The Longest Journey

The alignment of the stars was unusually orderly and tidy. Was it a mortal hand that had had part in their placement? Was it Luna who tinkered with them, or were they arranged in that manner when she came to this world?

Shouting from the castle interrupted Sorcerer’s thoughts. He swiftly teleported away, down the slopes of the mountain. There were still some buildings, although it was a far less populated area than the city of Canterlot itself.

He knelt down and moved his finger through the sand. At first a few circles, then a triangle and a pentagram in the middle of each circle, completed by a square that connected each of the circles’ centre.  A violent, bright red light shone from them as he fed them his magic. A dull humming filled the air as the smell of sulphur and electricity wafted through it.

The humming got louder and louder. Greater power coursed through the runes. Multiple cracks of electricity. A bright red lightning closed in a rune. It appeared to house the power to tear the world apart, or perhaps summon a demon from the deepest pits of tartarus. It all went out, a silence before the storm. The air became dense with tension.

Ding! Thespell was ready.

“Aha! Lovely!” The runes diminished and a red arrow pointing somewhere north showed itself. The arrow then faded and the spell was over. Sorcerer’s focus shifted to the environment. He was being watched. A pair of vigilant ears stuck out of a nearby bush.

The mage approached the bush with the least terrifying expression he could manage. Of course, the least terrifying expression he could manage was that of a mental ward patient, and it wasn’t a pacifying one.

A dark blue blur leapt out of the foliage in the opposite direction and sprinted away swiftly. Its advance was halted by a rogue tree which shook upon the impact, yet sustained no damage. After closer examination, Sorcerer decided that the pony also wasn’t permanently injured.

Could he leave that pony there? He didn’t believe a non-magical forest right near the capital of the country would have predators within. He took a piece of paper and a quill out of his robe, then wrote ‘I’m watching you’ on the piece of paper before slamming it on the pony’s forehead and fastening it with magic.

Sorcerer removed all traces of the runes on the ground and looked in the direction indicated by the glowing arrow. Far in the distance, a city of clouds floated in the air, liquid rainbow cascading down from it. With a snap of the mage’s fingers, black smoke enveloped him, turning his whole being into a dark cloud. He shot off into the horizon.

Land sped by far too fast for sightseeing. He finally spotted the castle hidden behind the frozen peaks. Gothic architecture, dark grey stone colouring and a powerful source of magic within. To put it in a few words – it was the perfect fortress.

Sorcerer pushed the old steel gates open and stepped inside. Unlit torches dotted the greater part of the walls. Corridors were lit by the light spilling in from the glass windows, some of which were broken, leaking cold air from the outside. Sorcerer trod the dim corridors with caution.

The mage reached the centre of the structure. Starlight and snow streamed in through the broken window in the roof, brightening the spacious hall slightly. An enormous crystal hung off the ceiling in the middle of the chamber on heavy metal chains that somehow didn’t yield to the passage of time like the rest of the building.

“Let’s see what secrets hide within you,” muttered Sorcerer and raised his hand into the air.

The crystal shone brighter and brighter as magic filled it with energy. It blinked white and rose into the air, alive once more. The torches on the walls lit the hall with a cold, blue fire.

Sorcerer closed his eyes and reached into the memory of the castle. To his surprise it was nearly empty, save for a single entry. Before his eyes appeared an exceptionally large dark brown stallion with greying mane and tail. Upon his head rested a crown and in his eyes shone dim resolve.

The mage retreated from the ethereal plane with the knowledge of this stallion’s last known location. It was quite nearby. He then made his way out of the castle, wasting no more time. He flew swiftly across the frozen peaks in the form of a dark cloud.

Sorcerer found himself at an entrance to underground ruins and tried to open the door. It didn’t budge. Ancient pieces of art and architecture? Why would I care? He blasted the door apart and walked in.

A quick searching spell revealed the traps within. Apparently the one who designed the corridor had a dark sense of humour. Mines and spikes dotted every inch of the walls and floor for about a mile forward. Talk about overkill. The mage sighed and began dismantling the first trap.

An hour or so of intense thinking, careful acting, and painstakingly complicated work allowed him to move slightly forward. The corridor was practically a piece of art. Each trap had an original design, caused pain in a different way and had a different code or lock.

Sorcerer looked behind to see his progress. How he wished these traps didn’t prevent teleporting.

He had made the enormous distance of twenty meters.

Sorcerer groaned in frustration before standing up and arching his back with a satisfying crack. He augmented his legs with magic and grinned.

“This is so not going to work.”

