Where I End and You BeginView OnlineThe RefugeeWhere I End and You BeginChapter 1 Where I End and You Begin "If a man could have half his wishes, he would double his troubles." Benjamin Franklin. A wooden table with a circle of transmutation meticulously carved into it stood in the middle of a dimly lit room. The dusty scratched up wooden floor beneath bared another carving of the same circle turned opposite of the one on the table. The dim candlelight from the six equidistant corners of the encompassed hexagon in the floor danced upon the rough concrete walls. Tears streamed down his face and he sobbed uncontrollably as he dropped the open jar filled with gasoline behind him. With a solemn look in his eye he pushed himself in his wheelchair up to the table and held his open hand over the carvings on it. He paused for a moment with his hand over the circle and continued to cry deeply as he recollected staying up until dawn listening to his father talk about ancient rituals and a legendary gate that served as a portal to all worlds. He let out a very loud sob as the memory of his father disappearing struck an unforgiving blow to his already shattered mind. "Why?" he cried, violently banging his fist on the table. His heart sank with the thought of his mother's funeral only a day ago. He clenched his head with both hands as the memories of her sweet words comforted him on his first day of school. The day the kids called him "gluey" for his strange habit of paste consumption. He was only four, and they were so cruel to him; yet she was always so kind. The other children never stopped finding reasons to make him feel worthless, and she never stopped waiting for him to walk in crying. He loved his mother more than anything in the world, but the world took her away from him. The white-hot rage boiled within his veins as he cursed a force he wasn't even sure truly existed, "WHY!!??" Both the memories of his mother and father being alive and around seemed so coldly distant now, yet so warmly recent. Every birthday and the ridiculous birthday song they'd sing. It used to make him hide his face with shame, and now it made regret missing those seconds with his palms firmly pressed into his eyes. With both hands still clamped tightly on either side of his head, he mustered a smile. He pulled a crude colored pencil drawing of a red pegasus pony with red irises from his pocket. It's mid-length feathered dark purple and blue mane brushed forward, shying away from his flank which bore no markings and it's bushy tail. Above the young colt was the word "Seraf" written in red sharpie. Hands shaking, he gently laid the picture on top of the circle carved into the table. He took a deep breath and bit his lip as he began to fully realize what he was doing. "There's no turning back after this." he thought to himself as memories of earth's endless blue skies fluttered by his mind. It hit him all at once that he'd never see another earthen sunrise, feel another cool breeze of his own world's wind, or sneeze from allergies caused by earthen flora ever again. As he stretched his fingers apart the carvings on the table began to glow under his hand. Four Hermetic crosses, one on each wall, hummed softly as they lifted off the walls and hovered. He gritted his teeth as he relived every blow to his back with the bat, shuddered as he recalled every vain cry for help, and flinched at the memory of the very audible crack of his spine. "Who would ever come back?" he said as he clinched the fist at his side. He convulsed and screamed as the memory of his father's study, left intact from the day he left, darted by his mind. He thought about the day after his thirteenth birthday; waking up to his mother bawling her eyes out in their tiny kitchen. The words she spoke still rung in his head every morning when he awoke since then. "H-He's gone." She never smiled again after those words left her lips. In fact she was never the same after his father vanished. A once doting mother spent most of her time on the living room couch drifting in and out of a depression-fueled slumber. She would even go into fits of madness claiming everything from his father being away with work to him being long dead and gone. It crushed him inside to see her like this, and it pressed him harder to find a way to escape it all. He recalled sneaking into his father's study, against his mother's advice, around the time he was fifteen. With crosses humming all around him he picked up his father's Grimoire from his lap and the smell of leather and dust reminded him of the first time he had cracked it open all those years ago. As was clear from his father's treasured book, the man had dedicated his life to further the science of interdemensional travel and exploration. A dream he kept mostly to himself out of fear that he'd be committed if anyone thought he really believed in such pseudoscience. Despite his awareness of what the world would've thought had they discovered it, his father's grimoire laid out, in obsessive detail, the ingredients and processes needed to open a portal that could lead to any world you could ever want to visit (and some you would not). A portal he referred to as "The Gate", or "Il Poerta". The boy knew that the gate was his only hope of ever escaping the place he truly believed to be hell. The only exit from the constant nightmare of living on Earth. He checked all six candles to make sure each was still lit. His eyes darted obsessively to each rune in the carving on the table and it's direct inverse on the floor; making sure every line and curve were in its place. He turned his head to all four dimly lit walls of the room to make sure the four crosses were in position. "Everything in it's right place." he muttered to himself. The sobs shook his body as he looked down at his legs; numb and lifeless. He placed his palms on his dead knees and grasped them tightly; hoping in his heart to feel something in them, and knowing in his mind that he would not, but also that in a short while it would not longer matter. He closed his pouring eyes, tilted his head back, and breathed deep as he bid a silent farewell to Earth that was anything but fond. He raised his right hand back over the circle and picture on the table and spread his fingers again. He tried desperately to focus on the table's carvings through the tears as he began the chant. "Flies nuf Hermes." The first cross turned on its side and clicked much like a tumbler in a lock would. The room grew darker. "Min tamash ferra." and the second cross turned and clicked. The candles' flames became small circles of light, no longer able project light anywhere but immediately around them. "Tru nos hazen. Porsu abre il poerta.", and the third cross turned and clicked, the carvings on the table lit up the entire room with a sharp blue and amber glow. "Abre il poerta e Mi Ferra a." and the fourth turned and clicked. With tears in his eyes he shouted the final word he would ever speak as a human being and surrendered everything, "EQUESTRIA!" As soon as the last syllable left his lips the room filled with a blinding blue and purple light. It felt as though he had been plunged into a pool of ice water as his soul was tugged violently away from his body. He mustered all the strength left in his quickly failing body and desperately held onto the soul that was slipping from his grasp. He could barely lift his ice-cold arms, but somehow he pushed himself away from the table hard enough to roll backwards in his wheelchair, upsetting the jar of gasoline and spilling it into the floor on his way to the wall behind him. He barely felt himself slam into the concrete as he shivered uncontrollably. He knew without a doubt that his was a sign that he had very little time left. He could feel himself slipping out of his body as his vision blurred. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he felt his entire body go ice cold. Convulsing, he bent over and flung his nearly lifeless arm down in front of him; trying in vain to knock the candle in front of him into the gasoline. With his soul now all but completely pried from his floundering body he thrust his hips upwards and pushed himself from his wheelchair and prayed his dead legs would tip the candle over. As he hit the dusty floor beneath him he could no longer see or feel anything at all, but he clearly heard the flames let out a terrible roar as they ignited the spilled gasoline. It was finally over. He let out his dying breath in relief and let go of the now barely existent bond between body and soul. He could now see himself being pulled into the circle on the table; he could feel an unrelenting pull sucking him into the circle by his hands, feet, head and stomach. He struggled to turn his head against the pull; back towards the candle to make certain the flames had risen and saw the room fill with an otherworldly glow of a strange blue and violet. He looked upon his empty shell of a body lying lifeless on the floor as the flames washed over it and smoke filled the room. He felt no pain, no anger, nor no anxiety. He could feel only the pull of his soul, and the icy peace of feeling nothing at all. Even into the wee hours of the night the beautiful lights and joyous banter of the Grand Galloping Gala filled all of Canterlot. Celestia had just finished greeting her last guest of honor when one of her personal assistants came running down the stairs, nearly bumping into her. "I-I beg your pardon, my princess," said the bumbling servant as he struggled to halt his advance, "but there is some sort of, uh, well, a creature. In your personal chambers!" Celestia's heart sank and her formerly shining eyes grew dull and forlorn. "A two legged creature made of metal?" she said, regaining her regal posture. Her aide's eyes widened in surprise as he tried to catch his breath, "Why, yes. I-I-I don't know how he got in! I've already alerted the guard-" "That's ok, Sebastian." She said, bending down to whisper to the bumbling aide, "Tell the guards to return to their stations. This creature is someone I need to speak with." Sebastian's eyes turned towards the floor and his brow creased as he tried to digest it all. "Right away. Ma'am. I-I will. Do that. Yes!" "And, Sebastian." She called as she made her way up the stairs, "I need to speak with him privately. Please see to it that we're not disturbed unless it's absolutely necessary." "Y-Yes ma'am! Right, then!" He said as he wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed in relief. With every upward step Celestia's normal radiant serenity faded into a gloomy sadness. Mid-way up she paused and for a moment seriously considered not confronting the man of metal that awaited her. She tried to think of any possible way she could to avoid what was to inevitably come. She looked back down at the foyer of Canterlot Castle and the heavenly lights lit a path back down to a world without worry. He ears stood erect as the strings and horns of the Royal Orchestra called her away from the music she knew she had to face. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she tried to keep her composure despite her unshakeable fear. As she finally reached the top of the stairs with her head hung low, she stopped and stared at the open door that led to her personal chambers. She took a deep breath and again fought off the ever-present urge to turn away. She raised her head and slowly walked through the door with a forged grace. The man of metal stood inside her quarters facing out her window. His skin was plates of mostly rusted metal welded and riveted haphazardly over one another. His ever still eyes and mouth were holes cut into a cylindrical head with a tin cone forming the lid on top. His body was a cylinder, his arms and legs thick metal pipes with joints in the appropriate places a humanoid creature would have, and his hands and feet were very simplified rounded shapes representing human ones. She stepped further into the room and let her front hoof tap the floor to announce her presence. "Hello, Tarnish." She said softly. He turned to her and said in a low raspy voice, "It is time, Celestia." Her eyes turned from him as her brow gave away her sadness. He turned his entire body towards her with a wretched and unnerving screech of rough metal on metal. "The prophecy has begun, and your compact is now active." He declared coldly as she caught a glimpse a dim flame inside his hollow head flicker to life through his eye and mouth holes. Celestia hung her head in despair. "I know." she said as she passed Tarnish and looked out the window over all of Equestria. "I'm going to miss Equestria. I've given everything to this wonderful place.", she said, placing her front hooves on the windowsill, "It always felt like...like I was born to rule here." "A human is born to be a human. Only an Equestrian may rule Equestria forever." Tarnish said, reinforcing Celestia's notion of how silly her previous statement was, "You were issued your compact when you took up Godhood here." Celestia looked Tarnish in his eyes, and saw that the flame now burned with the brightness of a furnace. She only recalled seeing that flame in him once before when they discussed the fall of the late queen. She shuddered at the thought of her part in it all, and found disgust in Tarnish's strange fascination with debasing deities. She recalled signing the fate-sealing compact on the day she and Tarnish discussed the queen's abdication, and an icy despair washed over her with the reality that it was time to surrender to it's final conditions. Celestia closed her eyes and bowed her head in acknowledgement before the metal man in front of her. "Tarnish the Harbinger, First of the Ungods," she said reverently, "I must accept my fate. I made a deal and as ruler of Equestria I won't back down from it." The flame in Tarnish grew brighter. "But I am begging you, please do not let Equestria fall into the hands of Discord in my absence!" She exclaimed as a tear rolled down her cheek. "Equestria is a land of harmony and happiness, and if I must leave it, I will whatever it takes to leave it that way." Tarnish looked down at her with his soulless stare. "I am Tarnish the Harbinger. First of the Ungods. King of the falling. My presence is the beginning of the end. My purpose is the unraveling of Deities. My fiefdom is the crippling of Gods." He knelt down and