Eyes in the Nightmare [Canceled]
Part [1-6]
Book: Two - Trial
By: Michael A.
Edited by: Scarheart, Typoglyphic.
Part: 1
The darkness surrounded a lone figure, accompanied by a strange mist. It trailed about her hooves, swirling with her methodical and slow movements. The air was cool and crisp. There was no wind. The world was calm, but held an unearthly aura. Something was amiss. The visitor felt it.
Voices. Tiny voices. Hundreds of them. They drifted through the unnatural calm. They were the only thing to pierce the unnerving silence. The cacophony began to grow, becoming louder with each passing second. Within the shrouding mist, the visitor did not like it—at first, she was unsure. The wandering soul tilted an ear—she came to know to whom those voices belonged to. Rather, remembered who they had belonged to. She stopped, sensing the fear of what came next.
What, had come next.
The area around her began to shifted, morphed by some unknown entity. It formed into the old, crumbling hallway. The wandering soul knew this hallway, having walked it many times before. She took a step, but stopped as a ghostly image of a servant appeared at her stead, then phased right through her. A paralyzing fear overcome her mind. She froze in place. Something felt badly out of place, yet was still… frighteningly familiar to her. Overcoming her fear with sheer stubbornness, she stood her ground. More ghostly images appeared around her, each a specter of someone who had walked this hallway before her.
There were more than just the voices, she came to realize. To her ears came cries of despair, tearing at her heart. Cries of pain crackled like madness; cries of pure terror shattered the air with ghostly echoes. A forgotten crown lay to the side, bent and disfigured as if to mock her. Where..? Curling a lip, the wandering soul growled, broken from her paralyzing trance long enough to kick it aside in a flare of dying rage. It crumbled as soon as her hoof made contact, causing her to lose her balance and trip slightly.
Nothing…
Her hooves clattered soundlessly as she regained her balance. Breathing suddenly became difficult. A heart deep within her chest pounded, threatening to burst. She turned her head from side to side, studying the hallway around her. Doors lined the sides of the haunting passage. Wandering thoughts formed.
Which way?
Which door?
Do I dare open one?
More than one?
Dread followed in the shadows within her being. A slow, and terrible, dawning began to etch itself into being. Her mind contemplated the action, any action, but ultimately decided that the only action she could take would be to open one of the doors. The decision was not out of impulse or curiosity, but out of an internal arrow that pointed her towards it. Her hooves commanded her brain as she began to trot forward, heading towards the closest door. The door commanded her attention. It thrummed, something on the other side pulsed with an unnatural life—a ghostly heart without a body to bleat life into. It drew upon the senses, her senses, calling out a name she had begun to hate.
Chrysalis…
The name ran threw her head. She hesitated as she reached for the handle.
“Am I?”
It was her voice, yet felt apart. Its origin lay beyond the door she now stood before. Hesitation held her fast and she wondered, with fear, what lay beyond. Her mind fought with the internal struggle as she tried to make her decision.
“Am I Chrysalis, or have I become something… else?”
The door swung towards her unexpectedly—darkness spilled out like a wave of unbridled terror. Screams upon its wake overcame Chrysalis. The former queen tried to cry out, but her voice held no sound. The waves became tendrils, wrapping around her as laughter burst from deep within what lay beyond. The gripping sensation caused pain. Bones threatened to break as she was lifted with ease. The fallen queen struggled. Another cry formed in her throat, yet could not escape from between her fangs. The darkness drew her in. Suddenly, she knew what lay inside. Her wings—ghostly tatters of their former glory—flared out as she tried with even more effort to escape.
Come see your children!!!
A voice, not her own, sneered in her head.
The wandering soul was hauled through the door, her cerulean eyes wide with a terror she had not felt since… since…
“No… No… Nononono!”
The words were there, but nothing came forth. They were phantoms of a plea that no one would ever hear. A cry for help that would forever go unnoticed.
The air shifted—a chamber formed around the body of the struggling changeling. The horrid things that had gripped her disappeared as though they had never been. The fallen queen fell to a hardened ground, wet and smooth. Stagnant air filled her nostrils. She hung her head low. Something felt dreadfully wrong. A spark within sputtered—she struggled to keep it lit. Chrysalis did not want…
Her focus broke. Little scraping sounds of crawling things sounded from about her hooves. Blinking away the inner turmoil, Chrysalis looked down. A small creature pressed up against one of her forehooves. The familiarity put a slight smile to her broken lips. Bending further, she nuzzled the child.
My child, she remembered.
At first, it was the greatest elation of her life. Her first clutch of eggs! Chrysalis hefted him wearily with her magic. She brought the little thing to her eye level. She smiled at her child—she could hear the others coming. They had smelled their mother. Ancient teachings, ingrained in their creation, told them to crawl to their mother.
They could not know a different hunger was in the room with them that day.
The changeling ran her tongue over her dirty pale grub. She settled it down upon her stomach and she eased her legs beneath her. Her body felt weak, but it was something that she felt that she had to do. More grubs undulated from around the chamber, drawn to their mother’s love. She could feel the need.
Was there enough?
She already knew the answer. The answer had brought forth what she was going to do next… what she had to do next. It was the challenge that every queen faced for their children: the balance between love given, and love taken. They were not ready for the latter. The young were like parasites, taking more than they could give. Feeding upon them this young would cause them to die.
“No... no, please. Please! I don’t want to see this!”
Chrysalis felt herself thrust from the memory. Before, it was like she was living it for the first time. Now, it was like watching it unfold. She held no control. She held no power. She could only… watch.
Ah, but there was a choice. A choice that you made. You could have done more. This was your first batch; the first clutch. Was it a false start to your vast kingdom, Chrysalis? Why did you bother when you knew there was not enough love sustain yourself, much less your children?
The words of Chrysalis’ haunting twin returned. They mocked her. It mocked her.
Chrysalis returned to the memory. She called out to her children. They came, eagerly. They were undeveloped and helpless—completely reliant on their mother’s protection and for sustenance.
Their trust was absolute.
Chrysalis picked up the first one with her hooves, the one that had greeted her. It was small, no bigger than a newborn foal. It’s hard carapace had yet to grow in, leaving it’s back bare and unprotected. Its eyes were sightless and milky white. They fixated upon her muzzle. She gave it a nudge. It’s hunger was great. She had nothing to give. The changeling had searched and searched, but her hunt had ended in failure. Her intended targets had been slain by bandits, the house a burnt ruin.
Her maw opened. Fangs gleamed. The child squirmed a little, but completely trusting in its mother. A pause. Chrysalis realized what she was doing, but it did not stop her. She bit down. The grub spasmed and squirmed. It could not cry out, for it had no voice. Slowly, she drained the love from her child. The poison numbed its tiny body. There would be no pain.
Chrysalis screamed at herself, both then and now. She did not stop. She fed even though she was completely repulsed by her actions. The little body became more and more feeble. It shriveled up like old, cracked leather. She set it down gently, with reverence. Horrified as something took over her conscience. Chrysalis tried to stop, but could not. More of her children were coming, expecting to be fed. Instinct drove them towards her and their terrible fate.
“Please… please, go away,” Chrysalis pleaded, ‘though she knew it was in vain.
One by one, the starved shade of the young queen fed upon them. They shriveled as the life were sucked painlessly through numbing fangs. Tears falling upon the still bodies laid about her. Their love for their mother had continued until their last breath.
