The Break of Day

Chapters

Awakening
Copperhead's Rest
Cry of the Phoenix
Bitterness and Cruelty
Dark Whiteness

Awakening

All it took was a flickering of lights, and her eyes opened.

She was in a cave. Dim sunlight shined through gaps in the ceiling, reflecting off a pool of water, casting strange shadows. Some corners were dark as pitch, but others were bright, and she could see clearly. Life that thrived in the underground creeped everywhere, some dangling vines, some large mushrooms, some creeping moss.

Why am I in a cave?

She was on a little subterranean island. The pool encircled a pile of rocks, roots, deadfall and moss, and she stood atop it. Her first step was shaky and uncomfortable, as if she had forgotten how to walk. She stopped by the water’s edge, and she realized she was parched. The water was too murky to see her reflection in, and she resisted the urge to take a drink.

Where am I?

She wasn’t trapped, though; one small tunnel appeared to sloped upwards to her left, while a larger tunnel sloped downwards to her right. Beyond maybe a few steps, whatever was beyond both was obscured by darkness and undergrowth. From the gaps in the ceiling of the cave, she wasn’t far below the surface, so taking the upward tunnel should lead her out, so she could find out where she was and what was going on. On the other side of the coin… she turned and gazed at the downward path.

There’s something there.

She didn’t know what, or how she knew that. She didn’t think anything was calling out to her, but maybe there was. The path back out wasn’t going anywhere – she could take a quick look, confirm or disprove her feelings, then leave.

The pool was not deep, barely reaching half way up her legs at the deepest, and not unpleasantly cool. A natural wall of rock and packed earth prevented the water from running down the tunnel. Once pass the thin curtain of vines and moss, the tunnel sloped sharply, but not enough for her to lose her balance. Soft earth made it easy to maintain balance. The tunnel wasn’t long, and there was a glow at the end.

She descended.

The next chamber was a cavern, far larger in every dimension than the first. It was arranged like a garden, beautiful and wild. A large, placid pool sat at the center of the chamber. There was a large gap in the ceiling, cutting through earth and stone, allowing sunlight in, giving an unobstructed view of the sky.

All of it, even the light of the Sun, was secondary to the massive tree that dominated the center of the chamber. It shimmered like a crystal of a million colors, illuminating the entire cave brighter than any light streaming from the opening above.

She recognized it immediately, although it wasn’t as large before.

A million iridescent branches reached out, leaves shimmering like stars in the night sky. It rose out of the pool, casting light across its unmoving surface. Brighter than the rest, brilliant colors seemed to swirl at the very heart of the tree, close to where the trunk split off into the branches.

She approached the edge of the pool, slowly looking down into the water. The tree reached deep into the water, which was far deeper than she imagined, roots branching off in streams of radiance, creating a swirling, almost disorienting sight.

The water by the edge was clear enough, and the light bright enough, for her to see her reflection. A coat of white. A long mane of light green. Pink eyes. A short horn extending from her forehead, and a pair of white wings on her back.

I do not look much like myself.

The thought was idle and listless, as if she was noting the color of the sky. She should have been surprised or shocked, but everything was so surreal that she could only stare. She took note of the differences. The hair, of course. And her body itself – she wasn’t as tall as she remembered, and her horn wasn’t as long as she remembered, and her wings weren’t as large as she remembered. Overall, she was… normal.

In fact, comparing the image in the water to what she could remember, she thought she was kind of small. She smiled and shook away her thoughts, and her thirst returned. She dipped down and sipped the water. This was safe, she knew. As long as it was here, the water could not harm her.

Her thirst quenched, she returned her gaze to the tree. Unless it had migrated, she knew where she was. And while a migrating tree wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility, she suspected that this was not the case.

“What have I been doing, to wake up under your care?” She said to the tree, trying her voice at last. That, at least, hadn’t changed, as far as she could tell. The tree, of course, didn’t respond. Her voice seemed to be absorbed by the harmony of the tree itself.

After what seemed hours, she finally turned her gaze away, turning back toward where she came from. The journey back up the tunnel, back through the little cave, and up, out from underground passed by in a moment. Her mined churned with questions and thoughts like a sea of fire, yet she forced them down, not dwelling on anything.

There will be time for questions later.

The tree must have been a ward, because the moment she left the confines of the cave, darkness and corruption was like thick humidity. This place, this forest, was always charged with power, but never like this.

This was something wicked.

A thick fog obscured her vision beyond a stone’s toss. A dragon be there and she wouldn’t see it until it was right above her. An ill feeling ran down her spine, and she tensed, wings flared, ready to spring into action at the slightest warning.

A few moments passed, and she allowed herself to relax, ever so slightly. Standing there would get her attacked, eventually. She’d have to get out of there, and soon. With an expression of will, a golden orb of light formed. Uttering some simple instructions to it, the ball swirled around her for a moment before streaking off through the mists, leaving a golden trail behind it.

It was a risk, as the spell could be seen by others, but it would lead her out and she was reasonably sure she could at least fend off a forest beast. She followed the light as fast as she felt safe, spreading her wings and flying through the trees.

It didn’t take long before she sensed trouble. There, blocking her path to follow the light trail, were three… creatures, standing in a dried creek bed. They had the body of baboons, with dark brown fur, but their long tails were bone lashes, and their heads were like skulls, but with eight spidery eyes. They were permeated in the same darkness that she sensed in the forest around them.

They didn’t pause, or speak, or even cry out in bestial rage. They struck out, lashing out with long claws of bone. Still airborne, she dodged to the right, spinning out of the way and raising in elevation to avoid their strikes. One leaped to the top of a boulder in the way of where the light went, tensing up, waiting for her to try and get by. It would be a risk to blitz past it, and she didn’t know how far they would chase.

A flung stone missed her head by inches, hitting the branches above her with enough force to shatter wood. She spread her wings and swooped, launching a stunning blast of light that would knock a bear out at the creature on the rock as she flew towards it, spiraling down out of the way as it grasped at her, catching only a few strands of hair.

She flew faster, but she could hear the pursuing pace of the creatures behind her, grinding stone, snapping wood, disturbing undergrowth.

She felt the moment she exited the corrupted forest. The permeating darkness abated, and the mists abated, but her pursuers kept up. And then one blindsided her.

It lunged out of the trees to her right, claws extended. But it overshot, flying just above her, but it was close enough that it knocked her off course, sending her spiraling. She caught herself just before she struck a tree.

They set a trap.

She faced the creatures, not landing but measuring her options. They were intelligent enough to try and outmaneuver her, and nearly succeeded. They had come to a stop, but now they were slowly closing in, sure of their kill. The grass under their paws withered and died as they stepped.

She reacted quick, releasing another stun blast at the nearest creature. It flinched, but the spell didn’t seem slow it all that much. The lunge of the next two caused her to dance out of their way. She circled them slowly, considering her next move.

I’ll have to go for something more potent.

Her next shot was a lancing beam of golden light. It struck the side of one of the creatures, cutting across its side. Darkness like black smoke leaked from the wound, but the creature stood, releasing a bone-shaking rattling sound. A second beam cut it in half widthwise, and the two ends collapsed, the creature shrieking more as it died in a cloud of darkness.

