PonyScape: Where the Heart is

Chapters

Chapter 1 - First Impressions
Chapter 2 - A Heart to Heart
Chapter 3 - Choices, Legacies and Tea
Chapter 4 - Meet the Ranger
Chapter 5 - The Graveyard Shift
Prologue - Gone Fishin'

Chapter 1 - First Impressions

PonyScape: Where the Heart is

Chapter 1 - First Impressions

A plume of dust rained down from the store cavern’s ceiling, settling over Stardust and the sack of candles she was carrying. The unicorn looked up with a mixture of indignation and anxiety; half daring it to try it again, half praying that the rest of the roof wasn’t about to follow. Satisfied that there would be no more immediate downpours she exited the cavern, cringing at the clamour her hooves made; she was deathly afraid that the noise would cause a cave-in. While a slow death by starvation wasn’t a pleasant notion, it didn’t seem all too bad when compared to the thought of being crushed or suffocating to death under a ton of fallen masonry.

Reaching the corridor, she let out sigh of relief before carrying on her way, a fresh candle burning merrily and bobbing by her head. If she’d the energy to spare, the rest of the candles would be floating after her too, packed away in a box or basket. Instead she’d opted to store them in the sack that was now slung over her back. Despite her intentions of making life easier the sack’s straps bit cruelly into her shoulders, it contents weighing her down; magic or muscle made no difference, she’d be dangerously fatigued either way. Adjusting her load with a resigned sigh, Stardust plodded on, her echoing hooves setting a monotonous beat to her march.

The unicorn chewed at her lower lip, as she mulled over the morning’s events. After her chat with Mother, Stardust’s daily errands had gone by without incident. Mother’s Legacy was still alive and well, content to slumber peacefully until they were called upon. With that done, the day was hers to do as she pleased, and had her friends still been around who knew what mischief or adventures they would concoct. A smile flickered on the mare’s lips, but it was short lived. There was no point in her dredging up those memories; they belonged to a different pony, a carefree filly whose chief worry in life had been attending her classes on time.

No, the past was better left alone.

With the rest of the day needing to be filled, she’d resolved to restock her candle supply before doing anything else. She’d reached the Cavern without issue and had hastily set about transferring the waxy behemoths from the large wooden crates into a sack that she had thought empty, but was found to be the home of a solitary dry and wrinkly apple, which she’d pocketed as a treat for later.

Then the tremor hit.

Despite only lasting a few seconds, the results were far from brief. Icicles had rained down from the cavern’s roof, shattering into deadly fragments wherever they landed. Shrieking in panic, Stardust had bolted for the safety of the arched entry; her candle stub lost in her mad dash to safety, plunging the room into darkness. Bracing herself against the doorframe, her heart pounding and hardly daring to breathe, the mare had waited in the pitch dark for the sound of splintering ice and groaning stone to stop. Even when it had subsided, it was another minute or so before she was calm enough to focus on conjuring a tiny light to see by. Quickly returning to where she had dropped her sack, she had slung it over her shoulders and quickly made her way out of the cavern.

While cave-ins were a natural hazard of underground complexes forgotten and left to rot, earth tremors were a new feature. Stardust had done her fair share of research in the last five years; she’d had a lot of spare time after all, and the Grand Library didn’t see much business these days. Her point was that she was in the wrong part of the world for earth tremors, so unless something had gone wrong with the world’s geography, what had happened earlier wasn’t a natural occurrence.

Her first thoughts during the initial panic was that the soldiers had returned to finish what they’d started five years ago; not content with the slaughter, they were now trying to collapse the Sanctum to make sure nopony ever knew they were ever here. Dread had gripped her at the thought of, not her death, but Mother’s Legacy being buried beneath the earth; the last five years of her life squandered in an ultimately fruitless endeavour. When there had been no further tremors though, she had quickly dismissed the notion; when the soldiers returned she would know, and no mistake.

Now that she was calmer, she found her thoughts drifting back to her conversation that morning; Mother had told her that she was expecting somepony. The Green Stallion… Was it even possible? The unicorn chided herself for being so foalish. Myths did not show up on one’s metaphorical doorstep to answer the prayers of frightened and lonely fillies; she’d learned that a long time ago. And yet, Mother had seemed so certain, and trusting in Her wisdom hadn’t led Stardust wrong in the last five years.

So lost in thought, Stardust hadn’t noticed that she’d missed the turning for the dorm wing. She was jerked awake from her reverie to find herself in front of the large double doors to the Grand Library. The unicorn cursed her daydreaming; she was pretty much on the far side of the Sanctum. This is what you got when you let your mind wander. Painfully aware of the weight on her back, Stardust didn’t relish the thought of backtracking without a decent rest first. Remembering the wizened apple in her pocket, she decided that the Library was as good a place for a break as any other; in all likelihood she’d have come here after storing the candles anyway. Gratefully shrugging off the sack, she left it propped against the wall before opening the doors and slipping in.

The Grand Library, her sanctum within the Sanctum. Here Stardust was able to forget herself, her situation, even the Duty for just a few hours a day. For a few hours, she could be anypony; an explorer of strange unknown lands, a great warrior and defender of the weak, she was limited only by her imagination and the books before her. It was here that she truly felt alive again, if only for a few hours a day. But it was worth it. The candle bobbed by her head as she wandered down the aisles of bookshelves that stretched as high as the ceiling would allow, their mysterious and foreboding peaks lost in the haze of unsettled dust. While she was an avid reader, Stardust very much doubted that she could ever read the entire Library in one lifetime, let alone the lifetime she had left. Besides, there were only about thirty or so that she really enjoyed, any others had simply been a passing fancy and returned to the shelves with either satisfaction or disappointment.

It was one of these treasured thirty that she was seeking now. Truth be told, she’d not thought about it for a while, and it was only her conversation with Mother that had brought it to mind. Now, where had she – Aha! Stardust smiled as she retrieved her prize from the shelf; it was a very battered and dog-eared tome, whose spine appeared to have been repaired several times to no avail. Holding it with her magic, Stardust quickly made her way back through the aisles to the reading area near the front of the Grand Library. In the day, there would have been and dozen or more ponies sitting at the desks, or reclining in armchairs provided, reading in the comforting warmth of the log fires that had blazed merrily in the large fireplaces. While it didn’t have the same air of invitation now, it was still a comfortable enough place to read.

Setting both the book and candle down gently on a desk, Stardust fished the apple out of her pocket and made herself comfortable. Taking a bite of the wrinkly fruit, she scrutinised the cover of the book; age had faded the colours, but the words and design, embossed in faded silver ink, were still discernable: “The Green Stallion and other Foalhood tales” and beneath them, what looked like a stylised dewdrop.

Flicking through to the story she was after, Stardust began to read. She was vaguely aware of a distant crashing somewhere in the Sanctum, but ignored it; cave-ins were part and parcel of her life after all. What did grab her attention was the moaning wail that echoed along the empty corridors. Stardust went rigid, an icy tingle of fear running up her spine. What was that? A tense few minutes passed before it sounded again; a bewildered and confused howling. Stardust leapt to her feet, sending her chair clattering over backwards. She cursed at the racket it made. Again, the noise sounded, a lost and lonely cry. Stardust forced herself to calm down.

Be rational, she told herself; clearly the roof had caved in somewhere and it was just the wind blowing through. She’d just have to find the source and block it off. The noise didn’t sound again. The wind must have changed direction, she reasoned, and went to right her chair. But then her ears pricked at the sound of something else, something far more insidious; fnip-fnap-fnip-fnap-fnip-fnap. Panic resurfaced and dread gripped her once more; this was no wind. Something was inside the Sanctum with her!

fnip-fnap-fnip-fnap-fnip-fnap

And it was coming this way!

It was dark, it was cramped, and it stank of something the mage couldn’t quite place. However, Aliks was out of the wind, and for that much he was grateful. The blizzard had descended without any warning; one moment he’d been trudging through the snow, intent on sating his curiosity, the next he was fighting his way blindly forward, one hand clamped on top of his head to keep his hat in place, the other fruitlessly stretched out in front. The wind had been so loud in his ears that he’d missed Cres’ warning about an “immediate-inclination-ahead” and he had half skidded, half tobogganed down the wall of his spell’s crater on his rump. While fully aware that the higher-powers didn’t do much in the way of miracle working, by this point he had been fully prepared to thank all of them for what he had found at the crater’s base; a trapdoor. Not bothering to question the chances, he had blown it open with a smaller fireball and quickly ducked inside.

However, now that he was safe, relatively speaking, his paranoia had begun to act up again. The fact that the storm had vanished with as much warning as its arrival once he was inside didn’t help, either. Had his mysterious foe conjured the storm to drive him into these tunnels? To make him so desperate for shelter that he wouldn’t question where it came from? Could they perform an encore if he dared to venture outside again? He shook his head in an attempt to dispel such thoughts; the answers were here, somewhere.

Wand outstretched, he conjured a small pilot flame to see by. The tunnel stretched out before him, like the throat of some great beast. Well, he didn’t have any other plans. Keeping his wand held high and his free hand on the tunnel wall, he set off into the welcoming dark. The wall was oddly smooth; as his fingers brushed over it they encountered no signs of mortar or other blocks, almost as if it were a natural formation, or one seamless slab expertly hollowed out into a tunnel. Either way, it spoke of amazing Skill in Construction.

“WARNING: Obstruction-ahead.” Cres’ voice announced.

The mage moved his free hand in front of him and, sure enough, encountered resistance. Again, he couldn’t help but notice it shared the same seamless quality as the rest of the tunnel; beautiful workmanship to be sure, but unnerving too. So, he was at a dead-end; now what? Would the walls suddenly start closing in, and crush him to paste? Or would the exit seal off and leave him to suffocate? Or would the perpetrator swing by for a quick gloat before dispatching him personally? Either way, he had clearly reached wherever his mysterious foe had intended him to be and was now completely at their mercy; so, where on ‘Scape were they? If they’d gone through all the trouble of engineering his arrival to this particular place, they could at least have the decency to show up when dramatically appropriate.

Sighing loudly, he crossed his arms and leaned on the wall. At least the cold wasn’t so bad down here; benefits of an underground lair, he supposed.

“WARNING: Fault-in-structural-integrity-detected!” piped the little robot.

Cresbot wasn’t wrong; Aliks could feel the wall shifting under his weight. Not such a dead-end after all, it seemed. Placing both his hands on the wall, he pushed with all his Strength until black spots danced in front of his eyes and his elbows and shoulders creaked from the strain.

If walls could look smug, this one definitely would. Pausing only to catch his breath and wait for the spots to vanish, Aliks backed up a few metres and levelled his wand at the wall; if that was the way it wanted to play, fine. A ball of pressurised air exploded from the end of the wand and struck the wall, punching a head-sized hole in the masonry, and blasting debris out the other side in a series of crashes and thumps.

Aliks tutted; credit where it was due, the masons had certainly built to last. Still, he reasoned as he sheathed his wand, now that he had a hole, maybe he could loosen some more stones by hand; he had a finite number of runes, after all.
After ineffectively trying to disperse the brick dust by fanning it with his hat, the mage grabbed hold of the exposed stones and pulled, expecting it to resist to the end. He was rather surprised when the whole wall swung inwards with very little effort; it was a door. Who in their right mind designs a door to look like part of a wall? Shelving it with the other unsolved mysteries of the day, Aliks walked through.

What was on the other side of the door-wall took his breath away; it was a grand hall of stone easily worthy of any Dwarf King, with great columns that reared up towards a vaulted ceiling that was lost to view in the dark gloom high, high above his head; the flickering light from his wand stood no chance. Questions buzzed around his mind, bullying all paranoid ramblings into silence through sheer enthusiasm; how long had it taken to build this place? Had been intended as an underground complex, or had it simply sunk as time marched on? If so, what had it been built from for it to last so long?

He let out a long whistle of appreciation, which echoed around the cavernous hall. A childish grin then spread across his face as he took a deep breath.

“ECHO!” he bellowed and listened appreciatively as his voice bounced off the stone walls until it dwindled to a mere whisper.

“Cresbot-assumes-Aliksandar-has-found-the-chamber’s-acoustics-satisfactory?”

The mage chuckled.

“Lighten up, Cres,” he grinned, “After all that we’ve been through today, I think we’ve earned a little levity!”

“Request: Acknowledged. Executing.”

A bright beam of light suddenly radiated from the little robot’s display-light, piercing the dark to a much greater effect than Aliks’ pilot flame.

“I didn’t mean that literally,” he mumbled, “Have you always been able to do that?” he queried, extinguishing and sheathing his wand.

“Request-for-information-acknowledged. Answer: Yes.”

“Then why, in Guthix’s name, didn’t you say so before?” he fumed, thinking back to all the times past when a light source would have been handy.

“Aliksandar-has-never-enquired-about-the-full-extent-of-Cresbot’s-functions.” The robot replied, sounding a little indignant.

“Fair point,” he conceded, “Let’s take a look around, shall we?”

With his Trusty Companion cutting a swathe through the gloom, Aliks ambled over to the nearest of the columns. Again, at first glance it seemed to be one massive chunk of stone carved into the appropriate shape; with closer inspection and Cres’ light-beam, he could see the neat, almost invisible, hairline cracks where one stone ended and another began. The stones had been fused together; whoever had built this place had some serious magic to call on.

Masonry aside, his attention was drawn to the fresco of carvings around the pillar’s base; his inner archaeologist knew that time could eat away at almost anything given enough… well, time, but something else had beaten time to the punch. The carvings were chipped, gouged, and even looked to have melted in some places to the point of being unrecognisable, though the subjects looked vaguely humanoid.

Just what had happened here?

As he turned from the pillar, his foot sent something skittering away into some far corner of the chamber.

“Wonder what that was?” he murmured.

“Request-for-information-acknowledged. Answer: Cresbot-believes-it-was-a-femur.”

“As in the bone?”

“Yes. Cresbot-advises-Aliksandar-look-to-the-right.”

He did so. The light-beam illuminated something Aliks could have done without seeing. It was a massive pile of bones, haphazardly stacked in the centre of the chamber; every one of them was charred as black as night. Now he could place the smell from earlier; death, decay, desecration, lots of “D” words.

Aliks was no stranger to bones; he’d excavated many, buried plenty, fought more than his fair share of the animated variety. Bones held no fear for him. But the blank-eyed stares and soot-stained smiles of the blackened skulls were decidedly unnerving.

He cocked an eyebrow at the pile; there was something… off about them, but he couldn’t tell what. He made his way over to the pile and gingerly picked up one of the skulls. He felt a shiver run up his spine as his fingers touched the charred object; something truly terrible had happened here. Not wanting to keep hold of it for longer than necessary, he quickly examined the grisly object. The proportions were unlike any race he’d encountered before, whatever the creature had been it would have been a sight to behold; two impressively large eye-sockets stared blankly at him, and in the middle of the forehead was an odd indention the likes of which he’d never seen before. The rest of the skull seemed more reasonably proportioned, if slightly larger and more elongated than that of the average human.

Not wanting to earn the ire of some vengeful ghost, Aliks reverently replaced the skull and backed up a respectable distance. He gazed around the chamber again. Just what was this place, a temple or a charnel pit? He looked back to the pile of bones.

“I wonder who they were?” he whispered sadly.

“No-data-available.” came the muted reply.

The mage turned away from the pile and walked further into the chamber; he could see several passageways leading off in various directions. Clearly this had been quite the busy place in its heyday, judging by the pathways that had been worn into the stonework. Still, there had to be at least one soul still living here; his mysterious foe, the one who had brought him here.

Cupping his hands, he issued a challenge.

“COO-EE! I’m right where you want me!”

He waited for the echoes to die away, and was surprised to hear a muffled cracking sound come from the easternmost passage.

“Did you hear that?” he asked his Trusty Companion.

“Request-for-information-acknowledged. Answer: Yes. Unfortunately-Cresbot-was-unable-to-determine-the-source.”

Aliks shrugged. It was better than nothing, he supposed. Keeping his wand at the ready, he started down the passage way, his sandaled feet echoing around the enclosed space.

fnip-fnap-fnip-fnap

“Is anyone there?” he called, not expecting a reply, “I’m not here to hurt you… unless of course you were planning to hurt me first, in which case I suppose I am here to hurt you. But be fair, it’s just pre-emptive self-defence and you did start all of this!”

“Cresbot-is-certain-that-any-sane-opponent-would-be-quivering-at-such-bravado-Aliksandar.”

The mage grinned sheepishly.

“It did get away from me a bit, didn’t it?”

The silence said it all. Resolving to keep his mouth shut, he turned his attention to the passageway. Again, it was built of the same magic-fused stone as before. He found himself put in mind of his brother’s tales of the fortress of Daemonheim, whose sprawling dungeons seemed almost limitless in the number of horrors they could produce. He couldn’t help but wonder what horrors could be waiting for him beyond the next bend.

A literal light at the end of the tunnel hadn’t been top of his list it was, nevertheless, a welcomed alternative. At the far end of the passageway, there was a flickering light coming from a pair of double doors that had been left ajar.

“Cres, can you dim that head-light of yours?” he hissed to his companion.

The bot made no reply, but the light-beam dimmed significantly, returning the passageway to its natural gloom. Pressing himself up against the wall, Aliks sidled towards the double doors. Reaching them, he carefully and ever so slowly pushed them open wider with his foot, and stole a glance inside; it looked to be a massive library, with some sort of reading or study area near the front, the light had been coming from a candle on one of the desks. Someone had been here recently and, in all likelihood, was nearby.

“Watch my back.” he whispered.

“Acknowledged.”

Keeping his wand ready, and eyes peeled for the slightest hint of treachery, Aliks stole into the library. He carefully picked his way towards to the candled desk; its chair was overturned, which explained the noise he’d followed. What was more interesting was the half-eaten apple left abandoned next to an open book.

“Looks like we interrupted lunch,” the mage mused, picking up the wrinkled fruit and examining the tooth marks; he may not have been an accomplished Hunter like Ayla, but he knew enough basic biology to recognise that whatever had been eating wasn’t human, “I guess we weren’t expected after all…”

“ALARM: Threat-detected!”

Cres’ panicked scream drew Aliks back to reality, and he spun around just in time to receive a heavy blow to the front of his head. He crumpled with a grunt, the apple dropping to the floor. Dazed, he was vaguely aware of a slender figure sprinting away, caught in the full glare of the little robot’s light-beam. He was dazzled further when Cres turned its attention to him.

“Aliksandar-are-you-hurt?”

“I’ll be fine,” he muttered, blinking repeatedly to try and shift the black shapes that swirled across his vision. He could hear his attacker’s footsteps retreating down the aisles of bookshelves; they could run fast for someone in heels, “Don’t let them get away!”

“Acknowledged!”

As the little robot tore away after the assailant, Aliks groggily got to his feet, leaning on the desk for support. They may not have brought him here, but at the very least they might know something about this place. Pausing to pocket the fallen apple and massage his bruising forehead, he gave chase.

Terror and adrenaline spurred Stardust to run faster than ever before; she was running as if all the monsters of Tartarus were at her hooves, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth in all honesty. What was that thing? Oh, Mother save her, what on Equus was that thing? It had looked like some tailless, furless earth-pony, whose face had been crushed and legs broken to bend the other way.

Was it chasing her?

Had she killed it?

She turned sharply and raced down Ca-Co. She’d had to leave her candle behind and couldn’t spare the energy for illumination; running in the dark was dangerous, she knew this, but she had also spent the last five years of her life walking these halls. Light or dark, this was her home and she knew every inch of it. Confident that she now had enough distance behind her, she leaned against the bookshelves and fought to catch her breath. Black stars danced in front of her eyes as she forced herself to calm down, replaying the events of the last few minutes over again in her head.

On hearing the thing’s approach, Stardust had manically run through her options; barricading the library was out of the question, the desks were far too heavy for her to move, even with magic, and the chair would offer no resistance. She could try losing it in the library, but without a head start, the thing could probably outstrip her easily. The only option, so far as she could see, was to catch it by surprise, if she killed it all the better, and then try to lose it in the stacks. So, grabbing the heaviest thing that she could manage, (the Grand Library Index), she had taken position behind the double doors, and waited as the strange fnip-fnapping beast drew ever closer.

When the creature had finally entered, a strange mixture of absurdity and pity had kept her from immediately attacking. Its anatomy was so, well… wrong; sure it had the right number of arms and legs, but its head had been so small that she’d had to repress the urge to laugh at how comical the thing looked, fully aware that she shouldn’t underestimate this beast. Reasoning that any creature with such tiny ears must be a deaf as a post, she’d stolen up behind it while it played with her apple. She could have got a better blow in if something on its back hadn’t started wailing in alarm.

Still, she’d managed to knock the thing down and got away into the maze of bookshelves.

Now all she needed to do was loop round and out again, and get to the Vault. Mother would protect her. Her ears pricked at the approach of a sound, a bizarre metallic tint-tant-tint-tant. Whatever it was, it was coming towards her. Terror giving her second wind, she raced down the aisles again, turning at random intervals in a desperate attempt to lose her relentless pursuer. The metallic tint-tant didn’t waver though. Stardust rounded another aisle and bolted left, only for her heart to sink.

It was a dead-end.

