The Drowned

It was the pattering of rain which finally awoke her from darkness.

Her ears twitch, beginning to pay heed to the sound of a casual downpour of rain bouncing off wood and sand, a hypnotic noise which maintained her state torpor. For a moment the drumming was all she heard, a gentle patter providing the soothing melody of nature, which threatened to lull her into sleep and dreaming once more.

Then a steady rumble finally caused her to force open her eyes… it was the rumble of thunder, of nebulous clouds, rich with rain and charged with potency. Suddenly the world became fuller, more diverse and richer in sounds and motions. She could hear more than just rain… waves… the lapping waves of the ocean which rolled and rumbled as they hit the sand, sending an almost unnoticeable tremor through the ground around her. The buffeting of turbulent winds, whipping through openings and causing the sand to gently hiss as it spread in from the ocean, the whisper of tattered cloth upon its breath.

Slowly and hesitantly she opened her eyes, squinting in the remaining daylight of a darkened morning, rich with untended storm clouds and thick with moisture. Her mind was still groggy, dulled and muddled from her sudden wakefulness, and she observed the world around her in a dazed, almost unconcerned way.

Suddenly a sharp touch ruffled the fur on her face, the icy caress of the air, rich sea air with all the smells that the ocean brought with it, of salt, of life… of death. This sharp sensory data brought order to her cognition of the world and she finally began to bring order and reason to why she was here…

But where there should have been memories… there was only darkness… A horrifying black spot where those things, ought to, no, needed to be! She bolted up on her hooves, stumbling from her quick assent and almost toppling over at a sudden rush of dizziness. She reached out a forehoof and steadied herself against something solid, strong, but also wet and soft.

Wood.

As she became aware of more and more of her surroundings, she realised was nestled in the shadows of the bow of a huge wrecked ship. It was an ocean going vessel of a very ancient design, a sleeping titan, ploughed up from the bottom of the deep ocean and thrown like a rotten carcass onto the beach… crippled without its aft, where only rotten fragmented wood remained, dulled and blunted by destructive forces of nature. Attached to those blunted splinters of wood hung old tarp, torn and ragged, which flailed and warped impotently in the growing breeze.

The lack of memories and the sudden awakening to a place she did not know frightened the mare… a million questions rampaged through her mind, all clamouring, roaring and demanding answers which she could not give. She whipped her head from side to side, her eyes bulging as she looked about intensely for anything which might bring those memories back, taking in the unknown landscape of an unfamiliar world as the wind whipped her mane and stung her muzzle with its bitter touch.

Where am I?

Who am I?

How did I get here?

Nothing answered these questions, no memory comforted her fears, no friend brought her security, nor did any object suddenly bring awareness to her situation. Above her the sky rumbled again, and suddenly a strike of lightning coursed through the sky and lit up the shade of the great ruined vessel she was in.

In that flash the ground lit up for a moment and she gasped at what she saw.

Symbols…

Thousands upon thousands of symbols.

They circled with ominous intent around her, painted and carved with great care, although expressing the crudeness of the primordial patterns of unknown origin… their purpose and nature as unfathomable and as esoteric as the storm which rumbled and roared above her.

They unnerved her. There was something malign about them, a wrongness which was but unexplainable and repulsive.

She did not want to be in this circle… there was something very horrible about it. Memories did not supply reason or logic for this deep set revulsion, but she knew that she must leave.

Now.

Stumbling chaotically forward on unsteady hooves, she made her way through the rings of malign stones, forging her way quickly into the light of day whilst panting in short, frenzied, panicked gasps. She did not understand why those rings of engraved stones had caused such fears to rise, but she knew deep within herself that this knowledge was both terrible and dangerous.

Blinking in the increased light she finally gained a better understanding of where she was, only hindered slightly by the downpour of rain.

She was standing on the shore of a great windswept beach, stretching for what must have been several miles in each direction, only halted by soaring, brooding, cloud haunted mountains on each side. Their towering presence surrounded the land on all sides, closing her in, all but behind her where the sea thundered, growing wilder with the coming of the storm.

Up ahead stood a quaint old fishing town—or village—she couldn’t really tell. The ground grew steeper up from the beach, coated in course, thick sea grass and the occasional sickly tree which obstructed her in getting a clear view of it, hiding it from sight. Higher than the village stood a tower of sorts; the mare had to squint to make it out, but she finally decided that it must have been some form or ruined lighthouse, the lamp long since destroyed, leaving only a tattered scorched spire of broken masonry.

A path gently twisted like a cobblestone sea serpent down the beach, breaking off in a tumble of rounded stones where the lime mortar had since been eroded by the weathering of time.

The deep set chill of her surroundings suddenly hit her as she had emerged from the protection of the maimed vessel, ruffling her fur and causing her to shiver slightly. The weather was steadily worsening, and the only logical course of action was to make her way to the village and seek accommodation. With this in mind, she made a hasty trot to the nearby road, climbing from the sand embankment and onto the smoothly worn stones of the path, with only a little difficulty from her shaky hooves. The stormy conditions buffeted her as she made her way across the way, and she hunched her neck into her shoulders, trying desperately to conserve warmth.