Ah, was this is when I first nested in your little brain? Possibly. It has been too long for me to remember. Whether it was or not, I thank you.
Chrysalis didn’t hear the voice, her own blocking out everything as she internally pleaded for her body to stop. She did not drain them all.
Forty-two.
Forty-two children devoured.
Forty-two children murdered.
Forty-two souls sacrificed to appease a dark goddess.
Three remained.
Somehow, she had regained herself. Somehow, she had arranged the little forms into neat rows within the chamber. Mute horror grasped at her soul like a leech. The surviving grubs were on her back, oblivious to what she had just done. She would move them somewhere else. It would not bode well to raise them in a tomb.
The vision faded. Chrysalis was again alone in the foggy hallway. Hot tears streamed down her face as her legs trembled. She had tried to lock that memory away all her life, burying it in the deepest parts of her subconscious.
You assumed it was because you were young and inexperienced. Such a tragic moment for the buddings of a monster. You chose survival over your children, yet they would have died far more horribly if you had tried to keep them alive. A hard choice, one that you hate yourself for… and still fear that it was not the right one to make. Hate and self loathing buried it, but you never confronted it. This explains much, yet… not enough.
The voice wasn’t her own, nor did she recognize it.
Shaking violently, the changeling threw her head up. “I had no choice!” cried Chrysalis. “I did not want to! I loved my children! I cherished my children! I gave my all for my children! I was starving! The hunt was poor! The war had decimated everything! There was no love to be had!” Tears were again saturating her cheeks. “I made a choice! Life or death! I could only save a few. I made their deaths as painless as possible!”
Did you? I am not criticizing your choice, Chrysalis. I am merely reminding you of it. It is you who questions your actions, not I.
“Who are you? Why are you doing this?”
It is not I who is on this journey. I wish to only observe… for now.
“What do you mean?! What journey? What’s going on?!” Chrysalis cried out in desperation, grasping at the possibility of what was going on.
A few minutes went by without a response, and the unknown entity had gone silent.
“I had laid too many eggs. I had so many hopes and dreams for my family. My hive. I was going to be strong, a good queen, a just queen. We would remain in the shadows, staying away from the more powerful queens, long enough until I could form a proper hive and establish myself. How was I to know the other queens would retaliate by destroying all of my food sources? There was a war among the ponies. The Banishment. Devastation was everywhere. What recourse was there for me? What choice did I have?”
There was always a choice, and always will be. It is the job of the ruler to make those tough choices. No one claimed it would be easy to rule, Chrysalis. We must live with the choices we make—hope they were made with the greatest outcome for those who rely on us for rule.
Chrysalis bent her neck and wept.
Part: 2
Chrysalis moved, yet could feel no sensation of movement from her body. Muscles did not respond to her, yet she was guided, as if her mind willed her forward. The presence was with her, unseen. She could not ignore it, yet every time she tried to focus her attention to whomever it was watching her, a shadowy darkness appeared, blurring her sight.
A corridor appeared, much as before. It was as dark and foreboding as it was leading to the last door. The voices returned, some the same as before, others joining in the maddening din. Ghostly shapes passed through her. Chrysalis yelped, skittering away as her heart pounded in her chest.
Her thoughts lingered on her dead children.
Changelings were devoted to their queen. They would do anything for their mother. Their obedience was as blind as a freshly hatched grub. It had been a long time ago. The queen had thought she had pushed the dark memory so far into her mind it was all but forgotten. It only came in the dreams...
Eventually, the corridor would lead to another door. The fallen queen gathered herself, knowing she had to press on. There was no other choice. Something drove her forward. Was in instinct? Was it her own terror? The unknown terrified Chrysalis. Yet, she was a changeling. Changelings were meant to adapt in order to thrive. But... she was afraid.
Lingering horrors trailed after her, both imagined, freshly remembered and worse…
The ghostly creatures were pony in form, mostly. Fearful glances caught exposed ribs, shriveled innards, and rotten flesh. They were beginning to show signs of great violence having been done upon them. Some were missing limbs, or had great gashes upon their battered forms. Others were missing eyes or ears, some had their skin flayed from their bodies. Great acts of cruelty became visible as the forms became more and more numerous. Sounds of battle reached for the queen. Her ears pinned back and she shied from them, wide-eyed and dreading the noise. Chrysalis cried out.
War. War never changes, does it? [The fighting. The death. The hatred. The rage. The sadness. All of it is always there. It’s delicious, is it not?]
“Who are you?”
Her demand came out as a mere squeak.
You have asked the question before. You already know the answer. You simply refuse to accept it. Typical. You have never changed. Nothing you have learned in your life has ever convinced you to change from your own stubborn stupidity. [This is a fault of your own, not mine.]
A dead changeling appeared before her. How she knew it was dead was due to the fact she remembered killing this particular changeling herself. It was another queen, tall and slender once. Beautiful then, a grotesque mockery of her former self now. The thing smiled at Chrysalis, bade her to follow.
Behind her, the ghosts fell in step, forming columns as they had marched in life. A soundless cry echoed into nothing, but it shook Chrysalis to her soul. The undead army responded, thundering their hooves to the ground and letting loose a hellish shriek to curdle the sun itself.
We who are about to die, accuse you!
Death. It is what we are now. Thanks to you.
Behold the fruits of your ambition, O’ great Queen!
Behold, the Queen of Deception! See how her greed for power consumes even the souls of those she had conquered!
Even those who desired peace with you were given the only gift you ever gave freely…
Death.
A door appeared before her, at the end of the corridor which had seemed far too small to hold an army. Yet, one was behind her, eager to please a Queen who could never be pleased.
You knew this queen, correct?
That voice again. The other one. Her strange, unseen guide.
She gave you shelter. She gave you succor. She gave you a place to raise what was left of your hive... she gave you love, and loved you. Yet, that was not enough, was it?
“Stop it!” cried Chrysalis, dipping her head as if to duck from the accusation of truth. “I… I… I need explain nothing to you! I need not justify my past actions to something who will not show their face!”
You do not have to, Queen of the Changelings. Go through the door. See what truths lie beyond its threshold.
Chrysalis snarled, raising her head high, whipping it about as she whirled. The ghostly army stared at her, expectant. Soulless eyes burned with white blue flames of their necromantic unlife. The queen stared out among them, seeking and finding nothing of what she sought. Her companion remained unseen, unfelt, and unknown. For long moments, she stared, hoping against hope, as though her sheer will would bring her antagonist to light.
Nothing of the sort happened.
Fear and frustration gnawed at her. Slowly, she turned to the door. It stank of death. Only now did she notice the smell. It struck her like a falling brick wall, and she reeled backwards. Her stomach lurched and she fought the urge to vomit. Slowly, it opened as she approached it. Behind her, the army vanished as if a breeze had come and swept them away, like leaves in the autumn wind. Soulless laughter echoed in the darkness.
Before her stood the corpse of the one Queen who had offered her everything…
Smiling.
And quite dead.
“Have you come to inspect the quarters I had arranged for you?” it asked in a horrid, gurgling voice. She had a throat... once. It was gone, now. Chrysalis had torn it out with her own fangs. “The grubs will be most happy and comfortable. There is love to spare, so take as much as you want. Oh, it’s so good to have a Queen to talk to! It has been far too many years since I’ve come in contact with another hive!”
