Kindled Change

***Redone and Remastered***

Kindled Change

Chapter 1: Blind

It’s dark, so very dark. I peruse the halls, swooned feelings of such sweet joy for the dark. I don't see a thing. Darkness covets everything. It is comforting, it brings security and protection. In the dark, I go unnoticed. The walls and ground before me are as familiar to me as the darkness itself. I recognize the musty scent of water dripping from the ceiling. From what you might ask? That I do not know. It falls from above, but even what is above me I do not know, for everything sits still in the darkness. It is what it is, and being different does not change it.

The water that drips onto my nose and back, the walls that hold me and guide me when I’ve lost my path, the enriching sound of wind wallowing through the hollow corridors are my reprise. They are my friends, and they protect me from the dark. I love the dark. An unlit passion, though I fear it and its everlasting, vast embrace. It holds me close when fate reaps, and leaves me distant when I lose sight. It does not matter. I cannot see in the darkness. But I can hear, I can smell, I can taste, and I can feel in this darkness, they are my sight. All of it is worthless though. Being different does not change the truth.

Fate is ruthless, faceless, senseless. In this darkness, I hide from it, from her, from him. I see them, the small fires in their souls. I see how the fire is reduced to nothing but ashes. Fate is ruthless, and it has proved it many times. This darkness solemn as it may be, it is my only protection, I must love it, even if I too must fear what I love. Something begins to form. Something of unknown origin, something I wish to escape and it only brings more fear. Pain. Pain of seeing the fires to ashes. Pain in this darkness that I hide in. Pain of cowering from fate, from not being able to change it, even if only for the weariest of hearts. Being different does not change the darkness, the cowardice… the pain.

I choose my words carefully, if any at all. Standing before the mistress is unnerving. My heart cringes in dismay, hopeful that it would end soon. Yet, I see no ending to this. It is the same every time. Her shouts fill the halls, remnant to what I still have yet to lose. What is there to lose?

Nothing really. All I have is shadows, grim solemn shadows that have been my treasure since I was small. They keep me safe under their coat. I've known nothing more than darkness, and truthfully... that is all I wish I would have ever learned.

I do not know the sun and moon, who once shown and loomed above my head in a vastness of darkness. I held no fear for that darkness however. The one were the sun and moon once lived and loved for me. It was glittered with hope, with lights, bright and small, distant and charming, glittered with unmatched beauty. Then there was the moon itself, a symbol of true hope. I yearn for such times, when I would see that moon rise and shine in a mystical white light. Though, my mind paints a foggy picture of a memory.

I cannot say much of the moon, or of the night. All I own are vague memories so far and forgotten that I cannot hope to remember, for memories like that dull in time, and hopes are taken too far. I fear hope... strange as that may sound. I fear hoping to one day see the night and day again, for I wish strongly in my heart that it is as perfect as my mind sets it to be. I fear disappointment. It is a hopeless faith.

This fate has delivered me to this path. One that follows darkness. This darkness is what I fear. One where there are no stars but fear, exhaustion, and pain. Now that I sit in this darkness and I long for the night, now is when I am scared to hope. For what would night be now that it has been a while since I last saw it? All I can remember are old, faded memories… and I am scared to forget, and scared to remember. This turmoil consumes me, but it keeps me busy, it keeps me sane, if it is sanity at all. It helps me to look forward. It is a hope strong enough to pierce the darkness.

It isn't always all darkness however. There is light, if it could be called that. A serpent green glow that guides the weary to the unholy. A light so vile that, in ways, is darker than the darkness. Crystals, the pillars that decorate hell’s gateway. They are illusive, magnifying, superior, and a new one appears every time she has done her deeds, and more and more are they terrifying. Like her. I've sat before these Crystal, and all I've seen is pain, anger, feuds fueled by such a hatred that can only come from the depths of unholy rage… but… in the reflection of crystals, I see something else.

A face… weary and distressed, full of sadness and yearning. This face is unfamiliar... distant... and I hate it… I wish I could scream and it would go away. I wish I could cry and it would vanish. But when I do, it only gets worse…

This grief overpowers me. It shapes me into something different, and it makes the face go away. Something pulls me out. A voice. It stings the air and pierces the darkness. The voice is cold, sharp, and unforgiving. It calls out a name. This name is unfamiliar. I don’t know who this name belongs to. The voice calls out again and again, more and more impatient, and yet I still don’t know who this voice calls out to. But I follow. To see who it might be. I follow through paths carved out of the ground. I follow... and blindly, I am lead to my despair.