He then ran through the hall for his very life. Sounds of explosions, magical discharges, arrows, and spikes echoed right behind him. The light grew closer with every second and he reached it quickly, falling to his knees on a cold stone floor and panting heavily. Cold and dim light of magical crystals lit the hall he was now in.

“I never thought somepony, uh, someone would do that,” sounded an old voice from right beside Sorcerer. He turned his gaze in its direction to see an ashen-grey pony sitting next to him. The pony must’ve seen many winters; his mane and tail were slightly whiter than his coat and wings.

The mage looked at him flatly.“Where... is.... the king?” Sorcerer choked out between pants.

“The carcass? It’s that way.” The pony pointed at huge ornamental door right ahead of them. Sorcerer noticed two more doors to the right and to the left.

“The carcass?” The mage panted out before collapsing face first into the floor.

“Well, of course a carcass. How could something be alive after a few hundred years in an old ruin? In the middle of the Frozen North, no less,” asserted the stallion.

“Says something alive after a few hundred years in an old ruin in the middle of the frozen north, no less,” Sorcerer said bluntly upon standing up.

The stallion shrugged it off as if it were nothing.“I’ve made a promise,” he smiled slightly, “to a mare, you know. A wonderful one at that. I swore that I’ll wait for her even till’ the end of the world.” The stallion’s smile widened, his gaze fixed dreamily on something in the distance. He shook his head quickly. “But enough rambling. I’ll show you to the coffin.”

Sorcerer followed the strange pony through the hall, carefully choosing words to lessen the impact. “Don’t you think that the mare you’re waiting for might’ve perhaps forgotten about your meeting?” At the stallion’s confused stare he rephrased. “She abandoned you.”

The stallion smiled dismissively and shook his head before answering. “Of course not. She’s coming soon. I can sense it.” Was he a psychologist? Most certainly not, but that sounded like a certain case of denial to him. At least he had a guide.

They entered an even bigger room. In the middle of it stood an altar, its surface slightly stained by blood. The gods it was build for – forgotten. Light streamed in from an opening in the ceiling. Surprisingly, it was merely a magical mirror, showing the outside. What magic might’ve supported such spells for so long?

Lastly they passed into some kind of mortuary. Coffins filled the gaps along the walls. A deliberately cut stone grave stood at the far end of the corridor. The pony stopped at the entrance, perhaps afraid to wake up the dead. Sorcerer’s intentions were exactly opposite.

The grave at the end of the corridor stood out the most; its design intricate, its adornments expensive. Sorcerer raised the lid of the coffin and revealed the body of a king. Partially decomposed, with skin stretched and torn, clinging to the remains of bones and muscles, it somehow still held together.

“Those from under the sign of the Nightmare were trying to perform some sort of rite on him. They didn’t succeed, though, lacking the magic that you now have,” said the pony behind Sorcerer. The mage smirked, raising his hand and letting the swirls of dark smoke circle around it. He then lowered it right over the head of the king and knocked on his forehead twice.

“Knock, knock, wake up, my little pony. Time to conquer the world!” Dark swirls circled the king’s body as he rose into the air. His old heart started beating, pumping stale blood through blackened veins. At last, the king was lowered back to his coffin, letting silence reign for a moment. Then he opened his eyes.

Sorcerer stepped back. He knew what would happen. The king jumped out of the coffin, raising a rusty Maltese cross, presumably a religious symbol, trying to shield himself with it. “Step back, demon! By the power of Light, step back!” Sorcerer regarded the king with a flat stare.

“It would be pretty pointless to raise you from the dead just to kill you again, wouldn’t it? If you look closely at your body, you might notice some changes occurring, and how your body is different from those of other ponies. Don’t be afraid. These things are natural to ponies your age,” Sorcerer said, but upon seeing the king’s suspicious stare, he added, “I want to help you conquer the world. Today we have a special offer. Without the ‘sell your soul’ kind of deal.”

The king was less than convinced. “Why should I trust you? You come to my domain, claiming you’ve risen me from the dead and–“ He paused when Sorcerer showed him the coffins lining the walls and the one the king had been lying in mere seconds ago.

“Here lies Carolus Friedrich, king of The Neidenburgian Empire,” the mage read, tapping the headstone of the king’s grave. The stallion in question slumped to the ground, the fake, rusty crown falling with a clatter on the stone floor. The king turned to the mage with cold resolve in his eyes.

“What do you want? My time came years ago, and has passed now. Neidenburg has chosen a new king.” He sighed. “What year is it now?”

Sorcerer turned to the stallion standing in the doorway and looking at the pair with curiosity, if not pity. “About three hundred and thirty years have passed since you’ve been buried here, king,” he explained in a grave tone.

