The Longest Journey

Cold, so dreadfully cold.

There was nothing alive a thousand miles in each direction. The sound of the hoofsteps resonated across the barren, snow-covered plains. A light on the horizon – a cottage. Faster, faster. He urged the horse with a strike of his shoes.

No warming day, only freezing gale.

Stars and galaxies shone across the heavens, accompanied by colourful auroras. Two enormous moons guarded the sky, like the Queen’s sentinels, each one adorned by a belt of stardust. An occasional comet flared across the sky.

He dismounted and walked up to the entrance of the cottage. Two light knocks sounded off the wooden door. A deafened call told him to come inside. The door creaked loudly, breaking the silence violently. The freezing wind threw the messenger inside and drew him into a furious battle when he tried to close the door.

He welcomed the warmth of the fire and air that didn’t fill his lungs with needles of ice. At last. A woman sat on one of the armchairs standing beside the fireplace. She was dressed in a thin, black cloak,  a shirt just as dark, trousers, and a pair of heavy looking shoes. She drew the light out of the room with her clothing, no, uniform, the messenger corrected himself.

Truth be told, the woman was neither beautiful, nor hideous, her small breast concealed by the customary male clothing. She appeared old, very old though. Her raven black hair didn’t show it, nor her very slightly creased face. But in her eyes, one could see wisdom; weariness accumulated over long years. She nodded at the armchair beside her and the messenger walked to it hastily and eagerly. He sank into the cushions with a sigh.

“It was a long time, wasn’t it.” The woman smirked slightly, a ghost of a smile many would miss. Not the messenger though; he had an eye keen enough. “I suppose I’m on a break. I have the right to take a break every so often, don’t I?” But the messenger’s dire expression didn’t change. “Apparently not so much.”

The messenger nodded, at a loss of words for a second. “No one is on a break. Not since last week.” The woman’s smile disappeared from her lips. She sat straighter; an encouragement to explain further. “Do you remember Project Astralis?”

The woman nodded. “We surrendered eight worlds, the names I don’t remember now, into chaos, to ‘reclaim the balance in the universe.’ Apparently we were winning too much back then. But it’s ancient history, thousands of years back. How is it relevant now?”

“We didn’t scan the worlds, as you perhaps know. We just had that vague idealistic drive that we should keep the balance. Sadly, they turned out much more valuable than we thought. A lot of ore underneath the surface, and whole races of earth-dwelling beings on seemingly dead spheres.”

“And we didn’t see that we tipped the scale?” asked the woman. At first, the messenger responded with silence. His all-knowing superiors had been wrong, and on a universal scale.

“Not until recently. Far too late, sadly,” the messenger said, a note of despair in his voice.

The woman took a deep breath and held it. “Can we stop it?”

The messenger refused to meet his eyes. “Wolf requires your presence at the Outpost as soon as possible. He said there’s a danger familiar to you, and you’d be the person required to vanquish it for good.”

The woman was silent.

They left the cottage in a rush. The woman simply closed the door; it had no lock. The snowstorm raged about the cottage, obscuring view and taunting them with its howls. The woman raised her hand, snapped her fingers, and called out into the storm.

A black horse galloped out of the blizzard and stopped right before them. The woman tapped the horse’s side, smiling warmly. “How long has it been, my friend? A decade or two? Far too long, I think.”

The messenger left them alone to fetch his own ride. He noticed a strange, crystal-like symbol on the edge of the woman’s cloak, a reminder of sorts, but the woman had never explained what its exact meaning was.

“We’re going to war, buddy,” the woman continued. “Just one last time, I hope you have it in you. I hope I have it in me–”

“Can we go now?” the messenger asked, breaking her monologue. “The cold is killing me.” He shivered, before tapping the white mare beneath him. “Her too.”

The woman mounted her horse. “Let us waste no time then.” They shot off through the storm.

He breathed in deeply and listened, his gaze cast beyond the open window as it filled the cosy room with pleasureful cold.