Distracted by her focus on the one, she didn’t notice the others as one body checked her. She was knocked sideways and struck roughly against a tree, tumbling to the ground. The howl of another beast barely alerted her to its charge, and she loosed another beam. The strike removed its skeletal head from its shoulders, and the limb body slammed into the tree before dissipating into darkness.

There’s another.

She leapt up and swung around, searching for it, but it was too late. All she saw was a toothy maw and razor sharp claws. She felt them dig into the flesh of her neck, and she cried out. An erratic blast vaporized the head and shoulders of the beast, and it died in a cloud of darkness.

She stumbled, trying her best to gaze at the wound. A few slim gashes at the top of her shoulders. They were barely even bleeding. She signed in relief.

Her attackers were gone, not even a fragment or bone left in their place. Around where they died, the plant life was thicker and lush.

Odd… corrupted beasts?

She turned away, glancing around. Her seeker had likely long since faded. She briefly attempted to create another, but she was feeling exceptionally tired, too tired to even fly. But the forest around her was comfortably calm and bright, a far cry from the dark place she fled, so she decided just to walk from here.

She soaked in the atmosphere. It wasn’t anything like the tree, but it was good enough, although her weariness stuck to her. It was quiet, which struck her as a bit odd, as she thought there should be plenty of animal, bird and insect calls, or even a breeze through the leaves. She panted, sweating.

Why is it so warm?

The bright sunlight, though, was quite beautiful through the trees. The path to her destination was clear. Where was she going again? She found she didn’t have an answer. She panted more; the heat had increased.

Bright.

It must have been midafternoon when she escaped the forest. The Sun would be setting, the colors growing redder, the shadows growing longer and darker. But this, it looked as if it was morning.

It should… should… should be a… almost… dark…

Her thoughts grew heavy and twisted, curling like grass under a wildfire. She stumbled and fell.

The darkness caught her, but it was shattered like a million fairies of knives, singing sweet lullabies of torment and sorrow. They lifted her, dragging her down like a feather caught in a hurricane. All they touched burned away, leaving only mists and whispers.

She landed on nothing, ground roiling like pieces of sand, as if they were ladybirds in the shape of dragons sent scattered in the aether. She took a step that lasted an eternity and traveled around the world repeating it over and over as each step brought her closer to nowhere

help

figures of color and the dreams of unborn children lumbered like mountains on parade carrying with them thrones and oceans and she could only be caught up in their dirge of snakes as the maggots consumed and consumed and slithered and writhed and screamed and laughed and melted in the fires of cold light and

everything shattered as he swallowed it in his endless maw and eyes like voids glared evermore into a tormented body of muted light and quenched fires

please

he chewed and chewed bringing ice and pain and needles with every motion

please

Copperhead's Rest

She sprinted onwards through the dead forest of skeletons.

There was no sun in the sky – it was a burning husk of darkness.

No moon to guide her – it was bleeding and devoured.

There was a demon of darkness snapping at her heels.

Its form was pitch.

Its spirit was made of fangs.

Its gait was unstopping.

Rot was its footfall.

There was no mercy in its heart.

There was no peace on its breath.

A paean of death was the sound of its movements.

No act of guile could shake it.

No pit or prison could hinder it.

She could only run.

She awoke to a bed of straw. It permeated her senses. There was a thick blanket covering her, soft and heavy. She forced herself up. She was in a sloping, uneven room, end she could smell smoke and oil and metal. The thick blanket was some kind of animal fur.

“Geh!”

She kicked it away, horrified, and it flopped at the base of the bed. There was a constriction on her shoulder and around her neck. Looking down, she noticed she was bandaged up.

The fight.

She remembered leaving the forest, pursued by those things. She remembered fighting them, and being knocked against a tree and being clawed. She didn’t remember much else.

Poison.

That must have been it. The creature’s claws must have been poisoned. She’d have to remember that.

She heard steps and activity in the room over. She rose and walked out. She was sore and stiff, probably from being thrown against a tree. Inside the next room was a stallion, and she sighed, smiling faintly. It was nice to see a familiar form.

An earth pony, with a brown coat and mane, and a ball-peen hammer for a mark; he would have been quite strong, but age had worn him down, although he wasn’t venerable. The room was quite large, with one part serving as some kind of kitchen, the other being what was obviously a blacksmith’s forge. Openings in the room – both natural windows and gaping holes – brightened the room.

“You’re awake,” the stallion said, working at what looked like a crude kitchen counter. He would have made a good narrator, she thought. “Hungry?”

“Yes,” she said, but her throat was dry, so it came out dry and scratchy.

“Water’s over there. Help yourself.”

She did so. The large bucket, with a ladle and copper cups, was nostalgic. The water tasted fine, and not particularly contaminated.

“How’d I get here?” she asked. The water had done wonders.

“Found you yesterday evening, screaming and flailing around not far from my home. I take it you crossed paths with some of the monsters in the woods?”

“Thank you, then. And yes, I did.”

“Thought so. They have poison on their talons. Makes folk hallucinate.”

That confirmed it, she thought. Explained the dream she had as well. “You treated the wounds, then?” He nodded. “What were they?”

“Demons, monsters, ghosts. Whatever you want to call them. They don’t eat or sleep, just kill. Drove out all the life in these parts except for the trees and plants.”

He walked over and placed a bowl of apples and other vegetables on a crate, which she suspected must be his table.

She took an apple. It was sweet and juicy, good enough to give the Apple family a run for their money. “Where did you get these?”

“Oh, they grow wild all around these parts, ‘specially a little towards the west. When they ripen I harvest as many as I can; I make all kinds of things with them.”

“Wild…” She finished her first and grabbed a second.

“So where do you come from, stranger? You don’t look like a traveler, or a courier, especially if you got tangled up in that part of the woods.”

“Oh.” She didn’t exactly know how to answer that, especially since she didn’t really know for certain. “I think I’ve been… displaced somehow. The details are foggy.”

The stallion grunted and finished his meal. “Well, I’ve heard of weirder things.”

“Do you perhaps have a map? Maybe I can find where I am,” she said. The stallion – just realizing she should probably ask for his name – nodded.

“Hold here.” He disappeared into a side room, before coming back out with a scroll. She helped him unroll it, holding its edge to the tabletop.

“I’m afraid I didn’t ask your name.”

“My name is Copperhead. I run this little outpost. You?”

“My name is…” she paused. What would she say? She knew her own name, but would he recognize it? She somehow didn’t think so, but she was still unsure.

“What, forget that too?” Copperhead asked, sounding a little amused.

She shook her head. “No, sorry. Just had a thought. You may call me Celeste.”

Copperhead grunted, as if finding something funny, but nodded.

She turned and looked down at the map. It was very detailed and expansive, but it didn’t have the professional overview of the maps she was used too. The map included intricately detailed features of the land; a forest with tiny trees here, a mountain shrouded by clouds there. She would have thought it a map for foals, but the level of detail was so high only a professional could make.

“Quite the map, isn’t it?” Copperhead said. “A group called the Cartographer’s Guild, from the City of Light, drops by about once a year and leaves a few with me.”

