0: Introduction to... what?
Setting/Perspective: Unknown
Darkness. All he could see was black, and with it he heard nothing except his own labored breathing. It was night, yes, but the darkness itself felt... different.
Unnatural.
He frowned, closing his eyes and allowing his senses to extend away from his body. In response he heard and felt relative calm, yet his gut continued to pound on the walls of his mind in a slowly growing panic. Something was very wrong, that much was certain, he just couldn't figure out what.
He needed to figure out what it was, obviously. It was his gut that had helped him survive all this time, and as such he tended to trust the feelings it provided. Despite his body's protests, he worked his way into a more relaxed stance as he began reaching into his well of power.
Eleven sources, five seemingly more powerful than the rest, all resting comfortably within. Their power pooled with his own, but the host of said power noticed the way his connection with them was shaky and hard to define.
He couldn't help it; he was on the run, so it's only natural that fear and exhaustion would invade his form sooner or later. He had hoped it would happen later, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now.
Slowly, he took a tiny slice of power and fed it into his senses. Little by little his range of hearing and 'feeling' grew, washing over the surrounding area in the form of a slow wave. Sensitivity heightened as it was, he found he could feel nothing.
Less than nothing, even.
That revelation was enough to let him relax, just enough that his guard seemed to drop as fear ebbed away. He knew better; that fear was now replaced with grim certainty.
Instantly he jumped, an explosion of energy forming where his body was just a moment prior. He should have known he was still being followed. he thought to himself.
He released a pained grunt as, just before landing, he was tackled out of the air by an unseen force. In response he curled up into a ball, rolling his body head over heels down his foe's belly a short ways. Only when he was just above the ground did he uncurl, hands finding purchase below as his legs compressed, simply to forcefully extend them once again and toss whatever this was off of him.
That move hurt him just as much as it hurt said foe – knocking the latter into a tree with a sickening crunch – while all he could do is use the horizontal momentum to rock back onto all fours, hissing in pain. His muscles were positively burning now, the strain of running compounded with the strength needed to do that....
He ducked, another entity brushing over his body as he just barely avoided another tackle from the side.
Time: Half an hour later
He was losing.
He never would've thought it possible, but he was being backed into a corner, the darkness closing in. Despite how much power he had, how many foes he defeated, there were always more. He struck one down, and three more took its place. And what made it all worse was his waning ability to fight.
He channeled more Fire into a barrier around him, knocking back the group attacking him from the rear just to punch hard at another foe about to stab him. He dodged another blow from the opposite side, forcing up a barrier of Light to deflect more attacks from his flank as he focused elsewhere, again returning to physical strikes.
All the while, his body screamed in protest, flickers of pain coursing through his limbs; all this insane power usage was taking its toll on what was channeling it. He wasn't immortal by any means, and he was paying the price.
Seeing that he was surrounded, he jumped into the air and forced Water down upon his foes, washing them far enough away to give him a small opening. There were just too many this time, his energy stores too low to deal with them all without summoning him....
It only took a couple more minutes of grueling battle, his foes becoming more and more desperate to capitalize on the obviously growing weakness of their quarry, before he realized he was wrong. He knew this was going to happen, and only now did he realize that all of the work he did to avoid this moment was for naught.
At least he had done what he had sent out to do, but there was no time to smile faintly at the revelation.
Instead he managed to find his muzzle contorting in outright shock as he felt the negative half of his well of power, existing to balance out all the positive-leaning attacks he used, flare out and into his right rear blind spot with startling viciousness.
That had been way too close.
Realizing now how far he had gone, mentally nodding to the core of that dark half of himself, he snarled towards his opponents. He was out of options, and with nowhere to go.
He couldn't go back to his friends here, not when the plan was to have this happen in the first place. He just didn't expect to be overwhelmed this easily, much less this thoroughly. So he had to pick the only option he had left, the course of action that led his stomach into a deep pit of regret and anger; just because this was the plan, didn't mean he had to like it.
Forcing more power through his already-weakened form, he shot up into the air with an explosion of force as he instantly broke the sound barrier. He had to escape. As much as he wanted to stay, as much as he would regret it when his adrenaline left his system, he had to leave this world entirely using the last vestiges of his body's tolerance.
His ears were pressed flat to his head, but he could still hear the way he was being follo-
He ducked his head, rolling just in time to avoid a sphere of Darkness, his flight becoming a series of arcing twists and dodges even as he looked back towards his now-airborne pursuers. There were simply too many to count, too many for him to handle, even now.
