Chapters Demon of the Frozen North
Demon of the Frozen North
Public Library, Crystal Empire
Princess Cadance walked down the aisle, her hoofsteps echoing dimly through the cavernous space. As she pursued the shelves lined with countless times on countless topics, her mind turned back to the events of that morning. She had woken much later than she normally did, around ten thirty. Of course, she had immediately panicked, rushing through her morning routine. Approximately ten minutes later, she had been ready. And admittedly, while a princess was never really late, she always tried to be ready and on the throne by eight o’ clock sharp, to begin the morning ritual of solving local grievances.
However, as she approached the throne room, she could tell that it had already commenced. Indeed, her beloved Shining Armor had taken the throne and handled all of the complaints thrown at him. As Cadance had come within visual range, he had just been finishing up with the last denizen of the Empire, a small framed male with a coat the color of wheat and a light blue mane and tail. He had thanked the prince for his time and left just as Cadance had come into view. Shining had spared her a quick glance accompanied by a smile, and dismissed the pony. He had told her that since it was her birthday, he'd taken over her royal duties for the day. He'd even had the chef prepare her favorite breakfast, waffles with strawberry syrup, powdered sugar, actual strawberries and whipped cream on top.
She'd kissed him before leaving to eat. While waiting for the chef to bring out the dish, she had had the idea to look for a nice book to read on her day off. And here's she was. She was currently looking under the Non-Fiction section, looking for something interesting. She already had a small pile of books floating beside her, encased in her soft blue magical aura. As she walked past a shelf she had just scanned, she bumped the shelf with her hip causing a single book to fall from the shelf. Mentally chiding herself for her carelessness, she levitated the book back up to the shelf it had fallen from, when the book behind it caught her eye. It was a small, leather bound book, maybe as thick as her forehoof. It would have escaped her notice completely, had the cover not been glowing a soft crimson. Intrigued by the strange tome, Cadance levitated it towards her.
The leather was pitch black with a single word etched in a jagged font on its cover: Demons. It was the title that emitted the soft red glow. But that was the only thing on the cover. No author, no publishing information, nothing. Completely enthralled by the book, Cadance flipped it open to the first page and was greeted with three lines of text, written in the same font as the title, although these characters didn't glow. However, reading it proved to be impossible, as the text was written in a language the princess didn't recognize. It was angular and sharp, and seemed to emit a sense of foreboding. Cadance flipped through the pages, and sure enough, the rest of the book was written in the same language as the first page. She wondered why somepony would bother to write the title in English, but the rest of the book in...whatever language that was.
Perhaps the librarian would know something about it, or could provide her with a means to translate it. But in the other hoof, the book was magical. That was obvious. Books don't glow unless there is magic involved in it somewhere. She closed the book and added it to her growing collection. She appraised the stack critically. She had three books, not counting the new one. At the top was A History of Empires by Musty Scrolls, Draconology by Wildblood and The Importance of Where by Valkyrie. Since the library only allowed three books to be checked out by a single pony at a time, Cadance elected to return A History of Empires to the shelf in favor of Demons. She wasn’t quite sure why, but she felt as if she needed to check out this book. As Aunt Celestia had once said, a princess must follow her instincts. She walked back down the aisle and three rows to her right, locating the spot for the book easily enough. She trotted down the aisle and started to make her way back to the front desk for check out. As she rounded a corner, she saw a cloaked figure a few aisles down, muttering to themselves. Curious, Cadance walked over to them. Once in hearing range, Cadance realized it was the same aisle she had found Demons in. And still, the stranger continued to talk to himself(It was definitely a male’s voice).
“Damn it, where is it? Librarian said it'd be over here…”the stranger muttered,
“Excuse me, but do you need any help?” She asked. The stranger seemed to relax a little
“Perhaps you could help me. I have come here in search of a certain book. It's the only copy ever made, and would be of tremendous help in my research. It is called Demons. Have you by chance seen it? The librarian told me it would be somewhere in this aisle…” His voice trailed off as his eyes found the book in her levitating stack. Anticipating his next question, Cadance floated the book over to him.
“Well, I was going to check it out for myself, but you seem to need it more than I do. Why don't you take it instead?” She said. The stranger regarded her silently.
“Truly?” He asked. “You would simply...give it to me?” He seemed confused and a little wary, as if he expected a battle to the death. Cadance smiled at him.
“Well, yes. You said you needed it for your research, right?” She asked him. The stranger nodded. “Well, then, you obviously need it more than me. But before I do give it to you, I have to ask: what kind of research are you doing?” The stranger’s chest swelled with what was unmistakably pride.
“I am researching Demonology.” He said. Cadance raised her eyebrows.
“Seriously? You study demons? Isn't that, you know, dangerous?” She asked. The stranger chuckled.
“It is only dangerous if you do not know what you are doing. I have spent the last fourteen years training my body, mind and soul. I have dedicated most of my adult life to better understanding of these creatures. What do they eat? How is their society structured? Where do they get their power? Sadly, I haven't found many answers. However, this book, Demons, is alleged to contain the answers I seek.” He said. Cadance nodded.
“So, what answers do you have, then? Also, how does one study demons? Don't they exist in a different realm?” She asked him. When he spoke, she could hear the smile in his voice.
“Yes, but that is why demonologists use a technique called “Sol’teka”, or Dream Vision. As the name implicates, one can only use it while asleep, and it does impose a serious threat to their well-being. That is why a demonologist spends so long training themselves to use it.” He said. Cadance nodded.
“That’s quite impressive. But I still have one more question.” She said.
“Yes, princess?” The stranger’s voice was polite, but sounded guarded.
“Yes, this book, Demons, can you tell me what language it’s written in? I’m afraid I don’t recognize it.” She said. The stranger seemed to relax a little.
“Well, let us see…” He reached forward and gripped the book delicately with his teeth. He turned and trotted off quickly, with Cadance following close behind. She was surprised at how quickly he found a table. He set the book down and opened it to the first page. Upon seeing the script, he breathed in sharply. He started muttering the words to himself, and as Cadance listened, his voice became slightly agitated. He turned around and faced the princess.