“Yes, it’s… quite something.” This was her home. Geographically, the land was her home – Equestria. But everything was wrong. There were none of the great cities, save one, called the “City of Light,” where the Crystal Empire was supposed to be. Not even Canterlot was on the map. “And where are we…?”

Copperhead tapped a spot on the map, right where she suspected, above Ponyville, or at least where it was supposed to be. The only things on the map was a penciled in mark, probably Copperhead’s home, and a strange star-shaped object.

“I fear I am a long way from home,” she said quietly. Looking over the rest of the map. ‘City of Light.’ She wondered if that was really the Crystal Empire anymore, and if that meant Cadance was there. She glanced back at the strange star mark. “What’s that?”

“Some big rock crystal formation, been around forever,” Copperhead answered. “Every once in a while those unicorn magi come around for a few days hoping for some reason or another. Only thing they learn is that they wasted their time.”

Crystal.

“I’d like to see it, before I… go.”

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “It’s not far. I have some work to do, but if you need anything, holler.”

“Alright, thank you.” The old stallion moved on to his forge, leaving her to her own devices. She glanced around, not sure what to do and finding nothing of interest, and decided to head outside.

It was sunny and cool, still early morning. She closed her eyes and spread out her senses, soaking in the world. She first tried reaching out to the Sun, but found it was closed to here. There, but distant, like a shadow on the horizon. Everything else felt… muted and quiet. The forest was there, like a blot on a painting. There was something foul, carried on the winds; it was faint, but she could feel it. She followed the pollution, but there was no source that she could find.

But it didn’t detract from the morning, only sitting at the back of her mind like an irritant. She flared her wings and extended those senses, but found nothing more than what she already knew. She took flight, rising up and circling Copperhead’s outpost.

It was a small place, and he seemed to have adopted some kind of crashed airship. There were a few other shacks and outbuildings, and a crude fence surrounded the compound. She didn’t see much by way of roads, but she spied a lake over the hill not far away.

One thing that stood out to her was the massive Mountain to the north. It was a familiar sight, almost unchanged from when she saw it last, except for the thick fog and clouds that obscured the entire upper half of it. She couldn’t even make out to see if the castle on the mountainside still existed, although she suspected she didn’t want too.

She turned away and focused on the forest canopy, scanning for something… there! Sticking above the trees was a strange white object. She dived and flew low over the forest canopy. It wasn’t long before she reached it and she touched down.

It was set in a small clearing, but that was dwarfed by the massive pillar of white-gray crystal. In the most distant sense, it would have been shaped like a castle. A child’s imagination would likely view of it as such, but to her she thought it looked like a massive, gnarled tree, with several peaks (six, she counted) twisting and grabbing at the sky.

But it was a castle.

She approached closer feeling the surface. It felt like rough, natural, weathered quartz, a little warm from basking in the morning sun. She thought she could see something through the surface, but it was too murky and opaque in places she must have been seeing things.

She released a long sigh, sitting down and leaning against a sun-warmed side of the object. What had happened to her and this land?

Was she petrified, and the land had suffered some catastrophe while she slept? That didn’t seem right, as every instance of petrification she knew of left the victim conscious.

Was she actually displaced, either by time or reality? That seemed possible, but as far as she understood, doing so wouldn’t have put her in the state she was now. Drained, maybe, but she had been drained before, and she felt she had actually degraded in strength.

Was she… she hesitated. Perhaps she wasn’t who she thought she was? A transference of memories onto a homunculus would explain the supposed weakness, as well as the missing memories, especially if… if the original had died at some point, and the memories were just blurred to not make it apparent. That seemed workable, but why had she awoken in a cave, in the middle of a dark forest? Every instance of homunculus she had seen was restricted to a lab, a controlled environment. And her memories. Memory transference was a tricky process, and it worked best to transfer personality, but the older the memory the more difficult it was for the subject to recall, and it was better for preserving raw information. She could remember things in clear detail that had happened a very long time ago, and her memory had always been fairly good.

The most likely explanation was that she had been sealed away somehow, and simply had awoken down by the tree. That would also explain the degradation, as she had seen a case of it before, although never to her degree.

There were other things that weren’t right, either. The plant life was wild and untamed. Copperhead hadn’t even hinted to caring for the forest, just living off the wild lands as if nothing was wrong. The weather, too, hummed with wild power, uncontrolled and free. And most significantly of all, the Sun was beyond her. She reached out, stretched out, with her power, but it felt so far away she would have thought it was gone, had she not seen it, felt its rays warming her.

She needed answers.

The City of Light.

She didn’t know if it was still the Crystal Empire under a new name, or if it had fallen and something had taken its place, but it likely would contain the answers she needed. She hoped. She stood, spread her wings and took flight.

She briefly considered simply teleporting there, but a brief prod to her reserves told her that would be impossible. Even if she could pull it off, she’d probably pass out, and that didn’t sound appealing, especially as she wasn’t familiar with the geography. Getting stuck in the geography from a faulty teleport was an uncomfortable experience. She’d have to travel the old fashioned way.

The return flight to Copperhead’s place was quick. She landed out in the yard and looked around. There was far more than just a little forge, she noted. Besides the forge both inside and out of the structure, there was also a wood shop, and what appeared to be some kind of tanning booth.

She headed inside, seeking the old stallion. He was still inside, prepping his forge. “Find what you were looking for?” he asked her as she walked in.

“I think so. I’ll probably be heading north, to the City of Light,” she said, walking over.

“You should probably leave early tomorrow. I can lend you the supplies.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to impose more than I have already.”

“That’s my job. And besides,” he said as he inspected the tools of his forge, “you can reimburse me later.”

“Of course. I will, I promise,” she said, smiling. She glanced around again. “Still, though. Isn’t it strange for you to be working, way out here?”

“This is a refuge,” Copperhead said. “A place for the lost and a resource for those who risk their lives in the wilderness. I’m fine with that fact.”

She nodded. “I understand. Don’t you get lonely, though?”

He laughed, a barking sound that seemed equal parts amused and sarcastic. “If every pony in the world is as colorful and unique as the ones I meet here every so often, I don’t think I’d last long in the City.”

“Oh,” she said, blinking in surprise. “That’s…” Certainly something. “What do you do, exactly? Just run the trading post?”

“Metalworking is my skill. Crafting, my trade. Besides a bite to eat and a bed, travelers that come through might need a vital tool, or something repaired. And they’ll leave something for me to work on, for whoever needs it,” he explained. He set aside his things and turned towards her. “Now, we need to get you some supplies. Follow me.”

He led her to one of the outbuildings, a tall, boxy wooden one. It was dark inside.

“Spare a light?” He asked. She nodded and a moment later a bright light flared from her horn and rose to the ceiling, illuminating the whole room. Copperhead whistled appreciatively at the light.

The room was full of things. Weapons of all kinds were stacked on shelves, hung on racks, or stored in barrels. Tools, from rope to wood axes to pruners, were piled up the same. Bags and baskets and flasks were piled in one corner, and rolls of fabric and bedding in another.