looked her in the eye, "I hear your submission, Celestia." He said as her reached down to touch her cheek, "But I can promise you nothing of Equestria after you pass through my brother, Perish." As his finger made contact with her a patch of rust oxidized onto her cheek, causing her to cry out in pain as she stood and backed away from him. She faced him with tears in her eyes, a slight scowl on her face, and fear in her heart. He stood to face her as well, and held his ground. "You have made a creature you call the wither. It is designed to keep other translated, like yourself, out of Equestria." Her mouth went agape and tears began to stream down her face as she recollected the horrible ritual that bore the terrible thing she named the wither. She let slip a forlorn whisper as her heart took over her tongue, "Sister..." Tarnish stood unmoving, "You have done what you can to protect this world. You must take comfort in knowing that." Celestia stood with her mouth agape as she was forced to accept that she was going to have leave Equestria very soon, and she felt the cold embrace of a stark reality wrap around her heart as she realize that after she was gone there was nothing else she could do to protect her world. Equestria would be in the hands of the fates, and this weighed heavily on her broken heart. An orange glow came in from the window as dawn began to break. Tarnish's body screeched and moaned as he turned to look outside at the orange light that was lighting up the few reflective specs on his body, "You are falling, Celestia." he said as he took a step towards the window, "You knew this day was to come." Celestia wiped the tears from her eyes, "Yes," she said as new tears filled them again, "So be it then." Tarnish turned and walked towards the window, squeaking and scraping as climbed into the windowsill. With his feet planted on the bottom of the window and his round hands bending impossibly to grasp it's sides he pushed his body outward, falling like a dead thing, and then in midair he dissipated into tiny flakes of metal and rust which blew away in the wind. Celestia began to cry uncontrollably as she trudged over to her desk and grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill as she prepared to write her final letter at the dawn of her last days in Equestria. On the night after the Gala, the Starswirl Meteor Shower Festival was the place everypony in Ponyville could be found. They could all be seen comfortably laid out on large picnic cloths dotted with various snacks and drinks with their closest friends waiting for the shower to begin. Twilight clapped her hooves in excitement, "I can't believe it!", she shouted with a beaming smile on her face, "This only happens once in a thousand years! Ohhhh I can't WAIT!" Fluttershy smiled at her and said in the sweetest most sincere voice, "I hope it's everything you wished for, Twilight!" Spike stood with net in hand licking his lips, "You sure there's no way we can catch those delicious looking stars when they shoot down?" Twilight rolled her eyes and she and Fluttershy adoringly laughed at him, "Spiiike," said Twilight, "They're not really stars! They're just meteors." He looked up at her with a pursed brow. Noting his confusion, she continued, "Big hunks of rock burning up when they enter the atmosphere?" Fluttershy nuzzled Spike and giggled softly, "Even if they were stars, you wouldn't want to catch them, spike. They might burn you!" Spike grinned slyly, "Wellll...just in case you're wrong. I'll be ready." Applejack pointed up at the sky, "Here we go! It's startin'!" Twilight dashed over to her telescope and desperately pointed it all over the place. "Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh! WHERE!?", she said in a panic as Pinkie giggled loudly at her. "Right there!" Applejack exclaimed as she took Twilight's face in her hooves and aimed her towards the first meteors. All the ponies sat in awe with the stars twinkling in their fixed upward gazes while spike readied his net. Twilight stared at the falling stars and basked in this once-in-a-lifetime chance, "Wow!" she said, completely fixed on the view. She smiled as she stepped away and signaled for Applejack to take a turn at the telescope. "Just think," she professed, "Starswirl the Bearded's spell from three thousand years ago when he brought the moon to Equestria still pulls the stars to earth every thousand years to this very day!" Rainbow Dash had taken Applejack's place at the telescope, "Look how FAST those babies are flyin'! WHOAH!" she said as she made way for Rarity to have a look. "My, my," said Rarity, "They certainly are bedazzling!" It was then that pinkie's tail began to twitch violently. "Twitcha, Twitcha-TWITCHA-twitch!" "That one there does seem a bit larger than the others.", claimed Rarity as she saw a large ball of flame soaring through the sky. "Uh...guys!?" Pinkie said, trying to get everyone's attention. Twilight looked up and spotted the large ball of light as well. "Well they do come in a lot of different shapes and sizes. It's not unusual to see a big one." Pinkie's tail still twitched out of control, "Guys!?" "He might be a big one, but look at him go!" said Rainbow, emphasizing the last four words individually, "That hunk of rock might even be beating my top speed, if you can believe that!" Fluttershy gazed upward, too. "Oh my, it's beautiful!" she said excitedly. "Guuuuys!!!" Pinkie said, slightly frustrated. As the world grew a little brighter a sinking feeling welled up in Applejack's gut, "Is it just me, or did it get a mite brighter out here?" Twilight pushed Rarity aside from the telescope and looked into it, "What a strange color...I've never seen anything like that shade of blue...or purple?" Twilight said as she tried to decipher the otherworldly color of the star. "What color is that!?" Pinkie suddenly got a look of shock on her face, grabbed her tail, and held her tongue. Fluttershy noticed the trajectory of the light and sprung to her hooves, "It's headed right for the Everfree Forest!" The sky lit up with a strange blue and violet light as the meteor came so close that it's heat could be felt by every pony in Ponyville. Everypony stood frozen in place as they tried to grasp the disaster in front of them. The round meteor stretched out into a beam of blinding pale blue and purple and shot straight down into the Everfree Forest without a sound. Not a single pony made a single move for quite a while as the events the just unfolded settled within their minds, and terror of the unknown, the oldest fear in all the world, become the most potent feeling in all of Ponyville. He slowly opened his eyes to find his face in the dirt. He pulled his hands to his face and felt the hard texture of a hoof meet his cheek. He brushed the dirt from his face and eyes as he looked down at his hand and saw that it was now red, hard, and fingerless. He gasped in excitement, his heart raced with happiness, and he smiled and barely made out the words, "It worked!" His legs wobbled with weakness as he attempted to force them to support his weight. He pushed his hindquarters up and noticed immediately that his back legs were working, and he wept with joy. "They work!" He happily used one of his back legs to scratch his itchy new hide. He tried to focus his eyes on the room around him, but they raced about his surroundings when he tried to look at anything out of hoof's reach, rolling around completely out of his control. He remembered the wobbling legs and rapid eye movements from the last time he translated himself to an Equestrian form. He was comforted by the memory that these effects were only temporary. He laid down for a little while and tried to focus on getting used to his new body. He rolled over, kicked out his legs in all directions, and rejoiced; he was back in Equestria, and this time he was never going to leave. He began to roll all over what felt like dirt underneath him as he used it to scratch his itching back. He began to wonder why he was so itchy. At first he thought it was some adverse effect from the translation, all the new hairs on his body could be causing it. But he did not recall any skin irritation from the previous translation. Though this phenomenon was strange his mind was far too occupied with the excitement of finally being back in Equestria, the only place other than his home he ever really felt any peace, for it to be anything more than a fleeting thought. After what seemed like days of lying in the dirt, itchy and half-blind, he slowly gained control back over his eyes, and his legs gradually became sturdy enough to walk on. Though his eyes were still weary he could make out through the dim orange light coming through a single window that he was in a room with a dirty wooden floor, a single wooden table in the middle, and a single door on the wall farthest from him. He could see the orange light from outside cutting through what looked like a fog or smoke of some kind that filled the top half of the room. He nodded to himself as he recognized his surroundings as the ritual room he came into last time. He pushed himself up on his shaky legs, and found that he could stand. He set one foot in front of the other, and began making his way to the door. With each clomp of his hooves he became more and more surefooted. With each blink he gained more control over his wild rolling eyes. With each breath he felt more comfortable in his new pony body. At last he arrived at the door and raised one hoof to open it. Looking down at his hoof he noticed that the dirt on it was strangely fine and black, and smelled more like ashes than dirt. His mouth went agape for a moment as he wondered if someone could have possible burned their Equestrian body in an attempt to permanently translate to some other world. He shook his head in disbelief as he could conclude no reason anyone would ever want to leave such a heavenly place. As he pushed open the door he saw the smoke from above him begin to billow outside as the light of the dawn shot through the canopy of trees around him that seemed to go on for miles. The aroma of exotic flowers filled his head and he became certain that he really was in Equestria. He stepped out and looked all around the building from it's entrance. He could hear bugs buzzing and squeaking, birds chirping and calling, and something unknown rustling in the trees. He searched and searched from his single vantage point, but could find no other signs of civilization. "This isn't Manehattan." he thought aloud as he recalled the last place he woke up in when he entered Equestria. "You're correct, friend." said a calm, collected, and posh voice from above him. "This is the new gate entrance in the Everfree Forest. Too many ponies and too many questions in Manehattan. Sorry you didn't get the memo." He turned to look behind him and upwards on top of the building and saw a strange looking stallion filing his hooves. He was a scrawny grey pony with large yellow eyes and red irises. His white mane sat unkempt on top of his head, a great contrast between his very proper voice and perceived mannerisms. "And who might you be, then?" he cautiously said to the stallion. The stallion tossed the file he was using on his hooves aside and slid off the roof, hitting the ground with a quiet thud. "I am Bisz K'root, Hazencrossier of Equestria." he said as he pointed to the marking of a hermetic cross on his flank. The colt unconsciously laughed to himself as he looked the stallion up and down. "Who put a scraggly old man in charge of guarding Equestria's side of the gate?" He laughed again, harder this time, and smiled to himself, sure that the old man would be certain he was only joking with him, "You? A hazencrossier?" The old stallion grinned at him sinisterly and politely bowed his head, "Well who would have thought such a foolish little colt would've ever survived a rite of translation? Given that you obviously botched the process, that is." A look of confusion and shock came over the colt as his mind struggled to comprehend what the hazencrossier meant, "Botched? How do you mean?". The hazencrossier smiled and rolled his eyes, "We really should put a few mirrors out here." he said, pulling a full sized mirror from what seemed like nowhere and placing it in front of him, facing the colt. He froze in a cold horror and began hyperventilating as he looked upon himself in the mirror; a charred mess with patches of fur and mane completely burned away. A huge burn on his face that nearly reached his right eye made him also notice that in that eye's pupil and iris was a very noticeable hermetic cross marking. Even in this world he could not escape having some sort of disadvantage that others would belittle him for. "No...No!" He yelped weakly. The hazencrossier laughed at him heartily, and for a moment the young colt entertained the idea that this was all a cruel joke involving some kind of magic mirror. "My dear boy," he said, "Did no one tell you that you're supposed to have someone set the flame after the entire rite is over?" His mind could only barely bend far enough accept what was happening. His legs locked and he struggled to breath. His heart pounded so vigorously it felt as though his chest was going to explode. "It can't be!" he cried with tears streaming down his face, "Please! NO!" The stallion grabbed the mirror nonchalantly and it disappeared as he placed it behind him. "Let me guess," he began, "You set fire to your body right at the end of the ritual?" The colt nodded frantically. "No one wou-" "-And so the mystery is solved." The stallion interrupted joyously, "The circles were still active, and they pulled the fire in with you." He began to bend his knees in unnatural writhing ways and he clenched his eyes shut. "This cannot be happening." He thought to himself, "This? Now?" He opened his teary eyes and met them with the stallion's. "Can you fix me?" he cried. The stallion let out another hearty laugh and licked a canine on the right side of his mouth that was much longer than the others. "Well I could. But you see that's just not in my job description." He looked the colt in the eye and smirked sinisterly. The colt's heart pounded with impossible force as he came to the realization that he was disfigured for life in Equestria, he shook uncontrollably knowing he would never be able to live the life