She glanced occasionally from side to side, hoping to spot something or someone which might supply shelter for the night, but there was nothing nearby, only the beach. As she looked however, she grew aware of several huge monolithic stones which surrounded the pathway, as if this route had once been part of an important Neolithic site.  After passing a few, she noticed on some that they contained some sort of crude pictograms or bass reliefs upon their cyclopean forms. Despite the cold winds buffeting her, her natural curiosity over such things temporarily overwhelmed her prime focus of shelter.

Pausing for a moment, she inspected one of the closer specimens quickly, attempting to discern what exactly they were. They seemed to show ponies in various activities of daily life, cooking, fishing, building houses and making boats… but there was something more to them.

On the one where she had paused to look at, she clearly saw that part of the stone had been chipped away intentionally with pony tools. It took up part of the lower regions of the stone engravings and the shapes and pictures above it seemed to suggest that it was part of the sea, above it on artistic spiralling waves, stood a fishing vessel with ponies on it. The queerest thing about it seemed to be that the ponies seemed to be standing on their hind legs, with their forehooves raised high in the air in adulation as if expecting something to emerge from below.

The thought made her shiver, and a small part of her was glad that the bottom of the bass relief was erased. A greater part of her grumbled at the destruction of the picture, a keen sense of irritation at the destruction of knowledge which it might have given her, no matter how mysterious or esoteric. Still, she couldn’t stop for long, turning her head back towards the sea, she saw the storm rolling in, bringing with it a heavy mist which even from a distance was discernible as a great influx of rain.

Something seemed a little different in the sight of the beach, and she struggled to figure out what it was.

Then she noticed it.

Where she had been previously at the hull of the wrecked vessel, there stood a dark, shapeless figure.

Her eyes bulged, a jolt of fright coursing through her system, but suddenly sands whipped up from the beach distorted her vision, forcing her to blink repeatedly and rub them with her hooves.

When the dust had passed, the figure was gone.

Had she simply imagined it? It didn’t seem likely, but how else could it have disappeared so quickly?

Feelings of confusion and not a small portion of fear filled her mind with all sorts of fanciful ideas. There was something deeply unsettling about that figure…. It shouldn’t have been there… it couldn’t have been there…The beach had been barren only minutes before!

“What is going on here…?”

The mare jumped at her voice, surprised by the first words she had decided to speak. Her voice was smooth, nice on the ears and somewhat… sophisticated. With the realisation of her ability of speech, she decided to begin to hum different tones, both high and low, exploring the new medium available to her. She continued humming as she climbed back onto the path, forcing her way through the rough grasses to its stony assuredness. The thoughts about the figure still clouded her mind, and she frowned.

Perhaps she had merely hallucinated that thing?

Was she simply imagining things? She could guess the shock of waking up in such a place with no memories might cause some temporary distortions of vision? Fear causing her to confuse shapes far away from her as real living beings?

But…

What if the thing did exist? What then? What was it doing standing out there where she had just been…?

Why had it been staring at her?

A chill not caused by any sea wind ran through her bones; perhaps it was better to put it out of mind. She started to trot faster on the road, now more and more concerned about making her way to the only apparent form of civilisation in the nearby vicinity.

“I hope they have someplace warm I can stay… I really don’t want to be out in this weather, it’s getting worse…” She muttered to herself randomly, her voice the only real clarified means of assurance that this wasn’t some horribly strange dream cooked up in the depths of her subconscious.

The rain began to pelt down harder than before, and the mare hunched her shoulders in response, her teeth beginning to chatter. Up ahead the rolling grassland gave way to easier terrain, and finally the full view of what she now knew to be a town was in plain sight.

A huddle of what were perhaps a hundred of so wooden cottages stood outlined in the dim light, the occasional flash of lightning brightening them momentarily. The rain suddenly picked up in its ferocity, increasing in a torrential deluge. With no other plan in mind, the mare decided to hurtle herself towards the nearest of the cottages, being blasted forcefully by the freezing downpour.

A sudden close lightning strike blasted the ground beside her and she reared and whinnied in fear and charging with total abandon, she finally reached the cottage and positively slammed her hooves on the door.

There was no answer.

“Hey! Is anyone here? Please let me in, I need shelter from the storm!” she pleaded, bashing the wooden door with increased desperation.

“Hello!?”

“Hello!?”

“Please! Can I come in?”

Nothing.

With no other options on hoof, she tried the latch.

Surprisingly the door opened, and the mare tumbled through, almost bowling over in her attempt to get away from the storm. Around her paper and dust flew into the air until she slammed the door closed with all her strength and bolted it from within.

With the storm muted to howling outside, she finally got a better look at the place she had entered.