“Princess Mi Amora Cadenza, you have found something most rare indeed. While there are several copies of the book in different languages, you seem to have located the original copy, the one written in Demonick.” He said gravely. Cadance tried unsuccessfully to not look confused. “Demonick is the language used by demons, as I’m sure you were able to figure out yourself. However, Demonick is magical by its very nature, and exceedingly dangerous, even to read. And besides that, it is often difficult to translate, as the different types of demons use different variations of Demonick. Give me a moment, and I will do my best to translate some of it for you, if only to demonstrate its power.” He said in a very calm voice. As he spoke, Cadance grew more and more horrified. How could something so evil possibly be admitted into a public library? As if he could read her thoughts, the stranger spoke. “I would stake my life that the librarian does not know how dangerous this book is. I will take it, before somepony hurts themselves, or others. After all, we would not want another-” He stopped abruptly, as if catching himself saying more than he had intended. Just as Cadance was about to ask what he’d been about to say, more curious than anything, he made a quick, shape shushing sound. Immediately, they both stilled as they listened. They waited. And waited. Just as Cadance was about to abandon this and ask the question she had been about to ask, she heard it. The sound was faint, as if far away, but there was no denying it. It was the sound of hooves pounding on pavement. The royal guards were marching.
As she stood there listening and wondering what they were doing, the stranger spoke in a low tone, probably more to himself than her. she couldn’t understand anything he said though, as he spoke in a foreign language. He turned to face her. “Princess, I’m afraid this is where I take my leave. Farewell, and may the light of wisdom guide your path.” With that final statement, the stranger turned to leave.
“Princess Cadance! There you are! There’s an enemy of Equestria somewhere in the Empire!” She said semi-hysterically. Cadance put a comforting hoof on her shoulder.
“Whoa, calm down there. Take a deep breath.” She said soothingly. The librarian did as requested and focused her gaze on Cadance.
“The individual is male and wearing a cloak with a hood obscuring his features. His race is unknown at this time, but he was seen skirmishing with a small platoon of guards. He fled this way after defeating them. There were no casualties, but one of the guards, Flash Sentry has a few broken ribs and has been hospitalized. The perpetrator fled in this direction.” The librarian said in a rush. Cadance's eyes widened. She whirled around, horn glowing with her soft blue aura, eyes searching for the stranger from earlier. She found him straight ahead, on the ground floor. He was standing very still in front of the large glass doors leading to the outside. A small army was marching by, their hooves making a sound akin to thunder and shaking the ground. At the front leading point was Shining Armor, resplendent in his deep purple armor. As usual, Cadence's heart fluttered at the sight of him, but she put the feeling aside. One of the guards happened to look in through the door, and his eyes went wide. He faced forward again and shouted something unintelligible. The platoon ground to a halt just outside the doors, and ten of them, including Shining, gathered at the front. After a brief moment of conference, the ten marched towards the library. Inside, the stranger shook himself and backed away slowly.
Shining took point again, and opened the doors gently. The ten of them filed in, surrounding the stranger. Cadance moved forward to the balcony as Shining began to speak.
“You, there. Hold. I am…” he began.
“You're Shining Armor, right? Captain of the royal guard? I know who you are.” The stranger cut him off.
“Remove your cloak and come with us. You’re under arrest.” He said imperiously. The stranger said nothing. The two of them continued to stare at each other. Finally, Shining broke the silence. “I won’t ask again. Remove your cloak and come with us. Now.” He said slowly and distinctly. The stranger made a small sound. And again. With a start, Cadance realized he was laughing. Indeed, the laughter continued to increase in volume until the stranger's voice echoed all around them. Cadance thought it sounded rather mad. Shining raised an eyebrow.
“Something funny?” he asked. The stranger’s laughter abruptly ended, though when he spoke, Cadance could practically hear the smile in his voice.
“Well, yes. I find it hysterical that you think you can arrest me. For one thing, I’m not a citizen of Equestria. You have no authority over me. And secondly, you have no reason to arrest me.” This second bit seemed to surprise Shining Armor.
“What are you talking about? You assaulted an entire platoon of guards!” The stranger made a strange noise, akin to a snake hissing.
“You are incorrect, ser knight. I assaulted no one. The guards attacked me unprovoked. I fought only in self defense.” Shining narrowed his eyes.
“I find that very hard to believe. I know every soldier under my command, and I personally trained quite a few of them. None of them would attack unless provoked. And what about Flash Sentry, huh? He has six broken ribs and a punctured lung! Even if this was self defense, was that really necessary?” The stranger shifted uncomfortably. Shining looked at where his face was concealed. “So, tell me, why would such stallions attack unprovoked? What do you have to say in your defense?” He asked calmly. Cadance had to admire that. She knew for a fact that he was close to more than a few of his recruits. The stranger muttered something incomprehensible. “What was that?” Shining asked. The stranger drew a breath.
“Most likely because I am what your kind calls a ‘changeling’.” He said calmly. Silence ensued. For the better part of a minute, no one said anything. Then, like a bursting dam, every soldier behind Shining started talking at once.
“He’s a what?”
“Should we kill it?”
“What’s it doing here?”
“How did it get here?”
“How did it beat the others?”
“What-”
“ENOUGH!” Shining roared over the din. The soldiers immediately quited. Shining returned his attention to the changeling. “Remove your cloak.” He commanded curtly. The changeling hesitated, then unclasped the brooch securing it around his throat, and threw back the hood, the garment pooling on the floor around its hoof. His black carapace shone in the reflected light as if wet. His horn was almost a perfect cone, except for the oval shaped hole in the middle of it. He had a row of spines that ran down the back of his head and neck in ever decreasing length, all of them interconnected with webbing. His insect like wings were folded neatly on his sides. He had twin ivory fangs that curved past his lower jaw several inches. It was hard to tell from her vantage point, but it appeared that his fangs were serrated on the inside. However, there were two striking differences between this one and the ones Chrysalis had commanded. One, his wings and webbing were maroon instead of blue, and the section of his abdomen was blood red. Two, he had a massive sword strapped across his back. In fact, upon closer examination, Cadance deduced that he was thinner than the cloak had portrayed him, and shorter too. That explained how he had hidden the sword. That sword… Cadance had never seen anything like it. It was sheathed in an ornate scabbard, emblazoned with a twisting flame design surrounded by a massive red dragon that created a circle with its body. The guard curved slightly, both ends splitting into two different sections and all four coming to a point. The blade was straight and had a triangular tip. And unless Cadance was becoming delusional, there was a single line of Demonick written across the guard. The hilt was made out of black leather and had a teardrop shaped ruby implanted in the pommel. Everyone stared at him with a mixture of wonder, fear, and anger. Except for Shining. After a momentary look of shock, he’d regained his composure, and stared stony faced at the changeling.
“Well. This changes a few things.” He said neutrally. The changeling chuckled.
“No.” It was spoken calmly, as if this were perfectly fine. Shining slowly turned towards the changeling.
“What?” He said dangerously.
“I said no. I understand that you must take me in for questioning, but I’m afraid I don’t
“What do you mean, you don’t have time?” He asked, obviously astounded. The
“Why, I mean just that. I have more important things to do than waste time being questioned about something as trivial as this.” He said with a hint of want Cadance thought to be irritation, although it was admittedly difficult to judge emotion on such an unfamiliar accent.