Desperate, he decided to take a gamble. Forcing the Main Seven of his power sources out of his body, he transformed himself into a streak of light as he ascended straight up. Away, away from the planet below, away from his enemies.
Sensing he barely had enough power to do this, he arranged the Gems to form an interlocking barrier of energy. His favorite was now at the front, the sharp point becoming infinitely so as he focused, causing the entire structure to form a spearhead. Faster and faster he went, power increasing until the strain on his body was becoming too much... only for his eyes to shoot open and a determined grin to manifest.
In the same instant his spear of Light forced open a hole into the Void, a sphere of Darkness impacted the weakest point of his barrier, and that grin dissolved as blood-curdling scream of energy and pain rent the air.
There was an explosion of power, and he found himself in a situation he more than just feared.
Open to the Void now, his body was becoming less than nothing.
As his body began to ebb away, his mind began fading along with it.
More than just panic, he was afraid. So very afraid. But that too was fading.
In his last, panicked thoughts, he willed himself to be somewhere safe.
He willed himself into safety with everything he had.
"I don't... I *can't** die. Not yet."*
In response, the Gems... his power... it, they, reacted.
He felt himself rising, faster than he could comprehend. His eyes, shut tight as they were, didn't have a chance to see just how many panes of rainbow hues he phased through. That sensation of rising abruptly gave way to weightlessness, the energy within his Gems suddenly imploding.
His already distorted body became a sphere of light, numbness prevalent throughout both that and his mind.
All he was aware of now was exhaustion, of being awake when doing so was absolute blasphemy.
Then, just as suddenly as it came, the energy left. It split into eleven parts, sucked into the Gems as they scattered with an audible tinkling... save for one, a tendril of light from the ball it belonged to reaching out just far enough to grasp it. As the ball of light fizzled out, revealing him to the world again, both the Gem and he who held it began to fall.
His power gone, his body and mind utterly numb, the only thought he could manage was one of faint triumph. He was alive, and he had his favorite Gem. As he fell along with it, a ghost of a smile appeared on his muzzle, remaining there as he swiftly lost his last grips of consciousness....
Setting / Perspective: Unknown
A pair of eyes opened.
It was the middle of the night. It was peaceful, it was uneventful, and it was safe thanks to the tender watchful eyes of the Princess of the Night... as her, ah, title might imply. Needless to say her counterpart, the Princess of the Sun, was not happy.
It all began as a rather calm disturbance to her senses of the world at large: if the veil around the world was a pond, a single rock was just thrown into the water and began to sink into the depths beneath. Normally this would be no big deal; normally, foreign 'particulates' would be eaten alive by the magic within the realm, much less disintegrate due to the insane speeds at which the objects would be falling.
The problem lied in the fact that the 'rock' in question was powerful. Dense. More worrisome was the fact that power was resonating with the Veil, changing and warping to match the magic of the world....
She was too tired and too old to deal with this, she thought.
Just as suddenly as her eyes opened, and without any warning, she released a startled yelp. First, a feeling of power bursting its way into her realm, and now this? Eleven smaller - but definitely larger, less controlled - sources of power scattering and fading into the depths of the world?
Eleven massive dangers to her ponies that she couldn't even track anymore, as their signatures faded?
As a startled guard opened the door to check on her after that sudden outburst, he was greeted with a sight no pony should ever have to bear witness to.
Celestia have mercy on those who see her pissed off.
Said concerned guard simply backed out of the room, returning to his post. He was, unfortunately, still close enough to get smashed by an opening door as an irate alicorn stalked much-too-calmly out of her chambers. The luckier guard, who to this very day swears he wasn't laughing, just saluted with a barely perceptible grin.
Said grin evaporated when she turned to him, gazing into his soul with an expression that seared him to his very core. "Fetch Shining Armor at once. He is to report to the throne room as soon as possible; time is of the utmost importance," she said, her regal air only partially invaded by the seething rage she felt.
She turned, beginning her on-hoof journey to her chosen seat, unaware of the speed at which her other, terrified guard fled to fulfill his duty. She had too much on her mind right now: a disturbance on the dimensional level, strong enough to jolt her out of the best dream she had this century.
All that cake, gone? To be replaced by some random threat to her kingdom!?
No. She had to control herself. She was the Mistress of the Sun, after all. If anything was to threaten her little ponies, they would have to answer to the full might of Celestia's wrath.
She would not be trifled with.