The mare scrabbled at the wall in a frenzied panic, pummelling it with her fists as frustration, panic and terror all jostled for control. The tint-tant, now joined by the more insidious fnip-fnap, drew ever closer. This was it. Her only available choices were either try and climb up the shelves and hope the thing wasn’t intelligent enough to try climbing after her, or throw herself on its mercy. Well, put it that way and there really was only one choice.

Standing her ground, Stardust waited for Fnip and Tant to find her. A series of metallic chirrups and harsh grunts came from the mouth of the aisle. Here they come. As soon as its flat face came into view, the mare intended to charge at the beast, fists flailing, ready to punch, kick and bite her way out. Suddenly, a harsh beam of light washed over her. Stunned by the intensity, and finally succumbing to the inevitable, her legs gave out and she slumped against the wall.

Right when she had needed it, her body had betrayed her.

Stardust curled into a ball and waited for death; she only prayed that these monsters made it quick.

“I’m so sorry, Mother,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes, “I tried my best.”

Fnip and Tant came nearer, and stopped just a few metres away. She could hear what she assumed was a conversation, a series of guttural and harsh noises from Fnip, intermingled with Tant’s metallic chirping. She wanted to yell at them, to demand that they hurry up and do whatever it was they were discussing (probably how best to cook her), but she didn’t have the energy, and very much doubted they would understand her anyway. Finally the pair seemed to reach an agreement. Stardust could hear Fnip’s whistling breathing as it lumbered nearer and her nostrils were assaulted by the odd aroma of burning air. She braced herself for the worst and was understandably surprised to hear Fnip back up again.

Risking a look, the mare looked up to see the tall brute and the small creature that had ridden on its back at the mouth of the aisle, watching her curiously. Fnip made a series of pointing gestures at her hooves. Looking down, Stardust saw what the creature had left; it was her apple.

Was this some sort of trick?

Tentatively, she reached out and took hold of the half eaten fruit. Fnip nodded its tiny head and gnashed its teeth together. Deciding that she was better staying in this creature’s good graces, Stardust did as she was bid, finishing the fruit off in a couple of bites. The brute seemed satisfied by this. She eyed it thoughtfully as she chewed; perhaps it was intelligent, after all it was dressed in some form of clothing, though it had certainly seen better days. It was then that she saw something so shocking that she almost choked on her mouthful of apple; she’d missed it before due to the dark and her preoccupation with running for her life, but now she saw it as plain as day.

This had to be a coincidence. There was no other rational explanation. How else could she explain the fact that this creature was wearing the stylised dewdrop of The Green Stallion on its belt?

Chapter 2 - A Heart to Heart

PonyScape: Where the Heart is

Chapter 2 - A Heart to Heart

Despite the fact his skull was ringing like a church bell during an Essianday service, Aliks did his best to follow the retreating footsteps of his Trusty Companion and, just ahead of those, the person responsible for said ringing skull. Hiding behind the door; oldest trick in the book. Still, it had paid off. If Cres hadn’t warned him he’d most likely be kipping on the floor… or worse.

He stubbed his toe on something and cursed; while the distant bobbing of Cres’ light was dispelling some of the dark in this place, his eyes had yet to adjust. Ignoring the throbbing protests from above and now below, he strained his hearing and headed in what he hoped was the right way; his sense of direction wasn’t the best, he’d be the first to admit, and oddly being assaulted by a heavy book didn’t help. Neither did the fact that, in all likelihood, this was his assailant’s home turf; they’d been living in this dark place for who knew how long and could easily run circles around him. They could already have doubled back and out, assuming there was only one door to this place; they could have bolted through some backdoor, leaving him to chase ghosts in this blasted labyrinth.

He turned sharply, his sandals scrabbling for purchase on the flagstones, and jogged down another aisle of shelves. Just how big was this library? Considering how far he’d run, maybe big enough to hold an entire civilisation’s worth of literature. He’d just have to ask his new friend about it.

“Aliksandar! Cresbot-has-the-target-cornered!”

The mage skidded to a halt, grabbing hold of a bookcase to steady himself. Peering into the gloom, he could see Cresbot standing a few metres away at the mouth of another aisle of shelves, doing its best to appear menacing. Taking a few moments to catch his breath, and straighten his robes, Aliks approached his Trusty Companion.

“Good job, Cres,” he congratulated the little robot, who beamed with pride, “Now,” he drew his wand and peered into the gloom, “Let’s have a better look at our friend, shall we?”

Cres’ light beam cut through the dark between the bookshelves and illuminated the form of his assailant, who slumped to the floor and hid their face when the light hit them. He cocked an eyebrow at the strange, bedraggled creature; it looked like nothing he’d ever seen before. Its hair was lank and matted and the arms with which it hugged its knees were almost skeletal; he was amazed it had been able to run for so long when so undernourished. Its skin was unnaturally pale and grubby, stretched almost to breaking point across fragile looking bones, and it was garbed in what looked like some shabby gown or robe. What surprised him most though was that its legs ended with hooves instead of feet. Was this some breed of demon? He shook his head at the notion; demons didn’t skulk behind doors or run from confrontation.

What was this thing?

“Any thoughts, Cres?”

“This-creature-does-not-match-any-entry-in-Cresbots’-bestiary.”

The mage eyed the shivering wreck; it was clearly cold or frightened, more likely both.

“Well,” he sighed, “Only one way to find out I suppose.”

“Cresbot-recommends-Aliksandar-immobilise-the-creature-before-approaching: It-could-still-be-dangerous.”

Aliks shook his head, a slight smile on his lips.

“While I appreciate that you’ve been spending more time with Ayla, Cres, even she’d recognise this thing’s in no condition to fight.”

“Cresbot-makes-no-apologies-for-ensuring-Aliksandar’s-safety.”

Not wanting to cause further alarm, Aliks sheathed his wand and slowly edged his way towards the cringing ball at the far end of the shelves. Truth be told, he had no idea what he was going to do. He could try introducing himself, but then again there was no telling if this thing would understand him; a friendly introduction could be mistaken as a threat. Heck, for all he knew this thing probably thought he wanted to eat it.

Eat…

A grin spread across Aliks’ face. He’d had an idea; he still had the apple from earlier so maybe, just maybe, he could convince this odd thing that he really had no interest in doing it harm. His grin widened; sometimes he impressed even himself.

As he drew nearer he was able to make out more of the creatures characteristics; for a start, what he’d assumed to be skin was in fact very fine and pale fur, marred with dirt and other unspeakable grime. Clearly whatever water was available down here was reserved exclusively for drinking, as the smell emanating from the creature attested. Trying his hardest not to gag, the mage brought the half-eaten fruit from out of his pocket and placed it at the thing’s hooves. He quickly backed to a respectable distance to where the air wasn’t quite so… solid.

Now all they could do was wait.

It didn’t take long for the creature to stir. It looked up from its foetal position and regarded the mage with terrified incomprehension. Aliks was taken aback; not by the alien proportions of its face that matched the skulls he’d exhumed earlier, nor by the presence of the spiralled horn protruding from its forehead (which explained the indentations on the skulls). What took his breath away was how gaunt and sunken this pitiful creature’s face was; the only difference between it and the skulls was that it was still alive. Somehow that made it worse.

Remembering his plan and trying not to stare, he pointed dramatically at the apple by its hooves. The creature looked at the fruit as though it might explode and then regarded him with suspicion, before tentatively reaching out and taking hold. Aliks gave what he hoped was an encouraging grin and nodded enthusiastically, and mimed chewing for good measure. The creature gave him a wary look, but finished off the apple regardless.

Aliks looked down to his Trusty Companion and grinned. “There you go,” he declared, gesturing to the chewing creature, “We’ve made progress and without having to restrain anyone!”

Cresbot gave the mechanical equivalent of a sigh and fixed the human with a despairing W.

“Cresbot-is-impressed-with-Aliksandar’s-conduct. However-this-does-not-solve-Aliksandar-and-Cresbot’s-primary-issue.”

The grin vanished. The bot was right; they were no closer to finding a way to repower the fairy ring, or the mysterious foe who had engineered their arrival here. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and kicked at the floor despondently. His gaze drifted over to his new friend, who had long since finished the apple and was now subjecting him to the most invasive gaze he’d ever encountered. Its large eyes were moving across his body, examining everything; he felt as if his very soul was being studied for imperfections and judged out of ten on that basis. Needless to say the soul-piercing scrutiny was incredibly unsettling; what was truly disturbing, however, was when its line of sight gravitated and lingered below his midriff. Resisting the urge to pull his cloak around him, he turned his attention back to Cresbot.

“Well, we could always try asking for help.” He suggested, gesturing at the far end of the shelves.

“Does-Aliksandar-believe-this-organic-capable-of-communication?”

The mage shrugged, “Honestly? I don’t know. But we won’t know unless we try, right?”

“No-data-available.”

All things considered, that was probably the best he was going to get. He returned his attention to the aisle’s other occupant at, who was still staring at him. Off-putting as it was, Aliks could forgive it; who knew how long this poor creature had been alone down here? How long had it been since it had seen another one of its own kind, let alone a human; he was probably the most fascinating thing to have happened since Guthix-knew-when…

This wasn’t helping.

He needed to focus.

There had to be some way for him to communicate the emergency of the situation to this being; Pictograms? Mime? Interpretive dance? It was clearly intelligent but then again (by some stretch of the definition) so were goblins. A movement at the end of the aisle drew him out of his musings; it was getting up.

Well, if he was trying to make a good impression he might as well be a gentleman.

Leaving Cresbot to sputter warnings, Aliks walked to the end of the aisle, remembering to breathe through his mouth this time, and offered his hand to the struggling creature. It flinched away, eyes screwed tight as it pressed itself against the wall, as if the proffered appendage had teeth.

The mage sighed inwardly.

This was going to be fun…

Stardust’s mind was racing; not the frantic, adrenaline pumping thoughts of a mare running for her life, but those of any rational pony confronted by what was obviously an entirely new species.

The creature seemed to be locked in some sort of debate with its shorter counterpart, leaving her free to study the strange creature in greater detail. Its anatomy suggested that it was some breed of ape, though it looked nothing like the pictures in the books she’d idly read some months past; biology was not her forte. Still, anatomy aside, she found her gaze inevitably drawn back to the mark on its belt. It had to be a coincidence. The Green Stallion was a myth; an old mare’s tale, one of, if not the oldest, designed to tell little foals not to be too proud, else they’d miss what was right in front of them. While the titular character’s appearance varied with who was telling the tale, the one constant was his cutie mark: a single cyan dewdrop; the same mark that adorned Fnip’s belt.

Stardust reached a decision; the question of whether this was the mythological figure in some form of disguise, or just a very cultured and coincidental ape could wait. Mother had been expecting somepony, and if this creature was her guest, then she’d delayed it long enough. She started to get up, and cursed as her legs buckled under her; the remains of the apple had helped, but she was still dangerously fatigued. Leaning on the wall for support, the mare tried again.

fnip-fnap-fnip-fnap

Stardust looked up at the ape’s approach. Tant was squawking at it from the aisles mouth, but it ignored it. The mare froze; had she been wrong after all? Was this clothed ape going to kill her? It reached out towards her. She flinched away, unable to do anything other than shut her eyes and press herself against the cold stone of the wall, willing it to absorb her. The seconds ticked by. After about half a minute, Stardust risked opening an eye. The bipedal ape was standing about a metre from her, hand still outstretched and a look of, what she first assumed was exasperation but quickly recognised as confusion on its strange, flat face.

Realisation dawned.

It wanted to help her up.

Tentatively, she reached out her own hand towards the offered appendage; the ape’s grip was firm, but gentle. It grunted softly as it helped her to her hooves, letting go only after it was certain she could stand unaided.

“Um… thank you?” she offered.

The thing gave her a bemused look and gave an apologetic gargle in response. Okay, so speaking wasn’t going to work. Perhaps body language would? She tried inclining her head towards it. The gesture seemed to register, and the ape inclined its head in return, a large grin on its face. It turned its attention to the small creature that trailed after it and barked what she could only assume was an order.

The strange thing chirped, and scuttled closer. Now Stardust could tell where the intense light from earlier had come from; the little creature’s triangular head was glowing. It stared up at her, the light from its head radiating from a narrow slit. The shape put Stardust in mind of how foals drew birds in flight. Unsure of what else to do, she inclined her head towards it as well, and gasped as the light-slit morphed into a line of dots. The shape morphed again and was replaced by a shoe-shape like arc, as it inclined its tiny head back.

Fnip laughed as the little creature scrambled up its leg and came to rest on its shoulders, peering over at her with its shoe-shaped “eye”. What a curious thing it was; it looked like a foal’s toy, yet by the way it moved was clearly alive. It must be magical, she concluded.

Struck with the recollection of what she was meant to be doing, Stardust took a firm grip of the ape’s hand, and started walking out of the aisle and back into the labyrinthine library. Seeming content for her to lead the way, Fnip made no sound of protest. She was grateful for the light its companion’s “head-light” provided; regardless of whether it was home or not, nopony liked to be left fumbling in the dark. It didn’t take long for them to reach the reading area at the Grand Library’s entrance. Pausing only to extinguish and pocket the candle that was still burning merrily on the desk and make certain that the book hadn’t been caught in the waxy puddle, Stardust resumed leading her strange companions through the draughty corridors towards their final destination.

The Vault.

As the bizarre trio progressed, Stardust couldn’t help but smile at the low cooing noises her companion was making; clearly it was impressed at the Sanctum’s architecture. She wondered vaguely what it was used to, and passed the journey with visions of straw roofed mud huts akin to those the very first equine had built to shelter from the untamed weather. Her daydreams were cut short by a gasp of wonder from Fnip.

She looked up.

They were here.

The great iron doors loomed high above them, bars frozen in place and rusted shut from the years of neglect. She glanced at her companions and tried very hard to supress a snort of laughter; Fnip’s mouth gaped wide and its eyes boggled at the sight before them, even Tant’s “eye” had morphed into a wide circle of light. Composing herself, Stardust went to knock on the iron behemoth with her free hand, and paused, struck by a rather absurd thought.

How was she meant to introduce this visitor?

She could hardly introduce it as “Fnip” as she’d mentally dubbed it, and didn’t want to panic Mother by telling her that an alien had dropped by to say “hello” either. Then again she didn’t want to raise Mother’s hopes by introducing this well-dressed ape as The Green Stallion either. An idea struck her; she knew of a way to rule out The Green Stallion theory, at the very least.

The one constant.

Letting go of the ape’s hand, she turned around. It greeted her with a look of polite curiosity. Not bothering with the vocal approach this time, the unicorn plunged straight into the physical realm. She pointed first at the symbol on its belt, and then to its flank, where a pony’s cutie mark would be. She fixed the ape with what she hoped was her most questioning look and waited for a response.

It scratched at the hair under its jaw and garbled incomprehensibly.

Sighing inwardly, Stardust repeated the gesture, putting a little bit more emphasis behind her gestures. Again, she was met with incomprehension.

Making no effort to hide her frustration at the creature’s inability to understand what was meant to be a very simple question, she decided to cut out the middlemare and show the dumb ape what she meant. Bending down the grabbing the hem of her robe in one hand, she started pulling it up, only to be interrupted by an unintelligible spluttering. She looked up to see Fnip’s face had darkened in colour and had contorted into an uncomfortable grimace. She cocked an eyebrow in bemusement as the truth dawned; it was blushing.

Well, she thought, if prudery wasn’t a sign of intelligence, she didn’t know what was.

Smirking to herself, she pulled the robe to her waist, and with her free hand, pointed vigorously to the large six-pointed star that adorned her flank; her cutie mark, the icon that symbolised not only her talents with the mystic arts, but also marked her as one of Mother’s chosen Daughters. She let her gaze linger, enjoying the fond memories the mark held, before looking back to Fnip, and gesturing enquiringly at it. She scowled, and her tail, free from the confines of her robe, flicked in agitation; Fnip was making a point of looking at anything other than her now semi-exposed lower body. She snapped her fingers irritably to try and draw its attention back to her flank; its eyes reluctantly swivelled to the source of the noise, briefly acknowledged what was there and quickly away again.

Deciding she’d tormented the prudish creature enough, Stardust let her robe fall to the ground again, and cleared her throat, letting it know that it was safe to look. Once she was certain that she had its attention, she repeated her question. Comprehension flashed in its eyes. Pointing to its belt and then its hip, the ape made a series of wild hand gestures and shook its head vigorously. She had to admit, a little bit of the excitement that had been steadily building died then; this wasn’t The Green Stallion after all. It had just been coincidence, or her subconsciously seeing the icon where it wasn’t.

Still, curiosity persisted; if the mark on the belt wasn’t this thing’s cutie mark, then what was it?

Her query got the same response of wild gestures and shakes. She wasn’t sure what to make of it; was this thing so prudish that it didn’t want to show off something so natural? It was possible, given its earlier reaction. Still, she wanted answers, and she reached out and tugged at the ape’s robe gently. It jumped as if stung and swatted her hand in response, frowning warily at her. She persisted through its discomfort and tugged again until its shoulders slumped in resignation. Grumbling incoherently, it bent down quickly and grabbed its robes, causing its passenger to gibber in alarm as it was nearly dislodged, and pulled them up to its waist quickly before letting them drop again.

Now Stardust understood the reluctance; there was nothing there. Just a bare patch of skin. Also, she now felt fairly confident in assuming that Fnip was male; the low voice and hair growing around its mouth and down its neck had suggested as such, what was between his legs pretty much confirmed it.

Curiosity sated, and feeling slightly guilty at what she’d put the poor blank-flank through, she reached up and rapped on the iron doors. She took hold of Fnip’s hand again in preparation; noticing he was slightly more reluctant this time.

“Mother?” she called, “Its Star. Sorry to disturb you again, but I’ve brought a… a friend to meet you. May we come in?”

Almost immediately, she felt the familiar sensations of teleporting, and the world changed around her. She looked to her right, wondering just what Fnip’s reaction would be: Would he be surprised? Afraid? Or entertained? Considering he’d let go of her hand, she was willing to bet a mixture of all.

She was shocked, however, to find herself addressing empty air.

Fnip had vanished!

“Just when you think life can’t get any more awkward,” the mage sighed, staring first at his now empty hand and then at the great iron portal, “It throws a gnomeball at you, eh Cres?”

“ERROR: No-data-available!”

Aliks didn’t need his Trusty Companion to explain this one; someone had tried to teleport them and, while it had moved one of them, their spell had “splashed” on him. It was embarrassing, but it happened to even the most senior and formidable of wizards; it was more life threatening in combat scenarios, but every other time it was cause for awkward silences and shuffling feet.

Despite how well they’d been getting along at first, with the whole leading him out of the library thing, he was now rather glad to be away from the crazy-tattooed-horse-woman, (the absence of certain parts had cleared up that little mystery), and he was eternally grateful to any higher power present that Ayla would never know about this; he knew that she’d never buy the idea of him flashing against his will.

He felt a charge run through his body, and a brief moment of motion-sickness; they were trying again. Quick as it came though, it faded just as fast; whoever was on the other side was having a really bad run of luck.

Suspicion reared its ugly head.

Or, they were using a breed of magic which he had been rendered immune to years ago.

His wand was in his hand in a flash, not that it’d do him much good if his suspicions paid off. Still, it was better than nothing.

One didn’t challenge a Young God with fists alone.

“WARNING: Aliksandar-your-heart-rate-has-increased-exponentially!” came a worried voice from his shoulder, “What-is-the-matter?”

He was about to answer when a horrendous squeal of tortured metal assaulted his ears. His wand fell to the floor as he clasped his hands to the sides of his head in a vain attempt to block out the auditory assault.

What the heck was happening?

Looking up, his question was answered, and his mouth dropped open in awe. Slowly, fighting against the rust of decades and shattering the ice that had frozen it in place, the great iron doors were slowly swinging outward. A hail of ice and rust rained down around him, forcing the mage to throw himself the floor, and curl as tightly as he could manage. After what seemed like an eternity, all was silent again, apart from the ringing in his ears and the occasional plink of falling ice. Looking up from his prone position, he could see Star-flank standing in the open doorway, looking equal parts amazed and horrified at what had just happened, massaging her ears. She looked at him quizzically, and a guilty expression decided to camp on his face.

Getting to his feet and brushing himself down, he gave an apologetic grin.

“Sorry,” he laughed nervously, “My fault.”

Before she could respond, there was a flash of blue light from the dark beyond. She turned around and spoke something unintelligible, before turning back to the sheepish mage and motioning him to follow her. Retrieving his fallen wand and keeping it to hand, Aliks edged forwards cautiously. The room beyond the iron behemoths had an odd bluish tint to it; it made his spine tingle in all the wrong ways. Star-flank motioned for him to hurry up, and waited for him beyond the portal’s threshold.

Aliks got the feeling that if he wanted the answers he needed, then he had very little choice other than to follow.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, there was a deafening crash as the doors thundered shut behind him. Well, there was no backing out now.

At least the room wasn’t in total darkness; there was a faint blue glow emanating from the… well, the thing at the room’s centre. A flare of phosphorous light left purple and green blotches dancing across his vision as Star-flank relit the candle she’d pocketed earlier; he didn’t even see where she’d put the matches. Reaching out, she took hold of his unresisting hand, and pulled him gently towards the centre of the room.