“You’ll need some bags. A cloak and a blanket. Some rope is always useful,” Copperhead said, more to himself. She wasn’t paying much attention, examining the multitude of supplies in the shed. The light glinted off something coppery up on the wall.

With a golden glow, she gently lifted it and brought it close. It was shaped like shoulder armor, with a thicker shield-shaped plate mounted on top, seemingly for extra defense. Her eyes widened. It was, if she wasn’t mistaken, a very, very old style of weapon.

“Not that old thing again,” Copperhead said, interrupting her inspection. She turned to him; he was carrying a variety of supplies. He sat them on a nearby crate and gave the object a disdainful look.

“Is it what I think it is?”

“Depends on what you think it is.”

“A poltergeist’s shield is what some call it,” she answered. Copperhead nodded.

“I’ve had it a long, long while. The City of Light’s Honor Guard uses them; I found here when I discovered the airship,” Copperhead said. “But it’s broken. Haven’t been able to fix it in forever.”

She looked at it again. When worn, it would allow the pony – any pony – to telekinetically wield a weapon. And because the means of control were protected inside the shield part, it didn’t draw on the wielder’s energy and never tired them out, giving them a telekinetic weapon.

It had its downsides, though. It could only link to one weapon or tool at a time, and although the wielder could easily change what tool that was, it wasn’t so easy as to perform on the fly. The telekinetic field was also very limited, usually no longer than a body length, and, while powerful, if the weapon was knocked far enough away, it left the wielder defenseless. The telekinetic field was also unable to attack foes directly. Finally, if the intricate rune work housed in the shield were damaged, it would stop working entirely. Even though it was made with incredibly durable aurichalcum – giving it its distinctive bronze or copper shine – she personally knew of dozens of things that could rend through it easily and damage the runes. All of them extremely dangerous.

She disassembled the device, sliding the main plate from the armor. It came apart easily, and she opened the shield-plate, inspecting the runes within. They were faintly pulsing blue, but in complete disarray, more of a spattering of paint than intricate writing and symbols.

“Of all my skills, runework is not one of them, and few of the travelers I get are unicorns, let alone a unicorn skilled in it. I could fix it if I knew that. All it does now is sit on the wall, gather dust and tax my patience when some bright eyed wanderer spots it,” Copperhead explained.

“I know runework. I can inscribe the ones needed if you’d like.”

“Oh? And take the bothersome thing of my hooves?” She thought for a moment, trying to discern if he was serious or not, then simply nodded in reply.

“Deal. We’ll consider it an even trade – I’ll even toss in a weapon with it,” he said, sounding somewhat eager. He paused. “Although, you’ll still owe me for the pannier and other supplies.”

She reassembled the device and passed it over to him. “I’ll need some parchment and a writing tool.”

“I know the process. Take a look at these things and see if they’re too your liking. I’ve got a workshop to prep.”

Cry of the Phoenix

Copperhead was a master smith.

Crystal welding or fusing was a complex process that involved superheating magic-conductive crystal dust and fusing it to a surface in complex runes. It was a delicate work as well, requiring precise temperatures, unerring lines and curves to get the runes to actually function, and a steady grip. Even the slightest crooked line or a slightly over or under heated patch of crystal could ruin an entire rune. Most who practiced the art were unicorns who were extremely skilled with telekinesis. Still, it was a process that could take days or even weeks to finish.

Without telekinesis, only using hoof and tooth, Copperhead finished it before dinner. All while educating her on the best route to the City of Light.

“You’ll have to swing around northeast of that big mountain there,” he said as he prepped his tools and she sketched the runes. He must have been referring to the Mountain, where Canterlot resided. “The pass to the City is northwest, but a direct northwest route is perilous, full of monsters. Safer to go the long way around.”

“Why do they congregate there?”

“Don’t know, don’t care too,” he said. “Just hordes of monsters and demons between here and there. They like mountains, so keep as wide a berth from any of the local mountain ranges you can.”

“Once the mountain’s behind you, head north; there’s a little village by the name of Grace, right on the eastern side of the big falls. You’d have to be ‘specially daft to miss it. I’ve heard there’s been some storms of late around there, though, so watch yourself.” Copperhead grinned at that, eyes far away, as if recalling something.

“Something funny?”

He shook himself out of his daze. “Not particularly. Just remembering a mare I was sweet on, once upon a time.”

“Oh? Want me to carry a message for you?” she said, smiling mischievously.

“Not really,” he said dismissively, a little too quickly. “Anyway, it should take you a few days to reach the village. Last pegasus I talked to said it took three and a half days pushing it. So about four or five days if you don’t drive yourself to hard.”

“Speaking of which, when you fly, keep yourself low over the canopy, and low over the tops of the grasslands.”

“Why?” She said, handing her finished runes over. He inspected them.

“There’s a particularly dumb but dangerous monster that often flies up high. It’ll snag anything flying from above. If you keep low and keep an eye upwards, you can dip beneath the trees or into the grass and find a hiding spot. They’re not particularly smart, and will usually give up pretty quick, if they don’t kill themselves smashing into something,” he explained. He pushed the runes back to her. “Your lines are crooked.”

She took the runes and inspected them.

“One you reach Grace, you can get more precise directions, but you’ll probably want to head west before turning north into the City of Light. If you meet a caravan or a traveler, don’t hesitate to join up with them. Safer that way,” he said. “Now fix those runes so I can get to work.”

She finished them, correctly the second time, and he set to work. By dinner he had finished, and she ate a light meal, prepared her things for a predawn departure, and went to bed early.

And now it was the next morning. She slept soundly, no nightmares or hallucinations to torment her. Copperhead greeted her with a few apples for breakfast.

“Sure you’ll be fine, flying while it’s dark?”

She nodded. “Yes; I have a trick or two.” She offered the stallion a smile. “Thank you again for everything you’ve done.”

“My job, lass,” he said, giving a crooked smile. “Just don’t forget to swing by again to repay me for the supplies.”

She smiled again, laughing lightly. “Of course.” She glanced skyward, then looked back at him and nodded. “I’ll be going, then. Farewell, Copperhead, and be safe.”

“Naturally. Now get, so I can sleep some more.”

With a flap of her wings, she was up in the air and moving. Sparing a goodbye wave, she focused on her route, horn glowing as she did. Through her eyes, the dark morning lit up in stark grays. A deceptively simple technique in use, it allowed her to manipulate light to allow her to see when it was dark. It would have been exceptionally utilitarian, had it not been so incredibly complex to use – precious few could even begin to learn the fundamentals.

Keeping in mind Copperhead’s advice, she leveled out at a comfortable altitude just above the trees, where she could just weave around the taller ones. Her trip from them on until the Sun rose was uneventful, and eventually she let her vision return to normal. She was moving quickly but pacing herself.

Thus, by the time the Sun had risen over the horizon, Copperhead’s place was far behind her. The Mountain that was once her home was to the west, far off to her left, and seemed to have barely shifted even after a few hours of travel.

Nothing happened of note until near high noon.

The day was proving to be favorable, with only a few small clouds in the sky and a fair wind that didn’t hamper her flight. Even in its depressingly vacant state, the land around her was as beautiful as ever, virgin forests and grasslands expanding in every direction, famed by beautiful blue skies above and snowcapped mountain ranges in the distance.