he dreamed of; his blood boiled with the realization that everything he had done was all for nothing. He cursed the short-sightedness of his father. "The Grimoire...how could he have left it out!?" he thought silently as tears rolled down his face and his mind raced for any memory of this being mentioned in the old book, "Didn't he know?" He thought briefly of ending it all; how easy it would be to just burn up what was left of him and be done with it. He grinded his teeth as he tried to comprehend how fire, a physical thing, could've ever translated through the gate, a portal through which only non-physical things should be able to travel. "Impossible!" he thought, struggling with the very idea, "How can it be!?" The hazencrossier, having now returned to laying on his back on top of the small hut in the middle of the forest, looked down upon the colt with a malevolent grin. "You know," he said with a conniving tone, "if you are familiar with this world at all, which you must be, you have to know that there's a zebra in this very forest who specializes in herbal remedies." The young red pony met his red eyes to the stallions'. He yelled angrily, "I'll need more than that!" The stallion chuckled at him, "You won't make it Ponyville's Hospital. In your condition the infection will take you before you ever make it out of the forest." He said, pulling a piece of parchment from behind him and throwing it to the young pony. "This will help you find her." The colt spread the rough parchment out to reveal a very detailed map of the Everfree Forest with a trail marked in red ink from the hut to another hut more towards the edge of the forest. The second hut was marked "Zecora". "She's your only chance, you know." The stallion quipped, "surely you can work it out from there." He scowled at the grinning stallion and pondered why he would give him this map. Why would this heartless old fiend help him at all if he wasn't willing to just heal him? "I suppose that's it, then." He said, realizing that Zecora would be the only help he'd be able to reach in time. "I'll be on my way then." He spread his wings and leaped into the air, releasing his legs to let his wings carry him, and immediately came crashing down back into the ground face first. He pushed himself back up, spit the dirt from his mouth, and looked back at his wings. He turned to the left and spread the left wing, checked it's feathers, and saw that everything was fine. He turned to his right and spread that wing, only to find a burned stump with only a few partially charred feathers where a wing should have been. His stomach turned, his eyes widened, and his heart sank. "No." he cried softly. Thoughts of suicide rushed through his head once more as he began to wonder if he would ever see the end of his suffering. "Not like that you're not." the stallion chimed. "Now, if you'll be on your way, stumpy, I have some very important business to attend to." he said, pulling a handheld gaming device from behind him. The colt could hear the hazencrossier grumbling over it's beeps and blips as he grabbed the map from the ground and studied it. "Oh! I almost forgot!" The stallion called to him, "What is your name?" He thought for a moment about not telling him, but remembered that giving a hazencrossier information as they requested it was usually in one's best interest. "It's Seraf." he said quietly, never turning away from the map. "Semi-Seraf?" Replied the Hazencrossier, never turning from his game. "IT'S SERAF!" he called back, emphasizing the it's. "Sarah?" "SE-RAFFFFF" he yelled back angrily, scratching his burns and scabs. "Got it!" he stallion yelled, "Arggh! This game cheats!" The colt stomped his hoof and puffed through his nose in frustration. He involuntarily reflected on all the figures of authority that had let him down and had even been downright malevolent to him. He cursed the hazencrossier for not doing more to help him, and wondered again why he refused to heal him when it was apparent he had the ability to do so. For a moment the image of Celestia passed by his mind. His brow creased inward as he tried to hold onto the flash of her image and force himself to remember it's relevance, but it vanished as quickly as it came. After another look at both the forest and the map, he saw a broken tree in the forest that resembled one drawn on the map. Confident that he had found his first landmark; he rolled up the map and breathed in the morning forest air. He wiped the tears from his eyes and took a step towards a broken tree that was his first marked waypoint. He took one look at the hut behind him and the hazencrossier still atop it; still playing his game. He sighed and continued towards the tree, as he bid the gate and it's keeper a silent farewell that was anything but fond.
Bulletproof...I wish I wasView OnlineThe RefugeeBulletproof...I wish I wasChapter 2 Bulletproof...I wish I was "If people are good only because they fear punishment, and hope for reward, then we are a sorry lot, indeed." Albert Einstein "The queen of Equestria had imperial plans, to shake pony hooves with strange human hands, she never did step through Hermes's Gate, for one who had previously, sealed the queen's fate. The princess had to act fast, she knew the queen could not be allowed to pass through, for chaos would consume both lands, if pony hooves touched human hands. The queen lay silent and stiff in her bed, while the royal sheets ran warm with red, The princess laid mourning her gruesome act, when Furnish, the proclaimer, came with a pact. 'A god is dead, and must be replaced.' He said with a stoic look on his face. 'You are most suited to be the new queen.' He said to the princess, yielding parchment and ink. 'I do not know if I can take on this task. How is it you know I am suited?' She asked. 'You know how to rule, and have love for this land. You'd die to protect it, if I understand.' She waivered a while before taking the quill and reluctantly decreed, 'This role, I must fill.' The last letter curled; her heart felt like lead, as he placed the cold metal on top of her head. Equestria was hers to rule as she pleased, though she knew the great price for this power she seized. For with her gold crown came an imminent fate. An untimely downfall she cannot escape. A day will come when Hermes opens his door, what comes to Equestria will make her no more. A child that believes he has found his nirvana, will reshape great harmony into chaotic drama. With the best of intentions he'll roam through this place, behind him a trail of discord and hate. A wing burned to cinders; he'll fall from the sky, Hermes' key-cross buried deep in his eye. Along with a vagabond; come twice through the gate, he will mark the final quatrain of the princess's fate. Your people will Cherish you, Princess Celestia. Though no love lasts forever, even in Equestria." Celestia looked over the parchment that held her fate as Tarnish's words painfully echoed in her head, "The prophecy has begun, and your compact is now active." "You are falling, Celestia. You knew this day would come." She clenched her hooves to her skull in a vain attempt to stop it from throbbing with those bitter words. She was falling, and she did know this day would come sooner or later, but did he have to say those things to her with such apathy? It was his emotionless voice and mechanical demeanor that added the venom to the sting. She read over her pact once more as her eyes widened and her heart pounded. Her forehead drenched with sweat she tried desperately to find some loophole that would allow her to keep on ruling. A few more years, months, or even a few days. She would've settled for anything at all. Focusing on the paragraph describing the child, she began to wonder who this person was. She knew he would be a translated; he was coming through the gate, and also that he would be a child, but where was he coming from? How old was he? She tried to draw a mental picture of him. A one-winged pegasus with the Hermetic cross in one of his eyes. What color were his eyes, though? And his hide? She figured he wouldn't be an alicorn; the wither would immediately send him back from wherever he came from. An image of the pitch-black wither flashed by her mind, "Sister." she whispered to herself with a lump in her throat and lead in her heart, "I'm so sorry." Sobbing, Celestia looked down at the parchment as her tears fell down and, rather than soak into the page, rolled off as though the parchment had been preened with oil. She closed her eyes and began to think about what it would be like when she died. Would she just be translated somewhere else? Was there really a heaven and hell? Was there anything at all after death? Or would her senses just fade away with her body? "Hello there, princess!" came a sudden cheerful voice from behind her. Her previous train of thought abandoned, she turned to face its owner. In her chambers stood a tall man made of what looked like hand-stitched burlap skin filled with old straw that was peeking out some of the more poorly sewn edges. His pants were a dark blue denim material that she could vaguely remember from earth. A raggedy button up shirt made of a material she did not recognize covered his chest and back where there were no tears or holes in it. He wore a tattered straw hat that, were it not for all the damage on it, would have probably come up to a point on top of his head. "Who are you, sir?" she said sternly with her royal second nature overcoming her frightened primal one. The creature's button eyes and stitched mouth bent and twisted impossibly to form an expression of polite concern. "I apologize if I startled you," he said with a light and kind voice as he leaned on his cane, "I do tend to have that effect on people, though it's not intentional, you see." He spoke as politely as she had ever heard another creature speak. Though his kind words were laced with an immutable confidence that made the princess realize that this thing was one of great authority. Still, his velvety voice was calming to her, and she enjoyed hearing him speak. "That's alright," she said softening her words, "Who are you, exact-", and it was then that she realized exactly who this was before her. She shivered. "Where are my manners? My, my! I am Perish, second of the Ungods. The light unto your path from life to eternal rest." He explained as he bowed before her. Celestia's heart thumped painfully in her chest and she felt her body start to fail her. She knew for certain that she had no time left, and that she would not even have a chance to say goodbye to her most faithful subjects and students. This was it. "You've come here to take me away, then?" she said, still shivering, "I did not expect you so soon." She fell to the ground in front of him and groveled, "Please. Just one more day. I have to say goodbye to someone I care for deeply." She threw her forelegs out and pleaded, "One more day! That's all I ask, I'm begging you!" Perish closed his eyes and smiled, "Oh, princess! Dear, me! You have it all wrong!" he chuckled. "I am not here to deliver you, yet. In fact, there is something we must discuss before I can do anything of the sort." Celestia looked up at Perish from the floor, and as she stood her heart grew light and floated quickly back into her chest from the pit of her stomach. She wept with what she knew would be a short-lived joy, "Wh-what can I help you with, Perish?" Seraf grew very weary from his treacherous trek through the Everfree Forest. He couldn't tell if his legs were still wobbly from the after-effects of translation or the hours he must have been wandering around looking for landmarks from the map that bastard hazencrossier had given him. It seemed like hours. The only reason he wouldn't tell himself that it had been days is that he had yet to see night fall. It couldn't have been days. Not yet. He had stopped a few times on his way through the damp soil and lush green when he felt he could walk no more. He felt that way now, exhausted and broken, and decided it was time for another rest. The songs of exotic birds and occasional far-away roars of what he could only guess were mythical creatures comforted him a little as he lay still on the forest floor. It reminded him that, despite everything else, he had made it to Equestria. That single victory was now enough to fend off the ever-creeping thoughts of suicide that may have otherwise prevailed in killing him. He struggled to catch his breath as he lay the map out in front of him. He saw that his next landmark was what looked to be a stone figure of a pony. "A statue?" he thought to himself, "Out here?" Brushing it off as just another idiosyncrasy of this alien world, he began to look around his immediate surroundings for anything stone. He figured he must be getting close by now. Scanning what little he could see through the dense vegetation, he spotted nothing of stone, but a single tree that was much taller than the others. He decided that climbing this tree and getting a good look around might be his best course of action. He remembered learning this from that survival television program he and his father used to watch. It brought back the feel of that cheap couch and it's scratchy surface. Though it itched awfully, he'd sit on it for hours and watch educational programming with his dad. He could remember all the shows they used to watch, but strangely, not the names of the programs. He pushed himself up on his hooves to test his strength, and saw that enough had probably returned to make it over to the tree and try to climb it. As he made his way over to it, he began to wonder why the tall tree was not made into a landmark on his map. Perhaps it wasn't distinct enough, or it wasn't as tall when the map was made? The tree turned out to be quite a bit farther away than his eyes had originally informed him. Seraf felt himself become dead weight all over again as he finally neared it and decided to lay down for another rest. It was then that he realized that every walk after a rest was getting shorter and shorter, and that he was losing this fight; his time was quickly running out. He wanted to be angry at someone or something for everything always going wrong this way. He was always pressed tight for time to finish anything, and it always seemed that, when he did, the end result would never be what he originally