Chrysalis’ lower lip began to quiver. A new guilt washed over her and she held her breath. Wide-eyed, she stared at the abomination, even as the dark tendrils again snaked towards her, encircling her legs. Blood red flames burned in the eye sockets of the dead queen before her. No malice emanated from the undead thing─it was as though the creature was unaware it was dead. She beckoned, welcoming; the tendrils tightened, and Chrysalis was pulled into the door before she could utter a startled yelp.
Drones thrummed through the hive, going about their daily routines. Each one had a specific duty and each one was taught to be as efficient as possible. It was not a large colony of changelings, numbering not even two hundred. Their golden carapaces were dull underground. There had been some expansion done to the hive itself and its occupants were covered in dirt and grime. They were a hard-working family, having extended a hoof to a queen and her very small brood.
Queen Florina was an elderly changeling, though her beauty was without question. She was exotic, bearing a long, curved horn compared to the crooked one of the dark queen she had taken in. Always smiling and always laughing, Florina believed changelings were meant to be something for the world to awe, and in the best of ways. She had plans. Great plans. She had hoped to reveal herself to the world when her hive was strong enough. The timing was always bad, she explained helplessly to Chrysalis. If it wasn’t one thing, it was something else.
The ponies had just gone through a terrible civil war. One of the princesses had disappeared. Equestria was in shambles. There had been a change in the appearance of the moon. This terrified changelings. The moon was their guide at night and now they felt a malevolent spirit within it.
Queen Florina was not sure what to do. She had known both princess. Both had been her friends. Princess Luna herself had suggested integrating changelings into the world by using Equestria as a platform, but the plan had never gone into effect. She was supposed to present the idea before her sister…
As she pondered this, she shared her ideas with the younger queen. Chrysalis balked at the idea of ponies and changelings sharing the world. Ponies were easily mislead, had a herd mentality. Though Florina admired and respected the three tribes, Chrysalis only saw prey.
Her brood grew within the protection of the Golden Queen’s Hive and Chrysalis herself was given books of magic to better herself. Queen Florina trusted her, treating her like a little sister. She loved to talk about families, about coming across strange stallions on the road and bedding them on a whim. Mares, too, if the mood struck her right.
Chrysalis found she did love the queen who gave her shelter. But, her obsession for power began to fester, and grow. Every time she suggested it was time for her to expand out on her own, Florina would beg her to put off and be patient. “Give me some time to approach Celestia. She mourns the loss of her sister. I must be gentle going about this. I will reveal us to her and ask for land enough for the both of us to raise our children and expand our numbers.”
At first, Chrysalis relented, trusting her friend.
Friend…
Queen Florina was the first true friend she had ever had. The only one. The Golden Changeling matriarch had a soothing voice and kind eyes. Her wings could touch away the leavings of a bad day. Her changelings reflected their mother in almost every way. Hardship was worked through with diligence and a smile. Hard work was rewarded with love.
For Chrysalis, it was not enough.
She did, however, partake in Florina’s habit of waylaying travellers for a night of passion, taking on the guises of loved ones missed or left back home. Chrysalis, however preferred to assume the form of something near a goddess in the eyes of her victims. She gave them what they desired the most and she would drain the love from them until there was nothing but a lifeless husk.
Ponies were prey.
Celestia proved to be a very popular mare in the minds of stallions… and mares. She basked in the love they had for her. Chrysalis simply capitalized upon that. Her love stores were soon bloated and her power grew to heights she had never before dreamt possible. Months became years. Years became decades. Chrysalis repeated her methods, refined them until she felt they were perfect.
Queen Florina was unaware of what her friend was doing. She praised Chrysalis in how well toned she had become and marveled at the length of her mane and tail, marks of a truly exceptional queen indeed! The two became close and, eventually, became lovers. Chrysalis felt no guilt in the lives of the ponies she had slain.
Ponies were prey and nothing else.
Soon, it was Chrysalis finding excuses for Florina to put off presenting herself to Princess Celestia. The dark queen had begun to formulate her own plans and ideas. None of them involved a peaceful co-existence with Equestria. The combined hives had expanded and Chrysalis laid more and more eggs. Soon, her children outnumbered those of her hostess. They swarmed out into the night and learned how to imitate their food. Their mother gave them a touch to their minds of what was expected of them and she encouraged them in the arts of deception, coercion, and stealth.
Soon, all too soon, Queen Florina discovered what her beloved friend had been doing behind her back. Eventually, the actions of the Dark Queen caught up with her. One day, she was summoned to the throne chamber of the Golden Queen. Chrysalis knew something was wrong, for the summons came along with a contingent of guards.
As she entered the chamber, she noted a dried out husk belonging to a once pony upon the center of the floor. The glowing eyes of Queen Florina levelled upon her and they were filled with great sadness.
“Why?” she asked, her voice echoing.
Chrysalis felt guilt, at first. She could only stare at the dead pony, noting where her fangs had pierced the skin. The changeling loved going for the throat. The pulse of life was greatest there, offering the greatest thrill, even as the throes of passion ended as any victim of a black widow.
“Ponies are prey,” came the reply, Chrysalis looking up. Whatever shame she might have had was pushed aside as her pride asserted itself.
“They are our key to peace!”
Chrysalis snorted, stepping forward until she loomed over the corpse. “This?” She nudged it with a hard hoof. “This thing? These weaklings? They cannot even admit they wronged their night princess! She fell to darkness and they did nothing to reach out to her! Her own sister even basked in the glory and failed to see what she was doing. They will cause their own destruction. Ponies must be made to kneel before us!”
Florina rose to her hooves, her wings flaring with anger and buzzing at the indignity. “Treachery! You want war!”
“I want what I deserve. What you deserve. What we should have!”
“I will not have blood on my hooves! I will not murder the innocent! Please, Beloved, there is a chance to atone! Please, cease this madness! You only cater to the darkness. Do not give into it! It is the very same sort of darkness which cast Luna from her sister! Do not cast yourself from me!” There was something in those eyes.
Chrysalis narrowed her own.
“I love you, Chrysalis. Do not do this. I beg you!”
In my heart, there is no room…
“I thank you for your hospitality, Queen Florina. I will take my changelings and I will leave. I will not involve you in my war, but I will ask you stay out of my way.” Chrysalis turned to leave.
“I can’t let you do that.”
She stopped in mid stride, slowly turning her head and giving her friend an incredulous look. “Can’t? You are just as weak as they are.”
“I will stop you.”
“Stop me?” Chrysalis laughed. It was maniacal and short. “If you try, I will kill you. I will slaughter your hive and burn it all to the ground. I have grown powerful, Florina. Far more powerful than you can even imagine. You have taught me much and I will forever be grateful. But my path lies in the place you will not go, apparently. Stay to your own path. I will forge my own.”
So, Chrysalis, you did love… once.
“I am sorry, Beloved.” Sadness crashed against the Dark Queen’s senses. “But I cannot in good conscience allow you to leave this place. This is my last warning: put away your desire for power and be content with what you have. You need for nothing. You want for less. We are all we need. Please.” Tears formed. And fell. “Please, Chrysalis.”
Chrysalis bowed her head and closed her eyes. She churned inwardly with the sort of titanic struggle all great kings and queens undergo, but for her…
Kill quickly or make it a torturous experience?