By all accounts it was a relatively normal looking fisherponies cottage.  A mixture of wooden and metal cooking implements lined the walls, a large pile of heavy netting lay in the corner and a central hearth took up most of the middle of the one room building. Woodcut table and chairs stood sparsely about the place on each side of the building, holding various knives, cutlery and even the occasional oily scrap of cloth. On front wall there was a large homespun tapestry of sorts depicting fishing life, and to the right there laid a well worn sleeping hammock, which suggested the last occupant had been accustomed to sleeping on a ship.

Overall however, the place was filled the appearance of a long period of time without occupation. Dust and ash hung heavy in the air and upon all the furniture of the building, only blasted away by the sudden turbulence of the storm near the door. Obviously this place had been abandoned for some considerable time. The only thing which looked out of place was the large pile of very ancient books with bits of paper and lists sticking out the sides. Curious, she quickly shook her wet fur to get rid of the worst of the damp, and trotted towards them.

As she did so, she noticed a fresh sheet of paper which had been laid out just next to the books.

It was a letter.

A casual glance revealed a beautiful script of calligraphy, refined and flourishing, yet there appeared to be a tense edge to it. It was as if the writer had been writing it under considerable duress, a slight tremor here and there sullied the almost perfect work, as if some deep fear had come to express itself manipulatively from the writer’s subconscious…. The writing…. It seemed… familiar to her.

The mare paused at the paper, staring down at it in curiosity, she began to read.

To my faithful student, Twilight Sparkle…

Sparkle!

Twilight Sparkle! That seemed familiar… Could it be? Could it be… her name?

“Twi -Light…. Spar-Kle,” she laughed, it sounded nice, familiar… maybe it was her name! It seemed so familiar to her, something that she had heard every day.

Something stirred within her subconscious memory… Yes… It must have been her name!

“Twilight Sparkle.” She nodded decisively, sure of it now, and broke out into a wide smile.

She said it a few more times, stressing different parts of the word in order to familiarise herself once again with it. Growing satisfied with what seemed to be the correct pronunciation of the name, she turned her attention back to the letter.

“February 4th, the Nine hundredth and ninety ninth year of My Reign.

To my faithful student, Twilight Sparkle.

I am so glad to hear back from you in your investigations in the North of Equestria, alive and well, but I am also saddened by the news that you brought me recently.

The Seabreeze and its crew seemed like a fine vessel and I am aggrieved to hear of its loss to the ocean storms shortly before its arrival in Waveport. Still, the one dearest to me is safe and my pain is eased by the joy of your escape from the clutches of the ocean.

I will send proper compensation to the widows of the crewmembers- although I doubt it will ease the pain in their hearts- and send out a search party in case of other survivors, although the chances do seem slim. In any case we shall honour them in the hall of the valiant for their duties in the defence of Equestria when you return with the thing which we both seek. I will also resolve to reward Waveport for their compassionate assistance of my beloved student and for rescuing her from the ocean; may the ponies there benefit from our mutual success.

I must apologise again my dear student for hiding that book from you for so long, perhaps I knew you would find it eventually. Perhaps I had wished myself into a state of willful ignorance… I know you have forgiven me but I cannot let it out of my mind. I have searched the better part of a thousand years for the right collection of ponies, or a form of magic, or even someone powerful enough to face The Darkness That Is Coming. It has all come to naught, and so in desperation I have fallen upon our final plan…

May heaven forgive us for we are about to do.

We both agreed this was the only thing which we had the option putting into motion now, and with the consultation of my inner council of mages, it is the only possible way we can stave off the Nightmare which is to come, without the right ponies embodying the Elements of Harmony.

I know you agreed to follow through with it Twilight, I saw the determination in your eyes when you boarded the ship. You would do anything to save my kingdom from the Darkness, but I want you to know I do not blame you if your resolve has faltered. What I have asked from you is… an abomination to all that I have worked for, but I believe sacrifices must be made in the face of the coming Nightmare.

The means and methods should be available in the books that I have given you, but what we are dealing with is a fickle thing, mysterious and esoteric as the sea itself. I would know. I ensured it would remain that way. The town of Waveport is probably the last place were the old ways still hold true, they also have the knowledge necessary for this in more pristine condition than I, or any book or specialist in Canterlot.

It is also “Its” place here and holds the best conditions for reaching it.

I must stress this Twilight, if you are not ready to follow through with this to the exact specifications, then the results will be catastrophic. You must be absolutely certain about this before you begin, I have faith that you will not fail me, but now I fear for all of us… I cannot help it.

You have my blessing Twilight, and my trust.

Please do not fail us.

Your loving teacher, Princess Celestia.”

Princess Celestia! She knew that name well. She was the ruler of… Equestria! Yes. That was right, Princess Celestia, divine ruler of Equestria… her teacher.

Twilight paused, chewing her lip upon the new revelations opened by this letter.

Why had the Princess sent her here? What was The Darkness That Is Coming? What was “It” or the Elements of Harmony? What had happened here?

What had happened to her?

She looked up from the page and stared out of the window just above it; the panels were splattered with obscuring rain which made the images distort and almost melt before her eyes.

Something she saw sent a chill down her haunches and for her eyes to bulge…

Something which shouldn’t have been there…

She saw black figures on the beach.