them together. There was a casual moment of disinterest as it looked up at him, uncaring as one might be to seeing a fly from behind a closed window. “Take a seat on the couch, if ya don’t mind,” it said, in a masculine voice. “Ah’ll be with you shortly.”

        Shining Armor looked at the odd thing as it went about it work, not moving from his spot as he saw the meticulous, precise work its fingers were capable of. A glass of scotch rested on the table next to its arm, which he sipped from on occasion; it didn't even have the equinity to shiver at the burning in its throat. Finally, as its task was completed, it placed its weapon on a small rack near the door, and took a seat on the couch opposite the one it wished Shining Armor to sit on. Seeing they were on equal footing, for at the moment he was without magic and it had relinquished its weapon, he took a moment to read a little sign above the door.

And they all lived together in a little crooked house.