The air smelt of delightful sorrow, harmonious cries of agony echoed far in the distance. Frozen peaks pierced the sky, taunting any bypassing adventurers with the faceless horrors that rested within the barrows.

Beyond them lay a rainforest – the only place that resisted corruption and retained colour. A group of renegades hid there; they had run from the cities. Every day a few of them fell prey to the dangerous beasts and armed patrols.

He could probably find them all, of course. Find them and slaughter them mercilessly. No. Let them thrive in their freedom, he thought. Let them choke on it.

The sound of metal slamming a wooden door interrupted his thoughts. “You may come inside,” said the mage. A living stash of heavy armour opened the door and walked in, making surprisingly little sound beside gentle thuds.

The mage regarded the creature in amusement. It had a lighter plate with an inscription on it: Property of Sorcerer. The most interesting part of its equipment however, were its shoes. They were armoured, of course, but they were also covered in plush pink fur, an addition helping to stifle the loud clanking noise they made while walking. Sorcerer couldn’t help but grin at the sheer wonder of his creation.

“He calls, master,” said an empty voice from within the armour.

“Prepare the horses then,” answered Sorcerer, already making his way to the door.

“I have already done so, master.”

They had to repeat “master.” Of course they did, he had programmed them to do so. Still, it got surprisingly annoying after a while. “Thank you.” Sorcerer moved across the hall, but stopped abruptly and turned around. “They’re at the eastern entrance, are they not?”

“Yes, master.”

He’d have to reprogram them sometime.

“Master, I and other units have synthesized a hymn in your honour. It’s called Master of the universe, hammer of gods, Devil’s demise, evil in disguise, father of lies, and all the other titles of Sorcerer the Almighty. Shall we sing it to you?”

No, he must reprogram them for the sake of his sanity.

The corridors of the castle were a maze. A very effective one, actually. So effective that Sorcerer found himself mildly wondering whether he’ll die of starvation  two hours of wandering later. He finally stood up from his spot on the ground and opened the door nearby. It led, quite surprisingly, to the back entrance. Finally!

Another golem waited for him at the gate. The scout, able to travel along thanks to the energy-storing crystals that nourished his body. Sorcerer nodded at him and mounted his horse. The trip itself was short; they left the gray plains behind swiftly, their well-bred horses galloping to the edge of exhaustion.

Before them stood a chapel. Twisted, sharp-edged, and built of dark stone. Bas reliefs, once works of art, were now violated by depictions of demons and undead. Sorcerer stepped toward the chapel with a slight smirk upon his lips. God hasn’ttaken revengefor that one yet. He turned to the golem before entering. Sorcerer’s lips moved, but there was only silence for a moment.

“Get back to the castle before your crystals run dry!” he called at last. “And hold on while I’m gone, all right?” The golem saluted before riding off, although no expression showed on its face. It wasn’t capable of feeling emotions.

Sorcerer pushed the enormous, ornate doors open. Inside, the stained glass windows allowed little light, and a simple, empty altar was waiting for him. A dusty goblet stood upon it. Sorcerer took his dagger out from the bosom of his robe, and drew blood from his wrist. Every drop fell straight into the goblet.

When nothing happened for a minute, Sorcerer grinned before turning his gaze heavenward. “You want me to bleed out, don’t you.” He turned into a black cloud and faded away.

---

Two young colts who proudly called themselves “guards” shivered in the breeze. They had no weather conditioning training, no tactics training, probably no combat training, but of course they were her “guards”. Luna sighed in irritation. She stopped by a nightshade flower and inhaled its scent, magically engineered to be both sweet and not poisonous.

Luna sought out a bench and reclined upon it. As she expected, the “guards” didn’t move closer. They would stay in place and freeze their posteriors off as if their life depended on it. At least they understood discipline. Luna sighed deeply. She was getting tired, wasn’t she? “You may sit beside us if you wish,” she said. “Our, uh, my pride shall not suffer on it.”

Luna felt a change. The gardens became slightly colder and she cast a quick spell to warm herself up. It didn’t help.