“Trivial or not, the law clearly states-” Shining started.
“Bah! I don’t have time for this!” The changeling interrupted. He strode confidently towards the door. When Shining’s horn started to glow, the changeling suddenly burst into a mad gallop for the door, seemingly oblivious to the hundred or so guards standing right outside. One of the guards outside, a white unicorn sent by Aunt Celestia, lowered his halberd towards the doors, and his fellow guards followed his lead, forming a spiked barricade almost a half mile wide. The changeling’s horn glowed crimson for a brief moment, and the double glass doors flew off their hinges and shattered on the guards halberds. To their credit, the guards didn’t so much as flinch, even when shards of glass carved thin rivers of crimson across their faces. Cadance was sure the changeling would stop and surrender, but to everyone’s surprise, he put on an extra burst of speed. As he drew near the deadly barricade, he did something unexpected and unprecedented. He jumped from the ground, landed lightly atop one of the guard’s halberds, and made a final, soaring leap over the heads of the entire squad of guards, did a single forward flip, and alighted on the ground nearly ten yards away. He looked over his shoulders and smiled tightly, his entire body clearly tense.
“I can’t waste time. I must hurry!” he shouted at the guards, before taking off down the nearest street at a mad gallop once again. Worried, Cadance flew down and alighted next to her husband.
“Shining.” He didn’t seem surprised when Cadance said his name quietly. “You’re not going to give chase, are you?” she asked softly, so as not to alert the other guards. Shining smiled lovingly at her.
“Of course I am. It’s my job and duty. Don’t worry, I’ll make it back to you in one piece. I promise.” With that final statement, he gave her a quick kiss, and turned to his squadron. “Alright, listen up! I want this changeling found and brought back to me alive. And if I get any word that you did not treat him as you would anyone else, I’ll have the offenders lashed! Now, comb out and find him!” At his command, the entire platoon split apart, heading down the various paths that interwoven around the Empire. Shining took four of his best guards and headed towards the Crystal Heart, no doubt to make sure nothing befell it. Cadance considered the situation. There was a changeling loose in the Empire, and there were approximately one hundred Royal guards and their captain combing the Empire.
However, the changeling had shown himself to be extremely dexterous and intelligent. And if rumors were to believed, it had the skill and strength to take out an entire squadron of guards by himself. with these facts in mind, Cadance decided that she would be of the most use helping the guards search for him. If he caught her by surprise, she believed her alicorn magic would be enough to overcome him in the end. She spread her wings and took flight into the cool evening air. She circled a few times, gaining altitude. She glided along the streets from above, scanning for any sign of the changeling. Seeing nothing, she narrowed her searching gaze to one section at a time. First the market district. There was a group of four guards searching the market place, much to the shopkeeper’s displeasure. However, Cadance could not spot anything that looked like a changeling. She turned her gaze to the residential district. There were two groups of three guards each searching there, although they were unable to see each other from where they were.
Again, no sign of the changeling. She shifted her focus to the castle, and with a jolt of surprise, saw a small black dot slowly crawling down the side, towards the alcove where the Crystal Heart rested. Cadance’s horn grew warm as her light blue aura enveloped it in preparation for a spell. It was a rather simple one, designed to amplify one's voice for all intents and purposes. However, before she could even begin to cast it, the black spot glowed crimson, and a ball of energy hurtled towards her, almost too fast to register. Before she could react, the energy smote her heavily in the breast, propelling her backwards several yards. To her dismay, Cadance found herself unable to use her wings. She screamed as she started to plummet towards the bone breaking ground. She dimly heard someone shouting her name, but the wind howling through her ears made it hard to tell who or where it was coming from. The last thing that ran through her mind was her beloved husband's smiling face. Then she collided with a building, and she knew oblivion.
Demon of the Frozen North
Author's Note
Sorry about the long wait time. Life decided to team up with school and bludgeon me mercilessly with a cactus. I have no definite date for when Chapter Three will be up. This is due to the fact that I will be receiving Mortal Kombat XL soon, and it will most likely consume my life for a few weeks. Sorry.
Chapter Two
Demon of the Frozen North
The changeling watched as the princess fell, screaming towards what would almost certainly be her death. Regret swelled in his chest, but there was no time to lose. As the guards below him rushed toward their fallen princess, he resumed his steady decline of the castle wall. After weighing his options, he decided that his best option was to teleport out of the Empire. However, the endeavor would have left him severely weakened, unable to continue. Thus, he came up with a plan. He had teleported to the side of the castle from the residential part of the Empire, and started crawling down it. Originally, he had been planning to use the element of surprise to catch the guards below off guard, allowing him to absorb some of the Crystal Heart’s magic. With the immense power boost it would give him, he would have enough energy to teleport out of the Empire safely, and make his way back home on hoof.
That was the plan anyway, before the princess had appeared. For a few moments, she hadn’t seemed to notice him, and he continued on his way. But when her horn started glowing, he knew there was little time to act. In desperation, he did the first thing that had come to mind. He attacked her. With that, there went any chance of acceptance from… well, Equestria in general. Cadance was well loved around the kingdom, and his actions would no doubt be considered a terrible offense to the denizens of Equestria. Wrenching his mind back to the present task, the changeling noticed that three guards had stayed, including Shining Armor. Damn it, he thought, why didn’t he go to her? This complicates things. The changeling frowned and continued his descent. As he neared the bottom of the wall, he heard the guards talking.
“Sorry, sir. This must be hard for you.” One of them said, though it was hard to tell which one. Shining made a sound somewhere between a sob and a growl.
“When I find the monster that did that to my Cadance and… and ou-our…” Shining Armor broke off into a small sobbing fit, before regaining composure. “Well, it stands to reason that he’ll come to the Heart. It’s the biggest source of love in the Empire, and I don’t see any other reason why he’d be here.” As the guards made their own statements of agreement, the changeling had to suppress a laugh. Yes, he was coming for the Heart and its love, but only as a last resort. But what they all failed to realize, was just how different a red changeling really was. And now was the time to show them the true extent of that difference. He lifted off from the side of the castle and dropped the remaining fifty feet to the ground. Just before impact, he gathered his strength, and burst into flame. Upon impact, a dust cloud twelve feet high rose into the evening sky.
As the dust settled, the changeling slowly stood, and raised his head to meet the wide eyes of one of the guards. He was a white unicorn, resplendent in his golden armor, halberd ramrod straight, even in his shock. The changeling shifted his gaze to the other guard. This one was different. He was a blue crystal pony, but wore simple steel armor. He had no halberd, but instead carried a hoof-and-a-half sword at his side. The scabbard was unadorned, and simple leather, but the changeling got the feeling that this guard knew how to use it. Finally, he looked at Shining Armor. He looked much the same as before, except someone had given him a sword and shield. The sword was in a sheathe that matched the armor it was with, and the hilt had several pearls and diamonds embedded in it. It was also a hoof-and-a-half, but judging by the way it wobbled slightly in its scabbard, the changeling inferred it was of inferior make. He smiled tightly. This would be easy.