Then she spotted them, out of the corner of her eye. Two fast moving shapes, flying over a grassy range of hills off to the east. The smaller of the two was bright red-orange, like a flame. The other, much larger, figure was very birdlike, and was pursing the smaller.

She hesitated a moment, but the possibility that a pony was being hunted by one of the monsters Copperhead spoke of drove her to close the distance. It didn’t take long to catch up, as she had the advantageous position.

The bigger creature she could make out first. It was large, two or three times her size. It reminded her of a cormorant, with large wings and a long neck, tipped with a sharp beak, but the creature was mangy and twisted looking, a nightmarish perversion of a regular animal, much like the baboon monsters she had fought. This one, at least, didn’t have a skeletal face.

The other figure, she found, wasn’t a pony, but a phoenix. As one of the fastest and most agile creatures that could fly, it easily kept out of range of the monster’s grasping talons (with rotten looking tips) and snapping beak (which, she noticed, was lined with irregular, jagged teeth). But the monster was persistent, never slowing or tiring in its single-minded pursuit. The phoenix would tire, eventually, but the monster never would.

Put a stop to this.

She never had the chance. A great shadow passed over them all, and she heard the sound of something big fly overhead. And it was fast, easily overtaking her. Whatever it was grabbed the bird monster out of the sky, and her initial impression was dragon.

There was an awful meaty ripping-tearing sound, and the anguished wail of the bird monster as it died almost made her feel sorry for it. The following scream of the newcomer was unpleasant, sounding more like the grinding shriek of steel on steel, like a braking train, than any natural beast call.

The phoenix gave a terrified squawk and sped up, trying to put as much space between it and the new monster as possible. She paused to get a better look at the thing. She regretted doing so.

That is no dragon.

She wished it was.

It was as large as a dragon, but that’s where the similarities ended. This thing was shaped like a great bird, but its entire body seemed to be made of some kind of blade. Its head and crest were shaped like the head off of a halberd, and its talons were like grasping sickles. Its great wings looked sharp as razors, and its feathers and pinions were like double-edged swords, while a long, lashing tail was like a chain of daggers. Along its back rose long, sharp bladed spikes, in three rows, and its breast was covered in pines. Its color was of rusty metal, or at least, she hoped was rusty metal and not blood stains.

Despite its speed, its size meant it had to swing wide to turn around, dropping its recent kill as it did so. She caught the glimpse of a hateful red eye as it turned to face her.

Power gathered to her horn, and she fired a piercing beam of golden light. The glow was bright and powerful, and it caused the monster’s body to shine, briefly blinding her as it did.

Her eyes widened as the light faded. The monster seemed completely unfazed and unharmed. And it was speeding up.

She turned, dived low over the forest, and flew as fast she could, spotting the red glow of the phoenix and following it.

The monster shrieked again.

She spotted a long clearing in the canopy. She dove, slipping beneath the canopy and weaving through the trees. She heard it behind her, close enough to make out the sound of metal rattling against metal, and then she heard the repeated sounds of something cutting through things, followed by loud crashes.

On a straightaway, she rolled, glancing back. The creature was flowing low into the woods, its wings slicing through branches and leaves as if they weren’t there. She righted herself and sped up again.

It would catch her, she realized, if she didn’t stop or shake it somehow.

The ground below her dipped, opening out into a low crater-like area, with scattered trees and boulders. She caught a glint of fiery red out of the corner of her eye, but ignored it.

She’d have to distract it somehow, otherwise she’d never lose it. Her attacks were likely useless, but…

She gathered power again as she fled, and once it was charged to her liking, she rolled again, releasing her spell. A brilliant golden orb shot out, but she was already rolling back and facing forward when it detonated.

It was a harmless blast, but the flare lit the area up like the sun itself. She heard the beast shriek again, almost painfully, and she stopped to see what came of her plan. The flare faded, and the beast, eyes closed and head thrashing, careened off course, plowing headfirst into a large mound of boulders. It demolished the stone and kicked up a massive cloud of dust, obscuring it from view.

Everything was quiet for a moment. Cautiously satisfied the creature was out of action for now, she turned and flew on, eyes focusing back on her path north. Then a massive beam of heat and hate lanced out of the dust, nearly killing her.

It missed, the lance of power striking the far end of the crater wall and cutting across a large swath of land, kicking up clouds of smoke, ash and dust. She could feel the uncomfortable heat as it passed underneath, and the shockwaves of its passing tossed her sideways and down to the ground.

She landed in a patch of tall grass, and thankfully she wasn’t far enough of the ground to cause injuries. The monster bursting out of the dust and scrambling across the ground on talons and wings, shrieking and wildly firing death beams she was not thankful for, and neither was its surprisingly swift land speed.

Its crazed red eyes finally found her, and it focused in on her, light glowing from deep within its mouth.

She didn’t hesitate, firing a quick beam of her own directly into the mouth of the monster. Disturbed, the monster’s charge detonated within its mouth. The creature staggered and swayed, but eventually caught itself and refocused on her. Its maw and throat, she noticed, were red hot, and she thought its sharp teeth were actually melted.

She didn’t spend much time looking as she took flight again and dodged away from the creature. She saw that glimpse of red again, and finally glanced towards it. The phoenix was still nearby, circling. It flew close, circled her twice, giving a cry as it did, then it dived down, flames engulfing it.

A blast of fire struck the monster as the phoenix flew past and circled around again. The beast roared, and she saw in that moment the metal blades melting under the intense heat.

Grinning slightly, she spread her wings and ascended, further above the battlefield as the phoenix launched another attack. The monster retaliated with a few bullet-like shots of its energy beam. A trio of explosions obscured the phoenix from her sight, and she feared it was struck, but a moment later it dived out of the smoke and circled wide.

Satisfied it was fine, she focused herself, gathering power again. Phoenix fire was intense – so intense, only the oldest and most resilient of dragons could withstand the heat. She had never fashioned a fire spell nearly as hot, and in fact, hadn’t actually fashioned battle flame spell in ages, but she did so anyway, soaking up the warmth and light from the Sun to fuel it. She’d have one shot at this, though, as she could tell she was taxing her reserves, and phoenixes only had so much flame to throw around in such a short time.

As she gathered power, the monster finally regained strength to fly again, flying a wide circle around the crater, spewing its deadly ray and scarring the land. It spotted her, she noticed as it circled, and started to climb, roaring. It was wounded, its back spines half melted and its left wing heavily damaged. White light was glowing from deep in its maw.

“Here,” she said quietly, “let’s try this.”

And she released her spell. A large fireball shot forth and struck the monster head on. It screeched again, and she dodged out of the way as the monster careened past where she was floating, descending lazily as she watched it burn. It reached the peak of its climb and hung there a moment, then the phoenix, circling back around, launched another blast of fire.

With a great wail, the monster plummeted, striking the earth with a mighty noise. It thrashed and writhed, but the flames continued to eat at it. By the time they died away, the beast was nothing more than a badly melted husk.

She gently touched down, near where the beast had crashed the first time. She watched the carcass for a little while, regaining her strength.