Her head snapped up as she made up her mind, bearing a smile as soothing as a cool, clear stream. Her horn glowed and her eyes were alight. Florina was confused, not sure what to make of the odd combination.
It cost her.
Chrysalis released the spell and became a blur. Her shadowy form darted forward, closing a distance of twenty feet in the blink of an eye. She reformed before the Golden Queen, her jaws opening and her fangs glinting in the light of the room. As she moved, a mental command went out. As her fangs bit into flesh, her changelings moved as one. Florina struggled, feeling her power being drained. Feebly she kicked, trying to gasp through a crushed windpipe. A horrible, wet gurgling sound bubbled from her throat. Chrysalis bit down harder and wrenched her jaws violently. The tearing of flesh found her ears and blood gushed into her mouth.
No… no, what are you doing? Stop! Not like this! Chrysalis shut away the little voice trying to reason with her. It had no place now.
Florina fell away, forgotten, gasping for air that would not come. The queen thrashed as Chrysalis stepped away, casually blasting the guards who rose to defend their mother far too late. Cackling madly, she began to slaughter, feeling the magic of the dead queen coursing through her and giving her a drunken sensation.
The message she sent her children resounded and they all acknowledged eagerly the will of their mother.
They would do as their queen, their mother, commanded and without question. They were the instruments of her will and the extension of her power.
She was cast from the room violently, rolling over and over, her wings and legs flailing uselessly. Eventually, she skidded to a stop and simply lay there, battered and empty. Everything was broken. Her heart. Her will. Her mind. Her life. Chrysalis began to weep, pulling her legs painfully to her body. She wept for the friend she had murdered. Her remorse would never bring back the dead queen. She opened her eyes and Florina’s dead corpse was there again, smiling at her. It then faded.
Why would you throw away love and stability for ambition? I am curious.
Chrysalis could not respond with anything other than more weeping. She did manage to draw herself into a guilt-ridden ball of apathy. “Let me die,” she begged when she did find her voice. “End it. You’ve seen what I am, what I did. By all things sacred, kill me! I am a monster!”
Kill you? Are you an animal to be slaughtered? Do I have the right to take your life? Is your life even worth taking? You are a monster, Chrysalis. You made yourself into one. The path you made was of your own choosing.
Chrysalis hauled her head up. “Who are you?”
No answer was given. The voices from before were gone. There was nothing but darkness and cold. A strange numbness began to seep through her joints and muscles. The fallen changeling could feel eyes upon her and the pity behind them. She snarled at the sense.
“Spare me your pity, whoever, or whatever, you are.”
I cannot help but feel pity at something that is pitiful, Chrysalis. You have become that.
“You mock me!”
No, I do not. I see something someone who has succumb to the same creature as I.
“Nothing you could have ever been could possibly match me...”
Not even a Nightmare?
Part: 3
The darkness swirled around her. The memories tumbled carelessly and without coherence. A conversation with a changeling mingled with the screams of a dying manticore which had foolishly fallen into the hive. She was not sure when either had happened, nor if they were figments or fact. Death beckoned slowly, grinning with no emotion--only the inevitable.
Time. Time was against her. This she knew, yet she wondered if she should even care. It haunted over her like an eerie shadow. Death and time, hoof in hoof. Marching in step, never changing. Unstoppable. Unavoidable.
She fought back an urge to scream. Instead, a choking sob erupted in its place.
A hallway appeared before her.
“No,” she cried. “Not again.”
One leg moved forward, followed by another. Against her will, her body shuddered, shambling down the hall. The mists returned and surrounded her. It was cold. The voices of the dead once again assailed her ears. Tear stained cheeks again felt the flows as her eyes became misted in her grief.
“Please, don’t do this,” she begged.
Onwards, she trudged. A door appeared. It was green and charcoal black, like chitin. It pulsed like the heart of a hive. A deathly hiss sounded around her. Chrysalis flinched, her ears splaying flat and behind her skull. Her neck sagged, her head hanging low.
“No. No. No. No.”
She knew what was next. Her heart went cold and her mind froze.
Again, the dark tendrils reached forward from beneath the door, this time tinged the emerald color of her markings.
The entirety of the door swung open and lunged at her like a striking predator, gleaming fangs bursting from the frames and clacking together loudly like bone plates. Chrysalis screamed as she was devoured.
Time. It is a fickle thing, but it always moves onward. Three centuries since she betrayed the queen who had taken her in, Chrysalis had become strong. She was at the pinnacle of her power. All changeling queens feared her, what few that had not fallen in the shadows of her conquests. Her hive was enormous; colonies sent tribute to her constantly. Her reach extended throughout the land and her kind was still unknown to the world.
She had all but forgotten the Golden Queen. Sometimes, she would recall a distant conversation, but her greed and malice had blotted out what love might have been in her heart. The nightmares were frequent and she slept little, but she ignored them. Such things were beneath her. She was the Queen of the Changelings, all of the changelings, and right now, one of her children was questioning her. Questioning her rule.
“Why are you showing me this?” Chrysalis demanded of her changeling. Her irritation was evident as she glared at her child. Her throne room was vast, her seat of power a raised dais covered with cushions. She lay upon it lazily, her tail flicking in time with her annoyance. With a flippant wave of her holed hoof, she indicated towards the shivering mass next to her child. It was a pony.
“Mother,” her child began, flicking her ear towards her captive. “We must maintain our love supplies. I understand and fully believe in your rule, but can we not give our love sources some comfort? Can we not give them proper food and water?”
Chrysalis snorted. “And why should I even consider that? When one pony has given the hive all it can before no longer serving of any use, it is disposed of and replaced. Why should we put an effort into giving comfort to our prey?” Her eyes levelled coolly upon her daughter.
“If we care for them—” The changeling swallowed hard and shivered under her mother’s glower. “—properly, then we could extend their life expectancy and possibly be able to extend the duration in which we can draw love from them.” She kept her head low, but maintained eye contact with the Queen.
Chrysalis hated sniveling children and demanded any who spoke to her match eye-for-eye. Those who showed weakness were not long for this world.
The Queen considered the pony, peeling her lips back in a crooked sneer. “Look at it! Soft. Weak. A herd animal. You are suggesting treating them like farm animals, my daughter?” She leaned forward, a wicked grin twisting rapidly into a scowl.
“Mother, this is a living, thinking creature. Perhaps if we were to take into the consequences of discovery in the future, then perhaps—”
“Do you think me foolish enough to expose us to retaliation, child?” asked the Queen dangerously. Her voice had dropped to a deathly whisper, her eyes having narrowed to glowing green slits of menace.
The changeling drone kissed the floor with her muzzle. “N-no, Mother! I-I-I only urge caution and a suggestion to help the hive!” Waves of fear drained out from her small form.
Chrysalis drank it in, smirking as she reclined back. “Do you think you know better to run the hive than me, my little morsel?”
Eyes wide with fear, the drone looked up in abject shock. “No, Mother! I would never—”
The Queen rose like a shadow of pure horror, her eyes ablaze with green fire. Her mane flowed out behind her like undulating snakes, her wings flaring madly as they buzzed. She was massive; she was power unrivaled. Chrysalis invoked terror from herself, casting it about the room as wave upon wave upon wave of malice.
“You dare think I cannot rule! You dare to question me, the one who gave your pathetic form life? You dare?” The matriarch’s voice boomed like a thunderclap throughout the chamber, shaking her stoic guards to the very core of their beings. Her horn was aglow with her terrible power. She selected a target.