Around him, the guards recovered. Shining Armor and the guard to his left drew their swords, Armor with magic, the other with his mouth. The unicorn lowered his halberd, and tensed his legs in preparation to charge. The changeling reached his right foreleg up and behind, gripping the hilt of the legendary greatsword, Dre’koul-Red Flame- with his fetlock. The iridescent red blade gleamed in the dying sunlight. Maintaining his ghastly smile, he drew the blade slowly, the sound of steel grating against leather echoing ominously in the cavernous hollow beneath the castle. The changeling fully extracted the sword, its crimson blade generating looks of astonishment from the two unicorns.The changeling spun the eight-foot sword in a large vertical circle before standing on his hind legs and gripping the hilt with his other fetlock. When he did not fall forward as his opposition had expected, as evidenced by their rolling of eyes. Their confidence morphed into unease. The unicorn with the halberd seemed the most affected, backing up slightly, the fear bleeding from his eyes. The changeling had an idea. He fixed his gaze upon the halberd-wielding pony, and gave Dre’koul a twirl before stabbing it into the ground before him. To their credit, not one of them broke rank. The smile died from his lips. He pulled the sword from the ground, and sliced open his left foreleg with it. As the blood dripped onto the ground, the guards’ expressions became a mixture of confusion and horror. The changeling flicked the appendage sharply, spattering the ground with his blood. The changeling twisted his head to the right, three sharp pops! issuing from his neck.
“Retain your senses,” The changeling cautioned “You’ll kill yourself if you keep this up.” Armor scowled and redoubled his efforts. “Your life is but a stepping stone on my path, yet I wish not to kill you.” Armor ignored him and finally succeeded in rising to his hooves, though he kept his weight off of his injured leg. The changeling released an exasperated sigh. “Alright, look-” the changeling was cut of by the prince rushing towards him. The changeling rolled his eyes and hoisted Dre’koul in preparation to strike. However, Shining Armor did the one thing the changeling had not been expecting. He charged right past him, towards the bush that concealed his sword. The changeling wheeled around, mentally cursing his stupidity. There was about one bush per several hundred feet. It stood to reason that Armor’s sword would be concealed within. The injured prince levitated the blade to his side in a field of violet magic. “Stand down, or I assure you this won’t end in a draw.” Armor bristled at his words.
“No! I can’t lose to you! You killed my wife! My unborn child!” The changeling’s eyes widened with horror. She had been pregnant? Why then, was she trying to assist in something so obviously dangerous!? When the changeling voiced these thoughts, Armor shook his head.
“I don’t know why, but you still killed her, and our child!” Armors voice had taken on a raw, throaty tone, one the changeling associated with grief. He suddenly found himself unable to meet Armor’s eyes. “Why can’t you just leave us alone! It’s bad enough that you nearly ruined our wedding, but was murder necessary!?” When the changeling didn’t react, Armor seemed to become more agitated. “Well!? Why don’t you just take what you came here for and leave us alone!?” The changeling’s head snapped up and around so fast, it visibly startled Armor.
“What do you think I am trying to do?” The changeling asked dryly.
The guard’s halberd disintegrated on contact with the bubble. He was barely able to stop himself before he suffered the same fate. While the guards attempted to find a way to circumvent his ward, the changeling continued his spellwork. He put his hoof an inch over Cadance’s face and swept it over the length of her body, revealing the nature of her injuries. Broken spine...won’t fly again...unless...Cadance’s body glowed crimson, and the injury to her spine disappeared almost instantaneously. Heart’s sound...breathing regular...fetus...unharmed. The changeling let out a sigh of relief. Like he’d told Armor, not all of them were monsters. Cadance’s eyes shot open and beheld the changeling. She let out a shocked exclamation, and tried to put distance between them. Eyeing the bubble, the changeling held her in place with his telekinetic magic.
“Let me go!” She shouted angrily at him. The changeling looked her in the eyes.
“Only if you stop squirming. The bubble we’re in will disintegrate you if you touch it. And, I know this is pushing it, but it would be much appreciated if you called off the guards. I would rather not hurt anyone else tonight.” Cadance eyed him suspiciously.
“Why are you here, Firm Defier?” Cadance asked. Tra’kta looked at her. “I am here so that I may reforge the shattered.” He said simply. ”I have tarried here long enough as it is. I have what I came for. Now I take my leave.” With that, his horn began to glow brighter, and he vanished with a pop!. Almost as if it were waiting for this, the bubble that had entrapped them dissipated. As the guards outside rushed to her side, Cadance pondered Tra’kta’s words. If he was an enemy now… she shook her head. There would be time for that later. First, she had to find her husband.
Tra’kta’s spell had been off. Instead of appearing in the midst of his brethren as he had intended, he had popped back into existence several miles south of the hidden village. He pivoted three hundred and sixty degrees, taking in his surroundings. The wasteland stretched for miles in every direction, the brown, dusty soil any farmer would have deemed unfit for crops turned gray in the moonlight. Here and there, scraggly bushes and cacti thrived on the harsh conditions. A rattlesnake slithered into its den for the night, a limp mouse in its jaws. Other than a few rocks, the landscape remained more or less the same.
Most others would be hopelessly lost at this point, but Tra’kta knew that the rock formation to his left wasn’t natural. He also knew that the outcropping of rock on the north side pointed directly towards where his swarm lay hidden. He set off on a brisk trot towards home. After a while, once the motion of walking had become repetitive, his mind began to wander. He thought about Cadance, and how he’d almost hurt her unborn child. He shuddered at the thought. Killing children, especially the unborn, was a hanging offense in the Bloody Swarm. Besides, he hated the idea of hurting anything so innocent. He passed a cactus that had been molded by magic to have one of its arms pointing in the right direction. He continued to follow the trail, dubbed the Bloody Path by historians.
As he continued on his way, he reflected upon the events leading up to his excursion to the Empire. It had started when the Swarm’s religious leader, called the Strus’mkai, had informed him of the legend. It was a secretive affair. The Strus’mkai had brought him to a building separated from the rest. It was old, made of stone and wood. It was three stories high, and dark as night during a new moon. They had sat around an empty fireplace on the ground floor, talking by candlelight. It was no secret that Tra’kta had no purpose in the Swarm. His parents had died a long time ago, and he had no friends. He simply worked as a rock breaker. Rock breakers did as the name suggested, in hopes of chancing upon gemstones, which they could sell for coins, called dilas, the currency of the Bloody Swarm. The Strus’mkai first told him of the Bitter Destroyer, the first of their kind.