Carolus Friedrich, the former king of a country that had once been an empire, turned his gaze to the ground, yet no tears fell from his eyes. “What was the result of the war?” he asked, probably already suspecting the answer.

“The war was lost on the Neidenburgian side. An everlasting peace with Equestria was signed a few years later.”

Carolus stood up, turning to Sorcerer with cold resolve. “What can you provide me with?” he asked simply.

“I can get you an army, perhaps a steady economy. We’ll figure out something about the armaments...” Sorcerer tapped his chin in thought. The king raised a hoof as if to stop him from further explanations, then trod forward out of the chamber. The mage smirked in amusement at the gesture.

“That’s enough. Lead me to your abode, demon. We must unite the pony nations under one banner if we are to survive. If not through diplomacy, than through blood and fear.” Cold determination shone in his foggy eyes. He trod beside Sorcerer through the dimly lit halls.

When the mage noticed the stallion he had met earlier wasn’t following them, he turned around. “What do they call you, stranger?” he inquired of the elderly pony.

“Wind,” came the answer. Who might Wind have been before he enclosed himself within these halls? How he entered them without setting off the alarms? Perhaps he had been there before they were set up and had seen many more winters than it seemed.

The pair left the complex to be met with the raging winter outside. The highest peaks were covered in snow the whole year and the approaching winter didn’t help the matter. Sorcerer, having memorised the road well, raised his hand and allowed the teleport spell to arrange itself in the dark smoke circling the pair. A second later the smoke enveloped them fully and they were gone.

---

“To right the wrongs,” repeated Nightmare to herself, her form lying on the cold stone floor of the ruins in the Everfree. She settled her head on her hooves before closing her eyes and taking deeper, calmer breaths. What wrongs could be made right, she didn’t know.

Deeper and deeper she fell, through darkness, into greyness. Darker grey for the ground, lighter for the sky.The line of horizon was perfectly straight, unbroken by hills or forests. Nightmare stood in the middle, her body partially transparent in this ethereal land. She reached further. Before her appeared the tired, weak form of an alicorn.

Upon seeing Nightmare, Luna charged up her horn and shot a beam of raw magic that was easily blocked by a shield. The princess then fell to the ground, exhausted. “Is this really it?” asked Nightmare. “Only hatred will I get from you?”

Luna’s glare answered for her. “What do you desire? Compassion? I didn’t know demons are hungry for such emotions too.”

Nightmare stepped back, sighing heavily. Luna was somewhat right, she was a demon, a monster. “Tell me what you asked me to do when you allowed me to take over.” Nightmare’s voice was cold and deliberate.

“I was angry; your words had poisoned me!” Luna shouted desperately.

“Tell me what you asked me to do,” insisted Nightmare.

“I... I told you to... to hurt my sister. To... to make her understand what I felt.” Luna’s voice wavered and a few tears fell from her eyes.

“And I did what you asked me to. By sending us to the moon, she had to endure a thousand winters without you. At last she understood who you are and what you mean to her.” Nightmare’s voice wasn’t comforting, yet it lacked the cold and cynical quality it held earlier.

Luna withdrew her muzzle from her hooves. “You did. But what if you had actually succeeded? What if the world had crumbled under eternal night?”

Nightmare sat down, looking softly at Luna. “It wouldn’t. I knew Celestia had her Elements, but with my power, I could at least somewhat change what they’ve done. And then, when I returned... well, it was mere theatrics. It was somewhat amusing though.” She smirked at the thought of charging at a significantly smaller unicorn.

“Wait! You mean you wanted to be imprisoned?”

Luna’s surprise made Nightmare chuckle. “Time flows a bit differently when you have sworn an unending oath to evil. At first, I guess I found thrill in it. Then, I simply wanted for it all to end before I went insane. All I got were the few hilarious months spent watching you awkwardly struggle with the changed world.” For the first time, Nightmare saw something other than hatred in Luna’s eyes.

It disappeared a second later. “And yet you fed me lies before you took over my body. You made me hate my sister. How can I believe you?” Nightmare sighed at Luna’s glare. This time, the princess stood up, finding herself slightly higher than the sitting mare.

“I saw the world with your eyes, Luna. I saw an evil sister who wanted to steal all the glory for your work. I saw the unthankful subjects who never wanted to stay up late and admire the night. I was just as angry as you were and I was bound to serve evil sooner or later. I gave in to our hatred.” Nightmare shrunk slightly under Luna’s gaze, but as she spoke, she regained her confidence and unyielding posture.

“And what would you wish me to do?” asked Luna. “Forgive you? Admit you were right?”