The pony screamed. It was lifted from the floor, and it screamed. It was a whinny of a stallion who knew he was going to die. The Queen’s aura enveloped him, bits of shards like bolts breaking off and impaling themselves deep into his flesh. Blood gushed, and the screaming went on and on. The drone looked on as slowly, oh, so slowly her mother began to tear his limbs from their sockets.
After what seemed an eternity, Chrysalis grew bored and flicked her horn. The pony gave one last horrid, gurgling scream before he flew in several directions throughout the room in a bloody mess.
Not a drop touched the Queen.
Shaking with fear, the drone could feel her mother’s displeasure as attention shifted from where the captive had been to her.
“I gave you love and this is how you repay my duties as a mother? You question me? Child, you are sorely misguided with your thinking.” The Queen settled down to her hooves, casting a concerned look over her shoulder at her cushions. Seeing nothing amiss with her comfort, she again turned upon her wayward daughter. “You must be punished.”
“I-I-I… Yes, Mother.” The drone bowed her head, trembling with violence as though her body was about ready to shake apart.
“Very well, then.” Again, her eyes lit up with magic. “Look upon me.” Chrysalis settled back into her throne and appeared for all the world she had never left her spot. The drone did as she was told, her solid blue eyes wide with fear. She reached out and touched the link she shared with her, as she did with all of her children. Once she had that firmly within her grasp, she commanded through her mental link with her children to pay attention.
“Observe, my children,” she whispered into every mind. Chrysalis could feel the very souls of each and every one of her offspring, noting with satisfaction they all obeyed without question. “Your sister has strayed. She has broken herself from the hive. She has forgotten the laws I have labored to make and uphold. She has taken the love I have given her—so she might be strong and clever—and spat it in my face. She has been judged. She must be punished. Observe, my children.”
The drone squirmed as she felt all of her siblings linking with her mind. They were cold and indifferent. An expectant hush made her mind silent. The silence was deafening. Her heart seized again with terror, but she looked up at her mother. No, not her mother.
Her Queen.
She was terrible. She was power. She was absolute.
Chrysalis beckoned her drone to her with a thought. The drone obeyed. She rose to her rubbery hooves and shambled forward, obedient and submissive. Within her, she cried out. The memory was far too strong. It was one of but many examples. This example stood out. She raged against herself, cried for her past self to stop, to not do this--to show mercy.
When the drone was close enough, the Queen reached out with a hoof and tenderly caressed the little changeling’s jawline and chin. She smiled down gently, before malevolence took hold and twisted her expression. The vile grin came with a hiss and her mind took hold in a cruel manner as to cause her daughter to cry out in pain.
“You are a defect,” hissed Chrysalis. “You are flawed. You are broken. You cannot be my child. No changeling of mine is weak. You have shown weakness by having empathy for a source of food. I must take back that which I gave you. I must make an example of you. Do you understand, child?”
With her eyes squeezed shut from the pressure upon her mind, the drone nodded quickly, swallowing with a dry tongue and suddenly parched throat. A cry muffled through from her vocal chords.
Leaning forward, Chrysalis bestowed a kiss upon her daughter upon the tip of her snout. She then pulled back and regarded the drone for a moment. Opening her mouth, her fangs gleamed in the low light of the room. They elongated, her primary fangs dropping another inch. Magic flared along the length of her jagged horn, and she began to draw in breath to the back of her throat.
The drone gasped, her eyes shooting wide. Her body began to spasm and she writhed against the involuntary movement. Chrysalis regretted what she was about to do, but it was necessary, she reasoned. Order had to be maintained. There could be no dissention, imagined or otherwise. Good intentions meant nothing to the Queen. Only her word mattered.
Slowly, she began to suck the life from her daughter.
The pain was like pulling sinew and muscles apart. The drone’s mind became aflame. Pain wracked every inch of her frame. She could feel her brothers and sisters draw back from the sudden violence. But, there was no pity. Only cold agreement that Chrysalis’ word was law.
The Queen continued to drain her daughter, though she felt a smidgen of remorse. To correct a problem sometimes meant sacrificing for the greater good of the hive. It could not be weakened by the words of a single voice of dissention. She mourned for her child while at the same time remaining focused on the task. If she broke her own laws, then what good was she as a ruler? She could not be a mother. Such kindness was reserved for her eggs and larvae. Her nymphs required so much love.
As for the adults?
They needed to pull their own weight. Obedience was the only way if the hive was to function.
The drone fought. Her instincts begged her to fight back, to hold on to life. It was everything she had. It was the only thing she knew. She feared the void, just as the pony had feared dying moments ago. She did not want to die. She begged and pleaded with Chrysalis to forgive her.
Chrysalis ignored her.
In a manner of seconds, there was nothing but a lifeless husk.
The Queen eyed her dead daughter indifferently. “Leave me,” she commanded her guards. Silently they obeyed.
Once the room was empty, and she made sure that noling could hear her, she wept. Chrysalis cried with regret, sadness, and self-hatred. She had cried for who she had become, and what she had to do.
Part: 4
Tears… something that the once queen knew quite well, but showed no one. Tears was a sign of weakness, and weaknesses could be exploited. She was supposed to be strong—a leader. One with followers so devoted they could be called children. She was their mother, their god, and their salvation. What type of god would cry? What type of god would show their weakness to the world? Chrysalis knew she was none of those things, but she never wanted to give that fact out to anyling.
Dark mist surrounded the fallen Queen, shrouding her in a dark aura that matched her heart. The hallway had returned, the ghostly shadows of her past still slowly walking down it in their never ending cycle. Their lives were cut short, or thrown off by her in one way or another; it was her fault that they walked this hallway.
Chrysalis shivered, her body shaking from both her sobs and the bitter cold that seared her soul. This hallway was a reminder of all of her sins, all of her flaws, and all of her mistakes. Was this Tartarus? Was this her eternal punishment for her wrongdoings in life? She did not know, nor did she care. If this was her fate, then it was one deserved.
This is the fate of a monster.
Soon, tears stopped falling, her throat running sore as her body had cried itself out. Although she had no more tears to shed, her sorrow remained. As she lay on the ground, a ghostly hoof stepped just in front of her muzzle. It trailed off, followed swiftly by three others, slowly trotting into the distance. Per curiosity, she tilted her gaze up and noticed something familiar about the pony it belonged to. It was a small green colt, his mane black and his flank was blank. She knew this foal. He stuck out in Chrysalis’ mind, though she could not place why. The queen rose to her hooves, her body slowly beginning to follow the apparition of the young pony who continued to walk forwards, seemingly oblivious to her presence. He trotted forwards, his eyes blank, staring blindly forwards.
Chrysalis trotted forwards, following the foal. More apparitions appeared and disappeared around her, though she payed them no mind. Her focus was on the child. Soon, the small foal took a right, walking towards one of the doors that lined the hallway. He stepped forwards, his body passing right right through as he phased through the door.. Chrysalis stood there, staring in the wake of his passing. Should she open it? Would it lead to the child that had piqued her attention? Dare her courage to flare past her fear and self loathing and bid her to go against her instinct to flee? The doors since now had held something of an evil, haunting aura around them, mimicking the memories they held behind them. This one, though, didn’t hold any negative emotions. It held an odd, foreign emotion that she had long since forgotten: joy.