The king was indeed saddened, but he couldn’t let the prince escape with knowledge of the castle. The battle that ensued was short and bloody. at its end, the prince stood over the bodies of fifteen royal guards. The king stood at the opposite end of the room. The daughters had long since fled, but for whatever reason, the eldest chose that moment to return. She had pleaded with her father to end the violence, but Lionheart payed her no mind. He attacked the exhausted changeling prince, who barely managed to deflect the king’s blade. Even then, the king managed to take out the prince’s right eye. Severely weakened, the prince fled, only to be caught in the king’s magical aura. The king severed the prince’s horn before his daughter stopped him, allowing the prince to escape. Exactly what happened after is unclear. By some accounts, the prince became so enraged at Lionheart that his physical appearance changed. Others claimed he became a vampire, feeding off the innocent. and yet others claimed that he died in a fiery blaze.
In fact, for reasons unknown, he had renounced her as his mother and changed his name to Chry’stoph, the Bitter Destroyer. His sword, Dre’koul, was unsheathed, a gout of red flames engulfing the blade. Chry’stoph laid waste to half the kingdom, after slaying his mother in single combat. Instead of declaring himself king however, he gathered a select few changelings he knew well and left the kingdom he once called home. They dubbed themselves the Bloody Swarm, and founded the city they lived in to this day. Pas that, his deeds remain unknown by the Swarm, as he turned leadership over to a close friend of his and departed for parts unknown. That was over a thousand years ago. The Strus’Mkai had looked at Tra’kta expectantly. When he sat there in silence, the Strus’Mkai had sighed.
“Tra’kta, there is something I must ask of you.” The elder changeling said. Tra’kta had been surprised. It must have shown on his face, for the elder’s next words answered his unspoken question.
“Why, you must be asking yourself, is this old changeling telling me all this? What could he possibly want with a mere rock breaker? The answer is...complicated. You are unique, Tra’kta. The Elder Blood flows through your veins. I believe that you can do what the rest of your people cannot.” The Strus’Mkai turned around and brought out a large bundle of cloth. His horn glowed a lusterless white as he unraveled the bundle with his magic. The cloth slowly fell away, laying bare the massive greatsword concealed within.
“This is Dre’koul, the Red Flame. The very same blade that once belonged to Chry’stoph himself.” The Strus’Mkai had said with relish. Tra’kta recoiled in surprise.
“Wait a moment. How in Tartarus did you even get that!?” Tra’kta burst out, his normally calm demeanor breaking for a moment. The Strus’Mkai gently placed the legendary blade on the ground in front of him.
He was steeling himself to decline the Strus’Mkai, when he spoke again.
“The arcanists have discerned the location of the book. It is called Demons, and is located within the public library of the Crystal Empire. However, not only do I want you to recover the book, I want you to work with the arcanists and recover all four vessels. Once they have been gathered, we could bring him back.” Tra’kta stared at the old changeling dumbfounded. To revive such a powerful being…there would be few who could stand against the Bloody Swarm. Especially since Equestria hadn’t seen war since Celestia had ascended to the throne. But what was the point? The Swarm would be able to act with impunity, of course, but to what end? Tra’kta found it difficult to believe that the Swarm had degenerated so low as to lust after power. That would be in direct contradiction to the beliefs upon which the Swarm had been founded. And that aside, Chry’stoph would be vehemently opposed to the idea. Tra’kta voiced these thoughts to the Strus’Mkai, who shook his head sadly. “You are correct. To bring Chry’stoph back for power would be foolhardy. Not only would this oppose our core beliefs, but he would never allow such a transgression.” He said. “However, the situation is more dire than you realize. Rath stirs beneath the hallowed grounds. I fear we may have need of his power if we are to survive.” The Strus’Mkai’s tone was grave.
“Take this blade, Dre’koul. It should imbue you with a small portion of Chry’stoph’s power. You may need it to retrieve the book.” He said matter-of-factly. Tra’kta shook his head.
“I never agreed.” He said flatly. The Strus’Mkai smiled at him.
“And yet you will, young one. It has been foretold.” He said, still smiling. Tra’kta mentally cursed the Strus’Mkai’s ability to divine the future. If it had been seen, there was little he could do about it. It was expected of him now. With a sigh, Tra’kta picked up the blade and strapped it to his back. Almost immediately, Tra’kta felt a surge of power course through his limbs. It felt as if fire had replaced the blood flowing through his veins. His eyes widened and he gasped, nearly collapsing from the intensity of it. And that’s only a small portion of his power!? Damn! He tried to grasp the entirety of Chry’stoph’s power, only to give up. It was simply too much to comprehend. His power was almost...god-like. Tra’kta shuddered at the thought. Tra’kta was wrenched back to reality as he slipped on a ladder rung during his descent. he cursed as his hooves left the ladder and he started to fall. He slammed his hooves into the wall, sticking to it. As Tra’kta came to a stop, he had to wonder: why did the even have ladders in the first place? Only changelings came down here, and they didn’t even need them. He shook his head and continued downwards on the wall. Once he’d reached the bottom, he lit his horn, enveloping Demons with his magic. He levitated it out from underneath Dre’koul’s scabbard and opened it. The first page had a single line of crimson text scrawled across it in a flowing, elegant form of Demonick. Take heed, and bear witness reader, for the truth’s contained within are the last legacy of the mighty Lo’Quan. Tra’kta’s heart skipped a beat. The Lo’Quan, the Demons, were the five most powerful beings in recorded history. However, despite their power, not much was known about them. In fact, they had faded from the minds of Equestrian’s several hundred years ago. Only two races remembered them: The gryphons and the changelings. The gryphons didn’t like to talk about the Lo’Quan, not since one of their own had joined the ranks of the infamous group and nearly destroyed Gryphonstone.
Tra’kta shuddered and replaced the book under Dre’koul’s scabbard. He trotted through the darkness, hoofsteps echoing dimly in the cave. The darkness was broken only by the infrequent lantern containing a red flame. The lanterns cast shadows upon the walls, dancing like marionettes on a string. Any other being would have been lost, and possibly frightened, but red changeling’s eyes had adapted to see well in the dark. As such, he could easily see the tunnel openings to his right, and read the glyphs etched upon the archway. He crossed under the one marked The Arcania and began descending further into the bowels of the earth. As he climbed down the stone stairway, the temperature declined slowly, until he could see his breath. He shuddered. The necropolis used to be housed here, but was given over to the Arcanists recently, when the necropolis moved to a deeper cave. A faint blue glow began to emanate from below. Tra’kta quickened his steps, eager to deliver the book.