The light from the candle did very little to dispel the gloom around them, and was vaguely tempted to have Cres light their way, but reconsidered; he’d caused his guide enough grief over the past hour and didn’t really want to offend her further. A tell-tale rapping from under foot and a vague sense of nausea suggested that they were on some kind of metal catwalk suspended above a pit of some kind. He instinctively drew closer to his guide, crazy-tattooed-horse-woman or not, and tightened his grip. He wondered what was lurking down there in the abyss; probably just dust and bones of those who’d let their curiosity trump their self-preservation. He shivered at the thought, and focused his attention on the soft blue glow ahead; it was drawing nearer.

After what seemed like an age of walking, the trio finally reached the centre of the cavernous chamber. Now Aliks could clearly see the object that had been bathing the room in soft blue light; it was a large heart-shaped gem, seemingly suspended in mid-air and humming softly. Aliks mouth gaped; it was without doubt one of the most beautiful things he’d ever laid eyes on; Ayla’s description of the fantastic Kharid-Ib diamond seemed like a cheap knock off compared to this beauty. It was the most, well… real thing he’d ever seen.

His sixth sense, which he’d dubbed “World Guardian sense”, stood up and screamed at him; this was powerful Elder Magick, the raw reality bending alpha and omega stuff of creation and destruction. The one thing he should absolutely, definitely, never-ever-do was touch the thing!

All these warnings went unheeded as Star-flank took his unresisting hand and placed it open-palm on the heart-gem’s surface.

Aliks world exploded.

His veins both burned and froze as though ice and fire coursed through them; his head felt like it was being beaten by a lead club; power and knowledge surged through him; one instant he knew everything, the mysteries of the multi-verse unravelled, but before he could focus on anything, it was violently ripped away from him; he opened his mouth to scream, but no noise would come; he felt as though he was falling though infinity, but at the same time standing on the sturdiest ground possible; all six of his senses screamed at him and then, blissfully, went numb.

He was left …standing…falling… floating in limbo.

...

…

...

Flash

An image sped past his eyes, gone before he could register anything.

It was quickly replaced by another, then another, and then another.

Each one was ripped away and swallowed by the white nothingness before he could really understand what it was that he was seeing, but somehow the knowledge, the memory, registered calmly in his mind.

Flash

A group of horse-like creatures walking on all-fours as nature intended; nature was only capable of so much on its own.

Flash

The same group, only now they were bipedal, their fore-hooves transformed into dextrous fingers and thumbs. Aliks looked at the sight and felt content; they could accomplish so much more now!

Flash

A collection of winged horse-creatures staring down at him, their expressions thunderous; he knew full well what he’d done and wasn’t ashamed to admit it!

Flash

A vast and empty cave system, isolated from the rest of the world; this would suffice. Here he would watch over them, teach them, guide them towards their true potential!

Flash

The images came faster and faster, blurring into a kaleidoscope of shapes, colours and emotions; each memory was calmly filed away in his brain for later.

Flash

Rather than a static image this time, Aliks found himself in a world of grey shadows; something told him that this memory wasn’t a fond one, judging by how vague it was. Voices whispered in the greyness.

Aliks strained his hearing, uncertain as to why, but desperate to know what made this memory so terrible.

“…certain that this will work?” the voice seemed to ask. Its tone was cautious but well spoken, and he guessed from the pitch that it was a woman doing the asking; he was put in mind of his female tutors in the Tower.

Straining again, he heard another voice that made him shiver.

“Oh, absolutely!” the voice wheedled, “I can guarantee that these are just the guys to solve your little problem, my dear.”

He heard a voice like this before; to a voice like this, life was just a game. It didn’t matter what happened to the pieces in the end just so long as it had fun.

The voices seemed to get fainter, the words inaudible no matter how hard he strained his ears. Suddenly the sound came back; winds roared and howled, an icy presence passed over him and suddenly he knew what cold truly was. But what truly froze his blood was the triumphant laughter that echoed above it all; not the cruel laughter of the villain victorious, but the merry chortle of a trickster triumphant!

A name escaped Aliks’ mouth as the grey was swallowed by the white once more.

“SLISKE!”

The air was forced from his lungs as he hit the ground. Or whatever this white oblivion was.

He pushed himself up on… nothingness, and looked around at… more nothingness.

Oh, he knew where he was now; he’d been here before. It was still just as depressingly blank as it had been then.

This was the threshold of his Mind.

Despite being a mental projection, he straightened and dusted down his robes.

“What on ‘Scape was that?” he wondered aloud.

“My greatest mistake.”

The mage spun on his heel. Behind him was a horned creature not unlike Star-flank, although the horn and clearly being female was where the similarities ended.

This one was better fed and dressed in flowing white robes that matched the colour of her glowing fur. Her mane and tail shone like the sun and flowed ethereally. Both were a rich red that seemed to change shades as it rippled in the non-existent wind; one moment it was auburn, the next blood-red, then a glossy ruby. The creature smiled benignly at the mage, and unfurled an impressive set of wings, whose feathers held the same warm, white glow of the fur.

“I know you,” was all he could manage to say.

The Alicorn laughed softly.

“Indeed,” she politely inclined her head towards him, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, World Guardian. I am your mysterious foe, but you may choose to refer to me as Faust if you wish.”

She blinked her large eyes at him, sorrow and regret passing over her face before she forced a smile once more.

“I believe it is time you and I had a little heart to heart.”

Chapter 3 - Choices, Legacies and Tea

PonyScape: Where the Heart is

Chapter 3 - Choices, Legacies and Tea

Aliks scrutinized the apparition, running her words through his head carefully; was that a joke? It had sounded like a joke, but the smile was hardly genuine. He had no way to gauge how powerful she was; this was, after all, the being responsible for his marooning and giving her cause to do something unspeakable to him, (like laughing out of turn), would be very, very stupid.

“I’m sorry,” he asked hesitantly, “But was that a joke?”

Faust ignored this and gestured at the pair of comfortable looking cushions that had suddenly always been on the “floor”. She sat down, unhindered by the wings or flowing mane and tail, and busied herself with the ornate tea-set that was next to her. Aliks enviously regarded the soft blue aura that skilfully manipulated the crockery; Young God or not, she had an astonishing aptitude for telekinesis.

“I imagine you have a great many questions, World Guardian,” She filled two cups and sent one floating towards her guest, who eyed it suspiciously, “Please, have a seat. I will answer all that I can.”

The mage cautiously accepted the floating cup and gave its steaming contents a sniff; he wasn’t sure what to make of any of this.

“What is this?” he asked, gesturing at the impromptu tea-party.

His host blew on her cup to cool its contents before answering.

“A memory of my favourite blend, which I believe you’ll find to your liking. Please, sit; there’s no reason to stand on formalities here,” she drank deeply and immediately grimaced, “Oh, Titans,” she retched, “That’s far stronger than I remember.”

“It helps if you add milk.” Aliks found himself saying, taking his seat and sipping tentatively; it had a slightly bitter, earthy taste to it. He briefly considered sweetening it with a drop or two from his hipflask, but doubted it would really make a difference in here. Better to stay sober anyway… for now at least.

“You must excuse me,” the alicorn apologised, “It’s been a long time since I’ve entertained, let alone spoken to, anypony other than my dear Stardust, the mare who guided you here; she has been my sole friend throughout these dark days, as I have been hers,” she took a sip of her now milky tea and smacked her lips appreciatively, “I do hope she didn’t cause you too much trouble.”

Aliks rubbed the lump on his forehead; mental projection or not, it was still throbbing.

“I’ve had worse,” he confessed, a small smile playing over his face, “Though being smacked ‘round the head with a book was certainly novel.”

He smiled hopefully, but was met only with a quizzical arching of an eyebrow; so the previous puns had been coincidental. Shame. Taking another sip of his tea, which had now always been milky, the mage pressed on.

“So, you said you’d answer my questions?”

His host nodded behind her cup.

“Then I’ll start with the obvious; why am I here?”

“That’s rather existential,” she forced a small chuckle, “But I take it you either mean ‘Why am I on this world?’ or ‘Why am I on the threshold of my mind?’” She set her cup floating to one side, and cleared her throat, “The latter is because this is the easiest way for me to communicate with you; by linking mind and memory, we are unrestricted by the chains of language that previously fettered you and my dear Stardust.”

Aliks nodded behind his cup; that saved him having to ask why he was able to understand her, at least.

“As to the former,” her forced smile was quickly replaced by a truly wretched expression, “I must confess that your arrival on this world is my fault.”

“I’d guessed that much already.”

“You misunderstand,” Faust replied, “What I mean is that your arrival was accidental; I had intended to attract the attention of another.”

This needled the mage; being caught on a line was bad enough, but being told it was reserved for a bigger fish was just insulting.

“So,” he set down his cup and tried to appear unoffended, “If I wasn’t the target, who was?”

“I had hoped to seek the aid of The Green Stallion,” Faust sighed sadly, “Alas, you are living proof of my plan’s futility.”

“Wait, what?”

“It doesn’t matter now; I would appreciate you not asking me further on this.”

Aliks bristled; after all he’d been through today the least she could do was be plain with him. Then again, it would probably be better not to push the issue; his host was clearly in no small amount of distress over this topic.

“Alright then, next question: You mentioned ‘linking memory’ earlier; Is that what those images were?”

“Correct. They are what I consider to be defining moments in both my life and the world’s history,” a mirthless smile tugged at her mouth, “They were intended to apprise The Green Stallion as to how the world came to be in such a dire state.”

“Then why show me?” Aliks all but shouted, having had enough of cryptic replies, “If I’m not this green-horse-thing, why cram your life story into my head? I’ve more than enough unpleasant memories of my own without yours thrown into the mix!”

Faust said nothing while the mage ranted, and sipped at her tea thoughtfully until he’d finished.

“I am truly sorry for any discomfort you experienced during the link,” she began, setting her cup aside, “The amount of information was not intended for a mind as young as yours. In truth, I am amazed that you are able to contain such a wealth of memory.”

She shifted slightly on her cushion and fixed the mage with a probing gaze; Aliks was put in mind of a hungry dog wishing there was more meat on its bone.

“If you would permit me a question, World Guardian; how much you remember from the link?”

Aliks rubbed the back of his neck; her stare was more off-putting and invasive than Stardust’s. Not wanting to offend her further, he screwed up his face in an effort to remember.

“Bits and pieces, mostly; a lot of it didn’t make any sense,” he responded lamely, shrugging in apology, “All I really got was an image and a strong sense of whatever you were feeling at the time.”

“I see.” Disappointment flashed across Faust’s face.

“But,” the mage continued, “I look at you and I… know things about you; why you had to leave your home, why you chose to come to this world, and why you’re bound to the Heart,” wincing, he massaged his temples, “My head hurts if I try to focus on any of it, though.”

Faust’s stare glazed for a moment, preoccupied with her own thoughts, before becoming attentive once more. She nodded her head in thanks.

“Then your mind has successfully assimilated the memories, but I’m afraid it will be some time before you can understand them,” she paused to drain her cup, which immediately refilled itself, “Although, since speaking with me seems to have eased my personal memories into place, you could theoretically hurry the process by exposing yourself to specific external stimuli.”

“So, the memories unscramble themselves if I look at something relevant?”

“More or less,” Faust admitted, cringing at the oversimplification. “However, there’s clearly too much for your mind to understand at once," she cautioned, "It would be better to let the memories come at their own pace.”

“So I can look forward to headaches for the next few weeks,” he replied wryly, “Good to know. But that still doesn’t explain why you crammed all of this into my head in the first place.”

He picked up his cup and drank; it wasn’t so bad once you got used to it.

Faust shifted again and cleared her throat.

“As I mentioned before, the link had been intended for The Green Stallion. In my current incorporeal state, I had no way of knowing who Stardust had brought into the Vault and no reason to suspect it would be anypony other than Him; only an entity of great power could resist my magic,” guilt flashed in her eyes as she absentmindedly toyed with the folds of her robe, “Only after the link had been established did I realise my mistake, and by then it was too late; severing the link prematurely could have ripped your mind apart.”

Aliks nodded in understanding; having another person’s life sloshing around his head was certainly preferable to spending his life as a cabbage. He drained his cup and set it down, ignoring that it had refilled.

“So, next question; what happens now?”

“Now?” Faust set her cup down and stood up, the tea-set and cushions ceasing as she did, and offered a hand to the cross-legged mage, “Now you have a choice, World Guardian.”

Stardust sat on the far side of the platform, hugging her knees tightly, watching her metal foe.

Fnip lay sprawled out in front of the Heart where he’d collapsed, with Tant using the former’s hat to fan the recumbent figure, pausing every so often to throw accusatory glares her way.

She could hardly blame it, being partly to blame for its partner’s current state; in her defence she’d had no real way of warning Fnip about the side-effects from making direct contact with Mother’s consciousness, but truth be told she hadn’t expected such a… violent reaction. Her own experience had been little more than a light headache and a sensation of vertigo; full body seizures and collapsing was certainly new.

She’d tried to make her new friend as comfortable as possible, cushioning his head with his satchel, in addition to checking for any injuries he might have suffered during his fall; the vault had not been designed with comfort in mind. All of this would have been significantly easier if Tant hadn’t been attempting to punch, kick and head-butt her shins, wailing like a stuck cat all the while; the thing had only calmed down once she had retreated to her corner, obviously more concerned for its companion’s wellbeing than exacting vengeance on his behalf.

That had been half an hour ago.

Stardust sighed and shifted her position; her rump was going numb from sitting on the cold metal for so long and her back was stiff from hunching over. An aggressive, metallic chirping drew her attention back to the centre of the platform; satisfied it had her attention, the diminutive creature, sporting its angry birdwing slit of light, pointed at her and slowly shook its head.
Its meaning was quite clear.

Do. Not. Move.

Her tail flicked in irritation.

Who did this thing think it was? This was her home; they were her guests and it was beyond unfair the way this… toy was persecuting her for something that had been completely beyond her control. Not to mention that she was cold, sore and incredibly hungry; it felt like hours since the dried apple.

She had had enough!

Getting to her hooves, Stardust groaned with relief as blood began to work its way through her stiff limbs. An indignant squawk drew her attention to the centre of the platform; Tant had dropped the hat and was waddling over, with as much authority as the stunted toy could muster.

The unicorn snorted; time to set a few things straight.

She waited for Tant to draw closer, before lifting a hoof and bringing it down as hard as she could.

The chamber rang with the sound of hoof-on-metal, freezing Tant in place; its eye-slit morphing into a wide circle as it stared at the slight buckling in the metal underhoof.

Stardust looked down at where it had stopped, arched an eyebrow and raised her hoof again, menacingly. The little machine gave a few worried tweets, before quickly turning around and scuttling back to its friend.

Satisfied that she’d made her point, the mare stretched, sighing contently as various joints audibly popped back into place, whilst ignoring the buzzing from her leg; it had been a stupid waste of energy, but definitely worth it. She glanced at the glowering machine as it tried to keep itself between her and Fnip, and chuckled.

“Don’t worry, its bad manners to eat houseguests,” she teased as she walked around the platform, hobbling slightly as her leg protested from the earlier abuse, “Besides, I’m not that hungry,” her stomach grumbled as if on cue, “Well, not yet anyway.”

The little toy glowered at her some more, before chirping something unintelligible and resuming its nursing.

Her visitors were certainly a strange pair.

Stardust turned from the centre of the platform and retreated to its edge, resting her arms on the railing and staring into the dark below. Was she an idiot for daring to hope? Was this strange ape the answer to her troubles? Was she going to have her life back?

She shook her head; who did she think she was kidding? She’d thought it herself: Myths didn’t answer the prayers of frightened and lonely fillies. She looked down into the gloom below again, her eyes stinging; this was her life, whatever was left of it, and no amount of clothed, blank-flanked apes and chirping metal toys would change it.

A groaning from behind her interrupted Stardust’s thoughts. She hurriedly wiped her eyes on the back of her wrists and composed herself before turning around.

Fnip was sitting up in a cross-legged position, massaging his forehead with one hand whilst the other was waving away whatever ministrations Tant was trying to offer. He gave a hacking cough and garbled something incoherent at the metal creature, which then backed away and seemed to fold in on itself; its little head and limbs retracting into its body in an almost tortoise-like fashion.

The ape grimaced as he massaged his throat, before opening up the satchel that had recently been serving as a pillow and pulling out a small silver flask. Unscrewing the lid, Stardust watched him take a large draft of its contents, before smacking his lips and letting out a sigh of appreciation.

“I needed that!”

Stardust’s jaw dropped.

The chamber’s echoes had to be playing tricks on her ears; there was no way she just heard that.

Smiling and seemingly unaware of his new tongue, Fnip looked over to where the mare was standing.

“Care to try some?” he asked, offering her the flask, “To be honest, you look like you could use a little pick-me-up.”

He shook the flask for emphasis; it made a seductively inviting sloshing sound.

Stardust stared at her guest; it hadn’t been a trick of the acoustics after all. Fnip, who had previously only ever spoken his own guttural language, was now speaking fluent equish; his accent put her in mind of a scholar, or a teacher.

She was at a loss. Should she answer him? Was there any guarantee that he’d understand her? Just because she could understand him didn’t necessarily mean it would work both ways.

Fnip sighed.

“Look, it’s perfectly safe!” he said, shaking the flask again, “If I wanted to hurt you, I certainly wouldn’t waste good whiskey to do it.”

Deciding to stay on her newly bilingual friend’s good side, Stardust walked over to where he was sitting and accepted the flask. It was clearly well crafted, with some form of curling script etched on to it. She sniffed at its contents, wincing slightly as the fumes burned the inside of her nostrils.

Fnip smiled and nodded encouragingly.

“Go on; you’ll thank me for it, if I could understand you, that is.”

The mare shook her head in disbelief; Fnip really was oblivious to the fact that he was speaking equish like his first language.

She turned her attention to the flask at hand, and gave a mental shrug.

What was the worst that could happen?

She lifted the flask to her lips and took a large swig of its contents. She immediately regretted her actions. Liquid fire burned down her throat and into her stomach. The poor mare coughed and spluttered, trying her best to wash away the burning taste from her tongue.

Fnip, however, was hooting with laughter. Stardust shot him a murderous look as the ape continued to snigger and snort.

“I-I’m sorry,” he managed to splutter, tears streaming down his face, “B-but that has to be the best reaction I’ve seen in years!”

The silver flask spinning through the air and hitting the giggling fool square on his forehead quickly sobered him up.

“Ouch.” He grumbled, rubbing where the flash had struck, “You’re starting to make a habit of that, you know.” He looked up at the belligerent mare and smiled apologetically, “Although I probably did deserve that one. Sorry.”

Stardust’s frown softened, and she inclined her head gratefully.

“Apology accepted.”

Now it was Fnip’s turn to look dumfounded. He rubbed the spot where the flask had struck him again.

“Must’ve hit me harder than I thought,” he muttered, retrieving the fallen projectile and draining its contents in one gulp. He looked back up to where Stardust was staring at him, her eyes wide with wonder. “Now what?” He asked testily, shifting uncomfortably, “The whole staring thing is really starting to annoy me.”

“You can understand me?” the mare asked, a slight quiver in her voice.

Fnip’s brows furrowed.

“You can understand me?”

“Of course!” Stardust replied, a massive grin splitting her face, “You’re speaking perfect equish!”

“I am not!” Fnip retorted, trying to stare at his own lips, “Am I?”

Stardust looked at the poor confused creature, and did something she hadn’t thought herself capable of anymore; she laughed. For the first time in five years, the emotional dam broke and the mare was washed away on a raging tide of relief and mirth. She laughed so hard that she thought her sides would split from the strain; she laughed so long that she worried she wouldn’t be able to stop.

All the while, Fnip just sat and looked on with an expression of utter bewilderment plastered on his bearded face.

“Was it something I said?”

Aliks looked on in bemusement at the hysterical horse-woman. He honestly had no idea how to react to all of this. He briefly considered waking Cres from sleep-mode, but all that would do was add an annoying automaton into the mix; Cres took its companionship programming very seriously.

Instead he opted to wait for her to calm down. From what he knew from Faust’s memories, this mare (the word didn’t even register as odd) had been through one heck of an ordeal; it was probably for the best that she let all this out. Aliks pocketed his now empty hipflask and tried to make himself more comfortable as he waited out the hysterics; Stardust had now slumped against the platform’s railings as she continued to giggle manically.

He wondered if the alcohol he’d given her was intensifying the hysterics.

The mage stole a quick glance at the gravity-defying gem next to him. No doubt he had the Young God within to thank for his crash-course in horse whispering. Normally, Aliks’d be worried about a god manipulating his mind so effortlessly without his consent, but in this case it hadn’t proved to be detrimental yet, so he simply chalked it up as another mystery for another time.

At this rate he’d need to start a list.

A cessation of noise from the other side of the platform drew the mage’s attention back to the still slumped form of his host. Stardust was gulping down the air in ragged breaths, tears of mirth still shining on her cheeks, her toast rack chest rising and falling with each. She looked absolutely drained, but on the plus side, she was still smiling.

Aliks got to his feet and ambled over to the hyperventilating mare, who was now drying her face on the sleeve of her grubby garb. Remembering to breathe through his mouth, the mage smiled and offered a hand to the recumbent unicorn.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

Stardust nodded, her breathing finally slowing down.