desired. He scratched his burns and began to wonder if this "Zecora" could help him at all, and if any of this would truly be worth it. He laid in a patch of clover next to the very tall tree's trunk and tried to catch his breath and rest his aching legs. On his side he looked around to see whatever he could in a last ditch effort to assure himself he wasn't just walking in circles. Then he saw it. On the other side of the tree there was clearly a stone hoof poking out just enough for him to see it. His body instantly rejuvenated with this finding; he sprung to his hooves and galloped around the tree to find a statue of a pony there. He compared the statue to the crude drawing on his map. The poses matched. This was his landmark! He sighed and laughed through the panting in relief. He was still on the right trail, and he hadn't been walking in circles after all! He trotted happily around the statue to meet his face with its own. He noticed the statue had a very sad look on it's face. It's head tilted back, looking at the sky and it's mouth open as if at any moment it might come to life and cry out to the heavens in pain. His brow flattened and his face scrunched as he wondered who would sculpt such a sad looking thing just to place it out in the woods. He knew there might have been a story behind it, but his shaking knees called his dwindling strength back to his immediate attention. For a moment, he wondered if he should even climb the tree. Would it cost him the rest of his energy? Would he even see anything other than the forest canopy when he reached the top? He needed food and rest more than a survey of the land, but there was always the chance he might spot some food or a good resting place. After much deliberation he finally saw a long tree-shaped shadow cast over him. Nightfall was approaching, and he had to make a decision now. The sun was only beginning to set, and he knew if he could reach the top of the tree in time he would be able to see a lot of his surroundings. But he knew he had to act right away. He placed his hooves around the tree, hugging it with all four limbs, and he slowly made his way through it's branches, moving closer to the canopy of the forest. His charred skin scraping against the rough bark made him want to cry out in pain. But he had seen some of the creatures that lurked in the Everfree Forest from the few times he had bothered to watch the TV show that took place Equestria, though the name of the program, like all the others, strangely slipped his mind at the moment. He thought about how strange it was that he never watched the show very much. He was always more interested in the educational programs and his father's research to really bother doing much anything else. The few episodes he had seen did make the place out to be so peaceful and happy, though. Back in his first experiment with translations he decided it would be a safe place to run a trial ritual on. After all, what could go wrong in the land of friendship? Inching towards the peak of the canopy, he started to remember his first trip to Equestria. The busy 1940's-esque streets of Manehattan. It was a tough place, but only cartoonishly so. There were dangers, but always a way out. He recalled wishing real life was like that every single day after he was cast out of Equestria by that horrid pitch-black creature. That beast was the only real danger he ever felt he had to look out for, and rightfully so. He remembered it's ice-cold whisper as his mouth moved to form it's soulless word, "Witherrrrr". That voice still chilled him to the spine. He knew that this time he had burned his original earth body, and his father's grimoire stated that by destroying your original body you make it impossible for someone to force you to return to it. The easiest way to do this was with fire, so he chose that. Seraf so wanted to feel bitter about the loss of his wing to the premature flames and butchered ritual, but it felt so good to have four useable limbs again that he could not bare to let himself get down about it. After all, he could've never climbed a tree on earth in his previous condition. He did not miss that bag of human bones even a little! Finally he reached the top of the tree and saw the sun just about to hit the horizon. The was just enough light left for him to take a few quick looks around. To what he could only guess was west based on the sun's position, he saw what looked like a dark place filled with tiny glistening specs he believed must've been some kind of metal or crystal. The earth there was black like soot and the tiny place did not look inviting in the least from what he could tell. Upon turning to what was probably east he saw a small town not too far away. Little houses and stores with what appeared to be other ponies walking around made the place look like the obvious direction to go after he got to Zecora's hut. Just beyond the forest he saw a small cottage with what looked like a tiny ranch or chicken coop of some kind. He wondered what kind of pony would live right on the edge of such a dangerous place. To the north, the direction he was headed, he saw a great mountain lined with what looked like a great stone gate that led to a tall white and yellow tower on the edge of an artificial cliff. A great deal of smaller towers and two and three story buildings rest on the actual mountainside. He instantly recognized this regal place as the capital of Equestria, Canterlot. And the visage of a royal white alicorn zipped by his mind. "Celestia." He said; recalling her name. And again, as quickly as the memory came, it vanished. He struggled to recollect the importance of this alicorn and her name. He could remember she was a queen or royalty of some sort, but not why he kept remembering her, or why her image and name sent a shockwave through his body of fear. His heart pounded and he began to sweat. He figured the whole of the memory must not have been a good one. Suddenly he heard the flap of huge wings from behind him, and a large shadow darkened the area around him. He heard a snarl that sounded distinctly beast-like, and in spite of the paralyzing fear he turned his head to face what was behind him. His jaw dropped in terror. Hovering just above him was a giant green scaled beast with a long neck and body kept afloat by it's enormous wings. Seraf was face-to-face with a dragon, and he began to wonder if he was about to die. His heart raced and his grip loosened as he began to unconsciously scrape down the tree. The dragon's mouth opened wide, and Seraf's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates and he shook uncontrollably as he realized what was coming. Seraf screamed and all at once his hooves let go of the tree as he felt the searing flame of dragon's breath shoot through the air above him as he fell down to the ground. He involuntarily let out a scream of terror as his primal fight or flight instincts took control of his body. He hit the ground with a painful thud and his breath was lost on impact. He fought to regain his breath and over the ringing of his ears he could hear the great drake swooping down after him. Unable to stand he rolled along the ground, barely escaping another blast of fire. He continued to roll until he fell down a small hill and into a valley. Now able to just barely breath, and with the dragon still gaining on him, he turned to see if he could run up the other side of the valley to escape. As he looked upon the impossible steep hill to his side, his heart sank. This was it. This was the end. He closed his eyes and did what he could to accept his fate. He pushed his hooves together and silently prayed that God would forgive him for trespassing in a world he had no business in, and for all the missed Sunday schools and sermons. "Please," he pleaded, "Just keep me from hell!" "Am I already there!?" he cried aloud to himself as the dragon landed at the crest of the hill he had just rolled down, "Is this hell!?" He began to wonder if he could've actually died during the translation ritual, and if this was all an elaborate trick of the prince of darkness. "Satan," he sobbed as the dragon drew in a great breath, "must you be so cruel?" Time stopped as he watched the flame slowly rise from the gullet of the great lizard atop the hill. He could so vividly hear his father's voice, "This stuff isn't a toy, son. You can't play around with interdemensional travel." "Father," he cried softly, "why didn't I listen?" He remembered the smell of cigar ashes that filled his study. "Will you take me with you through the gate one day, dad!?" he remembered asking excitedly, his own young voice ringing in his head. "When you're older, son. I promise. And you know what we say about promises?" "Never ever break one! It's SACRED!" "That's right! You never make a promise that you can't keep." "Right!" "I love you, son." he heard him say, as he remembered his father picking him up in his arms, "You really are the light of my life." "I love you, too, dad! You're the best dad in the whole world!" He heard the glass from one of his father's many grandfather clocks shatter as he turned to run wildly out of the study as an excited child might do. Did he break the clock somehow? Why was he remembering this all so lucidly right now? "Is this my life? Flashing before me?" He opened his eyes and saw a glass bottle shattered on the ground and a purple haze filling the air. He felt his body go limp and his eyes become as heavy as lead and began to lose consciousness. "I'm sorry. Dad." "So you see, princess", Perish continued in his articulate and polite demeanor, "I can't just whisk you away as I would a normal god. You chose to rule among your followers, in a sort of mortal way." Celestia nodded as what Perish was explaining to her finally started to sink in. "So what does this mean for me, exactly? Am I going to spared?" She asked with heart full of hope and a brain full of doubt. "No! Haha! Heavens, no! Dear, me!" he replied with a hearty laugh, "It only means you have to meet a mortal end, as did some of the others who chose a similar path to yours." Perish pulled a piece of straw from the side of his head and began to twist it with both of his tattered gloved hands, forming it into the shape of a Catholic Cross. "You are originally from earth, right?" he said, still smiling, "You remember the story of Christ? Emmanuel of Nazareth?" Celestia vaguely remembered the story of a man called Christ who claimed he was the son of a god, and how the shape of the cross was somehow relevant to him. "I...sort of do. It's all so hazy." Perish placed the straw cross directly in front of Celestia's face. "He was a god, a translated from a higher plan of existence, like you!" He took her hoof and placed the cross on it, allowing her to hold it. "But he chose to live as a mortal, and rule as a mortal king. Thus, when his time came, he had to meet a mortal end to satisfy a lot of rules and red tape that comes with the whole 'god as mortal' thing." The memory of Christ's crucifixion hit Celestia like a tank. She wondered aloud, "Will I be crucified!?". Perish chuckled politely, "Oh no, princess! Not unless you want to be, that is." Perish put his hands on his chair's armrests and relaxed a bit from his poised and proper posture. "Christ only chose that finale because he believed it would leave a lasting impression on his people." he explained, "In a way he was right. We really haven't been able to fully replace him since his passing. Other gods we've tried usually live in his shadow, or just get outright rejected by earth's natives." Perish plucked a few pieces of straw from his side and began shaping them, "Even Muhammad couldn't replace him for everyone. Though he might have if he would've chosen a more spectacular exit than just simply being poisoned." He explained showing the princess a Islamic Crescent and Star made of his straw. The princess silently pondered what all of this meant for her. Her brow's visible pressure giving away her confusion, she came to a hypothesis. "So...the more spectacular...uh...exit...you choose." she muttered as Perish sat up straight and returned to his previous position, "The longer your people will still follow you? After your...passing?" Perish nodded and smiled, "That's right, princess. The lasting impression of a theatric exit can make them Cherish you above any other gods that might try to replace you." he lifted his head up to see eye-to-eye with her, "At least for a while." The Princess began to ponder if she should choose a gruesome death over a painless one. It made sense, after all. The people would see her as a victim, or a martyr, rather than a princess who simply faded away. It was her answer. A tragic and poetic death. "Let's say I were to choose to go the way of Christ." she said and Perish perked up in attention, "Would I have to be Crucified?" she asked squeamishly. Perish smiled, "You wouldn't have to. Though it is one of the choices that is most sure to get the desired result." Celestia flinched, "Most sure?" she asked, "You mean there's a chance it won't work? That even a big grand death like tha-" Perish quickly places his finger to her lips to silence her, "Oh please princess, let's not use that awful word." Celestia's eyes widened in bewilderment. After a few seconds she came to her senses and asked, "Which...word?" Perish put his gloved hand to his burlap forehead and spoke as if he was about to faint, "The 'D' word, princess. It's so ugly of a way to put your final moments." He pulled a lump of straw from his heart and quickly weaved it together to make a circle with holes that formed a smiley face. He handed it to her, "Wouldn't you rather remember your final days as something of a new beginning? Not an ultimate end!" She dwelled on her questions about the afterlife from earlier, "Is it an end, Perish?" He leaned in so his face was almost touching hers. He quietly whispered to her, "As king of the fall, I can most certainly advise you, princess." He her heart raced, and she braced to hear the answer to a life-long question of hers. What if there was nothing? How terrifying it would be to know you face being completely erased! "What's in store for you in the afterlife...has no relevance to how you should spend your final days." He leaned away from her as tears began to drip from her wide-open eyes. "When you make your choice. Call