If that is the nature of these beasts, then the land is truly under threat of darkness.

The cry of the phoenix caught her attention. Her ally swooped down from above, landing it on a nearby stone. It – she – sat regally, regarding her with the same lazy pride that all members of the species emanated.

She regarded the beautiful red bird for a while, as it did her.

“I believe,” she said at length, “that we know each other.”

Bitterness and Cruelty

Copperhead was not misleading when he had said that the town to the north was experiencing bad storms.

Still, she felt the need to return and thwack him for not adequately telling her what he meant.

The skies were overcast, thick, dark gray clouds blotting out the Sun. Everywhere she looked, the snow covered the ground in heaps, and it was snowing still. Although not enough to constitute a white out, she couldn’t see into the far distance through it.

The wind wasn’t strong or consistent enough to quite qualify as a blizzard, but it was erratically gusty, which made the cutting winter winds worse because she couldn’t brace for them as they scattered snow and ice and cut through her traveling cloak as if it wasn’t there.

The cold, the wind, the ice, the snow… it was bitter, and chilled her to the bone.

Her phoenix companion, however, did abate some of it.

As the weather was too fierce to fly in, she had been forced to land and take the trip on hoof. Which was unfortunate, as the village was evidently situated on a mountainside, and it meant making a steep ascent through the area. As a result, her new friend had decided that, in between sporadic short flights, she would use her pannier as a roost. It was an awkward ride, at first (phoenixes were not small birds), but the two of them quickly adapted.

To a certain degree, she appreciated the beauty; it was like a winter wonderland, pristine fields of snow as far as she could see. The fact the storm was formed by nature and not by hoof and wing, though, left her feeling anxious to learn why.

The foul, palpable taste of darkness in the air also greatly dampened her ability to appreciate it, and no doubt contributed to the chill even phoenix fire couldn’t dispel.

She crested a hill, and stopped, stunned.

There, visible through the snow, was what was once a great waterfall. She was familiar with it. In the past, it was quite the sight; powerful, awe-inspiring, majestic. One could stare at it for hours.

It was still awe-inspiring. The awe she felt now was dread.

It was frozen solid.

Even with the most talented weather workers, working for hours, one could not stop or even freeze solid the falls. Block it temporarily, perhaps, or build bridges of ice, but the water never truly stopped. This freeze was unnatural, engineered, and incredibly power.

Only beings of immense power, a natural skill with water magic, or an eldritch creature beyond her knowing could perform such a deed. Suddenly the snow-covered land didn’t seem so pristine, and the darkness was all the more prevalent.

She trudged on.

It was getting darker. The day was moving into evening, and the meager light that pierced the canopy of clouds was fading away. The snow was not stopping, and she could feel the temperature drop. It would be dangerous to stay out in it for very much longer.

As she trekked through the steadily increasing snow, she swore she could hear something. Something as chilling as the howling wind, but alive and malicious. It drove her to speed up as much as she could afford. Thankfully, the village wasn’t far away.

“Hey, can somepony help‽” She heard though the snow, muffled by the wind. “Anypony, please!”

It was hard to pinpoint the source, but she tried her hardest. “A little assistance, if you please?” She requested of her phoenix. She squawked and took a shallow flight, fire whipping out from her wings. It briefly dissipated the snow, and she spotted a form though the snow.

“Oh, goodness!” She heard the figure cry. A mare, she was sure, from the sound. She approached as the flames faded and the bird landed back on her perch.

“Who’s there?” The mare asked as she approached. Through the snow and darkness, she couldn’t make out any details, especially wrapped in a winter cloak.

“A traveler,” she answered. “Were you calling for help earlier?”

“Oh, yes. Can you please help? I can’t get into my home, and the storm is getting worse,” the mare explained. She thought the mare was about to begin to panic.

She examined the house. A large pile of snow had either blown or collapsed, blocking the entryway. It wouldn’t take more than one pony to dig it out, but in this weather…

Golden light enveloped the snowbank, and she lifted a large square of snow and ice and set it aside, revealing the doorway. The mare almost hopped in place in satisfaction.

“Thank you!” She shouted. She quickly opened the door. “Come on in quick, before we catch something.”

The inside was cozy, as it was a small, one-room house. She slipped in quickly, ducking to let the phoenix fit through. The large bird hopped off and found a comfortable perch atop a hat rack, and the mare slipped in and closed the door.

The two of them removed their cloaks. The mare quickly lit a small stove, and the house was quickly lit in warm orange light. Her host was a pale blue Pegasus with a yellow mane and tail, with a swirly mark that she couldn’t identify in the firelight.

“Quite the storm you have out there,” she said to the mare, settling down and taking everything in. Beside the stove was a small counter and pantry, probably the kitchen. In one corner was a broad, low mattress, and a small cabinet that likely functioned as the wardrobe. There was a low table in the center. The size was small enough to make it seem cluttered, but not in a messy way, necessarily.

“You get… used to it, after a while. True Providence that you stopped by when you did; who can say what would have happened to me.” The mare looked at her, smiling kindly. “My name is Sky Chancer. It’s nice to meet you.”

“My name is Celeste.” The phoenix squawked. “And this is my friend, Philomena.”

“Never seen a bird like that before,” Sky Chancer said, awe in her tone. “Is she a phoenix?”

“Yes.”

“She’s beautiful.” The phoenix seemed to bask in the praise, head raised proudly. “I can’t thank you enough for coming when you did,” Sky Chancer continued. “What’s brought you into Grace?”

“I’m heading for the City of Light,” she answered. “I’ve been… away for some time.”

Sky Chancer frowned, a look of sorrow settling on her face. “What a terrible time into town, then. The town used to be quite beautiful, and we loved helping travelers when they came around. Now, though…”

“The storms? Somepony told me about them.”

Sky Chancer nodded. “They’ve been going on for months now, since early last fall. We thought it just an early winter, but now it’s almost summer. It’s a miracle we’ve survived this long – or, perhaps not.”

She frowned as Sky Chancer stared off, caught up in thoughts. “Does anybody know the cause? It must be something terrible if the waterfall I passed was so frozen solid.”

The other mare glanced at her, a dark, almost angry look in her eyes. “Yes, we’re quite familiar with the cause,” she answered, bitterness in her voice. She didn’t elaborate.

Conversation paused, she glanced around, trying to think of something to say. It was such a small village, she wished she could do something.

A small village.

“I have to ask: why didn’t your neighbors help you? I could hear you from outside the village. Certainly the other villagers could?”

A myriad of emotions crossed Sky Chancer’s face. First, bemusement, then something like realization, then more anger, then finally sadness and resignation. “It’s this cold,” she said, voice heavy with sadness and regret. “It’s been so long since we’ve felt true warmth, we aren’t the same. If I was safely inside, and somepony else was trapped in the cold, I don’t know if I would help.” The mare slumped, looking lost and dejected.

She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out, realization dawning. The darkness was thick, swirling all around them like the snow outside. It wasn’t truly visible, but she could sense it. It swirled around Sky Chancer like a cloud. It wasn’t so much that the mare was wicked, she thought, but that she was poisoned by it.