“Much,” she grinned, taking the offered hand and getting to her hooves, “I haven’t felt so… free in ages!”

“I can imagine,” the mage replied, deciding not to elaborate on just how accurate his imaginings were, “So, now that we’re somehow speaking the same language and no longer assaulting each other,” Stardust grinned sheepishly, “I think it’s time for proper introductions,” he held out his hand again, “I’m Aliksandar, pleased to meet you, “ he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at his resting companion, “The overbearing tin-can is Cresbot, or Cres if you prefer.”

The mare hesitated for a second, before grabbing the offered hand as firmly as she could manage.

“Stardust,” she replied, “And it’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Aliksandar,” she rolled the unfamiliar syllables around her tongue, trying to get a feel for them, “It’s a much nicer name than what I had been calling you.”

“Dare I even ask?” the mage chuckled, as he let go of her hand.

Stardust grinned apologetically and she looked down at her hooves, “It doesn’t matter, now.” she mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. She looked back up at Aliks with hopeful eyes, “Can you help us?”

The frankness of the question surprised him; he still wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be “helping” with; Faust had merely mentioned he would have a choice to make, before shunting him back to reality.

“Honestly? I don’t know. Your friend,” he nodded towards the Heart, “She wasn’t exactly very open about recent events,” he shrugged apologetically, “Heck, I wasn’t even the one she was after; all I wanted was a quiet afternoon’s fishing on the beach!” He failed to notice Stardust retreat back a few steps, her ears pressed flat, “Instead, I get dragged to a world of winter, chased by a sentient blizzard, lost in an underground temple, beaten on the head by a book and to top it all off, have an entire life’s worth of alien memories shoved into my mind! So, no; I don’t know if I can help…”

The mage trailed off, realising that not only had he been steadily increasing in volume, but his audience had retreated to the far side of the platform, a look of panic plastered on her face.

“But,” he continued in a softer tone, looking the worried mare in the eye, “Since I’m here, I’m willing to try.”

Stardust smiled nervously as she walked back over.

“I think that’s all Mother would want.”

Aliks sighed inwardly; he could try and run from it all he liked, but it would always catch up with him. This was his life, and no matter how often he played Portmaster, or Happy Families with Ayla, it would never change.

“So, where do we start?” he asked.

Stardust walked back to the far side of the platform and leaned over the railing.

“Down there.” She called over her shoulder.

Aliks ambled over and peered into the gloom far below.

“Terrific.” He muttered.

Stardust pushed off the railing and tugged on her grumbling companion’s sleeve.

“There’s a ladder near the entrance; back this way.”

She reached into her pocket for the candle and reignited it with a spark from her horn. She turned back to Aliksandar, who was retrieving various items from around the Heart; the hat was placed on his head, the stick was hung from his belt by the crook, and the sleeping toy was impossibly and, (to her personal delight), unceremoniously crammed into his satchel.

“Ready when you are.”

“Follow me, then.”

Stardust turned and set off along the catwalk, her candle casting just enough light to see by, not that she needed it. To be honest, it was more for her new companion’s sake than her own. A tell-tale fnip-fnap on the metal catwalk told her that Aliksandar wasn’t too far behind.

“So what exactly is down there?” his voice called from behind her.

“Mother’s Legacy.”

“And that is?”

Stardust smiled to herself; she was, to her surprise, quite enjoying holding power over her new friend in this small fashion. She wondered if this was how Mother felt all the time; to know all the rules of the game, whilst everypony else was left to guess.

“You’ll find out soon enough, Aliksandar.”

“Just call me Aliks, please; the only time I’m called 'Aliksandar' is when my wife is angry.”

This piqued the mare’s interest.

“You’re married?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“Have you any foals?”

An awkward silence descended for half a minute before, “…No.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be; it’s not your fault.”

Stardust resolved to keep quiet until they reached the end of the catwalk. She extinguished and pocketed her candle, then turned to face her friend.

“Just a moment,” She closed her eyes and focussed her magic; she couldn’t afford to be stingy at this stage, and both hands were needed, “You might want to close your eyes.” she warned.

Her eyelids reduced some of the sudden flare, and the startled cry from Aliks told her that he hadn’t taken her advice.

She sighed and smiled at the gently pulsating orb of light that now orbited her.

“How on ‘Scape did you do that?” Aliks asked, furiously rubbing his dazzled eyes.

“Magic,” the mare replied matter-of-factly, pointing to her horn, “Do your people not possess such abilities?”

Her friend shifted awkwardly, “Well, yes and no.”

Stardust arched an eyebrow, intrigued.

“It’s complicated,” he conceded, “I’ll explain later. So, where’s this ladder?”

The unicorn pointed at her feet; the “ladder”, such as it was, was a series of iron bars bent into shape and then hammered into the rock wall of the cavern.

Aliks gulped nervously.

“Ladies first?” he suggested, making a sweeping gesture towards the mare, who laughed aloud for the second time in one day.

“And everypony says chivalry is dead!” she teased.

“It is,” Aliks responded, “I just feel safer having you in front; that way I know you can’t hit me over the head with anything.”

Stardust grinned; this was the most fun she’d had in… well, a very long time.

Carefully, she lowered herself over and down the ledge, making sure her hooves were secure before taking hold of the top rung.

“Give me a minute before you start,” she instructed, “And don’t worry; I’ve made this climb once a day for the last five years, it’s perfectly safe!”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Aliks muttered, “Just make sure you keep your eyes forward; don’t try looking up my robes, okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she gave him a sly wink, “There’s nothing interesting up there, anyway.”

Leaving Aliks to mutter into his beard, Stardust began to climb down. The ladder held no fear for her; its rungs were old friends, polished smooth by her daily climbs of the last half-decade. She grinned to herself; all that was behind her now. For the first time in what felt like forever, she truly felt alive; there was a chance, no matter how slim, that she was going to live, but not only that, there was a chance she was going to get her life back!

She became aware that Aliks had just called something down to her.

“Sorry,” she called up, “What did you say?”

“I said: “So what’s your story, then?”

The mare shrugged as she continued downwards.

“There’s not an awful lot to tell. I’m an orphan, I grew up on the streets with my big sister; it wasn’t an easy life, but we had each other,” she smiled fondly at the memory, “Then, the winters started to get worse; food grew scarce and medicine scarcer, and of course nopony was going to give hand-outs to a couple of urchins.” She paused and wiped her stinging eyes, “So there we were, cold hungry, abandoned by society, when the Daughters found us.”

“Whose daughter?”

Stardust rolled her eyes.

“Mother’s Daughters. That’s who we are. They took us in, gave us a roof, fed us, clothed us, told us that we mattered, that we had a Mother who loved us indiscriminately; unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, she didn’t care. We were all her children.”

Silence from above, and then, “Pegasi? As in horses with wings?!”

The mare sighed again.

“Yes, they manipulate the world’s weather, but that’s not the point.”

“It’s still a lot to take in,” came the voice from above, “So what happened to your sister, and the rest of the Daughters?”

“My sister volunteered herself for Mother’s Legacy,” Stardust smiled sadly, “She always said she’d make the world a better place for me, no matter what. As for my adopted Sisters, they…” she trailed off, her mind revisiting the dark memories of ponies screaming for mercy, the sound of metal biting into bone and the sickening smell of roasting meat.

Stardust gave a cry of surprise as her hoof missed its footing, the sudden surge of adrenaline shocking her out of her dark reverie and back to the present.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! I just slipped, don’t worry!”

“If you say so,” the voice shrugged, “So what happened to the other Daughters? Why’re you alone down here?”

The mare hesitated for a moment before, “They’re gone. Just… just gone. And I’m not alone; I have Mother with me. And her Legacy, I suppose.”

“You keep mentioning this 'Legacy' of yours, but you haven’t told me a damn thing about it.” Came the rather irate reply from upstairs.

“Not much longer now, I promise,” she retorted, “Anyway now it’s your turn; I’m assuming you’re not The Green Stallion, so who are you and more to the point, what are you?”

“That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?” the voice above chuckled, “Well, what I am is human; I come from a world called Gielinor. As for the who, I’m nopony special,” she could hear his unfamiliarity with the noun, “Just your average itinerant scholar with a taste for fine whiskey and pyrotechnics. And that’s the truth.”

“There’s got to be more than that.” The mare protested.

“Not really,” came the reply, “I enjoy my books, I enjoy my drink and every once in a while I blow something up; its pretty standard, to be honest,” there was a pause, and then, “Is it me or is it getting colder?”

“It is,” Stardust shivered, “Mother designed it this way; the cold was ideal for her Legacy’s gestation.”

“Gestation?”

She ignored him as her hooves touched the stone of the cavern’s floor. Stardust quickly extinguished her light-globe and pulled the candle out of her robe’s pocket, igniting it once more.

“Come on,” she called up, “Not much further.”

Aliks watched the candle light below start to bob away from him.

“Hey, wait for me!”

He let go of the ladder and fell the remaining distance, landing heavily on the cavern floor. He cursed as he massaged some life back into his protesting legs, before jogging after the retreating light source, paying little attention to the lines of ovoid stones that stretched along either side of him. Again, he couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly his new friend could move despite being so underfed-

The ground suddenly failed to be where it was supposed to be, leaving the mage falling forwards in the gloom. Fortunately his foot didn’t fall far, landing with a splash in some sort of canal running down the corridor. He cursed again, shaking his sodden foot, hoping it wasn’t anything too unpleasant.

“Stay away from the centre of the aisles,” a distant voice warned, “The oil in that channel is highly flammable.”

“Thanks for the warning.” The mage muttered, removing his sandal and wringing it out.

Replacing the soggy article, he decided to take this opportunity to examine his surroundings; not wanting to poke Cres awake, the mage opted instead to use his wand again. Bathed in a small circle of warm, orange light, Aliks stepped over the shallow trench and approached one of the egg-like statues.

Faust certainly had interesting taste in decoration, he mused as he held his wand closer to the stone monolith; it stood about two and a half metres tall and, like the masonry in the rest of the complex, it appeared to have been carved from a single stone block. The stone itself was what caught the mage’s eye; it seemed to impossibly shift and flow as his wand-light passed over it, like a dark liquid.

Tentatively, Aliks reached out with his free hand to touch the shimmering surface.

A slender hand snatched out from one side and grabbed his wrist, prompting a startled yelp from the mage. He turned to see Stardust scowling at him.

“Don’t.” She warned, before letting go and starting off down the monolith-flanked corridor again.

Suitably chastised, Aliks followed her, extinguishing and sheathing his wand as he did.

They had walked past at least a dozen more of the squat monoliths before the mage finally broke the silence.

“What the heck is all this, Stardust?” he asked, gesturing at the shimmering stone eggs, “I think I’ve earned some answers now.”

Sighing, the unicorn stopped and turned to face him, “Alright, you’ve waited long enough. This is it, Aliksandar,” she gestured around her for effect, “This is Mother’s Legacy.”

The mage peered into the gloom, bewildered, “These giant egg-things? This is what all the fuss and secrecy is about?”

“Yes and no,” she beckoned, “This way. I’ll explain everything.”

She started at a slower pace this time, allowing Aliks to walk alongside her.

“How much did Mother tell you about our history?” she asked, still striding purposefully down the corridor.

Aliks whistled through his teeth, “Everything. She filled my mind with what she considered 'defining moments in history'; she told me it would be some time before I could understand them,” he grinned apologetically, “But it’s in here somewhere, though.” He tapped his temple for emphasis.

Stardust nodded, “Then I’ll try to be brief. Mother created her Daughters to ensure that relationships between the three equine races remained harmonious; for a long time it worked. We worked from the sides, making sure that nopony did anything too stupid. Then one day, everything just went wrong; I don’t know what exactly, this was long before I was even born, but I do know we were denounced as a cult, branded 'enemies of the state' and forced to go into hiding.”

“Okay, but how does this relate to your 'Legacy'?”

“I’m getting to that,” the mare sighed, “For a long time we tired our best to preserve harmony from the shadows, but things grew worse; the three races had always tolerated each other, but now they loathed each other, caring more for the advancement of their individual kingdoms rather than the world that relied on their cooperation.”

“So, then what?” Aliks asked, feeling that he should have brought snacks.

Stardust looked wretched, “Then… Mother grew desperate. She decided that if the three races couldn’t be shepherded, then they would have to be forced. She began searching for something, anything, that would force the three races to work together again.”

“And she found it.” Aliks muttered darkly.

The mare nodded, “She did what she thought was right,” she defended, “She had no idea that the windigos would grow so powerful once released; so little was known about them, and even then they’re only mentioned in myths. Mother never told anypony how she knew where to look.”

“Her greatest mistake, huh?” Aliks muttered, “I’ll bet she never told you who told her where to look, either.”

“Pardon?” Stardust asked turning to look at her friend.

Aliks shook his head, “It doesn’t matter,” he answered, “So, this 'Legacy' is Faust’s way of making amends for unleashing these windythings?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she replied, wincing at his casual use of the name, “but it’s much more than that; it’s a symbol that the three races can accomplish wonders, miracles even, when we put aside our differences and work together.”

“Okay, but what is it? Some three-way engineered weapon to drive away the windiwhos?”

Stardust stopped in front of one of the monoliths, setting the candle on the floor, “Not exactly,” she replied, “I think it would be better if I showed you.”

Carefully, the unicorn lowered her head until her horn was barely touching the shifting surface of the monolith. There was a spark of saffron light that caused the surface to ripple and Stardust quickly pulled her head back.

Aliks watched the gently pulsating liquid, wondering what was coming next. Stardust tugged gently on his sleeve.

“I’ll need to borrow your cloak.”

“Why?” asked Aliks, arching an eyebrow.

The mare grinned, “Because I’ve seen how easily you blush.”

“Oh… kay, then.”

He unfastened his cloak and handed it to his companion, just as the monolith’s surface began to violently froth and bubble. Aliks opened his mouth to shout in alarm, but was left dumb as he watched the boiling surface dissolve away, revealing the figure inside. The mage gaped; it was clearly equine, the hooves and tail attested to that, but its skin… shone with an ethereal glow, like a diamond catching the midday sun. He felt his eyes burn as he looked at the creature, but he couldn’t look away, either. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see the creature more clearly, though two particular details stood out.

Now his face was burning, too.

Doing his best to ignore Stadust’s giggling, Aliks turned his back on the scene and squatted by the oil trench, grumbling incoherently about how women seemed to be the same no matter the world. A light hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his funk.

“It’s safe for you to look, now.”

Getting to his feet, the mage ambled over to where Stardust had left the other mare, who appeared to be sleeping soundly under her makeshift blanket, blissfully unaware of the embarrassment she had caused. Whilst not as harsh as before, she still radiated a soft aura of light from her body, her shimmering cyan fur seeming almost transparent in the glow.

“Who is she?” Aliks wondered aloud, “What is she?”

“She is Mother’s Legacy,” Stardust supplied, “And with your help, she is going to change this world for the better.”

Aliks shook his head in disbelief, “And how are a couple of dozen shiny ponies going to achieve that?”

Stardust said nothing. She picked up the candle from where it was sitting, weighed it thoughtfully in her hand and threw it into the oil trench. The effect was almost instantaneous, as a line of yellow fire snaked its way throughout the cavern, illuminating the ranks of ovoid monoliths that stretched almost beyond sight.

“Good Guthix…” the mage whispered.

Chapter 4 - Meet the Ranger

PonyScape: Where the Heart is

Chapter 4 - Meet the Ranger

The sun hung low in the sky, yet the port was still a bustling hive of activity as the men, women, dwarves, sirens and more of Sarim went about their daily lives; dockhands moved crates to and from the moored ships, sailors lounged outside the pub, nursing drinks or singing bawdy shanties and a few shady individuals moved surreptitiously through the masses, lightening the purses of the unwary.

Brother Gerald thumbed through his heavily bookmarked and dog-eared copy of the Book of Light, and sighed. Sarim was not the easiest town to preach in; the locals were a brutal, unsavoury lot all too fond of their vices and sins. The port also saw a lot of traffic from the East, where for years the notions of Gods and worship had been laughed at. Still, if the infamous Cudgel of Draynor could spread Saradomin’s Glory among the heathens, then surely the same could be done for this hive of villainy.

He made the sign of the Star over his chest, trusting the Lord of Light to protect him from the worst of the degenerates.

Spying a likely soul in need of saving exiting the pub, Gerald straightened his tunic, opened the Book to a suitable passage, put on his best smile and went to intercept his quarry.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he called out, a spring in his step and voice, “Have you heard the Word of Saradomin?”

The dark skinned woman didn’t break her stride. Judging from the longbow and quiver of arrows on her back, she was some breed of ranger.

“I have, and I don’t care what he has to say,” She tossed her auburn hair over her shoulder “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve a meeting with someone.”

The priest bristled, but he honestly wasn’t surprised by such a response; preaching from atop a crate for the best part of the day had yielded similar results. Still, the love of Saradomin was ever-forgiving.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied, maintaining his smile and falling into step alongside her, “But Saradomin cares about you regardless! His light guides all his children; from the noblest lord to the lowest beggar-“

“And what about half-breeds?” came the curt reply.

Gerald’s words briefly failed him; he took a closer look at his potential convert. Her skin was lighter than that of an average kharidian, whilst her eyes were a blue more common to Kandarin.

“Saradomin’s light covers us all, regardless of our origins,” he improvised, determined not to let this one get away, “He is the avatar of Light and Order, and Champion of the People! When Lumbridge was besieged by the foul Zamorak, He and His champions fought valiantly to keep the innocents safe from the dread demonic hordes!”

“And left a ruddy great hole in the ground afterwards, didn’t he?” his companion retorted, shaking her head, “He didn’t even stay to help with the clean-up!”

“The point is He triumphed!” Gerald snapped; this ranger was starting to try his patience. He composed himself once more and continued, “When we needed Him most, He delivered us from chaos and asked for nothing in return!”

“But he didn’t finish him off, did he?” his companion innocently asked.

“Saradomin teaches that we should love our friends and show mercy to our enemies,” Gerald replied, his smile now glassy, “Even if they are the scion of evil!” He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

Perhaps sensing his exasperation, the woman stopped and turned to face him with a heavy sigh.

He saw this as his chance.

“Surely, after all Saradomin has done for us, the least we can do for Him is praise Him for His benevolence,” he added more teeth to his smile for good measure, “I hold a sermon every Caistleday afternoon, should you wish to give thanks for His Kindness.”
The ranger smiled sweetly, and Gerald’s forced grin vanished; it looked innocent enough, but her eyes told a different story… most likely involving daggers.

“Oh, I’d give thanks alright,” she assured him calmly. “I’d thank him for being a backstabbing bastard who almost wiped out my Lord Armadyl’s race. I’d thank him for all the idiots who’ve caused me no end of trouble over the years because of his teachings. Finally I’d thank him for doing sod all for me when I die, and may Icthlarin guide me to an afterlife where I’ll never have to put up with prattling twits like you again!”

Gerald had gone wide-eyed and pale, clutching his copy of the Book and trembling like a leaf in the wind. His eyelid twitched. He had had enough! He would not stand idle in the face of such- such blasphemy! Time to give this- this- this heathen a piece of his mind!

The ranger gave him another sweet smile as he drew himself up to his full height.

“Talk to me again and I’ll put an arrow through you,” she warned.

The priest’s retort caught in his throat, and he deflated as he watched her disappear in the crowd with a cheery wave. Trembling all the while, he slowly walked back to his crate and all but collapsed in relief. He’d made up his mind; as soon as his tour was over he was going to request a year’s gardening duties at the Monastery. Menial work to be sure, but at least cabbages never made death threats.

Ayla weaved her way through the seething masses of Sarim, her indignation simmering gently under the calm veneer she presented to the world. Though they hadn’t helped her mood much, the little priest and his pious ramblings weren’t to blame for this state of mind; at this point anything was potential fuel for her ire; the cold temperature, the smell of salt and unwashed bodies, even the absence of camel muck in the streets.

But the true source of her anger was all down to one man’s selfish stupidity.

When Arianwyn had first told her of the theft, she had had been surprised that someone would have the gall to rob the Grand Library. After hearing the name of a ship that had docked the same day and left all too soon after the incident, she had had her suspicions. And now that she had followed up on her suspicions through a few direct questions and several thinly veiled threats, she was all but spitting feathers.

Just what in Armadyl’s name did he think he was playing at?

Aside from breaking the fingers of a would-be pick-pocket, Ayla made it to her destination without further incident; the Port’s Office. Without breaking her stride, she slammed the door open hard enough to dent the wall behind it and prompt a stutter of alarm from the bespectacled clerk seated behind a desk strewn with paperwork, charts and navigator’s tools.

Pleasantries could go hang; she was a woman on a mission.

“Where is he, Duncan?”

The Navigator took a second to compose himself, adjusting his glasses and taking a few calming breaths, before focussing his attention on the woman who had just barged into his office.

“Ahem. I’d thank you to avoid any further damage to Port property, Ms Ayla,” he responded, shuffling some of the papers in front of him, “and I’m afraid that you’ll have to be a little more specific. Ahem. I’ve never had much of a knack for mindreading.”

Ayla gave the man a steely look.