The fallen queen stood at the door’s entrance, mind deep in contemplation. Soon, however, her horn lit up, the changeling set her jaw firmly, and the door handle glowing in her respective magical aura.
She turned the handle, and trotted in.
Chrysalis trotted forwards, the world around her red with fire. Her expression was neutral, holding no emotion. Her changelings buzzed around her, the Hive Mind full of chatter as the raid continued. Only minutes before, she and her hive had arrived at the isolated settlement along the Equestrian border, their goal to seize more vessels for them to feed on. Her hive was efficient, capturing all they could, killing all who opposed, and burned down the settlement to leave no trace of their presence. Screams of pain and suffering filled the Queen’s ears, accompanied by only the sounds of the raging fire.
It looks like it’s going to be a good harvest, she thought, walking over the corpses of fallen ponies, slain in their attempts to fight back. She stopped over the body of a fallen changeling, and looked down at it with shame. Weak, falling to weaponless ponies… She walked over him, commanding the Hive Mind to burn the body.
There had to be no evidence they were there.
She walked towards the middle of the burning settlement, watching as the rest final changeling flew off, heading back towards the hive with their harvest. She buzzed her wings, giving an approving nod at her children’s work before crouching down and readying herself for flight.
Then she heard it.
It was a soft cry, barely above the crackle and snapping for burning wood. Chrysalis paused her action, raising an ear to the sound. It cried out again, this time a little louder. Coughing accompanied the weeping. Chrysalis stood up tall, craning her neck around and trying to find the source of the cry. Her long and slender ears perked and swiveled at their bases, searching actively. After a few moments of listening, she tracked the source from a nearby building, flames shooting out for it’s windows.
Huh… seems my children missed one, she thought, trotting towards the building. She would have left it, letting the fire consume the one inside, but she didn’t want to risk anyone escaping. Her hive was close.
Throwing up a quick shield, the mighty queen strode into the building, flames licking at the sides of the bubble of energy that separated her from the heat. She looked around, searching for the source of the sound, and stumbling upon it soon enough. A small foal lay in his crib, apparently forgotten or his parents cocooned or, perhaps, even slain some time during the raid. There had been no sign of a struggle in what remained of the house. The devouring flames slowly making their way towards him.
Chrysalis crept up to the child, her shield phasing around him and letting him into its protective grasp. The child was still crying from inside its crib, wailing for a mother that would never return. Chrysalis looked around the room, and saw no signs that her changelings had even been in this house. Had the child's parents abandoned it?
Chrysalis crept up closer, picking up the child in her magic and lifting him up, facing him towards her. She expected the child to scream, cry out in fear for the monster in front of him. But, the colt didn't. The child silenced, holding out its hooves as if asking for Chrysalis to hold him. For the moment, she ignored his want, glaring at the wall as if it offended her. With a surge of magic running the length of her horn, the tip fired a bolt. It impacted and blew away a portion of the wall. Calmly, the changeling queen strode through it as though it was merely a stroll through the park. The foal hovered in the air, tagging along like a wriggling balloon.
Chrysalis tilted her head. "Do you not fear me, little one?
The foal didn't respond, instead wiggling and giggling, laughing at being suspended by magic. A small smile crept across the queen's face, the first genuine one she'd had in awhile. Chrysalis floated the foal onto her back, who immediately snuggled himself into her mane, grabbing some in his mouth.
The queen made her way away from the burning town, all but one of its residents killed or captured. Chrysalis felt the colt on her back shift, getting into a comfortable position, before she felt him gently fall asleep. Once she was far enough away so that the smoke would not affect them, she dropped the shield, letting the warm summer air waft over her body. Gently, the changeling queen laid down, trying her best not to disturb the precious cargo on her back. The foal shifted, but did not wake.
Looking back, Chrysalis looked upon the foal’s sleeping form, his chest slowly rising and falling. You do not fear me… you love me as if I was your mother, I feel it radiating off of you, she thought, resisting the urge to feed on the young child's love. As she stood lay there, watching over the young pony, a question bounced around in her mind: what was she going? She could not bring him back to her hive, his unconditional love for his unwillingly adopted mother would be impossible to hide, and would draw out any drone or guard who even got near him. But, she could also not leave him here. As ruthless as the queen was, she couldn’t bring herself to kill or abandon the one thing other than her children to willingly give her love.
She sighed, rising to her hooves, careful not to disturb the foal, and began trotting in the direction of the closest settlement she knew of, one that she would make sure that she never visited again…
The world returned to Chrysalis, her body and mind back in the present. The door she had just walked through remained in front of her, though the emotions she had felt while she was in her memory lingered. Hope. Joy. Happiness. All emotions that had become foreign to her for so long. A tear ran down the length of her muzzle, followed shortly by others.
This had been the first happy memory, the first one that had shown a side to her that wasn’t a monster. One good deed did not make up for all the evil she had done; not even close. But, the feeling was a welcome one, the warmth in her heart felt good contrary to the cold and emptiness it usually held.
Mercy… That is not something that I would have expected from you, Queen. You actions were entirely selfless, and done without gain… [Perhaps there is more of you left then I imagined.]
The voice returned, the one was was not born from her dreams or memory. The queen growled, the warmth in her heart vanishing and replaced with hate for her unseen spectator. She rose to her hooves, wings flaring and teeth showing as she got into an offensive stance. Chrysalis did not know the origin or direction of the disembodied voice, but she didn’t care. It could see her, so it could see her anger.
“Show yourself!” She screamed into the hallway, her hoof stomping into the misty ground. “I demand that you show your presence! You watch as I relive my pain; memories that I let bury and rot in my mind. Do you find joy in my suffering? Do you enjoy watching as I break?!”
With nostrils flared, the enraged queen bucked her hind hooves and made contact with the door, expecting it to break under her blow. But, to her disappointment, the door remained firm; deflecting her strike as if it were nothing. The queen stumbled forwards, taking a moment to regain her balance.
“What do you want…?” she mumbled, her voice soft, pleading rather than threatening.
The hallway was silent, the apparitions that continued to roam the halls continuing their deathly march, their presence the only thing that stirred. Chrysalis wanted to scream, wanted to cry. The queen wanted to release the anger and pent up emotions that flooded her mind. She was overwhelmed, the entire experience too much for her. She wanted to give up, to just die and rid herself of the pain and contemplation. But, she could not.
You are an interesting creature, Queen Chrysalis. You want nothing more than to die, but at the same time you have the greatest will to live I have ever seen. What drives you?
Chrysalis sighed, shaking her head. “I have asked myself that many times before. Day after day, night after night, I just want to die. I have done so much wrong, I have killed so many, I have mistreated friends and family, children and subjects, all in the name of…” Her voice caught in her throat, the next few words refusing to leave her lips. The queen’s muzzle scrunched up in anger, annoyance at herself. In one swift movement, the queen turned on her hind hooves and smacked her head against the nearest wall.
“Get these thoughts out of my head!” she screamed, repeating her violent action of self harm. “I just want to die!”
Each blow brought more pain that filled the queen’s mind, yet no visual evidence of her actions shown on her body. Conflicting thoughts ran through her head: Regret, yet acceptance. Pain, yet relief. Love, yet hate.
When the changeling could take no more, she ceased her torture and fell onto the ground, bringing her hooves to her head and screaming; both in pain and in anger. “What is wrong with me?!”