“Do you mind if I ask what the cause is?”

“Hmm? Oh, I suppose,” Sky Chancer answered. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I think we should start from the beginning, and that includes a story I’ve been told since I was a filly. It goes like this…”

Many years ago, the village of Grace did not have its name, nor was it very large at all, not even worth marking on a map. The villagers had little, but were satisfied in life, tending to crop and field.

Then a monster came. It was a fearsome thing, a living nightmare. It settled in the caves above the village, and every night it would howl and shriek, keeping the villagers awake with its terrible cries. With no true need or cause, it would strike at the village at night, ruining fields and killing animals. Some stories tell of it stealing away foals and destroying homes. All attempts to fight the monster proved futile, as it seemed nothing could harm it.

The villages rightly became fearful, not willing to even leave their homes at night. During the day, the villages erected a wall of stakes, and wrapped it in briars to ward off the monster, but still it terrorized them.

The one spring day a traveler visited the village. The villagers thought a warrior princess had visited their little village. She proved to be a balm on a wound, lifting the spirits of the villagers, caring for them and encouraging them.

Still, the villagers were terrified of the monster, whose attacks seemed to worsen every passing night.

One day, after a particularly terrible night, the warrior princess decided that she must do something about the monster if she was to help the village. The villagers begged and pleaded, tears in their eyes, for the princess not to, as it would surely mean death, but she was adamant, and early one morning, just as the sun was peeking over the horizon. But the villagers, too terrified to even see her off, did not go with her.

After she set out and disappeared into the cave, slowly the villagers gathered at the edge of the village, gazing up towards the caves, hoping to see signs of the mare. Hours passed, with not even the faintest sound.

Then, finally, a sign.

The small stream that flowed from the cave mouth, which had run dark and filthy since the monster arrived, started to run bright and clear as it once did. Invigorated, and fearful for the life of the mare, the villagers braved deep into the lair of their tormentor.

In the deepest recess of the caves they found the mare. The monster, to their salvation, was reduced to ashes and dust. But the mare had suffered, injured terribly by the monster, her life ebbing away.

In their remorse, they apologized to the mare for not trusting her, or helping her after she had done so much for them. Ever kind and forgiving, she didn’t begrudge them, even as she passed away.

Grateful and saddened, the villagers turned the cave into her resting place, the monster’s lair into her burial chamber, swearing to never forget the kindness she showed.

“Just a few months ago, another monster has taken residence inside that cave, and we’ve had nothing but freezing cold ever since.”

She thought about what Sky Chancer told her. It was not a legend she could say she had ever heard, but it tickled at the back of her mind, as if she should have been familiar with it.

“But why the story? How does that relate to the current problems?”

“A monster has moved in there again. For as long as anypony remembers, the caves have been a sacred place. I don’t know how much of the legend is actually true, but I have definitely seen the burial chamber, at least from the outside,” Sky Chanced said. “And a few years ago, a unicorn from the City of Light came into the village, hoping to study the cave. I remember him saying that there was something he called ambient magic there, although he left not long after the elders told him he couldn’t enter the burial chamber itself.”

The monster could have been the return of the one from the story, depending on how much was true, or it could be something using the caves knowing the villagers’ reverence for it. Either way, the culprit had to be an incredibly strong water elemental to cause such devastation in a few months’ time. And incredibly malicious and cruel, if it would subject the village to a long, slow death by freezing.

The howling of the wind broke her out of her thoughts, and for a moment she almost believed something else was making the sounds. Sky Chancer, though, reacted quickly.

“Oh dear, not again,” she said quickly, grabbing the table and positioning it against the doorway. Then she started piling things against it.

“What’s the matter?” A loud pounding against the door answered her question, causing the door and the block to rattle and shake. It continued for a few minutes, and she heard it more clearly now, something that sounded like a cross between the harsh winds and a barking animal.

“The monster?” She asked quietly, watching the door.

“We don’t know,” Sky Chancer answered. “They come every night, but we never know what they are come morning.” A look of terror crossed her face. “They have gotten into homes a few times before.”

She didn’t need to say anything else – the consequences were easily imaginable.

Dark Whiteness

The winter was a sleeping, a rejuvenation. The world folding into itself to prepare new life and new opportunities. It meant death, but from death would come birth.

Not this winter.

It is like a beast, snarling and thrashing. Its eyes are filled with hate, and tattered wings cast shadows that blot out the Sun and Moon. Every movement is like crashing ice, and its claws are the cutting wind.

It crawls and lopes over land and life and waters, marking dominions. The gift of agony is its lifeblood, a draught of suffering, a feast of torment, given freely and in heaps. Cruelty flows like a winter river in its veins, and it pours such blood for all to drink.

With cruelty comes suffering and pain. From that comes a fury that burns with no heat, no warmth. Loathing seeps deep into the heart, chilling it and banishing all light.

From it come forms of twisting darkness, like fresh fruit already rotted on the vine, spreading the chill and the pain with every creaking step and broken howl.

This is what it means to breed suffering.

This is what it means to spread cruelty.

This is what it means to be the endless winter.

It is a white death.

The night was restless, but she awoke early anyway. Out from underneath the thick blankets she could already feel the chill seep in. The stove was only dying embers, but a quick thought brought it roaring back to life. Still, she pulled out a layer of clothing and wrapped her cloak around over that. Her hostess, Sky Chancer, still slept, and even Philomena dozed on her perch.

There were no unobscured windows to see what time it really was (although with the cloud cover it may as well have been futile), and she didn’t want to risk unsealing the door in case something unpleasant was still outside. She grabbed up her bags, her cloaks, and a few blankets and found a place to bunker down.

She sifted through her belongings, fishing out the poltergeist’s shield. It had been refitted to fit her, and padded to make it more comfortable, not to mention oiled and shined, and decorated with some flourished.

It took some doing, but she was able to slip it on, covering it with her cloak. She also dug out the weapon she had chosen: she had debated on several kinds, from sword to spear to axe, but settled on an unusual weapon Copperhead told her a minotaur had dropped off. It was a long rod of sturdy wood, with an iron ring at one end, while most the rest of the rod was plated in iron studded with rivets. She found it awkward to wear, but most wouldn’t think it a weapon. She tested the shield and staff experimentally a few times, and it functioned as flawlessly as it had when she first tried it.

A shuffling met her ears. She turned to see Sky Chancer blearily rising from bed. “Good morning,” she said to the Pegasus mare, stowing the weapon.

“’Mornin’,” she said through a yawn. She didn’t say anything else, just stared at the far wall. Nothing happened for several long minutes.

“Perhaps I can--”

“Tea,” Sky Chancer interrupted, still sounding asleep. “I have some tea. I should probably put on some tea. Would you like some… tea?”

“Yes. Can I do anything to help?”

The mare seemed spurred to action, if lethargically, and they set about getting some water to boil.

“It should be safe enough for us to move the table back,” Sky Chancer said to her, as she did just that. “They usually disappear sometime close to early dawn, which should be about now.”