for me." He said as bugs came from what seemed like nowhere and crawled into his clothes. He began to lose his shape and his burlap skin grew flaccid as the straw inside him was devoured. "You have one month to choose." He said politely, "Or we will make the choice for you. And as your pact states, your passing must involve the refugee!" Celestia looked on in horror as the bugs had eaten everything inside of Perish except for his head which now laid on the floor amidst a pile of writhing burlap rags. And just before his head was consumed, his crudely stitched mouth gave a amiable, "Until next time, Princess!" With that, his head fell flat on the floor, and the straw that had once filled his taught body was replaced with the squirming of what seemed to be a group of insects a thousand strong. Celestia did not want to watch anymore, but could not turn away, as the burlap was devoured by moths that ate their way out of Perish's remains and flew away, disappearing completely. She looked at the three woven straw figures on the floor. She thought about a true martyr's death as she picked up and looked upon the cross of Christ. The grim thought of her body being broken and shredded on a wooden cross frightened her more than anything. As she looked down on the Islamic Crescent, she wondered if an assassin could poison her, or kill her in her sleep. This quickly brought up old memories of the late queen and her untimely death. Celestia remembered her white forelegs stained with red, and determined that she could not choose this death for herself. Then she dropped the cross and looked at the smiley face, picking it up with both hooves. It reminded her of a happy natural death. Perhaps she could gradually grow old, or die in her sleep of a disease. It would be so simple. Such an easy answer. She wept quietly to herself as she walked over to the desk she had been studying her pact on earlier. She picked it up, and glanced over it once more before putting it away in her desk, and retiring for the evening. The night wind howled through the cool streets of Manehattan. A Styrofoam cup blew in the breeze as it gently tapped the concrete sidewalk. It danced along the sidewalk with the breeze until it finally came to a rest at Seraf's hooves. He kicked it. Seraf had, at one time, tried to pick up trash in Manehattan when he saw it. But shortly after coming into Equestria, realized it was really no use. That was just the way this place was. A little trashy. He waited for the crosswalk light to change and six lanes of cars to stop moving so he could walk across the pedestrian path in the road lit by the many headlights just a short distance away. "I feel so...vulnerable here." he thought to himself, "That blasted television program made it look like Equestria was such a happy place." He made it safely to the other side of the street and spotted a group of three bulky stallions dressed in matching horizontal striped shirts making their way towards his direction down the sidewalk. "This place is just like East Queens." he thought as he watched them make their way towards him. The cars behind him began to move again as the light changed, and the honking festival started up again. "Trash. Thugs. Noise." As the stallions got closer he noticed the one in the middle wasn't a stallion at all, but a diamond dog. A clear sign that he needed to get away quickly and quietly. "I need to go down this street." He thought as he looked at the oncoming ruffians and tried to remember where he was going in the first place, "Don't I?" His intended destination escaped him. Abandoning all hope of remembering it; he turned to go down the other sidewalk, but it was too late. "Hey little filly!" he heard them yell. He kept walking the other way; never turning back to look at them. He felt a hand grab onto his tail and force him to stop walking. An icy chill rap up his spine. He still faced the other way. "Hey sweetie! I'm talkin'a you!" he heard one of them say. He turned around to face them and wondered how they had caught up with him so fast without him hearing them run. He saw two very large stallions, a pale blue one with a thick black mane who was very wide and muscular, and a bright orange one with a short green mane who was very tall and thin. Between them stood the ugly gray diamond dog with his hand clenched onto Seraf's tail. "I don't have any money." he mumbled softly. The threesome looked at each other, unable to hear him over the bustle of automobiles in the nearby road and finally the orange one spoke with a chuckle, "Whassat now, baby?" Frustrated, Seraf yelled out at them, "I SAID DON'T HAVE ANY MONEY!" All three of them began to laugh heartily, the dog never letting go of his tail. "You're that psycho's son, right?" the orange stallion said as Seraf's heart sank to the pit of his stomach, "That guy thinks he some kinda freakin' wizard or sum'm?" Seraf's sunken heart pounded. No one knew about his father's endeavors in transdemensionology. If it ever got out people would label the man he loved and respected more than any other a lunatic! "You don't know my father!" he exclaimed as he yanked his tail from the diamond dog's hand. He pointed his hoof at the orange stallion, "Get away from me! YOU CAN'T PUSH ME AROUND, HERE!" "Whaddya talkin' about, faggot?" said the orange one as the dog pulled a bat out from behind him, "We can push anyone around anywhere we like!" He looked up at the dog and then back at Seraf, "Ain't that right, butch?" The dog approached him smacking the bat against his hand. Seraf felt it again, the crack of hard wood smashing into the spine. He heard the awful cracking noise and felt the numbness in his legs. He began to run away on two legs as he swung his arms beside him. The terrifying pitter patter of three young men chasing after him. He ran as fast as he could, shoving a bystander to the ground in his hasty escape. He could still hear the thugs hot on his tail. He turned the next corner and ran into an alleyway. A dead end. He turned to see if he still had time to run back out, but it was no use. Three young human boys all with bats were at the corner already, taking their time and savoring every last bit of the final moments of their chase. He scraped with his hands to try and climb the rough brick walls, but only grinded down his nails in a futile attempt to get away. There was no way out anymore. His entire face and body drenched in sweat; he watched in horror as the three boys got closer and closer. There was only one way out. He knew his father's grimoire warned against the use of transdemensional magic in a created world like Equestria. He knew it would instantly reveal him as a translated to any and all protective forces designed to keep him out. But he had no choice. Suddenly he had no qualms about what the command would do those boys. He figured they aimed to harm him for a reason that was beyond his control, something they shouldn't have even known about. He felt confident that he was justified in using a force beyond their control to harm them in retaliation. "Any last words, cocksucka?" the boy with green hair said as the muscular black haired one chuckled. He stood before them with his chest out. "Just two." He said confidently. He took in a deep breath, and casting all inhibitions aside, he screamed it. "VIGOR MORTIS!" His yell echoed like the howl of a demon through the streets and the three boys fell silent, a solemn and soulless look on their faces. They dropped their bats and stood before Seraf, tears streaming from their eyes. In unison, the three of them sighed heavily. "Why'a we doin'is?" cried the green-haired punk. "Fuckups man. We're just fuckups." The dark headed one sobbed quietly. The bald headed fat boy that had held the original bat trudged slowly over to the sidewalk, knelt down, and laid down his head in the road. No sooner than his head touched the pavement an eighteen-wheeler tractor trailer's horn sounded right before nine tires zoomed right through what used to be his head. The other two looked on, crying and broken, head hung low. Seraf scowled at them as he walked past them towards the sidewalk. "You are just a bunch of fuckups." he said angrily at them as they turned their heads towards him with a dead look in their eyes, "Do the world a favor. Join your fat friend." Seraf walked away as a deep and dark carnal satisfaction washed over him. He turned the corner with his hands in his jacket pockets as he heard to two sobbing young men's knees hit the pavement and their cries muffle as their faces smooshed against the tar. As he continued down the sidewalk the wind from a passing bus blew some other garbage near his feet. It made a thudding noise as his hoof hit it, and two heads made two barely audible pops as the bus continued down the street. His four hooves continued to carry him down that dark street when he heard a horrid screech from above him. No sooner than he could look up to investigate a pitch black creature with icy blue eyes pinned him to the ground with four hooves. It was built like a pony, but it was something twisted and feral. It let out another ghastly screech and it's tiny sharp teeth were made visible from it's impossibly wide open jaw. It's cold blue eyes illuminated the darkness around it's face. He could feel them piercing deep into his soul as they hummed with a dark energy. The creature whispered to him in a ghoulish and terrifying voice that chilled him to the bone, "Witherrrrr." He felt his limbs grow stiff as he looked down and saw them quickly turning to stone. The creature continued to stare at him as his body went numb. It's mane flowed with the colors of the night sky as it's face twisted into a horrifying grin. He closed his eyes and felt a rag wipe the sweat from his head and a very strange female voice with a very thick accent say, "Wake up little one, it's just a bad dream!" He opened his eyes and panted in horror. Horror gave way to confusion when he saw the strange interior of a hut around him; the walls lined with tribal masks and different alien-looking leaves and fruits. "It must have been bad, I would think, from the screams!" The accented female voice said, and he turned to face a white-maned zebra with a rag in her hand. "Don't you worry about a thing, you're safe now in my hut, with me." Seraf looked up at her, his heart still racing, his breaths still short. He managed to catch his breath enough to ask, "Zecora?"
There, there. (The scabby king of nowhere)View OnlineThe RefugeeThere, there. (The scabby king of nowhere)Chapter 3 There, there. (The scabby king of nowhere) "Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakens." C.G. Jung Excerpt from "The Key, The Gate, and Infinite Exploration": "The tree of creation can also serve as a map to worlds that you can visit through the rite of translation without many negative consequences (though, as always, the rite should only be performed under an experienced opener for your own safety). Visiting a world higher up on the tree (a world from which your own was created) means you will likely be unable to comprehend many things, could go mad, or possibly die. In a word; it is unlikely to be an enjoyable experience. A translation to a world beneath your own (one created from your own world) is usually a safe bet barring any worlds created for the purpose of being unsafe. Why would one create an unsafe world? Because all worlds beneath your own are fictions from your perception, and sometimes a world filled with danger can be quite thrilling when compared to a world where everything is always fine. (More on lesser worlds and their relation to fictional stories, including some quite famous ones, later on.) If you use the rite to move yourself into a fictional world you are also granted certain privileges besides the obvious pre-emptive knowledge of the world (considering it's a world you probably wanted to visit, one could assume you are quite engaged in it's stories, places, and people). One of which is alteration. Being that your anchored existence is from the world that created the one you are visiting, through your proxy body you will have the ability to 'edit' or alter that world in some ways. This does not mean you should, only that you can. Different worlds have different restrictions (some even have safeguards placed by its denizens that will kill your proxy if the detect alteration and will thereby remove you from the world) and it can be assumed that the tighter a world's story is and the more of that world that is explained, the less power you have to change it. The opposite is true in worlds where much is left to the imagination, mysteries are abundant, and especially true of worlds where magic exists in any form. In some worlds, it is even possible to alter the minds of it's denizens through verbal incantatum." ********* "Are you...Zecora?" Seraf asked gasping for air. His heart was still racing from the macabre events of Manehattan and his mind was on full-blast wondering where he was, what happened, and why he was even alive. "Indeed, little colt, that is me." She said, wiping the sweat from his brow. She smiled, "The herbalist of the EverFree." He noticed that her accent was very much like a native Nigerian's from earth. Fitting, he thought, with her looking so much like a Zebra. He looked around the room as she continued to wipe the sweat from his face and chest, dipped the rag in cold water, and wiped again. He noticed the many tribal masks that lined the walls of this dark place of wood and straw he was in. "You have many questions, this I know." She said to him softly as she stroked his main gently, "You really should calm yourself down, though." The zebra had a concerned look on her face that for all he could tell was quite genuine. He recalled the dragon facing him down in the forest. Just as death became certain he heard the sound of glass shattering and passed out. And now he was in a hut. Heart painfully racing, but safe and sound with a zebra named Zecora. He thought about how strange it was that a zebra would even be present in a world where ponies were the obvious main inhabitants. And was she rhyming all her words? Though at the thought of Dragons and considering he was even alive at all, he put away his suspicions and decided to trust her. "What happened?" he said, struggling through panting and a throbbing heart to push the