I follow the green crystals that illuminate the corridors to hell. Deeper down I go. I hear chanting. That of different voices. They are all different, but they do not speak words. They only chant hissing sounds. They chant mindless praises. Still I follow, and soon I see them. The minions of hell, the followers to her. They ignore me, they can’t see my form. Their eyes do not have irises, they are dulled, dead. Their eyes are a shade of green, like the crystals.

In the center, in a throne of the green glowing crystals sat... her. She is the only to turn her gaze at me. The irises in her eyes are snake-like. Pure green, greener than the crystals could ever be. They are dark and scary, filled with anger. I freeze up in fear. It was a mistake to come here, but I've followed the voice blindly. She is looking directly at me. The minions still chant praises at her, and she silences them with one hateful glare.

Her eyes lay unchanged upon mine. Looking into them is seeing an evil untold. Something so fierce that they augment pain into the beholder. Strangely, these eyes hold a glint of beauty, but they are swarmed with malice and hatred. It saddens me to think this way. Her mane a darkened mixture of mystical royal blue with a blooming green, her wings like that of a dragonfly's carved from bright green crystals, delicate and almost ethereal in appearance.

They are the remnants of the beauty that once enlisted upon her. Her unholy eyes and darkened coat is the embodiment of corruption itself. All the other minions are the same. They all chant in hisses, they all have the colors of the queen, yet they are all blinded, for they have no eyes, just green, round mists. I wish darkness was all I ever knew...

I... I am different from them. I am different from her. I do not remember how I truly look like. I've become the shadows themselves and I've lost sight of my own appearance, but I know I'm different. Yet... difference doesn't change the truth.

My voice… I've forgotten what it sounds like. I've become mute. I am not mute, but I do not speak. I've gotten so used lying in the shadows, the silence, that I've become part of them, and my sounds do not belong in that silence. It is why I hide myself as a shadow. A shadow among shadows and no one but her is able to see me. It is if as she feels my presences, sees through my form, my art.

Finally, she speaks. “My dear, do you know what day it is? The time is near for us to take our chance and reclaim what was once ours. I, no we, will take our rightful rule once and for all!” She shouts these last few words and the chanting of hissing noises began again, louder than before and more excited. Her words are like heated daggers; they cut through the soft flesh and leave behind pain and suffering. Her voice is sharp, regal, and frightening. You can almost hear a second voice when she speaks loudly. Her influence instills both loyalty and anger in her minions. She is a terrifying force. One that I dare not question. "You will have a good view of our new kingdom, sitting next to my throne on one of your own." Her words are almost sickening.

She said no more. By this time, all the preying eyes were set onto me. I hadn't realized that my form had disbanded. It has been a while since I last spoke to her, since I last saw these eyes. I tried to befriend them before, but they only told horrible stories and spat venom when I'd get too close. Fear... it is always there.

She says no more and leaves without a moment's notice. There are no sounds, or steps to be heard, she simply disappears. Her presence still remains, and her minions still chatter in hissing noises. What is to come, I still have yet to know, but I walk away in fear, fear of knowing what she has in store. It has been all but too long since I've last spoken to her... and even now the fear I once had still remains, stronger than ever before.

I slip back into the shadows, running far into the darkness, away from the serpent green crystals, away from the unholy light. Fear runs greatly through me once again, like it has many times, and I cower, in fear of what is to come, but I cannot hide from it. I run, but I run towards her no matter which way I go. This darkness is no longer the one I knew, now it turns, shifts. I hit a wall, the walls are beginning to change. A panic runs through me as I try to desperately feel my way around these shifting unfamiliar corridors. Finally, it comes an end.

When it does, a blinding color fills the darkness. This color is too much for my eyes. I try desperately to shield them. A feeling surrounds me. An intense warmth that grows the longer time goes by. Where am I? I cannot see a thing. I feel things brushing up against me, some pulling me. I struggle to break free.

I hear the hissing, to the front of me, and the sides close by. My panic only grows in fear that they might take me. I hold my hoofs close to my eyes, they still pain from this bright color and I struggle more to move away, my body numb from fear. Even the warmth now begins to hurt.

Then I hear her voice once more, in a shout, happy and gloating. "Soon they will all know the name Queen Chrysalis."