She perked up her ears, sending out a faint pulse of magic. She no longer could feel a connection to the Sun, but knew it well enough. It was indeed starting to peek over the horizon. She hoped she could sense who or what was coaxing it up, but felt nothing. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

Sky Chancer prepared the tea. It was an unusual method, and not one she recognized, especially mixed with butter as it was, but was warming and tasty, if different.

“That usually gets me going in the morning,” Sky Chancer said, finishing a cup of the creamy tea and pouring a second.

“It’s very good.”

“I’m curious… what brings you to Grace? You said you were a traveler, right?” Sky Chancer asked at length. She had begun working on straightening up the home, putting away bedding and apparently preparing for the day.

“I was heading towards the City of Light. I understand the village is a stop?”

“Well, it used to be,” Sky Chancer said. “Before the storms, we used to get many travelers seeking a roof over their heads. Ever since, most have traveled further south.”

Chores finished, and another cup of tea downed, Sky Chancer donned her cloak. “I have some work to do today, but my home is your home. Help yourself to what you need.”

“Thank you for your hospitality.”

“Well, you saved my life – it’s the least I can do,” she replied. “I’ll be back by evening.”

A minute later, the Pegasus was gone.

She finished her tea, thinking of what she was to do. She couldn’t just leave, she knew. She couldn’t leave the village to its inevitable fate, as she doubted there would be much time before they all froze to death. She’d tour the village, perhaps, ask a few questions, and perhaps seek out a reliable way to undo the damage.

Already suited up, she slipped out, content to leave the sleeping phoenix on her perch. The morning was gray, but there was no wind and it wasn’t snowing. Yet, at least. The poignant stench of darkness was everywhere, swirling around everything.

She took a moment to inspect the outside of Sky Chancer’s home. There was no evidence they were beset by monsters the night before, as far as she could tell. No scratch marks or indentations on the walls or door of the house, not even any signs that anything had moved through the accumulated snow. But she had heard them, seen the shaking they caused.

She turned for the village, and spotted an Earth stallion, clearing snow from the front of his home. He was relatively young, still in his prime, perhaps. He looked burdened, however, as if dragged down by a multitude of weights, and moved with a lethargy of somepony far older than he should have been. He spotted her and offered her a friendly wave, but his smile was fragile and his eyes had bags beneath them. He shivered. It wasn’t from the cold. She moved on.

The village was small. Little homes were built in a scattered cluster, and it was likely quite spacious without the snowdrifts. The style of homes was unfamiliar to her, not the ‘modern’ style she was familiar with, but charming and efficient. She tried not to linger on the houses that appeared dead and empty.

Near the center of the village was a home a little larger than the others. Smoke was steadily rising out from a chimney stack, and she could see a warm glow from inside. It seemed like as good a destination as any.

She approached and tapped on the door, and a faint voice invited her in. She slipped inside and shut the door behind her. It wasn’t a home, but reminded her of a small auditorium. It was likely the place where the village met on important matters, she thought. There was a large stove near the center of the room, and a pony sat there, with a large pot of tea and a heavy blanket. She approached.

“Greetings!” They – he – said. He was a venerable Earth stallion, with a faded green coat and a light blue mane. His voice was shaky, but belied a strength that more than made up for his frail appearance. Much to her relief, she noticed that the darkness was weaker here. “Have a seat.”

She settled down by the warm stove. “Tea?” He offered. She mulled the offer over a moment, and nodded. The cold from outside had affected her more than she expected.

“So you’re the traveler I’ve heard all about, hmm?” She quirked an eyebrow at the question. The stallion chuckled. “Little Sky stopped by earlier, told be ‘bout you.”

“Ah. Yes. You may call me Celeste. It’s fortunate I arrived when I did.”

“Yes, very fortunate…” The stallion said with an idle nod. He chuckled softly. “Perhaps not fortune, but providence, hmm?”

She quirked an eyebrow at the comment, bemused. “You think I was guided here?”

He chuckled again. “Perhaps.” He pointed an old huff at her twice, one towards her head, then her back. “You’re something special, yes?” He grinned.

She glanced up at her horn, then to her back, where her wings were concealed by her cloak. “You’ve noticed,” she said. His grinned widened. “Not many have, although I’ve only met you and two others.”

“Perhaps they do not know,” he said. “Perhaps they do not understand. Perhaps they do not even care too. But I know, I can perceive – you are no mere traveler. A journeyer, on a mission.”

She glanced away, to the cracking fire within the stove. It cast a warm orange glow as it fought back the cold and darkness. She took a sip of her tea – the same Sky Chancer provided, but more flavorful, brewed at the hooves of a master, perhaps. “I’m trying to find answers.”

“And you have found a purpose. Something better, yes?” The stallion said.

“You want me to be a warrior princess?”

The stallion chuckled again, bordering on full-on laughter. “You’ve heard the story, then,” he said. He looked up, thoughtful, then spoke again, his voice factual, lacking the humor: “The story is very old, little more than a legend. How much is truth and how much is myth is a mystery to even me – and I am very old.”

But not as old as…

“I will tell these thing: there is a burial chamber in those caves the story speaks of. An epitaph, even, although time has worn it to scratches. There is power in those caves, power that even a dusty old earthwalker like me can perceive.” He stopped, frowning for the first time since she met him. “And there is now a monster. If it was the kind of monster that tore flesh and devoured the living, it would be a mercy. But this is a slow, freezing death. Minor aches and pains are slow to fade, and wounds don’t seem to want to heal very quickly.”

She sighed. “I don’t know about a purpose, or any divine will, but I know that I want to help.”

He nodded. “Very well – it’s up the hill to the north, can’t miss it. Best to leave early before the storms get fierce,” he said. He nodded over to a folded cloth on a nearby bench. “Please take my cloak. It’ll be a bit warmer than yours.”

She rose and quickly swapped cloaks. His was heavier, smelled of wood smoke, and was embroidered with birds. “Thank you for your help,” she said. “I’m afraid I didn’t get your name.”

“Oh? I don’t think I got yours either,” he replied. She smiled.

“Perhaps after I return.”

Then she turned and left, leaving the warm fire for the dark whiteness.

The cave was further up the hillside than she thought, but she found it. Although she could have found it with her eyes bound and her ears plugged by the darkness that practically flowed from it. What may have once been an uninteresting little hole in the rocks was ominous, icicles dangling down like the fangs of a savage animal. The darkness beyond the mouth was like a solid wall of nothing, obscuring what lied beyond.

She didn’t hesitate, stepping past it. it may have been her imagination, but she thought the darkness ripped like water, resisting her passing.

She conjured a pair of flares, illuminating the winding, ice-covered tunnel. Despite the wind outside, it was deathly still. She sent one flare shooting forward, and it curved off through the tunnel, leaving a faintly glowing trail of light for her to follow.

The next chamber past the entrance tunnel was little more than a junction, with several other dark tunnel mouths branching off in different directions. Pale light filtered through a gap in the ceiling, and ice and snow had formed a pile beneath. Icy formations were clinging to walls.

She stepped into the center of the chamber, ice crunching beneath her hooves. The different tunnels each presented a myriad of unknown possibilities, and she wasn’t sure which one to take. She examined each one, coming to a complete stop in the center of the chamber.

So why did she still hear a crunching sound?