“Are you completely sure this is the right course of action?” said a voice from behind her.

A cold shiver ran down her spine before she turned around. Her guards were gone, and in their place, leaning on a tree, stood a bipedal creature in black robes and a manic grin upon its face. Human. Luna teleported behind the bench and took a defensive stance.

“Who are you? What do you want?” started Luna, eliciting a sneer from the human.

“You wouldn’t notice my entrance even if I slammed your door with a sledgehammer,” said the creature with an audible tinge of sarcasm in its voice. “I am the doom at your doorstep, the harbinger of your destruction, the death of your loved ones, the devourer of your soul. My name, Sorcerer.”

Luna wondered whether the human was trying to intimidate her, or to amuse himself. Either way, he failed miserably. Her horn flared, preparing both a shield and an offensive spell.

“Resistance is poin... well, just try to hit me.” Sorcerer outstretched his arms wide, waiting for the blow.

Luna pointed her horn at the human and shot a burst of energy, to no effect. It dissipated on a shield of black, swirling mass. He was skillful, it seemed.

Luna teleported to the left, then to the right quickly and fired a stronger missile. The human intercepted again. He only smirked lightly. Impossible!

He was waiting for her to tire out. Luna switched to defensive, waiting to intercept his missile this time. She wanted to see the extent of his power. Could she? The human sent a strike at her: a tentacle of black magic. She put up a strong shield and teleported to the side in case it failed. The attack was ridiculously weak. A defensive specialization.

Luna conserved energy. Her shields were weaker and she made half hearted efforts at dodging. She rarely shot and her shots were blocked. The human was growing weaker, sloppier. She needed only to withstand a while longer. His shield flickered and Luna shot, only to see her own shield flicker down and die. Her horn no longer worked.

Black bile crept up her legs and forcefully pulled her down to the ground. The human approached her at a leisurely pace. Her eyes followed him carefully. Anger lit them, and horror hid deep inside of them. He stepped closer, and eventually knelt in front of her.

“I must admit you fought quite well. Still, you should’ve listened to my advice,” he said calmly, as if scolding a naughty child. She wondered whether the fight was heard in the castle. It should have been, Luna thought, it was loud here in the centre. Hopefully it wasn’t though. If one princess fell so easily, then the other would be in great danger too.

Sorcerer cast a series of complicated spells, rarely doing anything else beside subtle movements with his hands. “Grit your teeth. I’ll try to stop it from hurting,” he murmured, focused on the magic.

Luna felt numbness overtake her whole body. She wasn’t paralysed, but the magic held her in place. An anaesthetic, she thought idly, her consciousness withering away. The mage looked at her guiltily, and cut off the flow of magic as soon as the spell was finished. She gave in at last.

Sorcerer stepped back to see the pony stop moving and let go.

I've hurt her, imprisoned her. Did she deserve it?

He clenched his fist and cast another spell, this time with his eyes closed. He gritted his teeth. Coldness and tranquil emptiness filled his mind. When he opened his eyes again, no guilt could be found in them anymore.

The alicorn’s coat darkened, turning black as her mane and tail grew longer. She was taller and far more intimidating when she arose. She opened her eyes slowly, as if waking up.

“How long has it been, Nightie?” said Sorcerer with a hint of a smile upon his lips.

In answer, he was flung at a nearby tree and struck repeatedly upon its trunk. A few magical missiles were flung his way, but those he managed to block in time. “Does that make for an answer?” said Nightmare Moon. Sorcerer teleported, but she managed to strike him right after he reappeared, causing him to stumble to the ground.

Sorcerer was silent, Nightmare’s eyes bore into him. Slam after telekinetic slam on the tree trunk. He limply hung in the dark blue magic, allowing it to inflict all the pain it desired. Soon enough, the alicorn’s hold on the mage ceased. He slumped to the ground, opening his eyes and looking at her distantly.

“You’re worthless.” She lay on the ground, breathing heavily. “There is nothing for you in Equestria, traitor. Not after what you’ve done.”