“Don’t you know, you’re supposed to knock before entering a lady’s private chambers?” She asked, arching a slender eyebrow. Tra’kta gave her his infamous death stare as he knocked three times on the already open door, in an exaggerated fashion. His stare had no effect on the Keeper. She stood from the cushion by her table and closed the tome, levitating it away in a field of purple magic. Stre’zaol was unique among the Swarm, mostly due to the fact that she had purple eyes, wings, etcetera. There was also the fact that she was one of three females in the entire Swarm. That fact alone made her the subject of many late-night conversations in Ger’xas’s bar. Said conversations usually turned rather...explicit after a few pints of ale. Tra’kta had partaken in a few of these conversations, although he made sure to leave before things got too risque. Stre stood about a head shorter the Tra’kta. Her body had the same black carapace that all changelings shared, but the webbing that made up her mane was a deep purple. The webbing hung down past her shoulders and remained one unbroken wave. Her horn was elegant, curving up and coming to a point, making a crescent moon shape, with the edge facing outward. Her eyes were a soft lavender, and her fangs were a mere two inches long. All in all, she was the single most attractive changeling Tra’kta had ever laid eyes upon. Of course, he’d never admit that out loud, especially not to her. She was Keeper of the Arcania and he was but a mere rock breaker. And besides, he valued their friendship far too much to even take the risk of jeopardizing it.
Tra’kta enveloped the book once more with his magic and set it down in front of her.
“I believe you wanted to examine this?” He asked, feigning irritation. She rolled her eyes, but smiled.
“Yes, I did wish to examine it.” She replied casually. She encased the small book with her magic and opened it to a random page. “Dre’koul suits you.” She said as she began casting a spell on the book. “Have you noticed any side effects since you began wearing it?” She asked in her doctor’s voice. Tra’kta gave a mental sigh. Of course. She was going to examine him too. After all, she probably needed as much data on this subject as she could get.
“Aside from a vast increase in power, both magical and physical, no.” He said neutrally.
“Good,” she replied. “because I’ve located the next artifact. I hope that increase in power was truly vast, ‘cause you’re going to need it.” She said gravely. Tra’kta looked at her inquisitively. “Your next target is...the left shoe of Princess Luna herself.” She said grandly. Tra’kta stared at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“The...left...shoe...of the Princess of the night? You can’t be serious.” He said numbly. Stre looked up at him.
“I’m afraid so, Tra. You have to steal a shoe from a princess. In Canterlot. In the royal palace. And not get caught by the hundreds of guards that will undoubtedly be prowling around.” She confirmed. Tra’kta sighed. Great. This was getting better by the minute.
Demon of the Frozen North
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. Demon of the Frozen North
Demon of the Frozen North
Chapter Four
Tra’kta looked around in confusion. His surroundings were mostly obscured by a thick blackness that seemed to press inward with the weight of the damned. He could make out the faint outline of a table of some sort a dozen or so paces to his right, although it was too dark to make out the details. A dull red glow shone from beneath his hooves. He certainly wasn’t in any part of the Hive. As he sat there wondering where he was, he heard the sound of chains rattling from the table. He turned to face the table, an unnamed dread taking hold of him. From the darkness, a singular eye appeared, sideways and blazing red with intensity. The slitted pupil was familiar and yet completely alien to Tra’kta. The eye regarded him with an intense curiosity. Chains rattled again as the eye attempted to right itself. There was a hiss of annoyance and the chains fell silent. The eye fixed itself upon Tra’kta again. “ You there.” The voice belonging to the eye was a whisper that carried itself to Tra’kta’s ears. “Release me. I have spent too long down here. Far too long…” The voice was quiet but had the ring of authority to it. Tra’kta found himself compelled to do its bidding. He trotted over to the table, his hooves making no sound whatsoever in the dark room. He stopped himself at the tables edge, shaking his head as if in a daze. He blinked and looked down. The table was not a table at all he discovered, but an altar. The altar had heavy chains coming from both ends that gleamed even in the darkness of the room. The chains were attached to a surprisingly large body. While he could make out the details,,he was certain that it was a changeling. He asked. His voice was almost entirely swallowed by the blackness of the room. The other changeling laughed, the chains clinking against the altar. the voice asked. A small, wry laugh echoed through the chamber. “ I have many names, child,” The voice whispered, “ But you may call me Chr-”
Tra’kta’s eyes flew open even as his body shot straight up. He felt something solid connect with his forehead just under his horn. A small yelp of surprise came from his right. He looked over and saw the Hive’s doctor, a diminutive changeling by the name of Ob’serl, rubbing his forehead with a hoof. He looked around the room. The walls were a dark gray and the entire room was round. There were several beds along the wall. All of them were empty, save for the one Tra’kta was resting on. Injury was rare in the Hive.
“Sorry, Obie,” Tra’kta said, using the name everyone called the doctor. “You all right?” Obie nodded.
“Yes, yes I’m quite alright, although I must admit that I didn’t expect you to be up so soon. There was a surprising amount of damage to your nervous system.” the doctor said. Tra’kta gave him a confused look.
“How did that happen?” He asked. Obie shrugged.
“I can’t be sure, but it looked like the effects of a spell of some sort. What happened out there?” He asked. Tra’kta rubbed his eyes.
“I got into a bit of a scuffle. Outran some guards. I got into a little fight with the blue alicorn. She shot me in the knee with some sort of celestial arrow. I teleported straight here right after that,” he said briskly. Obie rubbed the side of his neck thoughtfully.
“Interesting. The only spells I can think of that produce celestial arrows don’t have the potency to damage the nervous system, much less to the degree that you were suffering. Magical strain doesn’t explain it either. But the most interesting thing is how you’re up and about so soon. It’s only been a few hours,” He said. Tra’kta felt his eyes widen a bit in surprise.
“How extensive was the damage?” he asked quietly. Obie looked him in the eyes. Tra’kta could almost feel the wonder emanating from the doctor.
“Extensive enough that I honestly thought you’d be out for at least a few days.” he said. Tra’kta leaned back on the bed in quiet amazement.
“How-?” He asked, gesturing vaguely with a foreleg. Obie shook his tiny head.
“I feel fine,” he said, “I even feel rested to boot.” The hell is going on? Obie shook his head.
“Amazing. Not a single sign of damage,” Obie said in amazement. Seriously, what the hell is going on? He wondered, looking around the room.
“Where’s my sword?” He asked.
“Stre’zaol took it with her when she left,” Obie said, “Why do you ask?”