words out, "The dragon...he...I heard...glass..." "There there, little one. Be still, calm down." she said as she stroked his mane, "It's ok now. You're safe and sound." His breaths finally began to shorten, and his heart at last began to decelerate it's painful beating. Again she wiped the sweat from his head, "I was out in the woods picking laughadil blooms. When I heard, nearby, a dragon's roar boom." He noticed it again. The rhyming. Every sentence. What was wrong with this zebra? "The dragon's roar gave me quite a jolt." she said as she leaned her face near Seraf's and nuzzled his cheek, "Then I heard the scream of a little colt." "Always rhyming." he thought silently to himself. He was anxious to know what the hell happened to him, not hear narrative poetry. "I saw the green beast about to attack! So I threw a sleep potion to keep his jaws back." "And that's what I heard, a thrown bottle crack." He said through his now regular breathing. He could still feel the pain in his chest, but his heart was almost down to where it felt like he had been running. "And I scooped you right up and brought you to my shack." She said as she smiled at him. He laid his head back and stared blankly at the straw that made up the hut's ceiling. He started to wonder what could have happened if this stupid rhyming zebra hadn't come along with what must have been a "safety" sleeping potion he assumed she must have always carried for emergencies. That was when he noticed it. He had rhymed with her! He had been infected by this moronic behavior! He almost let loose his tongue in a flurry of insults for her irrationally inefficient way of speaking. But he felt a cold wet rag touch gently to his forehead and he remembered that the same chill that filled that damp cloth might fill his flesh if not for this zebra's courageous rescue. "Zecora?" he said slightly frustrated with himself for not speaking his mind. Mother had always told him that if something was true, there was no harm in saying it. And he always strongly valued his mother's wisdom. "Yes, little one?" She said as she walked over towards what appeared to be some sort of alchemy table. "Why do you speak that way?" he said with a sigh. Zecora laughed politely as she walked back to the colt with a ceramic jar full of blue paste in her hoof. "That's quite an answer that you seek." She said, taking a hooffull of the blue past from the jar and gently spreading onto one of Seraf's many burns. "This is how all us Zebra's speak." Until the paste touched the burn on his hind leg he had forgotten that he had nearly been cooked alive. Perhaps it was the fear of death from the dragon run-in, or the nerve wrecking (and seemingly mandatory) way this zebra spoke in rhymes that took the place of the agonizing pain and itchy scabs. "What are you doing?" he said as he looked down at the zebra's hoof slowly and gingerly spreading the paste all over his leg. "Putting ointment on these burns." she said having nearly finished covering his leg. Zecora shook her head and her gentle smile turned into a soft frown. "For your health, I am most concerned." He felt an icy cold relief began to spread all throughout his leg. The ointment seemed to be killing the pain as well as helping with the burns. He watched her as she looked over his leg with a frown still on her face. She looked up and down it several times. He could only assume she was assuring herself she hadn't missed any areas. He laid there. Silent. Wondering why someone he didn't know at all saved him when she didn't know him at all. She had the means to do so and he took that as reason enough to do the good deed, but he did not understand why she was still caring for him. But he knew he liked it. "What is that stuff made out of?" He said softly with a child-like wonder in both his eyes and his voice. She held a bit of the paste up to his face and explained to him that it was made from a mix of laughadil flowers and a rare blue moon rose, and that she used her last one to make it. Once he saw it up close, he realized how pretty the paste was. It was beautiful translucent blue-ish green slime. He adored the way it looked, and the cooling sensation it gave his itchy, charred skin. "Why would you use something so rare to help someone you don't even know?" He wondered aloud. "I do what I can to help, little one." She said, smiling at him and reaching for his other leg. "Life with these burns cannot be any fun." Zecora's hoof touched his knee. A sensation of warmth flooded his body nearly instantaneously. A good kind of warmth. The kind of warmth he felt when his mother would kiss his scratches and scrapes and make them better. He could still feel her gentle kiss. Hear her lovely voice, "There, there. It's not so bad now, is it?" He missed his mother deeply. Perhaps more than his father. Perhaps more than home. Perhaps, he thought, more than anything. He wondered that if she was still alive could he have someday taken her to this world with him. A world of friendship and happiness. Could it have saved her? He wondered if he would've ever tried the rite at all if she was still alive. "Mother in a land of these ponies and zebras...and dragons." he thought to himself, "That's so silly. Rather funny when you think about it." "Funny?" He heard Zecora's voice yank him back into reality as she chuckled kindly. "What?" He stalled, realizing he must've been thinking aloud. "Oh. I just...I was just thinking about my mother..." Zecora silently finished spreading the ointment on his last hind leg. She moved to his torso. "Where is your mother, little guy?" His mind raced a mile a minute trying to figure out a way to answer this question without sounding completely bonkers as Zecora's hooves gently covered his stomach with the blue gel. "Is she waiting for you somewhere nearby?" He tried to think as fast as he could. Coming up with no answer he decided he'd have to make up a town name on the fly and just stick to the story that his family lived there. "She lives...in...Pony...ville?" was what squeezed out. His eyes dilated and the nice warm feeling the previously filled his body turned to a fiery fear. He knew his cover was blown, and that the wither would come for him soon. "Ponyville you say, my dear?" She said, "It's only a days walk from here." He couldn't believe it. She bought it!? His suspicious nature got the better of him as his mind assumed that she must be having a laugh at him. Though his gravely confused heart would not allow him to snap at her for this. "Yes." he replied nervously, "Ponyville. I live there. With mother." Zecora smiled and explained that there was a small cart she sometimes used for gathering flowers that she would use to ride him to Ponyville first thing in the morning, after he had some proper rest. He smiled back at her and told her that his mother would understand, and that he was supposed to be spending the night at his friend's anyway, so she wouldn't expect him back until tomorrow afternoon. He felt the good warm feeling come back. Though he would never admit it to himself, for a moment it felt as though he was back at home. Safe, warm, and with the only woman he'd ever felt he couldn't live without. "Are there many Zebras here?" he asked her. She laughed and asked if he meant in Ponyville or Equestria. He closed his eyes and laid back his head on the pillow she brought over for him. Beginning to fall asleep, he managed to reply through a long yawn, "Either one...I suppose."
Climbing up the WallsView OnlineThe RefugeeClimbing up the WallsChapter 4 Climbing up the walls "To err is human; to forgive, is divine." Alexander Pope The Canterlot Tower Concordat "I, Celestia, Beloved Princess of all Equestria, and I, Chrysalis, Almighty Queen of the Changeling Hive, both do hereby decree that a cease shall be brought to all conception and execution of all plans and activities related to the war between the Equestrian Nation and the Changeling Hive. In accordance with this peace the following conditions will be met by both nations without fail: Equestria: The Princess, Cadance, while away in the Crystal Empire, shall be doppelgangered by a Changeling of the choosing of the Almighty Queen Chrysalis until such time that Cadance's duties heading the reconstruction of the Crystal Empire are completed and Princess Cadance chooses to return to Canterlot to be married as she has planned. Upon Princess Cadance's return and the ejection of the Changeling Doppelganger this Concordat is declared null and void. It is the Equestrian court's responsibility to protect the Doppelganger from discovery. If, for any reason, anyone outside the court discovers the doppelganger, then this Concordat is declared null and void. The doppelganger is not to engage in a level of activity that will permanently harm The Captain of The Guard, Cadance's Fiancé, Shining Armor. If Shining Armor befalls permanent detriment due to the doppelganger's activities, this Concordat is declared null and void. Both the Equestrian Inquisitors and Secret Guard are to cease all activities related to Changeling Interrogation and all current living Changeling prisoners are to be released at the signing of this Concordat. All deceased prisoners' bodies that remain identifiable are to be exhumed and turned over to the Changeling Hive's custody. If any living prisoner is unaccounted for this Concordat is declared null and void. The Changeling Hive: It is the responsibility of the Changeling Hive to ensure the safety of Princess Cadance for the duration of the Concordat's activity. If any harm comes to Princess Cadance by any fashion, even that which is beyond the control of the Hive and it's allies, this Concordat is declared null and void. The Changeling Hive, it's workers, soldiers, court, allies, and properties shall hereby be exiled from Equestrian lands for the duration of the Concordat with the exception of the agreed doppelganger temporarily taking the place of Princess Cadance. If any Changeling or Hive property is found within the borders of Equestrian lands this Concordat is declared null and void. A single permanent doppelganger meant to replace The Princess, Luna, and her cursed persona, Nightmare Moon, will be issued to the Equestrian Court by the Hive to use as they wish. This Changeling will be chosen by the Equestrian Court and irreversibly severed from The Hive by arcane means of The Equestrian Court's Choice as to relinquish all loyalty to The Hive's Queen and efforts. If the Doppelganger establishes any connection, physical, arcane, or otherwise, with The Changeling People's Hive's Queen, this Concordat is declared null and void. Let our peoples be not defined by war, but by collaboration and progress. Signed: Princess Celestia Queen Chrysalis" ***** The last sentence of the Concordat on Celestia's desk was as cold a pain as the impact of a knife into a helpless stallion's spine. It was the final nail in Equestria's coffin. It was the surrender to the illusion that her beloved land and it's people were safe from the Hive. Yet none of this turned the lamenting Princess's flesh and blood to ice quite like the agonizing and immutable memory of what she had did to her darling sister. Her trembling lips, already soaked with tears, gave way to the recollection of the unthinkable, "Luna." Reading over the Concordat was only the last straw that had broke her. It had been Perish's untimely visit and speech that had reached deep within her, to dark places long forgotten, and pulled up the memories she had hoped would be buried forever. A mention of the old Human gods she once knew of was all it took. Many of her human memories came back to her in an agonizing flash. Among them, though not the worst of them, was the distinct memory of Luna's human body. The board games they had played together as children, the scoldings their mother used to give them for acting "unladylike", the fights they had over friends and boys. "I'm so sorry, Luna." she sobbed, barely able to breath from the shaking. Before this mess with the Ungods those memories seemed so impossibly distant and foggy. As blurry and veiled as she wished the thing that was killing her the most would have ever been. Many regrets swam in a whirlwind in Celestia's skull as she sit there weeping. She wept for listening to her court members when they demanded that resources must be gifted to the Crystal Empire to strengthen their dwindling alliance instead of dedicated to the efforts of the Equestrian Inquisition to rid their beloved country of the Changeling menace. Her tears bared her sorrow for ever agreeing to a contract that would betray her people, and her trusted friend's brother, Shining Armor. If it had not been for the Invasion at the Canterlot Wedding, she knew not what she would have done about the conflict of Shining Armor's memories and Cadance's claim that she had not been in Canterlot for years. She flinched upon recalling the blood-curdling hisses and screeches of the young Changeling child as all connection to the only thing he loved was ripped out of him, all memory of his beloved Queen erased forever. She should've reveled in him being powerless to resist, for he could not disobey his Queen's order, but she could not bring herself to delight through the horrid echoes of his agony. Changeling or not, he was a child, and he loved nothing more than his Queen, and she was ordering her lead magi to tear this genuine love from him as she silently prayed that she would not go without being judged for this. Or perhaps her being forced into such a position, to do such an unspeakable and heinous thing to child, was her punishment for the deed that brought on the need for such a ludicrous contract at all. For the screams of the changeling child were not the only ones that haunted the head that wore the crown on this autumn morning. She cried out for Luna to forgive her once more, as she heard the unnatural shrieks of her beloved sister being reshaped into a mindless beast. She had tried to hide it from herself. She had tried to remain blissfully ignorant of the court magisters' glassy-eyed looks of terror whenever they had the misfortune of gazing upon a once-beloved princess. But she always knew, deep in her heart, that she herself was the most despicable monster Equestria had never seen. She tried to justify it. "Equestria must be protected from other translated." she told herself. "As