“I suppose I deserve everything you wish to do to me,” the mage muttered as swirls of dark magic healed his body. “When I heard you found yourself here, I couldn’t help but try to come. I’m the only one who recalls you reciting the Oath. We swore it together. I remember the uncertainty in your eyes, perhaps you recall the fear in mine...” Sorcerer trailed off, as if waiting for confirmation. He received none though.

Nightmare stood up. “Night damn me! You are the only one who knew me before I became Nightmare.” She paused for a second to gather her thoughts.

“I found the princess of this world a millennium ago. Unwanted and unloved, truly alone. I followed her wishes and was punished for it. However, even when I lay defeated in the back of her mind and watched her thrive, I felt happier than in service of evil.” She sighed, turning away from Sorcerer.

“I’m sorry,” Sorcerer said quietly. She didn’t listen.

“Yet you had no remorse in leaving me. Ten years is a long time to collect one’s thoughts.” Her words chosen carefully, a message delivered in a voice that cut sharper than a sword. Nightmare didn’t turn back to see Sorcerer’s reaction.

“I still had a heart back then. No power could stop it from being torn apart. Darkness doesn’t care about the motivations, about bonds or friendship. It demands. And the demand must be fulfilled.” Sorcerer stood up, yet made no move toward Nightmare. She was silently glad for that.

“You should’ve never come here,” said Nightmare before beating her wings furiously and flying into the starlit sky. Her dark coat became one with the heavens, she shed her regalia and let it fall to the ground, thousands of meters below. She wasn’t a warrior anymore.

Nightmare flew over the rooftops, masked by the starlit sky. Her wings carried her above the green fields and pastures, into the Everfree. She knew well where the ruins lay and there she landed, amidst the stone corridors and halls. There stood the hall of the Elements of Harmony, further was the hall she had been defeated in.

She trod the halls, allowing the memories to seep into her consciousness.

“Luna, I will not fight you! You must lower the moon! It is your duty!” sounded Celestia’s voice. She rarely shouted, but few times has Luna seen her so desperate. Then the fight, Celestia‘s use of the Elements, the banishment. She slept through a thousand years before the Elements could find someone worthy of bearing them and healing Luna.

Nightmare saw the princess cower in fear before her sister. She saw her blush when two fillies offered her a garland of flowers. She recalled her hilarious and awkward behaviour during the Nightmare Night celebration.

Nightmare smiled. “Is it better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven?” asked a voice from behind her.

“It is better to be a prisoner in heaven than to be a champion of hell,” Nightmare answered without hesitation and turned back. She saw a man with very short hair, wearing a red shirt, worn brown jacket and torn denim trousers. It most certainly wasn’t Sorcerer. “War?” she asked, surprised.

“An astute observation,” he remarked before smiling. “I never lose a chance for an interesting talk. Conversation is the core of inspiration, after all.” He paced about and sat down on a fallen stone, Nightmare observing his each step.“What would happen if we made the decisions for ourselves?”

“Don’t we already–” Nightmare stopped as realisation hit her. “I swore an oath to Darkness, not knowing what would happen. The subjects are controlled by kings, the kings by their stronger neighbours, and they by their greed and desire. No one is truly free.”

War clapped his hands with a grin. “Still, you haven’t reached the point. What does it have to do with you?”

Nightmare’s mood darkened. “’Once fallen, never to rise’,” she recited, turning a forlorn stare at the ground. “I will have to raise my sword against Equestria sooner or later.”

The grin on War’s face disappeared and he looked at the mare with sympathy. “Take your time. Perhaps make right whatever you can before you’re forced back into duty.” He stood up, turning to leave. “Remember, everything stands in balance. For the darkness, there is light. I believe you will be happy sometime.” His steps disappeared down the stairs outside. Nightmare didn’t see him leave.

“You believe I will find happiness,” she spoke to no one in particular. “Yet War lies.” She sighed deeply. “Perhaps I deserve a greater punishment for my sins.” Only an echo answered her in empty halls.