Setting: Unknown
There was a muffled groan as he awoke, his face currently smothered by an ungodly concoction of dust and minerals. He shifted, trying to raise his head, only to find he didn't have the energy yet. Now that he was forced to breath into that something, he cursed hell, heaven, all that which is holy. He would personally strangle all those involved with the birth of this... abhorrent substance.
Stupid dirt.
Why'd he have to go and faceplant into it? Again?
Oh, that's right.
With this sudden, newfound urgency, he shivered and forced his body to use the energy he didn't have. He had to get up, to get away, to find someplace safe for him to recover. Despite the aches and groans, he managed to lift his head and begin to push himself to his feet....
...just to faceplant, again, unused to the sudden change in his center of gravity. In response to this he simply cursed a couple dozen more times, before going silent and feeling his way onto hands and knees. "Hands" wasn't an accurate term anymore, though, and as he turned his head to look at his right appendage, he found the reason why.
"...Hooves."
He sat there, staring at the hoof – his hoof, through that one half-lidded eye, before sighing and allowing himself to go completely limp. He was outright exhausted, flashes of previous battles illuminating his mind as he tried to figure out just what was going on.
Suddenly his head ached, both arms – forelegs, now – sliding up to cover his temples. The resulting sensory data registered within made it ache a tad harder. Despite his voice being muffled by this ungodly dirt, he still found himself able to complain. "Fresh out of battle and I'm already in a new *body*... aaahhhhh-" His voice trailed off into a low, pained groan as he vainly attempted to vent his distaste.
He hated running away, but more than that he despised running away into this kind of situation. The last time this happened, he had promised himself he'd never make a similar mistake. And yet, here he was.
Since moping only accomplished an increase in negative feelings, he began to truly work his way into a standing position. His hinds came first, mind forcing his body to ignore the physical trauma as they slid forward and gained a solid grip. Then, upon wriggling his rump – to get a feel for exactly what joints were being used, of course – he followed with his forelegs. He wasn't a stranger to quadrupedal forms, yet this was one of the few times his "elbows" had the joints reversed.
"...so... hooves plus reversed elbows means... equine?" He patiently mused, grunting once he reached a full standing position. He shifted a bit from left to right, wincing as weight on the latter brought on more pain. Only now did he look down at his form, blinking a few times to fully take in what he was.
He stood on all four hooves now, having no real fingers to speak of. They were flat, coated in a dark grey sort of coarse fur on the sides, which jaggedly met the lighter grey of his coat... either that or his hooves themselves weren't covered in fur at all. He was too tired to tell. His body type itself was lithe, built for speed yet able to hide an deceptively large amount of strength right beneath the surface. He looked to his rear, blinking at the spiky, two-toned green tail that flicked in response to a thought – the concept of which actually brought a weak smile to his muzzle.
"So... pony," He said aloud; he was too small to be a horse. He was little, really, but he didn't seem to mind. Shapeshifting wasn't something new to him: he had the luxury of being able to alter his form, with limited results, usually only for recreation. Or at least he used to, he wasn't exactly in the position to recall the 'old days' of peace. The only surprising thing is that he was transformed into this after....
He inhaled through his teeth as he remembered what happened to bring him here, or at least a portion of it. His smile completely vanished as he remembered the sheer number of evil mooks, everywhere, overpowering him with both quantity and quality. After all the prior battles, the failures, the sheer amount of destruction that the... the last world was unfortunate enough to endure, he was forced to take the last resort option of inter-dimensional flight.
He was attacked at the most crucial point, and he had nearly been torn apart by the chaotic Void between worlds.
His body responded to that memory with a barely repressed shudder; it was rare that he felt true fear, but the thought of becoming less than nothing tended to trump his normal countenance. Yet that line of thinking only brought him down another, equally important one.
He closed his eyes, shaking his head free of latent fear and exhaustion, voicing his question to the ether: "Where am I now?"
He waited a moment, as if expecting an answer, before shrugging and taking a step forward. He winced, closing his eyes and inhaling sharply through his teeth.
He forced himself to walk, moving his left hind first, and then his right hind. As it made contact, he openly groaned; pure, unrelenting pain caused by the first attack that had caught him off guard. He swayed, shaking his head as he weakly planted all four hooves below in a barely successful attempt to remain standing. His whole body was awash in aches and worse, some parts more than others, but he had to move.
He had to make sure he was safe.
Slowly, his teeth clenched, he began to drag his body up out of his impact crater. Little by little he progressed up the rounded slope, his expression darkening as he dipped into the mentality of someone with only one focus, only one clear goal.
He MUST move.