I… I do not know, the voice admitted, its neutral tone now showing concern. I once saw you as a one dimensional monster; a beast whose only purpose was to harm, and was fueled by only hate. Now… now we do not know what to think. None of your actions have been justified, nothing you have done is redeemable. Yet… yet you are not a monster of hate as we once viewed you as.
The queen sniffled, taking a shaky breath from her position on the floor. “Then what do you see me as now? What am I?”
The voice was silent. Chrysalis could feel it’s presence, sensing its contemplation.
We do not know, yet. More must be shown, before we bestow proper judgement. The voice sighed. There is one more memory that both of us must observe, one that we feel will reveal much that still remains hidden.
Chrysalis stood on her hooves, her head pounding, but her will to confront the voice kept her strong. “And what is that? What is this final memory that you want me to see?”
The voice was silent once again, and this time Chrysalis could sense that she was alone. The queen stood there, ghosts of her past trotting around and through her. She was alone, once again… she was always alone.
Part: 5
There is no black and white, only grey. Ponies believe that they can deem someone a hero, while another a villain.
Such a concept of absolutes is laughable.
There is no creature which is free of sin—free of wrongdoing. A pony can do a heroic act, but does that make them a hero? Can one good deed render someling worthy of the title of "Hero"? On the contrast, can one "evil" deed be enough to label someone a villain? Can a single fault, a decision that does not agree with someone's moral code, be cause for a title such as "Villain"?
The answer, simply, is no.
There are no Heroes, nor are there Villains. There are just ponies; driven by different ideals, following different morals, and believing in different beliefs. What one would call evil, another would call good. Such is where the lines of grey cloud the concept of a moral code. Morality is, in itself, always relative, thus which is why it is a code, not law. Judgement should be based as dynamically as the code itself, and no two actions should be judged in the same way.
But, this is never the case.
Bias, prejudice, and hate cloud a fair judgment; no one can be considered free from these corruptions. All have their minds clouded by their own upbringings, ideas and beliefs crafted by their own mind, or forced upon by the minds of others, that make up this corrupting haze.
There was no fair jury.
But, as Chrysalis lay on the ground, her mind filled with the thoughts of her sins, her faults, and her life, she couldn’t help but become the jury of her own trial; the judge of her own moral fate. It couldn’t be denied, nor would she, the wrongdoing she had committed in her life.
Murder, manipulation, theft, just the tip of the iceberg.
But, her mind now though back to a different time, a time when she had not been the monster she was now. With all her thoughts, the queen could not deny that she had done some good in her life. She had given mercy, she had given life, she had sacrificed for others. It didn’t make up for her sins, as nothing would, but it did give her hope that her soul wasn’t completely back, that there was still some good deep within her.
Phantoms of the past, ghost of her mistakes, walked the hallway she now stood in. She had ignored them at first, their faces being too hurtful to remember. But, as time went on, she found herself drawn to the lifeless faces. Watching like a sentry, the fallen queen watched the faces go by, memories of their lives briefly flashing in her mind as they past, only to vanish as they trotted out of sight. Out of every door that she had gone through, out of every horrible memory she had visited, these ghosts who were forever present brought her the most pain. The memories faded, but they never left.
They haunted her.
As the ghost trotted past, Chrysalis finally noticed the outline of a door softly glowing further down the hallway. She didn’t want to enter it, as she feared what lay behind, but, like all the others, she was drawn to it by an invisible string, one that tugged at her very soul.
Hoof after hoof, the changeling made her way toward the door. The spirits around her trotted through her as if she wasn’t there, dissipating and rematerializing as they continued their endless march. When she was only hoofsteps away, and the door seemed to breath with a ghostly pulse, the once queen took a deep breath, before reaching forwards and turning the handle with a hoof, the void beyond sucking her in as she entered…
The queen sat at her throne, her posture perfect and her face impassive, a mask of a royalty painted across her entire features. The queen was quiet, her eyes the only thing that moved as she looked into the room beyond. Thousands, almost millions of her subjects of her charge stood, hung, or hovered in the grand chamber in front of her, each one silent and patient, eagerly waiting to hear what their leader, their mother had to say.
The time of theatrics was over; her powerful presence had already been transmitted to her subjects. Chrysalis rose from her golden throne, the jewels and precious metals that made up its design were immaculate, but still held the blood of their acquisition. All eyes in the room remained on her, non daring to speak.
“My subjects… my children… for years I have treated you well,” the queen began, her voice soft, as there was nothing to block it. “I have provided for you, I have lead you, and I have raised you to be the changelings you are today. Throughout this time, I have asked a lot for you, and I am proud to say that rarely have I been disappointed.”
The queen paused, her body remained standing tall, but her mind seemed to wander.
“I am still not disappointed,” the queen continued. “But there is something that I cannot hide from you anymore. The Hunger draws closer; I have witness more of you, my children, succumb to its effects. I do not blame any of you for this, as it is I who am only one to blame…” Again, the queen went silent, but this time the pause was much shorter. “It is the job of the queen to provide for her citizens, her children, and when you are suffering, it is only me to blame.”
Chrysalis stomps a mighty hoof into the floor, tiny fissures spider webbing from the point of impact. The queen’s face of neutrality was broken as it shifted to rage, anger at herself. “I will not let this continue!” she screamed, slamming her hoof into the ground again. “I will not let you starve; I will not let the Hunger take over my hive! I have devised a plan, a brilliant plan, to make sure that we will never, ever go hungry again. We will go to a place that has more food than we can imagine, a place where they have lived comfortably for far too long!” The queen stomped her hoof again, this time continuing the cycle, to which the rest of the hive matched. A chant, a drum roll of stomps filled the halls of the hive, the ground practically shaking from the countless amount of hooves stomping into it in unison. “Ready the army, prepare yourself for war!” she chanted, her eyes turning from the collective in front of her to a chained, and heavily guarded pink alicorn held besides her throne. With a smile and a flick of her horn, the changeling erupted into green flame, a figure matching the captive being left in the flame’s wake.
The hall continued with the chants of her children, a toothy grin spread across the false alicorn’s muzzle.
“Tomorrow… we take Equestria!”
Like all the other’s, the queen returned to the present just outside of the door, her mind swimming with the memory she had just relived. Unlike before, this memory didn’t fill her with sadness, or even hope.
All it brought was anger.
The fallen queen let out a scream of anger, her hooves stomping into the cobblestone floor of the hallway. Her anger was real, and plentiful. Stomp after stomp, Chrysalis slammed her anger into the floor, her screams accompanying the slams of her rage.
“It should have worked!” she screamed, turning her anger from the floor to a nearby wall. “It was going to perfectly, why didn’t it work?!”
This memory had given her a glimpse into her most hated memory, the one moment when she hated herself the most. Taking Canterlot was supposed to be easy, her plan carefully constructed over months of planning, the execution almost perfect. One slip, one thing she didn’t account for, and the entire plan crumbled, tumbling further and further down until she found herself in exile, banished by the very creatures she had once lead.
This had been the first time a Queen had been overthrown by her own subjects.
Rage faded to hatred. Hatred faded into anger. And anger faded into nothingness. After an unknown amount of time, the former queen stood winded in the middle of the hallway, her chest panting.
War? You chose… war?