“I’m looking for my idiot of a husband, Duncan,” she replied, walking slowly to the desk and counting off her fingers, “You know; average height, terrible dresser, looks like he could do with a shave and a haircut, a bit lacking in the common sense department, and oh yes, your employer!”

She slammed her fists on the desk, just to hammer the point home, prompting another stammer of terror from its incumbent.

“Ahem. I- I’m afraid I’ve not seen the Portmaster today!” he stammered, trying to keep the desk between him and the looming ranger, “It’s quite possible that he’s still in his quarters. Ahem. He’s been spending an awful lot of time in their lately!”

“Doing what?” she demanded, leaning in further.

“I don’t know!” he’d pushed his chair as far back as possible by now, “For the last fortnight, whenever he’s not away on business, the Portmaster has asked me not to disturb him. Ahem. Unless, and I quote: ‘The port is burning down around your head’!”

Ayla arched an eyebrow, and Duncan seemed to take the hint.

“Ahem. Th- though, considering the circumstances, I suppose an exception could be made. Ahem. Sorry, should be made! Ahem.”

Ayla took a deep, calming breath and released it slowly as she pushed herself away from the desk. The Navigator seemed to pick up on her improved demeanour and slowly inched back towards her and his desk.

“Ahem. I- I trust you know your way there?”

“Yes, thank you Duncan,” she replied with a gracious nod, “No need to trouble yourself.”

“Oh, good. Ahem. I- I mean, it was good to see you again Ms Ayla,” the clerk adlibbed, producing a handkerchief and mopping his brow, “Ahem. Safe travels.”

Taking care to gently close the door behind her, Ayla exited the Offices and out into Sarim’s hubbub once more. As she strolled along the promenade towards the Portmaster’s Quarters, she chided herself for snapping at Duncan; unlike the priest, the poor man hadn’t actually done anything to irk her; heck, he’d been the most willing help she’d had all day!

She made up her mind to apologise to him once she’d had a little heart to heart with her “better half”.

It wasn’t hard to miss the Portmaster’s Quarters, considering its lower exterior was dominated by a furnace built into the side of the building; Ayla always got the feeling that the architect behind its design had intended it to solely be a workshop of sorts, remembering only at the last minute that they had yet to provide any form of accommodation for the Portmaster, and hastily adding an extra floor above the workshop to meet demand. The end result was something that looked like it had come straight from a child’s idea of a Wizard’s house; needless to say, her husband loved the place.

His little sanctuary; a place where he was free to pursue whatever project had tickled his fancy this week, without having to worry about neighbours coming around and complaining about unpleasant smells, night time explosions or asking him why he’d daubed chicken blood on his front door.

Normally Ayla would be happy to let him keep his privacy, bothering him only when she needed a new supply of “trick” arrows, but not today.

Unsurprisingly, the door was unlocked when she tried it; he asked not to be disturbed unless it was important, so why should he have bothered to lock it? The interior of the workshop was its usual state of chaos; if there was a flat surface available, then it was guaranteed to be cluttered with any number of books, vials, dried herbs, ore samples or empty take-away food boxes. His problem, Ayla mused as she gingerly manoeuvred her way to the stairs at the back of the workshop, was that his interest in current projects waned as quickly as it waxed for new ones.

Armadyl only knew what any of these things were meant for, but she was certainly not going to touch any of it.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she climbed the stairs and braced herself for the horrors that awaited her in her husband’s bedroom/study. Opening the door, she gagged as something invisible from the room beyond assaulted her, stinging her eyes and clogging her nose. By the Staff, it smelled like a stable! Taking care to breathe through her mouth, she quickly moved across the room to where her quarry waited, slumped across his desk and snoring gently, drooling slightly on the papers that cushioned his head.

Wrinkling her nose, the ranger gave the desk a savage kick, startling its incumbent awake.

“Fwazzat?!”Aliks slurred, knocking his chair over backwards and sending the empty bottle that had been perched on the edge of the desk spinning to the floor, “Hoozit?! S’nomine!”

“Rise and shine, Dropout!” Ayla called cheerily, perching herself on the edge of the desk, “You’ve a lot of explaining to do.”

The familiar voice seemed to sober the man up quickly enough, and a guilty expression quickly camped on his face.

“Ah.” he grinned nervously, “If this is about me not telling you I was back safe and sound after vanishing two weeks ago, I can explain.”

She narrowed her eyes and the grin quickly vanished, “I was going to get to that part later, actually.”

She hopped off the desk and began slowly walking around it, idly stroking her hand along its surface.

“But first of all, my love,” she purred, watching his throat tighten, “I have a question for you.”

Seeming anxious to keep the desk between the two of them, her quarry started moving in the opposite direction, his eyes fixed on her hand.

“Oh? What’s that, then?”

Though her face was passive, Ayla winced internally at the reaction. She was not one for toying with people, having been on the receiving end once too often herself. However, she felt that she had to do this. He needed to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Have you ever seen an Elven Elder spit feathers?” she asked him, her voice deathly calm.

“Can’t say that I have, no.” came the response, his eyes flicking to the corner of the room and the large safe nestled there. It was a good thing he didn’t gamble, Ayla mused.

“Well, I can now say that I have; it’s quite dramatic, actually, and seeing all eight Elders in that state is a fearsome sight to behold indeed,” she explained, continuing her lazy pursuit, “I don’t suppose you’d have any idea why they were so upset?”

He shrugged, his eyes still trying to watch both her and the safe.

“Someone stole something from them,” she answered, “Something that is absolutely useless to anyone outside of Tirannwn, but incredibly valuable to the elves.”

“You know I’ve never had much luck with guessing games, Feathers.”

Pet names will do you very little good here, my love, she thought. This had gone on long enough.

“Let’s not draw this out any further,” she sighed, righting the vacated chair and claiming it, “I’m sure you have some clever and convoluted story to explain why one of your ships was in Prifddinas during the theft, but I’ll ask you not to insult my intelligence.”

He pouted.

“It was a really convincing story, too,” he sighed, realising he’d been beaten, “So, how did you know it was me?”

Ayla arched her eyebrows in surprise.

“Five years of sharing a name and you honestly think I wouldn’t recognise one of your schemes?” she leaned back in the chair, locking her hands behind her head, “I had my suspicions from the start,” she confessed, permitting a genuine, albeit brief, smile, “But I didn’t actually know until after I’d pinned Marcus to the wall.”

“Ah,” he intoned, his face paling, “You didn’t cause too much damage, did you?”

“Nothing a few stitches wouldn’t fix,” she shrugged, choosing to ignore her love’s face growing ever paler, “But I’m sure he has plenty of other shirts anyway.”

“Oh? Oh!” understanding dawned as colour returned and he smiled with relief.

Ayla leaned forward in the chair and raised a hand in warning.

“You’re not out of the woods just yet, Dropout. Not by a long shot,” she cautioned, lowering her hand to worry the ring on her finger. It was a gesture he did not miss, “You have no idea how much trouble you’re in right now. You’re lucky that the Cadarn Clan were able to persuade the others into letting me handle this for them.”

“Would it help if I said I was sorry?” he offered.

“It would help if you returned the City Seed you stole.” she snapped, slamming her hands on the desk.

“I can’t.”

Ayla stared at him as if he’d grown a second head.

“Aliksandar, you know that I love you, truly I do, but you can’t possibly be this dense! The Iorwerth elves are baying for blood; the more vocal are saying this is why the city should never have been opened to outsiders!” She stood up, knocking the chair over again, “If you don’t return the Seed, you’ll be jeopardising diplomatic relations between Tirannwn and the Eastern kingdoms!” She stormed around the desk until she was face to face with her husband, “We only just stopped fighting one war,” she hissed, jabbing him in the chest with her finger, “Are you really so eager to start another?”

Aliks looked wretched; he hung his head, unwilling to look her in the eye. His reply was barely more than a whisper.

“No.”

Her expression softened and she reached out for his face.

“Please, my love,” Ayla gently tilted his chin up so that he could see her sincerity, “Give it back.”

He raised his own hand to hers and kept it pressed to the side of his face for a few seconds before letting it drop and walking over to the safe. Even though his back obscured her vision, Ayla reckoned she could hazard a guess at the combination he’d choose. A minute later, the dejected mage was walking back towards her, a large cloth wrapped bundle cradled in his arms.

“Here,” he offered her the bundle, “It’s in perfect condition, I promise,” he walked back to his chair and righted it again, before sitting down and sighing heavily, “Back to the drawing board…”

Ayla hurriedly unwrapped the bundle to inspect it for herself. She breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered that the melon-sized, ovoid crystal was as her husband said; its dull grey facets were pristine and fracture-free.

Praise Armadyl for Marcus and his delicate hands.

Setting the bundle down on the desk, the ranger turned her attention to the figure slumping in the chair, a far off look in its eyes.

“Why?” she asked.

The figure stirred, its attention snapped back to the present.

“Hmm?” Aliks straightened up, massaging the bridge of his nose as he did, “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What did you say?”

“I asked ‘Why?’”, she repeated, wondering when her husband had last had a decent night’s sleep, “You never do anything without a reason; I just can’t understand what would compel you to do something so stupid.”

Her husband grinned.

“Ah. Now, that’s quite the story.”

“Then you’d better take a shower first!” Ayla gestured around at the room, “This place smells like you’ve stabled a herd of ugthanki for the last two weeks!”

“Something like that, yeah…” Aliks muttered, his grin becoming sheepish.

Ignoring him, the woman strode over to a wardrobe that looked as though it had hosted one of Party Pete’s all-nighters and grabbed one of the towels that had been draped over the open doors.

“Strip.” She commanded, tossing the towel at him.

Muttering incoherently under his breath, her husband did as he was bade, stripping and dumping his fetid robes into a heap on the floor. She let her eyes linger on his lean physique for a while before it was smothered by the towel.

“See anything you like?” He asked with a grin, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Shower!” she laughed, giving him a playful push towards the stairs.

You could almost forget the looming interspecies tension, she mused.

While her husband ambled off to the Port’s Crew Lodgings and their revolutionary outdoor showers (a series of wooden cubicles with a large bucket and rope suspended above each them), Ayla did what she could to air the room out, throwing open the widows to allow the comparatively fresher air in, and throwing out anything that looked to be on the verge of developing sentience for the gulls to mull over or possibly adopt. His robes, however, she elected to gingerly push into a corner with the toe of her boot; there was no way she was washing, let alone touching, those.

Satisfied that she’d done all within her power to make the place bearable, she took a seat behind the desk and decided to poke through the papers piled on its surface, hoping to find some hint so as to explain her love’s desire to piss off an ancient and powerful nation. Her search turned up very little of interest aside from a ludicrous number of receipts from Aluft Aloft Deliveries and what looked to be a heavily annotated timeline of Gielinor’s history. She picked up the sheet and scanned its contents; was he writing a history book?

“Early Third Age,” she read aloud, tracing a finger along her husband’s flowing script, “heart discovered and,” she paused as she forced her tongue around the sounds of unfamiliar words, “eequeenee races addvancked; fahyustee exiled not long after.”

Not for the first time, Ayla cursed her stubbornness as a child; if she’d just gone to the stupid Essianday School like a good girl she wouldn’t have this problem. She grit her teeth and tried another, comparatively recent, annotation.

“Early Fifth Age, eequeenee races falling apart; fahyustee looks for ways to force,” she hesitated again, “Corporation? Tricked into freeing windeyegos?”

What in Armadyl’s name was all this?

“Careful,” a voice called out teasingly, “There are words on that!”

She looked up to see Aliks standing in the doorway, towel clad and water dripping from his hair and beard, a mischievous grin on his face.

She made no attempt to hide the paper; this was a relatively minor breach compared to what she’d caught him doing over the past decade.

“What’s a fahyustee?” She asked pointing to the annotations, “It must be important considering the number of times you’ve written it.”

“Faust, love,” he replied, using the towel to dry his head, “It’s pronounced ‘Faust’.”

“Fowst,” Ayla rolled the word around her tongue, trying and failing to ignore the nudity on display, “Alright, so what is a Fowst?”

“A name,” Aliks answered, as he towelled off his other extremities, “and the reason why I disappeared two weeks ago.”

“Wait, you were kidnapped!?”

“Not exactly,” he shrugged as he threw the sodden towel over the wardrobe door again, and began fishing around for some marginally cleaner clothes, “Honestly, it was more a case of mistaken identity than kidnap.”

Ayla set the paper down and leaned back in the chair, arms folded.

“I think I’d better hear this story of yours, my love.”

“Where should I start?” Aliks asked as he pulled a potion stained shirt over his head.

She narrowed her eyes.

“I think I’d like to hear how this Fowst convinced you that stealing a City Seed from the heart of Prifddinas would be a good idea.”

“Oh,” he deadpanned, paused in the act of pulling on a pair of slacks, “That.”

“It seems I was asking the wrong questions, first time ‘round.” Aliks growled at the white robed alicorn.

After Stardust had shown him how just how many pods were in the cavern, he had quickly excused himself, claiming he wanted to discuss a plan of action with Faust, and left her to tend to the newly awakened pony. The most puzzling thing, he had mused as he climbed the suicide-ladder, was how calm he had been about it all. He should have been furious, heck, he’d wanted to be furious (truthfully he wanted to be both furious and drunk, but would’ve happily settled for just the former), but instead he’d just felt… well, calm; serene, tranquil, at peace, all of the above.

Despite the serenity saturation, by the time he’d reached the Heart, he was pleased to discover that he was feeling just a little annoyed about not being frothing-at-the-mouth furious. Upon re-entering his threshold, however, the dam shattered.

“I thought this ‘Leagcy’ of yours would be a weapon to drive back these windithings, not a blasted army!” he ranted at the serene creature, “Oh, but it all makes sense now!” he snarled, “‘Change the world for the better’, eh? And would this ‘better world’ be one where you peacefully demilitarise once you’ve pushed back the invaders, hmm? Or one where you go on to take vengeance on those who denounced you and your following and then eradicate anypony who won’t bend their knee to you, accept you as their one true saviour, or sing hosannas in your name?!” He pointed a finger at Faust, “I’ll give you one warning as a courtesy, Faust,” he spat, “I’ve fought and I’ve sacrificed things you would never believe to ensure my world and its people stay free from would-be tyrants like you; don’t think for a second I wouldn’t be willing to do the same for this world, too.”

Faust was silent for a moment, her face twitching and shoulders shaking in, Aliks assumed, barely suppressed righteous fury. This theory was quickly overruled when the alicorn doubled over in fits of laughter.

Aliks was at a loss; thus far, mirth was not an emotion he’d encountered or expected from aforementioned tyrants, unless of course they knew something nasty was about to happen to him.

Red in the face, and still tittering, Faust attempted to compose herself.

“Y- you, *snort* you are willing to fight for a world you’ve no s- stake in,” she chortled, lifting a hand to hide her smirk, “And, *pffft* and speak so brazenly to a being who could likely eradicate you with but a thought?”

Aliks stood his ground, crossed his arms and stuck out his chin defiantly.

“Lady, I’d like to see you try it.”

This produced more fits laughter from his host, and only served to irritate the mage further.

“Okay, is this going somewhere?” he asked the hysterical mare, “Only I’d appreciate a heads-up if you are going to ‘eradicate me with but a thought’.”

Faust turned her back and spent a minute breathing deeply, before finally turning to face her guest again. Surprisingly, her smile seemed impressed rather than malevolent.

“I must admit, World Guardian,” she began, folding her hands in front of her, “When I first touched your mind, I had my doubts as to whether you were a suitable substitution for the Green Stallion, but after your… outburst, I know, with certainty, that you are the right person to entrust with this task.”

“Wait, I… but, you… what?!”

Faust merely smiled.

“As you are no doubt aware, while we are here,” she gestured at the void around her, “You would know if I were lying, so I trust you to believe me when I tell you that my Legacy is neither weapon nor army.”

Aliks waited for some sign; a chill up the spine, an itch he couldn’t scratch, the ghost of a sneeze, anything that would indicate that Faust had just lied.

Nothing.

She was telling the truth.

And he had just… Oh, dear.

“Ahem. Well then,” he began, clearing his throat, “I feel like an idiot.”

“To your credit, you would make a ferocious opponent for any tyrant,” Faust complimented with a grin, “But I’d suggest losing the dramatic pointing.”

“Uh… thanks? I’ll bear that in mind,” the mage replied, uncertain of where to begin, “So, if these…” Aliks hesitated, unsure how to refer to the being Stardust had released; the pony with a coat that had sparkled like crystal… crystal… eh, it’d do. “If these crystal ponies aren’t a weapon or an army, what are they? Why did you breed them?”

“Crystal ponies?” the mare echoed, trying the name on her tongue, “Yes, I like it; they’re still flesh and blood, mind you, but it does seem appropriate given their outward appearance.”

She gestured at the pair of cushions that had suddenly always been by their feet. Aliks took this as a sign that this would be a long explanation.

He took his seat, expecting more herbal tea to materialise next to him. He was instead surprised to see Faust fussing over a pair of wine glasses filled with a dark liquid.

The alicorn smiled as she levitated one of the glasses towards him.

“I’m not often one to encourage self-destructive habits, World Guardian,” she explained, “But, I believe you will have a greater appreciation for this rather than more tea.”

Aliks took a sip of the blood-red liquid; it had a pleasantly dark, rich flavour to it. He set it down to one side; as much as he wanted to drain the glass, he needed to keep a clear head here.

“So,” he began, steepling his fingers in front of him, “What are the crystal ponies?”

“A question for a question, World Guardian,” his host smiled, taking a sip of her wine before setting her glass to one side, “What do you know of the windigos?” she asked.

Aliks shrugged, “As much as you passed onto me,” he answered, “You wanted a way to force the three races to play nice and… somepony or something suggested the windigos to you. You found their prison, broke the seal and to thank you they... ah.” he trailed off, arching an eyebrow at the mare in front of him.

Faust nodded, “To thank me, they murdered me.” she finished, cringing at the memories.

“Yes, I was going to ask about that,” the mage apologised, “How are you still alive?”

The mare shrugged, “Perhaps my use of the Heart’s magick formed a connection between us, so when my body died my soul was drawn back to it. Or perhaps I’m just an echo of the real Faust, imprinted through her time with the Heart,” she replied sadly, “But whatever I am and however I came to be will not stop me from aiding my little ponies.”

“And the crystal ponies will help you achieve this, how?”

His host sipped at her wine as she lectured, “Since I was… since I was inconveniently discorporated, I’ve learned a great deal about the windigos: they are elemental spirits who grow stronger in the presence of negative emotional energy; hate, greed, mistrust. The stronger the feeling, the more power they can draw from it.”

“And the stronger they get,” Aliks guessed, “The more they can influence their environment, right?”

Faust nodded gravely, “You’ve seen the surface of our world, World Guardian. For a time, all Equus was at the mercy of the windigos.”

“Wait, you said ‘for a time’,” the mage interrupted, “What changed?”

“I was getting to that,” Faust smiled, taking another sip of her wine, “It was around five years ago that emissaries of the three races left in search of new land to colonise, away from the untameable blizzards that plagued their ancestral homes,” she permitted herself a sad chuckle, “Naturally, all three came upon the same land and began to bicker over who had the better claim.”

“They might as well have rung the dinner gong.” Aliks sighed.

“Indeed. The blizzards quickly followed, isolating the leaders and their attendants,” Faust paused as she shifted her position; Aliks wondered if she actually needed to or was simply trying to put him at ease, “What actually happened between the three leaders is anypony’s guess,” she explained, “But what matters is that for the first time since I released them, the windigos were driven back.”

“How?”

Faust smiled, “The Power of Friendship.”

Aliks stared at her incredulously.

“No, really; how?” he deadpanned.

“Think about it, World Guardian,” the white alicorn patiently explained, “If windigos grow stronger in the presence of negative emotions, surely that strength would wane in the presence of positive emotions like trust, compassion and friendship.”

“Point,” the mage conceded, “But then why breed the crystal ponies if the crisis was over?”

“I never said that the windigos were defeated,” his host answered, “They were merely driven back to the colder, harsher lands of Equus; areas generally considered too inhospitable for colonisation.”

“So, if the ‘Power of Friendship’,” the mage air quoted, “Drove them away from their food source, why haven’t they starved already?”

“I don’t know,” she replied simply, “Perhaps there’s still enough residual negativity in the world for them to sustain themselves, or maybe they can feed off their own darker feelings. Or perhaps they simply cannot die,” a dark gleam came to her eye, “But, I certainly intend to put that to the test.”

“Well,” the mage chuckled, a little unnerved by her tone, “Everypony needs a hobby, I suppose. But I’m still not seeing how your ‘Legacy’ fits into all of this.”

“I believe you’ve already had first-hand experience of that, World Guardian,” Faust smiled, “Tell me, how did you feel when you met the pony Stardust birthed?”

Aliks hesitated. He wanted to say he felt surprised, shocked, alarmed; a rational human response when confronted by a shining, bipedal horse-woman who had just emerged from a stone egg.

But he hadn’t.

“I felt…” he waved his hands wildly in an effort to find the right word, “I felt… calm, I suppose. Serene. At peace. All of the above,” he sighed in frustration, “I actually had to think about being angry to even get a little wound-up. It was like the whole area was… well soaked in calming thoughts.”

Faust beamed at him.