After what seemed like hours of grueling pain, intense focus, and a growing worry, he found himself at the top of his crater. The couple of feet it took was enough to make him far more exhausted than ever... and yet, through his darkening vision, he smiled slightly. There, not a foot in front of him, was his Gem. His jewel of power, his source of Light within the darkness of his life. His essence, his ability, his driving force behind the battles he fought, all wrapped into a dull grey invert of a Chaos Emerald.
He reached towards it, the imbalance of weight causing him to topple over. Just like that, the relief washed away his focus, and he shivered before exhaling. His Gem was safe, it was in his possession, so there surely wouldn't be any harm in resting for a few minutes....
*thump*
Setting: Canterlot Castle
The doors to the castle throne room opened with a loud, resounding creak as the old hinges shifted much faster than they normally should have. The room itself was grand beyond conventional measure: a red velvet rug with golden trim took up most of the floor, and the ornate walls and ceiling only served to constantly remind those within that they were in the presence of royalty. The white glow of the marble said a lot already.
The main features of the room, however, were the enormous stained glass windows. Each were towering displays of the forces of nature, of the yellow light of the sun and the midnight blue of the night sky. They held within various levels of deep meaning, but they were beautiful either way, even more so as the silver light of the moon shined and refracted through to dance across the long carpet.
This was all ignored by the irate owner of the castle, the Alicorn of the Sun radiating the warmth of anger as she strode towards her sister. They were very much alike: horn, wings, standing with a height and body type similar to Earth horses. Not a word was shared as Celestia took a seat next to the fellow princess, even after she let out a low sigh of discontent.
Eventually Luna broke the silence. She did not look happy, as this had pulled her out of her dreamwalking – she had only just finished pushing the young scooter-wielding pegasus filly towards a brighter future. "Thou sensed the disturbance as well, sister?"
"I did. Did you sense the ten points of energy radiating out from it? Fading into the depths of the world a few moments later?"
Luna blinked, honestly a little surprised at this. "We... we only divined six, sister. Are thou certain this took place?" She didn't entirely want to admit that she hadn't because she had been too... invested in her duties. Yes, that.
Celestia closed her eyes and attempted to remember the feeling, slowly nodding in response to her question. Her anger was still there, but it had simmered down into a cooler sort of discontent. "I am. I do not appreciate being woken up by this. I was having such a nice dream..." Mainly, mountains upon mountains of cake, and a metabolism that made sure she could eat as much as she want and never become corpulent. Oh, if only there was a spell that allowed that to happen, so she could eat all she wished in real life without it going right to her flanks.
"We understand." There was a noted amount of wry amusement in that statement. "It is not often we have such... vivid, enjoyable nights, not since our youth." She tilted her head slightly, honestly feeling less angry than she felt ill at ease.
Deep down, the idea of such a large burst of magic frightened her, and few things could get the Princess of the Night to feel fear. So in need of guidance, she of course turned to her sister. "Tia, what dost thou think this means?"
If anything, Luna felt more fear from her sister's response. "I do not know, Luna. All I can tell for certain is that the disturbance was magical in origin, and that it was neither benign or malicious in intent. But, it was a disturbance, and that...."
"Tia, we- I mean..." She blinked, before smiling a little in spite of herself. "If the disturbance does turn out to be a threat, we shall face it, together."
Celestia's eyes opened, looking to regard her dearest sister. The sister she loved with every fiber of her being.
The sister that she had to fight, to banish to the moon in order to protect all of Equestria from the threat of eternal night.
She had been through so much, all thanks to Nightmare Moon having come into their lives. And yet... "You are right, Luna. We shall." As sisters.
Though that doubt gave birth to another thought, one more disconcerting. One that momentarily took a backseat in her mind as a scroll wisped through the window to materialize before her.
Perspective: Unknown
Pain. Pure, unrelenting pain. Only, this was worse, through his entire body.
Somewhere he heard screaming... eventually he able to make out the fact it was himself, but the pain wouldn't stop, and thus his voice wouldn't either.
His vision was hopelessly blurred, due to both exhaustion and anguish, but as his voice cracked hard enough to cause him more of the same, his eyes shut tight as he forced himself to remember what the warrior in him would do.
Grin and bear it.
Oh if only it was that easy. At least it became easier soon enough, a prick of a needle being sank into his arm all but unregistered in his mind.
Just as quickly as the pain started, it faded, his mind picking up only one trickle of speech before he sank into blissful unconsciousness.
"You idiot! You don't teleport wounded ponies!"