Nightmare shook her head. “I want you to understand.” She sighed and charged up her horn. “Because you are not going to forgive me for what I will do.” Before Luna could answer, the spell fired and Nightmare left the grey plain.

The crackling runes on the cold stone floor amplified her scanning spells. Soon, she detected the greater source of distortions in a form of a castle far to the north, and set off in its direction.

The black wings tore the sky over Equestria. Would the ponies believe she came back? Perhaps... Although knowing Sorcerer’s stealth abilities, all of Equestria was on high alert. Nightmare imagined a haltered Celestia and the mage atop of her, waving the stirrups and trying to force her to gallop. She chuckled at the image.

Nightmare landed before the old castle, barely touched by time. She stepped through the rusty iron gates, wincing at their creaking as she opened them. On the courtyard waited Sorcerer. He had that damned sincere smile on his lips. “I’m glad to have you back.”

Nightmare passed by, not giving him another glance. “I came out of duty, not free will,” she replied sharply before continuing down the corridors. She had absolutely no idea of where she was going. Sorcerer didn’t have to know that though.

Sorcerer stepped before her and guided her to one of the living rooms. There sat a partially decomposed lich, surrounded by stacks of papers and maps. “This is Carolus. He wants to be the king of... well... everything, I guess.”

The lich turned around to see who the mage was speaking to. Nightmare made sure to show him all of her terrifying fangs in a welcoming smile. The lich shouted and jumped out of his armchair to cower behind it, sending all of the papers flying. “MEIN GOTT! WELCHEN DÄMON IST DAS?!”

Sorcerer looked with pity at the trembling king before turning back to Nightmare. “Yes, he does that. But he speaks English very well too.” He walked over to the lich, gently stroking his mane. “Don’t worry, Carolus, Nightmare is on our side. Besides, you’re far too rotten for her to eat.”

Sorcerer lifted the pony in his arms and seated him back on the armchair. His magic rearranged the stacks of papers swiftly. He patted the head of the king affectionately and left the room. Nightmare followed him rather reluctantly, but caught up soon enough.

Sorcerer stopped at one of the passages, light streaming from the windows, showing the snow outside. Thankfully there were no cracks for the cold to seep in through. “There are three of us, as of now. We’ll need more.” Sorcerer looked at Nightmare expectantly.

“So you are already assigning tasks. How well you have found yourself in leadership...” Nightmare remarked with a slight tinge of malice in her voice.

“Well, what can I say?” Sorcerer outstretched his arms with a grin. “I’m a born commander.” All Nightmare did was look at him flatly. The mage’s grin withered into a more rational smile. “Of course I’ll have you leading us, “commander,” or should I say “Generalfeldmarschall” Nightmare. Just like in the old days.” The mare in question nodded, a satisfied smirk adorning her features. “First, though, we need information. I suppose you know where to find it,” said Sorcerer.

“I suppose you are right. Time to pay poor Luna a visit. Do you have a bed or an armchair I can use?” Sorcerer nodded and led her to one of the more spacious royal bedrooms of the castle. The double bed inside still had quite well-preserved red curtains and a brick fireplace.

“Very strong conservation spells,” answered Sorcerer, seeing her curious stare.

He was surprisingly nice when he needed something. Nightmare settled on the bed, laying her head on a pillow. “This bed doesn’t have any lice, does it?”

The mage grinned. “Do you really want to know?”

Nightmare leapt out of the bed in a matter of seconds and flared her horn wildly in an insecticidal spell. Dark blue aura enveloped both the bed and her for a few brief seconds.

Sorcerer laughed genuinely at the situation, waiting until Nightmare settled on the bed again. He then pulled himself an armchair and settled on it, summoning a book to read. Nightmare sighed as she sank into the soft mattress and shot a tired glance at the mage. “I would rather not have you watch me sleep.”

Sorcerer grinned. “Want a bedtime story?” He raised the book slightly.

“You could...” A small smile lit up Nightmare’s features as she settled her head on the pillow and sighed, closing her eyes. Unbeknownst to her, Sorcerer grinned devilishly before opening the book and starting to read.

“’Psychotronics is an independent, interdisciplinary branch of knowledge that takes into consideration the forces working at a distance – interactions both between people themselves and between the world (both organic and nonorganic) and the people. Such interactions are connected with energetic forms of all highly organised matter...’” Sorcerer smiled upon hearing Nightmare snore once before falling completely asleep.

Sorcerer went to the castle’s kitchen to fetch a cup, or rather a bucket, of strong coffee. He was willing to sacrifice anything to not face Nightmare during a coffeeless morning. Perhaps he would need some too if he were to ensure her safe and tranquil sleep for the rest of the night.