“Because that was what she felt at the time.”

“You mean-“

“Every crystal pony subconsciously radiates whatever emotion they feel, yes.”

For Aliks, the final piece fell into place, and understanding dawned.

The concentrated burst of positive emotions five years ago had been akin to a club strike, blunt and unwieldy; strong enough to give the aggressor pause for thought, but not enough to finish them off. Faust had taken her inspiration from that club and refined it into what could be best described as a poison; a thousand little good-will generators, all radiating a constant cloud of friendship and happiness across the surface of the world like a smog, leaving the windigos nowhere to hide.

“Oh, now that is just… devious!” he breathed.

“You do not approve?” Faust asked, concern playing across her face.

“Not at all,” the mage assured her with a smile, “I’m all about devious. But,” he continued, his tone deathly serious, “What’s to prevent somepony from abusing your ‘Legacy’? Manipulating the population’s emotions for their own gain?”

“Now that,” she smiled confidently, “Will be all but impossible; their ability is strongest immediately after they have been birthed. My plan was to birth them all at once into an environment where they would feel both safe and loved, bathing the world in a blanket of positivity, and leaving the windigos nowhere to run.”

“You’re still manipulating emotions on a global scale,” Aliks warned her, “Even if the end result is everypony feeling inexplicably happy for the rest of their days.”

“Perhaps,” Faust shrugged. “But only temporarily; a few days or maybe a week at the longest, after that the strength of the blanket will wane until it’s little more than harmless background energy. Effectively, the population will gain an immunity of sorts.”

“Well, if it’s so safe, why haven’t you done this already?”

“Because for my Legacy to succeed, they must be birthed in an environment where they will feel protected, safe, loved even! Anything less would risk strengthening the windigos to the point that they could conquer Equus a hundred times over!” Faust’s expression was now as sincere as equinly possible, “That is why they… we need your help, Aliksandar.”

The mage’s eyebrows rose in silent surprise at the use of his name rather than title.

“My Legacy needs… no, my children need a home. They need a protector. They need a Guardian.”

For a while Aliks said nothing, his face an impassive mask… Until it suddenly split into a large grin.

“Now, how am I supposed to say ‘no’ to that face?” he laughed, reaching for his neglected wine glass and lifting it in a toast.

“To the crystal ponies?” he suggested.

Faust nodded.

“To the crystal ponies!” she echoed.

Zanaris shone high in the night sky, painting the port with silver light, yet Sarim’s denizens didn’t seem to notice or care; day and night were concepts that happened to other people.

In the Portmaster’s Quarters, Ayla looked incredulously at her husband over her steepled fingers.

“That’s it?” she asked.

“That’s it.” he agreed.

“So, stealing the City Seed was your idea?”

“It seemed appropriate,” he shrugged, “A crystal city for a crystal people, you know? Oh, and growing a city seemed a better idea than building one all by my lonesome, too.”

Ayla shook her head in disbelief; she didn’t know where to begin with him, sometimes.

“But why steal it?” she asked, standing and walking over to him, “You know the elves owe me more than a few favours! Why didn’t you come to me first?”

He shrugged again, and Ayla resisted the urge to slap him.

“Because Faust asked for my help,” he answered, “I felt I owed it to her to at least try and succeed on my terms.”

The ranger sighed and massaged her temples; her head was starting to ache from the tension she’d been carrying all day.

Tension that finally chose to boil over.

“So,” she growled, “You decide not to tell your wife that you weren’t dead in a ditch outside Varrock, steal a precious artefact from the elves, despite knowing an easier way to obtain it (through said wife), and risk starting another war, all to stoke your own stupid ego?!”

He visibly winced at the accusation, but she wasn’t done yet.

“You would have had the Seed for a week by now if you’d asked me!” she shouted, “You would be planning on how to grow it by now! You would be far, far closer to keeping your word than you are now!” she shook her head in disbelief, “Instead you waste two weeks just so you can puff up your chest and say you did it on your own!”

“That’s not fair!” he protested weakly.

“Really?” Ayla shot back, “If you had really wanted to help these people as quickly as you possibly could, you should have come straight to me!”

“Alright, I admit it!” he roared, “I was wrong! I’m sorry I didn’t come to you! Are you happy now?!”

“No, I’m not!” she snapped.

She looked up to the ceiling and took a deep breath before turning her attention back to her husband.

“But,” she huffed, feeling calmer, “It’s a start. Now, we can either continue arguing like this, or you can let me help you.”

“Alright,” her husband threw his arms up in defeat, “Fine. Where do we start?”

“First of all, you need to stay here and try to keep out of trouble. I need to take the Seed back to Prifddinas,” she took a step closer, wrapping her arms around him as she did, “But,” she cooed in his ear, “That can wait ‘til morning.”

“Fair enough,” Aliks shrugged, returning the hug, “But, I doubt I’m going to sleep after that shouting match, Feathers.”

Ayla put on her best sultry smile; she still had quite a bit of tension to work out of her system.

“Don’t worry, my love,” she purred, planting her lips on his, “I’m sure we can find something to wear you out.”

“Oh? OH! Oooooooh…”

Author's Note

Big thanks to LNicol1990 for all her help with bringing Ayla to life this chapter!

Check out her works on FanFiction.net and FictionPress.com!

Chapter 5 - The Graveyard Shift

PonyScape: Where the Heart is

Chapter 5 - The Graveyard Shift

The moon had long since reached its zenith and was now beginning its lazy descent, gently tugging the velvet blanket of the night sky behind it. Despite the late hour, many windows in the Everfree Castle remained lit, the ponies within occupied with whatever late night business demanded such diligence. Whatever it was, King Equinox, Lord of Equestria and its denizens of Earth and Sky, would have been more than happy to trade by this time; even polishing the floors would have been a welcome reprieve from the mound of requests, proposals, demands and other equally self-important documents that littered his desk.

Procrastination wouldn’t make it any smaller.

With a sigh and a final envious look out of the grand window that dominated the office, he wandered back to the overburdened desk and tried to make himself comfortable in a chair designed not only for somepony without wings but also with a smaller build.

One would think being king would merit perks such as form-fitting furniture.

Doing his best to ignore the complaints from his wings, Equinox reached out with his magic and plucked a scroll from the top of the heap. He groaned as he recognised the seal as belonging to the office of Chancellor Puddinghead. It wasn’t that her proposals were unwelcome, but the manner in which she drafted them generally resulted in the use of the metaphorical fine-toothed comb and tweezers to identify what the earth pony wanted, and when that failed, returning the proposal to her aide with a polite yet firm note requesting an abridged version. Needless to say, they rarely made good night-time reading.

He spared a glance at the office’s timepiece, the finely crafted instrument happily tick-tocking through the seconds as its single hand marched ever closer to Dawn. Letting the scroll drop in front of him, Equinox yawned loudly and rubbed at his eyes before pushing away from the desk again. No, a scroll from the scatter-brained leader of the earth ponies was not something a sleep deprived alicorn who had to raise the sun in less than six hours needed… at least not without reinforcements.

Adjusting his gown and smoothing out the creases, he walked over to the room’s grand fireplace and tugged sharply at the pull cord dangling next to it. He spared a glance at the dwindling embers of the evening’s fire and gave them a half-hearted nudge with the poker while he waited, counting softly under his breath.

He’d got as far as fifteen before his ears pricked at the sound of cantering hoofsteps and frantic breathing outside the door. The visitor took a few seconds to compose themselves, Equinox smiled as he fancied them doing their best to make a frazzled bed mane into something respectable before knocking.

He decided to beat them to the punch.

“Come in, Checklist.”

The office doors creaked open and a young, bespectacled unicorn mare, her mane hastily tied up in a loose bun, stepped inside.

She curtsied, doing her best to stifle a yawn as she did.

“You rang, your Majesty?”

The Title was one of the perks associated with being a king and, quite honestly, one Equinox felt he could do without. Not to mention all the ponies curtseying and bowing everywhere he went had a tendency to make him feel sea-sick. The saluting from the guards wasn’t so bad, although he could never quite shake the feeling that one day an overzealous recruit was going to concuss themselves. How Old King Bullion put up with it all he’d never understand; the benefit of being born into it, the alicorn supposed.

“Sire, are you alright?”

Jerked from his musing, Equinox gave the young mare a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I drifted for a bit there. That was rude of me.”

Checklist couldn’t help but smile.

“You are the King, sire,” she reminded him, “It’s your prerogative to be rude to the common folk and get away with it.”

“Really?” Equinox asked, feigning astonishment, “Well, this certainly is a game changer. Remind me again of your official position, Checklist.”

“Personal Attendant and Assistant to His Majesty, King Equinox, Lord of Equestria and its denizens of Earth and Sky,” she replied promptly, “And more than happy to serve, sire.”

“Well then,” he chuckled, “In recognition of your loyalty and dedication to duty, henceforth you shall be recognised as Mistress of Royal Prerogatives.”

“You honour me, sire,” Checklist replied, doing her best to keep a straight face, “May I ask what my duties as Mistress of Royal Prerogatives entail?”

“Your first and foremost duty, Checklist,” Equinox intoned, “Is to tell me whether my prerogative allows me to burn all these wretched scrolls and pretend they were never delivered.”

“Unfortunately not, sire,” the mare sniggered, her poker face abandoned.

Equinox shrugged.

“It was worth a shot. In that case, would you kindly trot down to the kitchens and see if they’ve any tea left.”

Checklist nodded in understanding.

“Chancellor Puddighead, sire?”

“Chancellor Puddinghead.”

“I’ll be sure to express the severity of the situation to the kitchen staff, sire.” She curtsied again and began to back away, “Will that be all?”

“Yes, thank you Checklist,” Equinox replied, turning his attention back to the fireplace, “Feel free to go back to bed afterwards.”

“Thank you, sire,” the mare replied, stifling another yawn as she closed the door behind her, “And if I might be so bold, sire, I would advise you do the same; not everypony appreciates a late rise, after all.”

Equinox couldn’t help but smile at her comment as the office door clicked shut behind her. Giving the embers a parting nudge with the poker, he moved back to the paper-stacked desk. Picking up the scroll he’d previously discarded, he mentally prepared himself for the inevitable, seemingly nonsensical, ramblings within.

Might as well get this over with.

Breaking the seal, the alicorn unfurled the scroll and examined its contents. After a few seconds he turned the scroll around and studied the reverse side in case something had been hidden there. Eventually, he flipped the scroll around again and stared at the simplistic message.

It was a foal’s game of hangmare, though somepony had made sure the unfortunate stickmare was recognisable as both a unicorn and royalty.

Beneath the drawing were two recognisable signatures; one was obviously Puddinghead’s, a confusing mass of loops and whorls. The other simple, yet bold scrawling belonged to the leader of the pegasi, General “Commander” Hurricane.

Equinox understood the meaning behind the drawing well enough, even without Puddinghead’s helpful annotation of “Plan B”. As much as he respected the two ponies, even they had to recognise that the last thing Equestria needed right now was civil war.

It was funny, (well not funny per se, but ironic at least), how things had turned out. He’d cut ties with his world and fled to this one to avoid getting entangled in exactly what his presence here risked inciting.

Yes, the so-called “Adamant Kingdom” was an issue that would need to be dealt with, but Equinox felt confident that with enough time “Queen” Platinum would come to her senses; even she wasn’t so foalish as to jeopardise everything the three tribes had built simply because she’d not got her way.

Probably.

A gentle pop drew the alicorn’s attention back to the mound of paperwork on his desk, where a new scroll had materialised. Recognising the seal, he moved the Chancellor and General’s “solution” to one side, opened the new arrival and read its hastily scrawled contents.

You’ll want to see this. Meet me upstairs.
P.S. Bring Snacks!!!

Equinox groaned; ignoring a summons from this particular pony in favour of paperwork was not worth the grief that would dog him until he apologised for being a “Stick-in-the-mud”.

Finding a scrap of parchment, he quickly jotted an apology to Checklist, informing her of where he was and that the tea needed to follow. Making sure that the message was left in plain sight, the King of Equestria walked from his office and out into the candlelit corridors beyond.

Teleporting would admittedly have been far faster, (and considerably easier these days, too), but Equinox had always enjoyed walking, and strolling along the castle’s passageways certainly kept him in shape. More to the point, Checklist was right; he was King.

If he couldn’t get away with keeping Equestria’s most powerful magician waiting, who could?

Stardust gave a contented sigh of an arduous job well-done as she heaved herself up the last rung of the Vault’s ladder. All of the “crystal ponies” (well, all bar her new friend Autumn Gem) were still sleeping soundly below her in the vast, silent hall.

She pouted; Mother’s Legacy shouldn’t have to sleep under such a dreary silence. She dropped the pout and beamed as an idea came to her.

Taking a deep breath, she began to sing (if going “la-lala-lalaa” counted as such). If the song had words she didn’t know them, and none had ever featured in the version sung by her sister. She had always thought of it as a happy song; one full of friendship and magic. The kind Mother would want her children to hear in their dreams.

If only hers could be so pleasant.

She couldn’t even remember what had terrified her so badly, but it had been enough to jolt her awake in a cold sweat, gasping for breath and desperate for any activity to distract her, (hence the night-time diligence). Whilst infrequent night terrors were part and parcel of her nightlife, Stardust blamed these new terrors on the World Guardian, though truth be told it was her own fault for asking (ie begging) him for tales of his adventures, his friends or simply his world’s history; considering the villains that generally featured, she couldn’t help but marvel at somepony capable of surviving such quests.

Regardless, such tales before bed were a recipe for disaster.

She was still singing as she walked through the open doors of the Vault and into the chamber beyond. This was an unintentional benefit of the World Guardian’s visit, as until Mother saw fit to seal the Vault again, Stardust could come and go as she pleased. This helped on two fronts; firstly it meant Stardust no longer had to rely on teleportation for entry (which often left her feeling nauseous); and secondly, she no longer had to disturb Mother to perform the Duty. While she enjoyed their “conversations”, Stardust knew the lingering echoes her newest night terror would concern Mother. She simply did not want to worry Her.

Once in the chamber, she pondered her choices. The Duty was done, and the day hadn’t even begun. The siren’s call of sleep was ever-present, and whilst she was feeling calmer, Stardust wasn’t ready to surrender just yet. She could do whatever she felt like; read in the library, avoid the World Guardian’s pet like the pony-pox, raid the now full food stores for an early-early breakfast or have a bath even!

The last fortnight had seen a reversal of fortune that she would never have thought possible. Thanks to the World Guardian’s efforts, the Sanctuary’s stores had never been fuller; he’d made it his mission to return every two to three days, bringing gifts of food, blankets and candles. Even the reservoirs were fit to burst thanks to the incredible stones he referred to as “runes”, though his greatest gift had been a pouch of bath salts, half-a-dozen bars of soap and a long-handled scrubbing brush. He’d blushed bright red when he had given her these, as if he was doing something wrong or offensive. She had all but squealed and hugged him (okay, maybe she had) before running off with Autumn in tow. The two of them didn’t emerge from the baths for best part of half a day.

Five years worth of grime hadn’t gone without a fight.

A rumbling from her stomach answered her immediate question of ‘what to do’, though she hadn’t made it halfway to the stores before her ears pricked at the sound of a distant rattling from the Main Hall. Admittedly unexplained rattlings and rumblings were hardly unusual in the Sanctuary; a half-starved unicorn made for a poor repairmare. The Hall was a different matter however. Back in the day it had operated as something of a social hub and nexus to the Sanctuary's many chambers, and while most of said chambers were now lost behind several tons of masonry, the Main Hall had stood strong for the last half-decade. It wouldn’t be crumbling anytime soon.

Which left only one possibility; somepony, or something, was in the Main Hall.

Stardust considered the options. Something from the outside was unlikely as Mother’s wards kept the windigos at bay, and the World Guardian had insisted on collapsing the passage he’d originally used so as to “stop the draft”. On that point, the World Guardian’s method of entering the Sanctuary brought him to the Vault, plus it was far too early (or too late) for him to be visiting. So, considering that she herself wasn’t in the Hall, and as far as she was aware her new roommate was still fast asleep, there could only be one culprit.

Fully prepared to give the World Guardian’s insufferable little toy a piece of her mind, Stardust turned on her hoof and stalked back down the corridor. Admittedly, shouting at the automaton was as pointless as chasing her shadow; it’s chirping and squawking was as incomprehensible as the day it had arrived. It didn’t really help that it couldn’t understand her either. Regardless, the shouting made her feel better.

It wasn’t that she hated the thing, that would be as pointless as hating her abacus. Unlike her abacus, it managed to find new ways of irritating her on a daily basis: going places she’d made clear were off-limits; opening doors that it shouldn’t; and rearranging the library to name a few. The fact that Autumn Gem doted on it had made the thing exceptionally brave, knowing that it could run to the mare for protection.

However, if it had touched anything in the Main Hall, there would be no hiding behind Autumn this time.

Any other day Stardust was willing to take any length of detour to avoid setting even one hoof in the Hall. However, any objections she had were overruled by the indignation she felt at the thought of the wretched automaton touching the… the things in there. Even so, her resolve waned as she drew nearer; the sturdy walls of the Hall could well be considered a testament to unicorn brilliance, but what sat between them would forever be a testament to unicorn cruelty.

Taking a breath to steady her nerves, Stardust stepped into the Hall. She regretted it almost instantly. The automaton must have been stealing candles from the stores, as every sconce and stand was alight, casting a warm, flickering light over the harsh reality of the charred… of the things, that had been left heaped and ignored on the stone floor. Empty sockets and blackened smiles greeted her as she crept forward; if she hadn’t been so angry, she would have fled in terror.

The… things stared at her accusingly.

“Why?” they seemed to ask. “Why you and not me? What made you so special? Why wasn’t I spared?”

Stardust pressed on. She couldn’t answer them; she didn’t know “why”.

Liar.

Guilt blossomed inside her mind, choking the bloom of anger that had led her here. She knew perfectly well why. She just couldn’t admit it. She couldn't admit that when the soldiers came she had run away and left her Sisters to… to…

“Miss Stardust?”

Jerked from her dark thoughts, Stardust found herself looking into the concerned eyes of Autumn Gem. A friendly face amidst the horror was enough to make her sag with relief.

Her relief was short lived, however, as she stared in wide-eyed horror at what the other mare was holding in her arms.

“Autumn,” she asked, her voice oddly calm, “What are you doing here with these… things?”

Her friend looked down guiltily at where Stardust was staring.

“You mean the bones?”

Stardust managed a curt nod; her throat had gone dry.

“Oh… Well, there’s no point in trying to keep it secret now,” the mare pouted with a disappointed sigh, “Mr Cresbot and I had been planning to surprise you by tidying up the bodies!” She inclined her head towards a heap of things, where the World Guardian’s pet was busying itself, “He really wanted to do it all by himself, but he’s too small to move the bigger bits.”

Stardust stared, dumfounded.

“Why?”

“I just told you “why”, silly,” Autumn replied, wrinkling her nose in confusion, “We wanted to surprise you! You haven’t still got dirt in your ears, have you?”

“No,” Stardust replied, finally finding her voice, “I mean, why is he- it, why is it doing this? Why are you doing this?”

“Oh!” Autumn nodded as realisation dawned. “Because it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? Oh! I know!” The crystal mare started forward with her bundle, as if to pass it to Stardust. The obvious recoil from her friend encouraged her to deposit the charred pile neatly on the floor instead. Autumn smiled apologetically, “Just wait here, Miss Stardust, and I’ll go and ask Mr Cresbot, he can say it much better than me. Also, you shouldn’t be so rude about him; he’s really nice once you get to know him!”

Stardust watched her friend prance over to where the World Guardian’s pet was working, seemingly unfazed by the Hall’s horrors. If anything, she seemed to be glowing brighter than usual.

She was dumbfounded. Not once had the state of the Hall cropped up in previous conversations with Autumn; even the World Guardian tactfully avoided asking about it. And yet, here these two were, sorting through the piles of charred bones apparently on a whim. They were treating the mortal remains of her adoptive family as if they were nothing more than snowdrifts at Wrap-up.

It was appalling. She wanted to scream at the pair, to rage at them for their behaviour.

But she couldn’t.

The World Guardian had once referred to Autumn as a “goodwill-generator”, and only now was Stardust beginning to understand why. She had always known the theory behind Mother’s Legacy, but to feel it in action was something wholly different. Here she was in a room that she took great pains to avoid setting hoof in. A room that would take her to the bitterest of memories and feelings of self-loathing if she so much as thought of it.

And she felt fine. Better than fine, even.

All because Autumn Gem was happy.

The World Guardian was right to be cautious, Stardust mused as she watched her friend engage in a lengthy guttural exchange with “Mr Cresbot”; whether they were conscious of it or not, the Crystal Ponies had an awful lot of power at their fingertips. The fact that Autumn was even able to talk with the obnoxious little toy was a case in point; the walls of language apparently crumbled at Mother’s touch. In the back of her mind, doubt reared its ugly head; was Equus ready for ponies like this?

“Okay, his explanation was pretty long, but Mr Cresbot says that he learned from Mr World Guardian that leaving dead bodies piled up to go smelly is wrong and that it upsets people; he thought the same would apply to ponies, and I said he was right, otherwise you wouldn’t take such long walks to get around the Sanctuary when you could just cut through the Hall. Or you just take the extra long walks to stay in shape, but then I thought it’s more likely that you just don’t like walking through the Hall and the well-toned body is a happy coincidence.”