long as one can come in and edit our world to their liking, we will never have peace or harmony." she proclaimed to the court magisters, "I can't rule Equestria and expel all these monsters one by one!". "One of us has to be the one to do it." she reluctantly whispered to Luna, "There's no other way. It has to be a willing translated." "I'll do it, sis." Luna said with such certainty while staring out at the moon she just raised. How could she have been so sure? "Luna...no!" she replied, "We're supposed to rule together! That was the plan!" "Plans, change, sis." Luna said, "If we don't do something right now neither of us is going to be ruling anything for long." Celestia could not believe was she was hearing. Her own sister volunteering to become the one thing a translated should fear the most. Luna was willing to give up everything they came to Equestria for to become a wither. She struggled to find another solution, "We could find another translated. Trick them into-" "-You've got to be kidding!" Luna snapped, "Do you know how long that would take?" She turned to face her sister, " If we could even do it? The translated has to be willing, sis. We could really screw something up." Luna looked out over the twisted Equestrian landscape, "Every second we stand here putting off the obvious Discord is changing this world into some twisted crappy Salvador Dali theme park version of itself!" Celestia's eyes widened with anxiety as she forced herself to say, "I'll do it." Luna turned to her with a look of disappointment, "Don't be stupid, sis." "I'll do it, Luna." she repeated, "I can't let you do this." Luna walked over and wiped the tears from her sisters eyes. "Celeste," she said lovingly, "Equestria needs you." She embraced the sun princess and closed her eyes, "You were born to rule this place. You're serene, elegant, and a great leader." Celestia's eyes still poured. "They don't need me." Luna said squeezing her beloved sister tight, "They don't even really know me." She buried her face in her sister's ivory hide as she began to cry, too. "They don't love me." "I love you!" Celestia cried out, embracing her sister. "I need you, Luna." As Luna pulled back from Celestia they could now see the tears streaming down each other's faces. They could not hear the explosions making their way from Ponyville to Canterlot. They could not notice the beams of light coming from matter-warping Arcanum of the Draconequus threat. For the thousands of screams all around them were silenced by the savoring of what both of them knew would be the last moment they would ever have together. "I know." Luna said, finally breaking the silence. "But you have to decide, sis. Will you let the one person you love survive? So that the thousands that you swore to protect die or become slaves?" Celestia stood wide-eyed and silent. She finally stamped her hoof at Luna, "You're my real sister, Luna! These ponies aren't even real! They're just made up-" "-We can't go back, Celeste!" Luna yelled, stomping right back at her, "This is reality now! These ponies' fear? They're families? Their hopes and dreams!?" Luna raised up on her hind legs, "IT'S ALL THE REAL WE'VE GOT, NOW!" "We don't know that we can't go back-" "GET REAL, SIS!" she screamed, blowing through her nose, "We tried to go back and it didn't work! Our memories are already fading! Someone killed our human bodies!" Celestia could see that she truly had no other choice. Everything was lost, possibly including her and Luna, if she couldn't bring herself to turn her own sister into a soulless monster built to serve only one purpose; a demonic machine crafted only to expel any translated other than Celestia herself from their beloved land of candy colored ponies and mythical creatures. "I am terribly sorry to interrupt, my princesses." came a voice from the doorway, "But the incubator is ready, as are we." It was the court's lead magi. Luna walked towards the open doorway, face drenched in tears. Celestia stopped her, "I will find a way to bring you back." she said, looking her in the eye. "I swear it, Luna." "So that we can do this again when someone else gets through?" Luna said as she pushed her sister's hoof away from her chest and continued past the magi and into the room below. She remembered her sister's final words, and they hung from her heart as heavy as the whole of Canterlot Castle would if tied to her core by iron chains. "I love you, too, sis. Don't let'em down." Those words echoed endlessly through her entire body. And as she wept, she began to believe that the coming of the Ungods could be a blessing in disguise, after all.
How do you?View OnlineThe RefugeeHow do you?Chapter 5 How do you? "If you want to be loved, be lovable." Ovid Excerpt from "The Key, The Gate, and Infinite Exploration": "While it may tempt those of us who have fallen on hard times in our own worlds, permanent translation must be treated as forbidden fruit as no one is completely sure of all it's adverse effects. There is, obviously, a lack of viable research into this matter due to the fact that those permanently translated never return, and (perhaps less obviously) because one of the adverse effects I am absolutely sure of is permanent memory loss. Particularly the loss of memories from your world of origin. I should not have waited to write this down until the last pages of this book, and I realize many of you will not have even read this because of it's poor location, but it was very difficult for me to reflect on this portion of knowledge without also being forced to go eye-to-eye memory of my own daughter's permanent translation that happened against my will. I still see my Diane's face every night as it turns from my beloved child into that of pink horse with only a fading memory of me. I'll never forget the awful sting of watching her translation mark disappear from her glazed eyes as she sprung from my arms. A different thing all together. I'll wish I could forget that pink body that briefly housed my daughter bouncing around me, asking me what my name was. I ponder on the taste of lead and gunpowder every time I hear her voice. Permanent translation can only be achieved by the destruction of one's original body. This is obviously a very final choice and cannot be reversed. It is thought that if the original host vessel of one's being is destroyed beyond recognition while it isn't filled, the force that governs translation (nicknamed Hermes after the god of travel and boundaries) will be unable to find the original body to return you into, therefore forcing you into permanent residence into the world you're translated into (even if you attempt to return or are expelled by a wither). As I said above, permanent translation leads to permanent loss of the memories from your original world and body. As your original body rots, so do the memories contained in it. Even though there must be some kind of thread connecting the two bodies allowing interdemensional recollection, this thread apparently cannot physically transfer these memories by any means the order, or myself, has discovered. Due to the fact that time tragically travels much more rapidly in "fictional" worlds (and the strange largely unexplored effects this has on the perception of time during the actual translation) by the time you learn someone has permanently translated, it is already too late to say a final goodbye. They have already forgotten who you are. They have already forgotten who you ever were." ***** The dawn peeked through the foliage of the Everfree as if trying to enter without being noticed. It's gentle rays of hope and warmth should've been a subtle signal for Seraf to be wide awake, but strangely the bumps of the cart he laid in as Zecora's pull drug it's wheels over the many minor geographical imperfections were as anesthetic as his mother's lullaby in that old rocking chair in the old living room. Passing underneath the direct ray from the sun stung him from his drowsiness just long enough to hear the last part of Zecora's apology, "-I do not wish to pry..." "W-what's that?" he muttered, wondering if he had missed some other question about his origin he'd have to endure the pain of lying about to someone who'd been all too kind to him. Zecora turned her head and smiled at Seraf. "I was only asking with concern; where, young one, did you get those burns?" Seraf, trying to stall for enough time to think of a story she'd believe, looked down at his body to see that most of his burns were completely healed. It was miracle! Had that cream of Zecora's actually led to such a speedy recovery? She turned her head back towards the path to Ponyville. "As I said before, you need not reply. Go back to sleep, child, I do not wish to pry." Seraf's heart pounded as his head filled with completely rational worry. He simply had to come up with some explanation! Otherwise Zecora could suspect anything. She did live near the gate he came out of, after all! Was it possible she knew? It certainly was! If someone found him out, would the wither come for him? Of course that horrid thing would come! What would happen when it did come? Would he go back to a charred and broken human body!? Was his human vessel even still inhabitable!? He reassured himself, "How could she know?" Wiping the sweat from his brow as the thought of how absurd the notion that Zecora would suspect such a thing was. He thought of it from the perspective of his human self, "What if I had burns on earth? Would someone suspect a translation?" Of course not! But he had to be sure. "Dragon got me..." "Ah, I see." Zecora nodded, never straying her eyes from the path. "You saved me though." Seraf finally felt his heartbeat and breath grow slower as the idea that he could relax finally set in and the bumps in the road began lulling him back to his wonderful morning nap. "Thank you for that." Zecora chuckled humbly. "You're quite welcome, little one." The memories of all the times he woke up late for school and pretended to be sick popped into his mind. All the times he'd slept in his own bed long into the afternoon under his sheets. Sheets which, strangely, he could not remember the color of. It didn't matter, as he was certain he had been through at least a few set of bed clothes in his time on earth. Zecora's laugh reminded him so much of his mother's. Though, in his drowsy stupor, he could not remember how similar, exactly, the two laughs were. "I do not mean to pry, again." Zecora said, waking him from his oh so comfortable daydream, "But that mark in your eye, what is it, my friend?" Seraf groaned quietly in frustration. Now he was going to have to answer that? Couldn't this zebra just leave him alone? Once again he thought about the usual I don't want to talk about it excuse. He really didn't want to talk about it, after all. But once again, he had to assure himself that he had eliminated any suspicion. But how? Whereas each bump in the road seemed like a quick and calming motion before, each one now seemed like a painful jolt that lasted an eternity as he quickly tried to come up with some explanation that would dispel any suspicion that he was anything but a normal pony. Then, just like that, the silence was broken "It's ok, little one, you don't ha-" "-it's a scar." He boldly interjected. Zecora's warm smile turned into a look of sorrow. She worried that she had touched a nerve with this young colt. She kept her eyes on the road and her mouth closed, trying not to imagine what strange thing could've left a scar like that. "Failed spell." He continued, oblivious to the fact that he would've been home free if he'd just kept his mouth shut. "I have never seen anything quite like that." She replied in an attempt at ending this dreadfully awkward conversation on as comfortable a note as possible. Her efforts were in vein. "Someone made me botch it up and I paradoxed." He said, bravely continuing to expound, "It could've been worse, I suppose." His stern look never leaving his face in case Zecora happened to turn around. After a few more seconds of awkward silence, Zecora began to wonder about the validity of his story. "You performed a spell, you say?" Seraf began to reply with the automatic Need I repeat myself? Something stopped him, though. He could not bare to be so brash to this Zebra any longer. She had shown him far too much kindness in such little time of knowing him. Though he would never trust anyone other than his parents with much more than could be contained in a bucket, he felt, once again, a warmth in his heart that made him hold his tongue and instead say, "Yes." He touched his chest as if to try and kindle the flame in his heart. It would mark the milestone for him of the first time he'd watched we he said to spare the feelings of one he shared not a drop of blood with. "That is indeed a strange thing you claim." She replied, looking back and catching him holding his chest all glassy-eyed. Unsettled by her statement, and slightly embarrassed that he had been caught in a moment of sentiment, he pushed even further. "Whatever do you mean?" Zecora turned her eyes back towards the road, the small rays of sunlight shooting through the trees and projecting the shapes of the spaces the leaves neglected onto her striped back as she walked gracefully. "For you are a pony with two wings, and no horn." He felt his heart thump violently in his chest. Had he screwed this up? "And magic can only be done by unicorns." She said. He had! His jaw dropped. Was she joking? Was magic really limited to only one breed of equine in this world? No, she had such confidence in her voice. She was so certain. It must have been true! He wanted to curse her for prying so foolishly. She said she didn't mean to pry! And here she was! Prying! How could she? The wither would descend on him any minute now, for certain! What would happen to him? He had no body to return to! The beams of sunlight expanded into spotlights before his very eyes. Exposing him. Taking away any shred of hope that he might conceal himself when that horrid beast came for him again. He watched the world twist through his teary eyes. He flattened his body against the wagon and to whimpered uncontrollably. The cart suddenly stopped. He was far too terrified to open his eyes. He could not even imagine lifting his head from the base of the wagon to check his surroundings. Any minute now, he knew he'd