“Just happy I could help,” he said, “Take care of yourself, and please stay away from magic arrows in the future, alright?” he suggested. Tra’kta chuckled. “You got it, doc.” he said before trotting out of the infirmary. The hallway outside was dark, cool, dry and narrow. Tra’kta followed the straight pathway until it opened into the main atrium. Hundreds of changelings were gathered together, their voices rising into a dull cacophony of sound that assaulted Tra’kta’s ears the moment he stepped into the room. None of them paid him any mind as he trotted through their midst, heading for the hallway that lead to the sleeping area. Halfway there, a fight broke out to his left, one of the changelings yelling something about owed money. As the two exchanged blows, the changelings around them backed away and formed a loose ring around the combatants. His interest piqued, Tra’kta slowed to a stop to watch. The changeling who had been yelling was a head taller than his opponent, and almost twice the size. Tra’kta didn’t recognize either of them. The bigger one turned and tried to buck the smaller one in the head, but was too slow. The little changeling twisted and dodged the blow, taking two small jabs at his opponent’s exposed neck.
The big changeling staggered, clutching at his throat with a hoof. The little changeling didn’t waste any time, sliding under the big one and delivering a flurry of blows to his weaker underside. He rolled out from under the big changeling as he stumbled and gasped in pain. Shaking his head, Tra’kta turned his back on the spectacle and walked through the narrow archway that led to the living quarters. As the noise of the scuffle faded behind him, he couldn’t help but reflect for the millionth time how nice it would be to have a structured government. He sighed aloud. Anarchy could only get you so far . He passed several others in the hallway, which was barely wide enough to fit two changelings side by side. Even then, you had to pass uncomfortably close to the other. As he trotted along the right wall, more openings appeared on either side of him, leading deeper into the Hive. Tra’kta ignored them, never having used them before. He exited the narrow tunnel into a much wider, circular antichamber. The wall was lined with wooden doors, A name carved into the stone above each one. Stre’zaol’s room was on the rightmost part of the room. The door was made of birch and sagged inward. Tra’kta rapped on it lightly.
“It’s open!” Stre’zaol called from within. A horrid odor assaulted Traktor's nostrils as he entered the room. He gagged slightly as he shut the door behind him. Holding a hoof to his nose in a vain attempt to ward off the smell, Tra’kta advanced further into the room. Bookshelves lined the walls, stretching from floor to ceiling. Each shelf was lined with various tomes, stuffed in haphazardly with almost no regard to organization. Mounds of scrolls, tomes, letters and various bottles full of mysterious liquids filled the two large tables in the center of the room. Tra’kta walked between them, taking care not to bump into anything. At the end of the narrow aisle between the tables, he stumbled over a large object, nearly falling face first into the floor. He steadied himself and glanced at the object he had tripped on. A small plush bear lay on its side. Tra’kta stared at it with bewilderment. The Swarm didn’t make these sorts of thing. The only conceivable way one could have made its way down here was if it had come from the surface, which was one of the very few things that was strictly forbidden. Contact with surface dwellers was still considered a risk to the Swarm as a whole, as proof of their existence could very easily end up in the wrong hooves. If the Hive was attacked, the Swarm could cease to exist altogether. There were depressingly few of them.
But then again, two of Equestria’s princesses and several guards have seen me when I was hunting down the vessels, Tra’kta thought somberly. He decided not to even mention the toy. He turned around and made his way deeper into Stre’zaol’s quarters. She sat at an ancient oaken desk nestled between two bookshelves. Her back was turned to him, and she appeared to be scribbling furiously on something. Dre’koul leaned against the table on her right.
“Hey,” Tra’kta said as he approached her.
“Hey,” She replied without looking at him. Her voice had a distracted intonation to it. Tra’kta stood to her left and looked down at the table. The tip of her horn glowed with her lavender magic, a quill racing across several pieces of parchment that held calculations. Tra’kta couldn’t decipher what any of them meant. A map of Equestria rested above them. There were several red circles, arrows and x’s on it, but the large circle in the middle. ‘Everfree Forest’ was written above it.
“What’re you doing?” Tra’kta asked quietly. Stre’zaol sighed.
“Well, if these calculations are correct, I just found where we need to go next.” she said monotonously. Tra’kta looked at her quizzically.
“We?” He asked. Stre’zaol regarded him carefully.
“Yes. I’m the only one who knows how to reforge him,” She said. Tra’kta looked at her, confused.
“Him? The Strus’Mkai made it seem like it was a weapon of some kind we were rebuilding,” he said cautiously. Stre’zaol blinked in genuine surprise.
“No, it’s not a weapon at all. We’re reforging the soul of the Red Reaper of Hel Varen,” she said quietly. Tra’kta rubbed the back of his neck.
“That… does make sense,” He admitted, “If anyone can save the Swarm, it’s him.” Stre nodded.
“Exactly. He created us. He most likely knows how to fix the population decline,” She said. Tra’kta nodded.
“So how do we do this?” He asked, looking at the map. Stre tapped the circled area on the map.
“We go here. ‘Everfree Forest’. That should be where his body is sealed, assuming that it hasn’t been discovered and moved to a museum somewhere,” She said, slightly distraught at the possibility.
“Right in the heart of Equestria,” Tra’kta murmured. “We’ll have to disguise ourselves.”
Stre nodded, “Hopefully no one will notice us until it’s too late. The ritual is not subtle,” She said, emphasizing the latter half of her sentence. Tra’kta sighed.
“How noticeable is it, exactly?” He asked, slightly exasperated. Stre levitated a large tome off of a nearby shelf, the soft lavender glow of her magic reflecting dully off the smooth surface of the table. She quickly flipped through its pages, stopping about halfway in.
“...upon the incantation’s completion, a large column of light will appear above the ritual site…” She read aloud. She looked over at Tra’kta. “That’s just the first half of the ritual, the summoning. The second half requires a blood sacrifice from a Hive Guardian,” She said solemnly. Tra’kta blinked in disbelief.
“But there aren’t any Guardians left,” he said.
Stre grinned, “Oh, but there is!” She exclaimed, “In fact, I’m looking at him right now!” She said with a smile. Traktor's confusion grew stronger.
“But I’m not a Guardian,” he said, tilting his head in befuddlement. Stre looked at him, a bemused half-smile on her muzzle.
“Oh,” He said weakly.
Stre nodded, “We have to wait another day before attempting this however,” She said, replacing the tome on its shelf. “The Strus’Mkai are gathering the resources we require. You should rest up in the meantime. We need you at full capacity.”
Tra’kta nodded. “How long?” He asked.
Stre rubbed her temple with a hoof, “Hard to say at the moment. If I had to guess, I’d say a day and a half, two at most. But you never know, we could hit a snag or four along the way. Some of the things required for the ritual are rather difficult to obtain,” She said tiredly, “Don’t worry about all that, though. The Hive has deployed a few agents to the surface to secure these items. They have it under control.” She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “In the meantime, we can only wait,she murmured, seemingly to herself. Tra’kta nodded and levitated Dre’Koul over to him. He slid the scabbard onto his back in a single, fluid motion.