Stardust’s misgivings were quickly forgotten as she struggled to keep up with Autumn’s sudden reappearance and verbal flood. She latched onto the recognisable name like a piece of driftwood and decided to ride the wave from there. The compliment could be pursued later.

“So, the World Guardian instructed… “Mr Cresbot” to tidy up the… the bodies?”

“Nope.”

“Then why?” Stardust hissed through clenched teeth.

“Like I said,” Autumn replied, speaking slowly, “Mr Cresbot wanted to make things better; he knew you were upset by the bodies and wanted to make it right!”

Stardust stared at Autumn, and then turned to stare at Cresbot, biting her lower lip in thought. She’d always considered the little creature a sophisticated tool; a walking, squawking abacus. It was a construct of metal, programmed to learn; just lights and clockwork. It had seen its master perform similar actions before, and now it was mirroring them. That was all. A parody of life.

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Cresbot hadn’t started this task from any instruction or order. It had chosen to do so. And why? Because it had noticed she was unhappy, in pain, and had wanted to ease it, to help. It had wanted. When was the last time her abacus had wanted anything, let alone to make her feel better?

She watched the little creature a while longer before turning back to Autumn.

“Would you… would you ask it… him, if he’d like an extra pair of hands?”

With hindsight, perhaps teleporting would have been the more sensible course of action after all.

Equinox gripped the banister of the spiral stairway and wheezed as he waited for the black spots that danced in front of him to vanish. Now he was exhausted both physically and mentally, and had just over five hours until he had to raise the sun. He suddenly understood why the unicorns had worked in groups of a dozen to perform the wretched task.

Regaining his breath, he lifted his drooping wings and advanced up the last of stairs to the door before him, and the guest that had asked for him.

It was not through personal choice that Equestria’s most powerful magician had come to live in one of Everfree’s taller towers, (though he had no complaints regarding the views that were offered), but the nature of his profession.

Initially, Equinox had ensured that apartments and facilities befitting such a distinguished guest were readily available. The pony in question had seemed overjoyed with what he was provided, setting up his workshop and other mysterious tools of his trade in a giddy rush, all the while manically explaining what an exciting opportunity this was to anypony willing (and those who weren’t) to listen.

All had been well until that afternoon, when an almighty explosion had rocked Everfree to its foundations. Fearing attack from the Adamant Kingdom, Equinox had wasted no time in mustering the guards and ordering them to their battle stations, only for no enemy to be found at the gates; only a rather sheepish (and somewhat concussed) magician, found in his now charred and windowless workshop, smiling dreamily and announcing he knew what went wrong.

A couple of months, several repeat offences and a long line of traumatized servants complaining of ghastly smells later finally convinced Equinox to relocate his guest to the present abode. These days the pops and whizzes that came from the tower garnered very little attention from the ponies of Everfree; even the louder booms attracted little more than a rolling of the eyes or an affectionate tsk from the guardsponies on duty.

Needless to say, Equinox had grown quite fond of his guest, considering him one of his closest friends and confidents. Inspite of (or perhaps due to) a tendency to pull at the fraying threads of the universe and record the results, the pony’s knowledge of matters both arcane and mundane were unrivaled. The Imperium of Ostium had access to the knowledge and histories of a thousand worlds and civilisations, and even then that seemed dull when compared to this particular pony’s brilliance.

It was a pity, Equinox conceded as he concluded his upward journey, that his friend’s brilliance didn’t extend much beyond academic matters; such as dress-sense; or appropriate head-gear.

Smiling to himself and wondering what the old stallion had cooked up this time, he knocked on the door. There was a rapid clatter of hooves across the floor and a muted thud as somepony narrowly avoided colliding with the door. Light appeared from a little spyhole for a moment, and then a suspicious eye took its place.

“What’s the password?” a voice demanded playfully from behind the door.

“Just open the door, please,” Equinox sighed despairingly; he was not in any shape to be playing games.

“Nope! That was Tuesday’s password,” the voice chided. “Try again!”

“Not tonight, Starswirl,” Equinox pleaded, rubbing his face.

“That’s not it either, are you even trying?”

Equinox felt his patience snap and was about to launch a tirade at the door when a flash of light from behind caught his attention. He turned to discover Checklist had teleported behind him, facing the stairwell. It struck him as odd that most unicorns were incapable of altering their direction when teleporting.

“Not a drop spilled,” the mare praised herself. “Checklist, my dear, you are brilliant!”

“Very impressive,” Equinox agreed. Teleporting with multiple objects did have a tendency to make a mess.

Checklist squeaked in surprise, and spun around. Several oatcakes and a cup fell from the tray she was holding. It seemed the laws of physics were sore losers.

Equinox held out a hand and used his magic to catch the items mid-fall and sent them tidily back onto the tray; a simple feat these days, even as tired as he was. He could almost imagine his old tutor’s face at the magical dexterity he’d just shown.

“I- I’m so sorry your Majesty,” Checklist stammered, trying not to disturb the tray again. “I thought you’d be inside.”

“Yes, I thought so too,” Equinox sighed. He smiled deviously and winked at Checklist as an idea came to him. Clearing his throat, he continued, “But, if my guest has decided he doesn’t want my company, then you and I will just have to enjoy this tea you’ve brought back at my study.”

There was a sudden rattling from the door as various chains and bolts were removed and unlocked. In a matter of moments, the door was open and a great silvery beard wearing a ruffled unicorn stallion stood on the precipice. He scowled at the king, the (presumable) pout on his face more befitting a child than the world’s most powerful magician.

“Well there’s no need to be like that, you know,” Starswirl stated sulkily. He pushed past Equinox and snatched the tray from Checklist before retreating back into the room, leaving the door open for the king to follow.

Equinox chuckled at the small victory, giving Checklist a thankful nod and a brief wave relieving her from her duties. She smiled at him and curtseyed before teleporting away. He would have invited her to join them, but the two cups she’d provided was proof that she had not expected such a request.

He’d have to correct that thinking at a later date.

“Are coming in or not?” Starswirl called from deep beyond the door. “The tea’s getting cold!”

Equinox ducked through the doorway and entered Starswirl’s workshop. How the old stallion knew where anything was in the place was a mystery to him.

There was a table of glassware that looked as if someone had hiccupped while blowing it; shelves upon shelves of disorganised books, strange rocks and jars containing some putrid coloured liquid; and two pony skeletons wired to stand unaided, one quadrupedal and the other bipedal. As for the rest of Starswirl’s paraphernalia, Equinox wasn’t sure even the Imperium could identify it.

As he approached the table and chairs at the far end of the workshop, Equinox noticed that part of the outer wall looked on the verge of collapse. It seemed to be held in place by hastily erected board and nails. It occurred to Equinox that perhaps some form of underground bunker might be more befitting his friend’s pastimes. If that couldn’t contain the brilliant magician’s destructive experiments, Titans knew what could.

Either way, it was a matter for another day.

“So,” Equinox began, searching for a chair or some form of flat surface that was not otherwise occupied by haphazardly piled books or bizarre metal contraptions. In the end he opted to carry on standing, “What was it that needed my attention so urgently?”

“Oh, just the most incredible thing!” Starswirl announced, pouring the king a cup of the cooling tea. He took a swig from his own cup before leaping from his chair and dashing back to the open window and the telescope situated there. “Here, here! Take a look for yourself!”

Wearily, Equinox maneuvered his way towards the window and placed an eye to the ‘scope’s lense. It seemed to be trained on one particular point of light that seemed marginally bigger and brighter than the surrounding points of light.

“Ah. Very nice,” he conceded, not having any idea what the old stallion was expecting. He moved away from the lense, and Starswirl immediately took his place, “Very nice indeed.”

“I knew you’d be thrilled! This is the first time in over two millennia that the Secretariat Comet has come into view.” He glued his eye to the lens of the ‘scope, chatting amicably all the while. “If my records are correct, it should pass over Equus in another thousand years. Isn’t that fascinating?”

Equinox collapsed on the now vacated chair and sighed; he’d just exhausted himself over a comet that wouldn’t really matter for another one thousand years. What else he should have expected from his eccentric guest? Admittedly, this distraction had gotten him away from his desk and all that blasted paperwork, so he shouldn’t complain too much about it.

“So, what’s the latest news?” the magician enquired, not leaving the telescope. “I don’t tend to hear an awful lot up here; none of the servants ever want to stay long enough for a decent chat.”

I wonder why that is, Equinox mused, surveying the organised chaos that the magician called home; any servant worth their salt would feel their hands start to itch if they spent more than a minute in this mess.

“You’ve not missed much, I’m afraid,” he replied out loud, sipping his tea, “Just the usual problems with the usual solutions offered every time.”

“Ah. Not to worry, sire, I know Platinum of old,” the magician responded sagely, “She used to throw similar tantrums as a filly, although back then she was limited to shutting herself away in her room. She always saw sense in the end, though, and this will be no different.”

“I hope you’re right,” Equinox sighed. A wry smile flickered across his face, “After all, she’s a bit big to put across your knee these days.”

“Ha! Very true!”

The pair of them shared a laugh at the thought of the self proclaimed Queen punished in such a fashion. Equinox smiled contentedly. He had needed this more than he’d been willing to admit. He took a sip of his tea and reached out for an oat cake when something else caught his eye. On the table was a map of the kingdoms of Equestria, with a scattering of pinprick lights which twinkled across the surface. Starswirl had once explained that it was a way for him to monitor and record where unicorns used magic. Naturally, each of the major cities had a small constellation of their own, but there was one lone light to the north that seemed to pulse brighter than all the others.

“Is it meant to be doing that?” Equinox asked the magician, inclining his head to the map.

“Hmm?” Starswirl abandoned the telescope and peered over the king’s shoulder to see what had caught his eye. His face lit up with recollection when he saw the map. “Ah, yes. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.”

He quickly walked around to the far side of the table so that the northernmost light was within prodding distance.

“Now,” The old stallion lectured, prodding the offending light as he did, “I know studies can be quite dull sometimes, and the prospect of adventure seems infinitely preferable; I myself skipped more than a couple of classes in my youth.” Something that might have been a wistful smile passed behind the beard, “But, I think you should tell your eldest that it is not appropriate to avoid her tutors so often, and that there are safer places closer to home if she absolutely must.”

“But, Celestia hasn’t missed any of her classes,” Equinox assured. “Nor has Luna.”

“Are you sure? I mean really, really, really sure?” Starswirl asked, squinting at the offending light. “If she has a new teacher she doesn’t like then I can understand how traipsing around the north would seem the lesser of two horrors, but it’s really is not a healthy attitude to have.”

“How often has this been happening?” Equinox frowned, a flutter of panic running down his spine

“Oh, on and off once every two days or so, for the last two weeks,” Starswirl explained with a shrug. “The magic is far too strong to a unicorn’s magic, and I know you and your wife wouldn’t make such a foolhardy trek; there’s nothing out there but windigos and yaks.”

“You’re right, but it is a good place to camp for a reconnaissance mission. Nopony would think to look there,” Equinox muttered darkly. “And every two days means that somepony is reporting back.”

“I’m sorry? I’m afraid you’ve lost me there,” Starswirl spoke a little louder, trying to get his king’s attention. “What are we talking about?”

Equinox ignored the old stallion as he rose from his seat, feeling renewed and setting his cup on the tray.

“I’m sorry Starswirl, but I must deal with this immediately,” he announced, standing up to his full height. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

With a burst of mulberry light, Equinox teleported away.

“Well, that was peculiar,” Starswirl muttered to himself after a moment of silence. He then looked over to the tea tray and the plate of oat cakes it held. He could hear them calling him.

“All the more for me.” He grinned.

With the last pin out, Checklist’s mane tumbled about her shoulders. She gave her head a shake as she reached out for her brush. She wanted to get the kinks out of her hair before she finally settled down for the night. She turned to her mirror and raised the brush only for her heart to stop as Equinox appeared behind her from a burst of mulberry coloured magic.

“Your Majesty!” she gasped, dropping her brush as she spun round to address him.

“Please Checklist, no time for protocols,” Equinox stated, his hands raised to placate her concerns. “I need you to get word to Captain Firefly and tell her she is to see me at her earliest convenience.”

Checklist pulled her personal parchment, quill and ink to her in a flurry of viridian light and began to scribble furiously, easily falling into her role as his personal assistant.

“And what should I tell the captain to expect at this meeting, sire?” she enquired, her quill poised at the ready.

Equinox’s face was dark with worry.

“Tell her it’s a matter of national security.”

Checklist swallowed, the king’s tone dropping a stone of dread in her stomach. She shivered.

“Shall I reschedule all your appointments tomorrow, Your Majesty?” she asked,

“I think that would be best, Checklist. Thank you,” Equinox nodded gratefully. Turning to leave, he paused and looked back to her. “The tea was most excellent.”

In another flash of light, he was gone.

Checklist let out a small huff. Now she had three weeks’ worth of appointments to juggle in order to clear the day for the king. Not to mention the midnight missive for Captain Firefly would not be well-received, and considering that royalty was expected to make awkward requests at ridiculous times, she would be the one catching the fallout.

All in all, it was a good thing she hadn’t been planning on sleeping tonight. No, really; she hadn’t.

Sleep was usually easy prey in the cool of the night. This last night, however, it had proved to be an elusive quarry. Dawn hadn’t even broken, yet Ayla had risen, run the rooftops, and eaten breakfast. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary, but it was the first time she’d employed it as a technique to tire herself out.

It hadn’t worked.

She knew what she had to do, and her conscience wouldn’t let her alone until she’d done just that.

Hence why she was lacing her boots when Aliks stirred in his sleep beside her.

Her husband rolled over to curl around her sitting form. Smiling, she cradled his jaw tenderly in her hand, gently caressing his cheek with her thumb. He mumbled something unintelligible before rolling over again. Sighing, she ran a hand through his hair before leaving his side.

The lengths she was prepared to go to for this man…

Moving to his desk, Ayla pulled out a scrap of paper and scrawled a quick note. After searching for and failing to find a clear, flat surface for it to be discovered on after he woke, she elected to pin it to his wardrobe; the arrow would certainly demand his attention.

Gathering the bundle of cloth that held the city seed in the crook of one arm, she removed a tiny crystal from a pouch at her belt. She held it up to her eye, inspecting it critically; it was pulsing gently with its own internal light. Satisfied, she moved back to the bed and gave her husband a parting kiss to the forehead before holding the crystal to her mouth and speaking softly to it, remembering to shut her eyes tight as she did.

“Prifddinas. Clan Cadarn.”

There was a burst of cyan light so intense that the back of her eyelids lit-up, and a brief sensation of falling forwards that made her stomach flip.

After she’d finished fishing the stars from her eyes, Ayla found the world had changed around her. Gone were the cramped wood and plaster walls of Aliks’ lodgings; in their place were towering walls of opaque, silver crystal, whilst at her feet, picked out in green and white tiles, was a mosaic of a great stag’s head crowned with a wreath of leafy vines; the coat of arms of Clan Cadarn.

“Croesawaf, Heliwr.” a voice greeted.

Ayla looked up to see the Cadarn herald standing in front of her. The elf, garbed in the traditional fashion of the city (various greens) bowed respectfully, and Ayla returned the gesture.

“Lord Cadarn has been expecting you. He will see you at your leisure, Heliwr.”

“Diolch i chi, Herald. I know my way.”

It didn’t take the ranger long to navigate the silvery halls to the Lord’s chambers. Despite having an integral role in its rebirth, she still found it hard to believe that this tower, let alone a whole city, had been grown from a single seed. It was no wonder Aliks had desired the means to provide such a wonder for his new friends.

Reaching her destination, she knocked on the great doors before letting herself in to the room beyond.

“Bore da, Arianwyn,” she greeted her old friend, “Please forgive the early hour of my return.”

The Lord of Clan Cadarn, garbed in an unremarkable tunic of autumnal browns, rose from behind the desk at which he’d been reading and embraced her.

“Peidiwch â phoeni, Ayla,” the Elder gently chided, returning to his desk and inviting her to sit, “With all that you’ve done for my people, I think you have earned leeway for unholy visiting hours.”

“Well, I hope this will keep up that goodwill,” she mentioned, unwrapping the bundle and placing the seed on the large desk before her.

The relief in Arianwyn’s eyes were obvious as he beheld the crystal in pristine condition. He smiled as he re-wrapped the bundle, and placed it safely in a chest. He turned back to Ayla, only for his smile to falter slightly when he noticed the troubled look in her eyes.

“What ails you, my friend?” he asked, his concern unappeased by how she fidgeted uncomfortably; the human was renowned for being as calm and collected as one of Clan Cadarn’s best rangers. To see her thus was unsettling.

“I need a favour, Arianwyn, and I’m sorry I must ask this of you,” she announced solemnly.

“What is it?”

“I need an audience with Seren. Today.”

Author's Note

Big thanks once again to the wonderful LNicol1990. Please check out her work if you've not done so already.

This chapter would not have happened without her love, understanding, patience and sharp stick,

Prologue - Gone Fishin'

PonyScape: Where the Heart is

Prologue - Gone Fishin'

Stardust woke with a start, her heart pounding. She’d had the dream again. Taking a few breaths to calm herself, she lay back in the dark and stared at the ceiling, watching her breath mist above her. With a flicker of saffron-coloured magic, the unicorn levitated the time piece from her bedside table to eye level, and groaned; it was still the far side of dawn, not that it mattered much down here.

She very much doubted she’d get back to sleep now; the chill air was doing little to aid her efforts. Kicking back the blankets, she lit her horn a second time and her robes drifted from where she’d hung them the previous night. No sense in delaying the inevitable. She quickly donned the heavy ensemble, drawing its thick hood over her head. Despite the warmth she still shivered. Stifling a yawn, she moved towards the corner of her cell where a small dresser and wooden crate stood. Stopping at the dresser she removed the remains of a thick white candle from a drawer, and eyed it critically.

“Half a day, if I’m any judge,” she muttered, “I can’t put it off forever…”

Another burst of saffron set the wick ablaze, and a sustained aura kept it bobbing at head height. Satisfied, the now robed unicorn turned to the large wooden crate. Opening the lid she peered in.

“Okay, just going to need candles for now. That makes it a little easier.”

A quick flicker of magic levitated one of the pressed oat rolls out of the crate and into her open mouth. She chewed and swallowed the snack quickly, not even bothering to grimace at the overly sweet taste. Satisfied, Stardust opened the door to her cell and ventured out into the dorms.

The door sounded unnaturally loud as she closed it, as did her hooves as she set off at a gentle trot down the dark stone corridor; not so long ago, this place would have been alive with the light of countless candles, enchanted to float high amongst the rafters, and buzzing with the chatter of Daughters of all ages and other essential staff going about their business. Now there was just her. Stardust hated what her home had become, a forgotten monument of glory long passed. In the dark corners of her mind she frequently harboured thoughts of leaving, but didn’t have the heart or courage; this had been the only place where she felt she had ever truly belonged, and if she were to leave who would perform the Duty?

The Duty. This was her life now; ensuring the continued survival of Mother’s legacy. She’d walked this path so many times now it was second nature. Her hooves knew the way and her mind was free to wander, not that she had much food for thought these days. She could always spend the day in the library again, but she’d need to venture to the store caverns soon with how low her candle supply was running. Being stuck in another cave-in was not an experience she wished to repeat, but she’d have to risk it; she couldn’t afford to be frivolous with her magic after all, not with the amount of food that was left. If she kept rationing at her current rate there’d be enough for another year, maybe two if she halved her already meagre portion. Mother wouldn’t be happy, but what else could she do?

Stardust was under no delusions; she was going to die, just like everypony would sooner or later. Admittedly, dying hungry, cold and alone wasn’t overly appealing, but this was her life now. She‘d had plenty of time to get used to the idea after all. A slight change to her surroundings jolted her out of her reveries; she’d entered a large atrium, its vaulted ceiling lost in the permanent fog high above her. What occupied her attention though was in front of her.

The Vault.

Despite the years of rust and neglect, its great iron doors were still just as imposing and awe-inspiring as ever, its heavy bolts and bars, caked with ice, were impossible to lift for all but the strongest of unicorn mages. This was the most secure part of the Sanctum; Mother had designed it to hold off an army.

Just as well, too.

Stardust shivered at the unpleasant memories before rapping gently on the iron monster. The four knocks boomed around the hallway, dislodging icicles and rust which tumbled down around the unicorn’s head. She took a short step back, and waited for the echoes to die away; she fancied she heard the distant rumble of a cave-in in some distant and forgotten wing. Satisfied that she was safe from immediate head trauma, Stardust approached the great doors again.

“Mother,” she called softly, “It’s Star. Let me in, please?”

No response.

Stardust sighed, Mother must still be asleep; she was up unusually early, after all. Oh well, might as well see about stocking up on candles in the mean-

There was a flash of light, a sense of movement, and a slightly queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She blinked a few times, taking in her new surroundings; Mother must’ve woken up early too. Like the majority of her home, the interior of the Vault was shrouded in a permanent veil of dust that never settled. The only exception here was a faint glow near the centre of the room, giving everything an eerie bluish tint. Giving her head one last shake for good measure, Stardust set off in a straight line towards the glow. She kept her pace slow and steady, the candle floating close to her head; the last thing she wanted was to do was slip off one of the catwalks and break her neck. The tell-tale clatter of metal under-hoof told her that was precisely where she was. Pausing, she stole a quick glance over the railing, the light of her candle doing little to penetrate the gloom below.