hear that awful SCREEEEECH that signaled his imminent doom. He cowered as he most certainly heard wings swoop by and most definitely heard hooves stepping into the dirt as something dreadful approached the cart. His eyes pinched tighter as he heard the sound of reigns dropping to the ground. Zecora. The wither had most certainly got her. It was over. All the pain he'd endured. All the loss he hoped to escape. Blown out like a candle in the wind. He shook as he felt the cool earth beneath him. Had he fallen out of the cart? What did it matter now? "Little Seraf!" he heard the roar of the beast shake the ground as an icy hoof touched his shoulder. "Please! No more talk about your eye!" That voice. Zecora? "I promise now, I will not pry." Zecora! His head sprung up in hope that it had all been some crazy paranoid mind delusion. His eyes met with hers as he pushed himself up from the dirt. "My little pony, you are still not well." She said. Seraf could identify that the concern in her voice was genuine. As it always seemed to be, with her. "Let's get you in the cart, you should rest for a spell." She said softly as turned the cart upright. Had he really turned it over? He eagerly laid himself back in the cart, pressed his head against it's floor and waited for the sound of Zecora taking the reigns once again. As he felt the cart begin to move forward again. He could not shake the sinking suspicion that Zecora still might have suspected something. It was only logical after she had witnessed such a catatonic response from him. "M-my friend did the spell." He fibbed. "My g-girlfriend, actually. At the time." "I see." She offered. "She was very good at magic. And very pretty. The prettiest pony I've ever seen." He said. He just wanted her to listen. "Uh huh." She said nervously. She wondered if he was really this stupid of a child. "I only broke up with her because she boasted so obnoxiously about her skill. Most unbecoming." Zecora let our a sigh of relief as the realized that listening to him was helping him keep calm. Wanting to avoid any conversation that might make him go feral again, Zecora tried to make the best of the situation. After all, it'd be hours before the reached Ponyville. "Tell me about your little filly friend, then, little one." She knew he just wanted her to listen to him. Seraf was confused. She still wanted him to continue? Hadn't she heard enough? He sighed confidently as he fully realized the opportunity to make himself look interesting with a tall tale she'd have no choice but to take his word on. "Her coat as blue as the clear summer sky. Her eyes were a gorgeous magenta rivaled only by the autumn sunset." Zecora chuckled as the idea of a foal spewing such purple prose so casually reminded her of a certain young white mare she knew. "She may have captivated everyone who laid eyes on her." He spewed onward, "But I was the one who put a spell on her heart, you see." "You will have to meet miss Rarity." Zecora politely interrupted, "She talks just like you do, you see." Seraf was puzzled by this. A woman? Or...mare? Whose level of English enrichment could rival his own? "I suppose I will!" He said with a confident smile as he raised he head and poked out his chest. For a moment, he knew what he wanted. He briefly imagined a sophisticated and gorgeous girl with ivory white skin who could finally be someone that understood him. They'd talk about interesting things for hours, and go to sophisticated soirees! His noble dreams, however, did burst as soon as he remembered where he was, and how little desire he had to get romantically involved with a horse. Even if it did have a deeper understanding of the finer points of the spoken word. He flopped his head back onto the cart and laid down in disappointment. "I suppose...I will." *****
Last Flowers/No SurprisesView OnlineThe RefugeeLast Flowers/No SurprisesChapter 6 Last Flowers/No Surprises "As a well spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death." Leonardo Da Vinci Dear Princess Celestia, I have not heard from you in days. I hope you are ok. I'm sure everything is fine. I'm just worried, but you know how worried I can get sometimes. Remember that time I thought I'd be sent back to magic kindergarten for being late on a report? Boy, those were some crazy times! Everything in Ponyville has been quiet for a while, now. No monsters, natural disasters, parasprite infestations, or any other types of crisis for that matter. I kind of hate admitting it, but I miss all the adventures me and my friends in Ponyville used to have trying to overcome a lot of those things. Those girls and I have been through so much together, and we've learned a lot about friendship. Thank you again for sending me here. You always know best. I realize you're probably just very busy, but if you have time I'd really like to hear from you again. I miss you and I miss Canterlot. I may have to come visit sometime. Maybe I could visit the palace and see you if you're not so busy, then. Your faithful student Twilight Sparkle ***** Celestia wept silently in her chambers as she read what was probably the last letter she'd ever receive from her most promising personal student. She sat there frozen in time in a moment of sadness that seemed to go on without end. Maybe the moment would never end. Maybe she could be sad forever. Maybe time really stopped. Maybe she didn't have to die. "You were her world, Princess." came the voice a young girl from beside her. Celestia, still locked in her state of sorrow, did not budge. "Twilight, I mean." the young girl said, "That is who the letter is from, right?" Tears began streaming down the princesses' face. "Yes." She whispered. "I think she really loved you. She probably wrote more letters to you than she did her own mother, don't ya think?" she said. Celestia could hear the girl rocking her hips back and forth as she talked. Swaying like a child often does. "Yes." She whispered. "She loved you a lot. A lot of other ponies liked you, too." she said as she took a step towards the princess. Celestia felt a tiny human hand rest itself gently on her shoulder. "See?" the little girl said, "You'll always be in their hearts. That's why you're coming with me when you..." she stopped, "when you..." Tears poured from Celestia's face as the young girl fell silent. She sobbed aloud, and the girl began to cry with her. The raggedy little girl embraced Celestia from the side as she turned to face her young visitor. The two shared a tight and heartfelt hug as her mane brushed against the little one's dirty black hair. "Cherish?" Celestia managed to say through her sobbing, "Is there a way Twilight could take my place?" The young girl loosened her grip on the princess and said sheepishly, "I don't knowww." Celestia wiped her eyes and kneeled down. Face to face with the ragged and bruised little girl before her she said, "She has the royal blood in her. She will be a princess some day." Cherish stepped back from Celestia. She hung her head and shuffled her feet without a word. "Cherish," she said nervously, "Can't that day just be today?" Cherish continued shuffling. "I can't change stuff." She said without ever making eye contact. "I'm not allowed." Celestia hung her head and closed her eyes. Up until now the thought had never crossed her mind that she could simply choose a successor capable of keeping the kingdom she worked so hard to maintain a safe place for her subjects. Cherish looked up at the wall behind the princess. Still making no eye contact she said softly, "All I can do is make sure you're ok when you...have to go." The child sniffled and teared up again. Celestia knew that not one of the Ungods would be able to help her, especially this one. She knew that if she had to name Twilight as her successor, it was to be done now, and it was to be done only by her. The princess cupped the little girl's chin in her hoof. With a kind look in her eye she lifted the child's head to meet their gazes. "You may not be allowed to change things, Cherish." She said sweetly, "But I am." With her horn's magic Celestia opened the southern window of her chambers and flew out into the evening sky. She had decided that is was high time she responded to her faithful student's letters. As the open sunset cast an orange glow on her pale body and the wind blew the tears from her eyes she knew that the words she would say to Twilight Sparkle now would be the last words anyone would ever hear from her. She knew the that the words she would say to Twilight Sparkle would change both of their worlds, everyone's word, forever. *****
SulkView OnlineThe RefugeeSulkChapter 7 Sulk "Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see." Samuel Clemens Excerpt from "The Key, The Gate, and Infinite Exploration": "However well your translated form is physically camouflaged, the true nature of blending within a world and it's denizens is, for better or worse, dictated greatly by one's knowledge of the world and the individual's ability to blend into social situations that regularly occur within it. There can be no salvation for those that choose again and again to blame the world itself for their sociological woes, in or out of their original world." ***** "Thank you, Zebra." Seraf said facing the female zebra in front of him. "Please," she said smiling, "Call me Zecora." Seraf stared at her confused. "Thank you," the young colt finally uttered, "Zecora." He waited silently as she walked past him pulling an empty wagon laid with soft bedding. As Zecora took the straightforward path into what looked like the heart of Ponyville to him, Seraf tactfully took a round about way through the grassy knolls. He thought he could make out a small cottage in the distance. His mind began to ask him where he was going, but he answered it with the usual arrogant silence he often did when he had no answers. His heart asked him if he was angry about something, and he swatted its cries of concern away like a noisy pack of flies. "She didn't want anything." He muttered to himself. The Zebra had disinfected and closed several wounds that could have been fatal to him. She asked for nothing. She had pulled his wounded body to the outside of the dangerous forest. She would have taken him into town had he not stopped her, but then she would have known that not a single person there was actually his kin, and he would be exposed. She asked for nothing. Before all this, she had saved him from a dragon attack. He was twice indebted to her for his life. She asked for nothing. What was she waiting for? For him to be at his weakest, when he'd have no other choice? "No." he whispered knowingly. She had seen him at his weakest already. Seraf began to ponder as he wobbled aimlessly across the soft grass beneath his hooves. "Hooves..." he said. He was still not used to them. Zecora had seen him at his weakest. Zecora had every opportunity to make any demand she wanted. Yet Zecora demanded nothing. Zecora asked for nothing. Did she simply realize he had nothing to give? If that was the case why would she help him? The world was based on a system of exchanges, after all. "The foundation of happiness is the suffering of the weak." He said with conviction as he continued to waver about the meadow with his eyes focused on the ground. "Oh my goodness!" cried a soft voice from somewhere in front of him. Seraf lifted his head in surprise to see a cream colored pony with long pink hair flying towards him slowly. He noticed it never really came far off the ground, for whatever reason. "You poor thing!" it cried, "What happened!?" Seraf froze in place as the pony examined the stump where his wing used to be with its hoof. He assumed from it's long hair, soft voice, and emotionally swelled eyes that it must be female. "I..." he started. I what? "Let's get you in the Cabin." she said nervously, "Dr. Fluttershy will fix you right up...I hope..." He felt the winged pony push and pull on him until he finally started wobbling over towards the cabin. Was it the one he saw from the distance. Had he walked towards it the whole time? As he was partially coerced against his will and partially just moving out of dismay, he noticed a countless amount of what appeared to be more animated versions of woodland creatures scatter to clear a path. They stared at him as he walked zombified towards the door of the cabin. "C'mon, now." she said, "Just a few more steps." "Where are we going?" he asked nervously, though it was clear. "Stay with me, now." she replied as she picked him up, "We're going into the cabin to get you all fixed up." "But I'm...fine." he said trying to stop her. Oh what he wouldn't have done to resist her and gain a moment's time to gather himself. Somehow his legs would not push him away from her no matter how hard his mind screamed for them to. "It's ok." she said with as she opened the door, "We're just going to give you a check-up. Ok?" Her voice was like velvet now that he had really listened. It was paralyzing him. "I'm ok." he muttered, "Really." Her eyes darted around the room as she laid him on a table in what appeared to be a living room of some sort. "Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!" she said excitedly zipping through the air all around the room gathering medical supplies. "What?" he said, trying to follow her frantic movements with his eyes. "What is wrong with you?" "You're missing your!" she exclaimed, "You! Did you hurt your!?" Seraf cocked his eyebrow in frustration. "What!? Spit it out already!" The pony dropped her medical supplies and cowered behind one foreleg. She pointed her other hoof at his wing. Seraf breathed a sigh of relief. "It's missing." He groaned. "I'm aware." "Oh...my." she squeaked, "I...I..." Seraf looked at her in aggravated confusion. "I didn't mean to...offend you." She whispered. "Offend me?" he said with a smirk. "You've drug me into a strange house against my better judgment. And you're worried about my disposition towards you?" "Um..." she said finally landing on the floor gently. "You really should've just minded your own - grrrurrr." His stomach grumbled loud enough to interrupt him. The pony stared at him. She seemed afraid of him for some reason. Was it something he said, or was she just a pushover? "Are you...hungry?" she said sheepishly. He really couldn't argue. "I suppose." he said burying his face in his hoof. *****