“I, uh, guess I’ll be going then.” He said, not really wanting to leave. He longed to spend time with her, to grow closer than friends. He knew it was selfish of him. There were only two females left in the Swarm, after all. And yet his heart still ached in the absence of intimacy. Stre cleared her throat, snapping him back to reality.
“Ah… right. Going now,” He said, embarrassed. He levitated Dre’Koul onto his back and exited the room, feeling slightly embarrassed. He hadn’t meant to space out like that. He hurried down the hallway, making his way deeper into the Hive. Most of the miners lived further in. Working in the mines all day wore out even the most resilient souls. Few changelings were back here this time of day; most were still at work. The rock walls changed from a light beige to the dark red of granite as he walked. Dre’Koul's hilt almost scraped the ceiling. Tra’kta passed by several derelict rooms missing doors, either rotted to non-existence or scavenged by another Hive resident. A wave of sorrow washed over the changeling and he lowered his eyes. Hopefully their champion would be able to set things back on track. Otherwise, the Bloody Swarm was doomed to fade away. There were no surviving records of their existence in Equestria, and the rest of changeling kind had all but forgotten about them.
Tra’kta sighed wearily. If the Strus’Mkai were doing this, it meant that they had truly gotten desperate. Tra’kta found it unlikely that a single being, no matter how powerful, old, or wise, would be able to save them. With only two females left, things were looking exceedingly grim. He arrived at his quarters on that bitter note. Two gaping holes flanked the ebony door, each one hosting a descending staircase. At the bottom of each were two black iron door. They allegedly had been there since the creation of the Hive, but Tra’kta personally thought those rumors to be ridiculous. The doors were always pristine, despite the cleaning crew not coming back here often. They were also locked, and nobody could seem to tell him what lie beyond.
He approached his door, a solid rectangle of birch wood. There was no handle or knob to be found on it. Tra’kta placed a hoof on the top right corner of the door. A small circle pressed inward and he turned it a full three-hundred and sixty degrees counter-clockwise. A small rectangular panel slid open in the center of the door, where a combination lock could be found. He quickly entered the combination with his magic and the door swung silently inward on oiled hinges. The panels reset themselves as Tra’kta walked past, closing the door with a hind leg. The ceiling rose several feet above him in a dome shape. An iron chain descended from the ceiling ending in a hook. A lantern hung there, unlit. With a spark from his horn, a scarlet were-light blinked into existence inside the lantern. The ruddy glow illuminated the rest of the room. A small, oaken table occupied the center of the room, a single chair at its head. A small cupboard rested against the farthest wall, one of its doors slightly ajar. Old silverware twinkled dully from within. A dark hole lay to his right, leading to his bedroom. The left wall remained bare. He leaned Dre’Koul against said wall with a sigh and made his way into his bedroom. A singular, round bed stood in the center of the room. A small lantern dangled from the ceiling, unlit. Ignoring the lantern, Tra’kta flung himself onto the bed, the sheets making a muffled thwump as his body landed. He flipped over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his thoughts racing.
Is this really such a good idea? I mean, even if this ritual succeeds, does he really have a way to save our species? It seems impossible. He raised a hoof and rubbed his temple. Even if we made mandatory breeding ques a reality, it would be difficult to reverse the population decline. He shook his head. Well, it beats doing nothing, He decided. He closed his eyes and allowed sleep to overtake him.He was in the same room as before. The eye regarded him curiously. “You are different from the rest,” It’s voice whispered, “You have been here twice now. How strange.” “Where is here?” Tra’kta asked, his voice still muted in the darkness. The voice laughed, the sound echoing around Trak’ta, “Fuck if I know,” The voice said, the last vestiges of laughter fading to silence. “This is your dream. You’re likely better informed than I,” it continued. Tra’kta blinked in confusion, The space around him was utterly unfamiliar. “I don’t know either,” he admitted sheepishly. The voice sighed, “Perhaps this place is tied to you subconscious somehow. Well, it doesn’t really matter. At least we can speak,” It said. A thought crossed Tra’kta’s mind. “Are you even real, though? This is a dream, you said so yourself.” The voice chuckled. “Oh, I am very real, kid. I’m able to communicate with you since you have my sword.” It said merrily. Surprise flooded Tra’kta’s mind, for the was little doubt in his mind that the voice spoke truly. “ You’re the Red Reaper of Hel Varen?” he asked incredulously. The Red Reaper scoffed. “Red Reaper, Spirit of Vengeance, Warrior of Blood, Spellbreaker, Demon of the Wastelands, these are just titles. My name is Chrys’toph,” He said with a hint of indignance. “Don’t tell me the Swarm forgot my godsdamned name,” He muttered darkly. Tra’kta shifted uncomfortably. Chrys’toph groaned. “Fucking hell, can’t even be remembered properly. I bet the rest of the world has forgotten me and my brothers entirely. But I digress, that is not why I have reached out to you. No, I am here to tell you that once you free me, I will be depending on your aid. Being locked away for over a thousand years without food, water or light of any kind has its way of weakening you. You will have to take care of me until I regain my strength.” He said, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. “I’ll also need to be updated on the state of the world. I trust the intelligence network I so painstakingly set up is still working efficiently?” Chrys’toph asked. Trak’ta nodded. “Yes, sir. We haven’t needed to make any drastic changes to it either, so it should be easy to resume command,” He boasted. Chrys’toph laughed. “‘Sir’, eh? How quaint. If all goes well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said dismissively. “How did you-” Tra’kta began. “Know that? Because I can see into your mind, Tra’kta.” Chrys’toph cut off, “Now go. We’ll speak more of this later.” Before Tra’kta could react, he felt himself being pulled back by an invisible force.
Tra’kta’s eyes snapped open. Stre’zaol was standing over him, a hoof extended to shake his own.
“Hey,” he said tiredly.
Stre lowered her hoof. “Hey. It’s almost time,” she said quietly.
Tra’kta nodded and rolled off the bed onto his hooves. He casually flipped Dre’Koul onto his back. “Let’s go wake up a demon then,” he said.
Stre’zaol nodded, and the two of them exited his home side by side, heading towards the surface and an uncertain future.
Author's Note
(A/N) Jaysus feckin' Christ on a bike it's been a long time since I've uploaded. But, you don't have to worry, all 9 people that read this story, it's not dead, and it WILL be completed. Eventually. Now that I have most of the plot and lore worked out, I should be able to work on this more often. what do you mean my uploads are sporadic