It was hard to believe that Mother’s Legacy was down there, sleeping soundly, oblivious to the horrors that had been committed outside their little haven, safe and secure whilst her Sisters had- Stardust took a breath. No, they weren’t to blame. They’d already suffered enough long before Mother gave them purpose. They weren’t to blame. Taking another breath, she continued along the catwalk.

After a few minutes she’d reached the heart of the Vault, or more precisely, Mother’s Heart. It was a large gem or crystal, (if there was a difference she couldn’t tell), shaped like a traditional love-heart and glowing with a gentle blue light; it was perfectly formed, with no sign of tools being used in its shaping at all. It floated gently at the centre of the room, with no visible means of support, emitting a gentle hum that made Stardust’s spine tingle. The curious thing was that Stardust never questioned where the Heart had come from; contrary to its alien appearance and nature, she’d always been saddled with the unshakable feeling that it… belonged here more than the Sanctum did, more than she did.

Shivering not entirely from the cold, she reached out and touched the floating stone.

“Good morning, Mother,” she whispered softly, her voice echoing regardless, “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

There was no response, at least in the common sense. Stardust instead felt a warm wave of fondness and reassurance wash over her, along with a tinge of concern.

The unicorn smiled.

“No, I’m alright really. It was just a dream. I’m fine now, promise.”

Relief mixed with undertones of scepticism.

“Please. I’m still standing aren’t I? I’ve enough to keep going for the time being. I was thinking that I can make the supplies last longer if I half my rations.”

Concern.

“Well, what else can I do, Mother? There’s only me now; no-pony even knows I’m still alive. I honestly doubt anypony up there even remembers the Sanctum is even here,” she snapped, her voice rising, “All I can do is keep your Legacy alive, just like you told me to, and just like I have done for the last five years!”

Heavy regret, mixed with appreciation and sorrow.

“No, I’m the one who should apologise,” she said, shaking her head, “You’re the reason I’m still here in the first place. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted.”

Forgiveness, mixed with understanding.

“To be honest, I doubt I’d have stayed sane without you here.”

Humour.

“Yes, I’m well aware that I’m talking to a heart-shaped crystal, but it would be rude if I ignored it.”

More humour, mixed with excitement and anticipation.

Stardust wrinkled her brow in confusion.

“What do you mean? I’m sorry Mother, but I don’t understand.”

A rush of emotions surged through her mind; Excitement and relief jostled with each other for dominance, whilst a small serpent of guilt slithered around them. At the very bottom was an undeniable wave of fear. All of these were suddenly washed away by an overwhelming sense of something Stardust hadn’t felt in years; hope.

Stardust’s frown deepened.

“I still don’t understand. Somepony is coming here, to the Sanctum? How? Who are they?”

No emotions this time, but words. Three words popped into Stardust’s mind, seemingly of their own volition.

The Green Stallion

There was a sound like the beating of a hundred butterfly wings, and Aliks’ world exploded back into view. He’d been looking forward to this trip; there was nothing he liked more than an afternoon in the tropics with a deckchair, a fishing rod and a good book, with no pesky fish for miles around; yes, this was going to be–

He tripped on one of the inner mushroom rings, his luggage flying in all directions, and fell face first into a snowdrift. A snowdrift; that was… unexpected, so much so that he couldn’t find his voice to yell in surprise.

He laid there in shock, his arms and legs refusing to budge. At the same time, he was becoming increasingly aware of the fact that he was, suddenly, very cold... actually no, freezing. It took a few seconds to rally his arms in an attempt to shakily push himself out of the drift. Steadily, and taking care to avoid landing on his backside, he got to his feet. When he felt stable enough, he gave a full-body shiver with a whimper thrown in for good measure. Feeling a little better, he started to brush himself down.

It wasn’t surprising that he was feeling the cold so badly; he’d dressed for the beach after all, not the godsforsaken North. Though to be fair his beachwear was no different to his every-daywear. His cloak and robes were good for the fairly temperate climates of the Asgarnian provinces he called home, but weren’t really suitable for this sort of weather; he was wearing open- toe sandals for Guthix’s sake!

Satisfied that he was free from the vile white powder, Aliks took a good look at his surroundings. This was most definitely not Mos Le’Harmless; if it was, then something had gone extremely wrong with the weather and geography, (or more likely the fairy ring network). This was more what the naïve liked to dub a “Wintumber Wonderland”, though in this case “Wasteland” might have been more appropriate; everything for as far as the eye could see was caked in snow, the only visible plant life were pathetic matchstick trees, hung heavy with ice and frost. The sky wasn’t much better, a washed out steel-grey with a watery sun trying but failing miserably at its job.

Yep, he wouldn’t be staying here any longer than necessary.

Shivering, he began rummaging through the drifts, picking up his gear from where it had landed and stacking the larger items by the fairy ring: Deckchair? Check; Tackle box? Check; Book? Oh, no... The ink had run where the snow had melted; now he’d never know who done it. Sighing, he stuffed the ruined book into his satchel. He was still missing something, but what? A chill wind blew past, ruffling his braids and further chilling his head.

Ah, of course.

He shuffled over to a snow drift that was sporting a battered wide-brimmed hat; it tinkled gently as the wind played with the feathers and other assorted knick-knacks secured in the band. Stooping, he picked it up by the brim, dusted it down and set it firmly on his head.

Right, was that everything? Ah, not quite. He stooped down again and took hold of a root sticking out of the drift, pulling it out to reveal a length of wood less than half a metre in length; its tip curved like a shepherd’s crook whilst its hilt was smoothed for an easy and comfortable grip. He stuck this in his belt; certain that it would stay put this time. Well, that was all his gear accounted for.
Now it was just a question of where his Trusty Companion had wandered off to.

An indignant and muffled mechanical squawk from under his feet answered that.

“Error! Error! Item-clog-in-all-external-ports-detected! Total-system-failure-imminent!

With a sigh the mage took half a step back, stooped for what he hoped would be the last time, and with a grimace, pulled as his Trusty Companion free of the snow; it was a small, squat robot, its odd root-like body and tendril-limbs overlaid with squares of dull-green metal. Aliks gave the miniature automaton a vigorous shake, causing clumps of snow to fall from its cavities, before setting it on the ground. It swayed as if dazed, before getting its bearings and looking up at its liberator. The inverted triangle of metal that served as its head sported a large V-shaped slit of cyan light. Clearly, it was not impressed.

“Cresbot-is-fully-capable-of-removing-port-clogs-Aliksandar: Please-refrain-from-repeating-such-actions-in-the-future.” The little robot scorned; its tinny voice petulant, “Port-clogs-aside-Cresbot-was-at-risk-of-a-total-system-failure-due-to-the-addition-of-Aliksandar’s-excessive-body-mass.”

“Oh, switch-off Cres,” Aliks smirked as the metal ingrate dusted itself down, evicting the more stubborn clumps of snow with its delicate appendages, “We both know it’d take more than me standing on you to break you. Also, I am not fat; if anything I’ve been underweight for the majority of my life!”

“Cresbot-begs-to-differ: Aliksandar’s-body-mass-has-increased-by-five-units-since- measurements-were-last-updated.”

“And since when has measuring my waistline been part of your programming?”

The V was replaced by a diagonal line of three dots.

“Request-for-information-acknowledged. Answer: Maintenance-of-Aliksandar’s-health-is-central-to-Cresbot’s-primary-mode-of-Companionship. In-addition-to-monitoring-weight-Cresbot-also-monitors-the-following: Physical-health, psychological-health, diet, sleep-routine, and-various-sub-sets-and-miscellanea.” The little robot seemed to beam with pride, “Data-is-updated-once-every-calendar-month.”

The mage cocked an eyebrow.

“And when do you manage to do all that? I haven’t caught you scrutinising me from the side-on before.”

“Cresbot-is-able-to-take-efficient-anatomical-measurements- when-Aliksandar-is-asleep.”

There was an awkward silence, broken when Aliks cleared his throat.

“When we get home,” he grimaced, trying his hardest to not wonder how thorough these measurements had been, “You and I are going to have a serious talk about privacy and personal space.”

If the little robot heard this, it gave no sign. Instead it chose to look around, taking in its surroundings for the first time. Finally it looked back at its owner, the three dots replaced by a disappointed w-shape.

“Cresbot-assumes-that-there-was-an-error-inputting-the-ring-coordinates-Aliksandar?”

Trying not to pout, the mage scowled at his companion.

“And why is it automatically my fault?” he griped, “There could have been a fault in the network for all we know.”

“Cresbot-understands: You-are-only-human.”

“Oi! That’s enough of that,” he chuckled, offering an arm to the lippy automaton, “Come on; let’s go.”

The w shape was quickly replaced by an inverted-U as the little machine scrambled up and clung contentedly to his shoulders. He could feel the metal points of its hands and feet poking into his neck and upper back; it was an awkward sensation but it wasn’t painful. Satisfied that his companion wasn’t about to fall off again, Aliks got to his feet.

He looked around at the landscape again; there was something about this place that set his skin into goosebumps, and it wasn’t just the temperature. Something was wrong. Inherently wrong; like it didn’t really belong. He shrugged mentally; Oh well, not his problem anyway. The sooner they got away, the better he’d feel. He trudged back to the fairy ring, picked up his gear, stepped into the central ring, and waited.

…

Nothing happened. No rush of butterfly wings, no blur of colours, nothing; just the sound of the wind, howling like a great mournful beast.

Well, this was odd.

Aliks raised a hand to his face and massaged his cheeks, checking for irregularities; nothing felt loose. Deciding on further examination, he probed around the inside of his mouth with his tongue; the false tooth that allowed him to use the network was still there, so he wasn’t the issue.

“Is-there-a-problem-Aliksandar?” Cres enquired, peering over the mage’s shoulder, “Only-Cresbot-and-Aliksandar-do-not-appear-to-have-moved.”

Aliks shrugged as he stepped out of the ring.

“No idea. My tooth’s fine, but maybe the cold could be affecting the mushrooms, what do you think?”

“Request-for-information-acknowledged. Answer: ERROR. No-data-available!”

“Calm down,” he sighed, “I was being rhetorical. Let’s try again.”

He stepped into the ring again, and waited. Apart from a sudden gust of wind blowing up his skirts and chilling his legs, nothing happened.

“Oh, come on! Don’t do this to me!”

Aliks threw down his gear and stormed out of the fungal circle, fuming. He crouched by the outer ring and gave one of the mushrooms a prod with his wand. There was nothing. Not even a spark. This wasn’t just a simple error in the network; the ring was dead.

He stared at the sad fungal ring in disbelief. This was a first, he’d never heard of a fairy ring… well, drying up before; heck, the Edgeville ring had survived being bombarded by Dragonkin. Long story short, they were incredibly difficult to damage, let alone break; he wasn’t sure they could break. Still, while this was food for thought, and something to grill Fairy Fixit over later, it was hardly an inconvenience; after all, any wizard worth his stupid pointy-hat always kept a means for teleportation about his person.

He opened his satchel and rummaged around. After a minute, his rummaging became a little more frantic; he hadn’t packed any law runes. In his defence, he had never actually earned the stupid pointy-hat… oh, bugger.

Panic was building in the mage’s chest and paranoia buzzed around his mind. He was never going to live this down; when word got out about this he’d be the butt of every joke at the Tower; tutors would hold him up to their students as the example of “How not to do it”. Assuming he even got back; he had no idea where he was. In all likelihood, he would starve to death out here, never to be found. On a lighter note, he wouldn’t live through the unbearable embarrassment; the dead didn’t tend to care much beyond their remains being disturbed or their right to pass over.

A mechanised chirping in his ear drew his attention back to the moment.

“Sorry, what?” he apologised, wrestling with the rising panic, “I wasn’t paying attention. What did you say?”

“Request-for-information-acknowledged. Answer: Aliksandar-Cresbot-has-detected-a-significant-increase-in-your-heart-rate. Cresbot-recommends-Aliksandar-take-immediate-calmative-measures-to-prevent-further-escalation.”

“Easier said than done,” the mage muttered, “Also, stop... reading… my body like that Cres; it’s creepy.”

“Request: Acknowledged. Cresbot-makes-no-apologies-for-fulfilling-Cresbot’s-primary-function.” The little robot retorted, “Additionally-due-to-the-continued-absence-of-teleportation-Cresbot-assumes-that-Aliksandar-did-not-pack-law-runes.”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a statement. It was also the nail in the coffin.

“Yes!” he admitted wretchedly; panic finally winning out, “I forgot to bring law runes! And as a result, I’ve stranded us in the middle of nowhere where I will subsequently die of starvation or exposure! Considering how bloody cold it is, the smart money’s on freezing!”

Cresbot waited for his companion’s ranting to subside and his breathing to become more regular. Satisfied that he was as rational as humans got, Cresbot addressed the mage again.

“As-Ms-Ayla-would-enquire: Does-Aliksandar-feel-better-now?”

“Honestly? Yes. Yes I do.” He breathed deeply, letting the chill air fill his lungs, “However, that doesn’t change the fact you and I are well and truly up the creek, my metal friend.”

“Then-considering-the-situatuion-Cresbot-recommends-the-immediate-use-of-an-Emergency-Teleport.”

Aliks wanted to kick himself; the solution had been right under his nose the whole time, he’d just been too caught up the panic and fear of ridicule to think straight. And what’s worse is that he needed to be reminded of something so integral and basic. The Emergency Teleport System was a network of lodestones spread across the continent, intended for exactly this occasion; if an Adventurer were to get hopelessly lost in the wilds, they could activate this spell and teleport to the nearest one, which generally put them outside the gates of the larger towns or cities. Most Adventurers carried it on their person at all times, Draynor Tower mass-produced the spell in easy-to-read pamphlets; students at the Tower had the formula drummed into them from day one until they knew it by heart. He may have never earned the stupid hat, but quite a bit had stuck through the years.

He looked forlornly at his luggage. An Emergency Teleport didn’t allow room for additions; he’d have to leave everything behind, his deckchair, his tackle box... Oh, well; replacing them would be a lot easier than replacing him. Wand in hand, he squatted and drew a sharp circle about himself in the snow, to focus the network’s magic. Grimacing, he sat down cross-legged in a meditative stance, closed his eyes and, trying to ignore his now cold and damp rump, recited the words.

He opened his eyes, fully expecting a dramatic change to his surroundings. He was horrified to discover that everything had maliciously chosen to remain white and wintry.

“Perhaps-Aliksandar-mispronounced-part-of-the-incantation?” a metallic voice chirped helpfully.

Aliks gave a small sigh of resignation. It had been quite a while since he’d last needed to do this; perhaps he had mispronounced one of the words. He closed his eyes and recited the words again.

He opened his eyes; tundra greeted him.

“Oh, come on!”

The mage struggled to his feet, his mind whirring. This was insane! Apart from the deep Wilderness the network could be accessed anywhere on Gielinor. And considering that he was not surrounded by creatures bent on killing him every ten seconds, he was reasonably sure that this wasn’t the Wilderness. So, why in the flipping hippo wasn’t the spell working?! He’d said the words, and there was no question of his getting them wrong; Wizard Isidor had been able to cure even the most forgetful students through the unintentional (but very real) threat of outright humiliation in front of one’s friends, peers and mentors.
So, if he wasn’t the problem, what had gone wrong?

The penny dropped with a rather nasty clatter.

The network could be accessed anywhere on Gielinor.

“Oh, no.”

“Is-there-a-problem-Aliksandar?”

“Well, you remember that creek I mentioned earlier?” The mage gave a mirthless chuckle, “Well, we’re not so much up it without a paddle as we are up it without a boat.”

There was a mechanical whirring from Cres. Aliks sighed inwardly; metaphors were not the little robot’s forte.

“We’re not on Gielinor,” he clarified, “the E-Teleport is useless here, wherever here is. And with the fairy ring drained-“

“And-Aliksandar’s-lack-of-foresight.”

“Yes, thank you for reminding me,” he muttered irritably; looks like the ridicule had already begun, “It looks like we are well and truly stranded in this Godsforsaken wasteland.”

The mage let out a long sigh of resignation; panic had run its course and working himself into a frenzy now would certainly do him no good. His energy would be better spent thinking of a way to repower the ring.

“Well, Cres. Any ideas would be appreciated.”

“Request-for-information-acknowledged. Please-wait.”

Aliks waited for his Trusty Companion to respond, impatiently stamping his feet and huffing on his hands. Thinking would be a lot easier if he wasn’t so damn cold; the temperature seemed to have dropped since he’d arrived, not to mention that the wind seemed to be picking up too!

Seeing a niche to be filled, paranoia descended; there were just too many unlikely coincidences piling up here: the fairy ring just happened to run out of magic, stranding him on some desolate backwater world, thus ruling out Emergency Teleports, on a day that he hadn’t bothered to keep law runes about his person?

This was a set-up.

Something had been waiting for him to let his guard down, and now it had pounced! Whatever had engineered his arrival here could be out there now, watching his every move, just waiting for an opportunity to strike. How had it had known that he would be without means of escape and armed only to deal with unruly sea trolls? Had it been watching him, learning his routine? And just how powerful was this thing if it could hijack teleports and drain fairy rings dry?

Aliks kept a tight hold of his wand; he suddenly felt very alone and exposed. The whistling of the wind seemed to have a far more menacing quality than it did before.

“Cresbot-has-a-solution.”

There was a shrill scream and a fireball erupted from the wand; it soared through the air, blazing like a second sun, before hitting the ground with a muted thump, an angry hiss, and a large column of steam some distance away. Certain that his heart was no longer at risk of leaping out of his throat, Aliks turned his head to his Trusty Companion.

“What was that for?!” he demanded, his breathing ragged. “What was that for, eh? You almost gave me a heart attack, for Guthix’s sake. I thought you were monitoring my body?”

“Due-to-Aliksandar-labling-the-function-‘creepy’-Cresbot-complied-with-Aliksandar’s-request-and-disabled-monitoring-routines,” the little robot explained, its metal face sporting the V, “Therefore-Cresbot-was-unable-to-predict-Aliksandar’s-reaction-to-external-stimuli!”

“Alright, I get it! You’ve made your point,” Aliks took a moment to compose himself, “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. Now, would you please tell me your idea?”

“Firstly-Cresbot-has-concluded-that-this-scenario-has-been-engineered-by-an-unknown-third-party. Secondly- Cresbot-acknowledges-that-the-only-means-of-transportation-is-beyond-Aliksandar’s-abilities-to-repair.”

“And this is you being helpful, is it?”

“Therefore-Cresbot-recommends-that-Aliksandar-locate-whatever-is-responislbe-for-disabling-the-ring-and-if-it-is-organic-persuade-them-to-restore-the-ring.”

“Assuming they’re open to reason.”

“And-if-it-is-mechanical-reduce-it-to-its-basic-components.”

“Assuming that it can be broken.”

“If-Cresbot-has-learned-that-given-enough-magic-Aliksandar-is-capable-of-achieving-the-improbable.”

“I packed for an afternoon’s holiday, Cres. Not open warfare.”

“Then-Cresbot-reccommends-Aliksandar-pray-that-whatever-is-responsible-is-both-organic-and-open-to-reason.”

“Well, as plans go it sounds simple enough,” Aliks agreed, “However, there’s only one tiny flaw so far that I can see; how do I find what’s pulling the strings?”

“ERROR: No-data-available.”

“Terrific,” he muttered.

Sighing again, the mage massaged the bridge of his nose; he was starting to get a headache. Well, whatever was pulling the strings had to be a reasonable distance from the fairy ring. After all, it had lost power after he’d come through, so who or whatever had to have some way of watching the ring. Aliks look around at the barren tundra; aside from the column of steam serenely curling skyward some distance to the south, nothing really stood out. He very much doubted that the matchstick trees were the manipulative, omnipotent fiend they sought. His gaze lingered on his trigger finger’s handy work.

Just how deep was this snow?

Resolved to solve at least one mystery he started trudging south, pausing briefly to set the matchstick trees ablaze with a salvo of well-aimed fireballs.

Well, you couldn’t be too careful, now could you?

Surprisingly, Aliks’ paranoia had been right on the money; something had been watching him since his arrival. Invisible to the naked eye, they had crowded around him like moths drawn to a candle in the dark.

While they didn’t have memory in the common sense of the word, they could recall when there had once been many warm things like this one, and the revulsion they held for this foul thing and its ilk. The warm was nothing more than an aberration of nature; an aberration that dared to take from the Cold, to drive it into the far corners and forgotten spaces with treacherous light and biting heat. But the Cold was patient; let the warm things fight, they would succumb in time.

Everything did.

While this trespasser was new to the entities, its contempt for the Cold was no different to that of all warm things; its vicious and unprovoked assaults said more than enough! It would not be tolerated.

It would be made to yield.

The windigos pursued Aliks, howling in his ears and harrowing him with freezing gusts, snatching at his cloak and robes with icy fingers that made him shiver and stumble. Spiralling together above him, they brought forth the storm.