The voice returned, the one she had grown to hate. She believed it to belong to the one who had trapped her here, causing her to relive past pain, and that only lead to her hatred growing.
“Yes! I chose war!” she screamed to the ceiling. “I had no other choice! A have without food is a dead one, and I chose to take it from those who didn’t deserve it!”
And why is that? the voice questioned. Why did they ‘deserve’ it?
The changeling scoffed. “Ponies, trotting around as if they are the greatest species in the world. They get everything given to them on a silver platter, all their troubles dealt with for them. They don’t know struggle, they don’t know pain, it was about time they got their fair share!”
You base war on jealousy? You risk the lives of your children, and take the lives of ponies, all for jealousy?
“No!” the once queen restored, denying something she knew to be true. “I did it for my children, for my family!”
Your family of one, Chrysalis, the voice all but hissed. You are a creature of selfishness; a coward. You take your pain out on those around you, punishing those who do not hurt as you do.
Chrysalis opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Again, this cycle continued, her mouth opening, but yielded no voice.
You are a monster, Chrysalis. You have suffered greatly, something I will not deny, but the direction of your suffering is where you become a monster.
The voice then went quiet, and Chrysalis thought it had left, until it returned, far softer than before.
But, through your sin, and through your anger, I still see a hint of good. I cannot forgive what you have done, nor can I forget the pain you have caused, but… but you remind me of somepony who was once consumed by the rage of within. You created your own demon, one that you let loose instead of facing, just like the other. They were given a second chance, and you have shown that you deserve one too.
Chrysalis listened intently to the voice, her anger towards it pushed away with curiosity.
I grant you the power of judgement, now. At the end of the hallway is a door, one that will allow you a second chance at life. You may take it if you chose, or you can wander these halls for the rest of your life, haunted by your sins instead of working to move past them. Your fate is now in your hooves, Chrysalis… I await your decision.
And like that, the voice was gone. Chrysalis looked to the end of the hallway, and she was surprised to see a door standing resolute at the end. She then turned her head to look down the other side of the hallway. This side did not have an ending, instead went on forever, as it had done since she had gotten here. Every single door pulsed, beating with a ghostly heartbeat. All called for her to enter, all called for her to relive her sins and live with her punishment.
Both side beckoned for the queen to follow, both equally as strong. For once, she felt like she had power in the ghostly void. She had a choice, a choice between redemption, or repentance for her sins.
Choose, Queen Chrysalis… choose!
Part: 6
A choice. This was a foreign concept to the fallen queen. All her life, she had felt like her actions had been weaved by the invisible hands of fate, their malicious sense of humor forcing her from one hell to another. She was free, had been free since the moment she hatched, but even still the queen felt like it was not her who guided her movements.
That was, until now.
For once she didn’t feel the tug of the invisible strings, their master held at bay, or forgotten. To her right stood a door, an ending to the torturous hallway of long since buried memories and phantoms of her past. She wanted to take it, to be free and start a new; get a second chance to not make the same mistakes. But, as much as she wanted it, she couldn’t help but turn to her left, the endless hallway of the awaiting door and forgotten sins awaited her. As much as she wanted to escape, something inside of her held her back, telling her that she didn’t deserve to be set free. It was a quiet voice, but a powerful one.
Chrysalis whipped her head from side to side, the jerking motion enough to make her head hurt. The choice was tough, fear of her fate and fear of the unknown gripped heavily to her blackened heart. If she was to escape, what life would there be for her? She had no hive, the Equestrians considered her a war criminal, and all others who she could possibly turn to would either run away in fear, or charge her in anger.
The choice was clear.
With heavy, slow hooves, Chrysalis turned to her right, head down low as she trotted towards the endless hallway, carved from the endless pain she had caused. Slowly, the doorway began to fade behind her, her escape disappearing as she denied herself repentance, choosing to pay for her sins through remembrance.
But, something was off.
Chrysalis had expected to be immediately sucked into another memory, forced to relive her past. But, instead, each silenced as she passed, their proximity almost forcing them back into a dormant state. Her hooves continued to trot forwards, her pace quickening as she tried to catch one of the still alive doors.
After a while, the queen skidded to a stop, her hooves immediately gripping knob of one of the doors as she desperately tried to pry it open. It didn’t budge, nor did the next three she tried. Her heart raced, fear gripping it as her brain tried to discern what was happening. As she went to try a forth, she stopped as she noticed something else. Turning, the changeling’s eyes went wide in panic as she looked down the length of the hallway.
It was empty.
The ghosts that had once crowded the hall were now gone, not even a trace of their presence was left behind. Chrysalis began to pant, hyperventilating as the feeling of loneliness finally began to sink in. The former queen had prepared herself for the eternity of watching her mistakes, but this was something she was not prepared for.
“Hello?!” Chrysalis screamed, her eyes shifting from one side of the hall to the other. “Where is everyone?! Come back, please! Don’t leave me!”
The queen ran from one door to another, trying and failing to pry at least one open. When she gave up with the handles, she began to bash herself against them, using her front and rear hooves to try and break them down. She threw herself at the doors, the result only bringing her pain, as nothing she did seemed to even affect them.
Finally, after her will had faded, the former queen threw herself to the ground, her holed hooves pressing into her eyes as she began to bawl, sadness beyond anything she had felt thus far broke her down from within, her will and hope crumbling with every silent second, and when the walls finally crumbled, and the once proud queen finally broke, she slumped to the floor and wept.
Silence returned to the world around the fallen queen, the only sound that could be heard was the soft hiccuping as the queen released her pain in the form of tears.
“So... this is the great Queen Chrysalis?”
That voice… that voice was one that Chrysalis had not heard in a long while, but one still whom she knew the owner. A part of the former queen wanted to rise from her sullen nature, curse and destroy the one she now knew was responsible for putting her in the positions she now lay.
But, that was only a small part of her.
The queen didn't want to admit it, nor did she want to accept it, but there was no denying that she had been broken.
“What more could you want from me, Mare of Shadows? You have already beaten me—torn down what pride and power I still had and left,” the fallen queen responded, slowly rising to her hooves. Her gaze feel upon the creature that stood before her, the midnight blue alicorn with the mane of the night sky… Princess Luna.
The princess stood impassive in front of the Changeling, her face completely neutral. “I do not want anything from you, Queen. I simply wished to know the true identity of the one who tried to conquer my land; to get to know my enemy before she perished beneath my night sky.” Luna’s words were calm and collected, honed over the years to reveal nothing of the Princess’s true meanings.
Chrysalis scoffed, her head shaking. “You deny me death out of curiosity? You put me through hell because you curious?!” she began, voicing her anger at the alicorn in front of her. “Well, I hope you got what you wanted, then.”
Luna looked to the queen, her mask cracking as her eyes held sadness, something the changeling was quick to notice. “I have seen the struggles of a tortured soul. Your heart is black, but it is not without light. I have see your darkness, I have seen your mercy. I have watched and laid judgement upon you, and I have come to a conclusion.”
“And what is that,” interrupted the once queen. “What have you decided?”
“That you are another who has let their anger, their emotions, and their pain consume them,” Luna began, her mask slipping once again. “Once I fell victim to the demons that I had created, but I was saved and given another chance even when I did not deserve one…”
Chrysalis watched as the princess of the night went quiet, her face falling. She knew that face, a face that held the gilt of the past that would never be forgotten.
“I will save you, Chrysalis, because I was once saved when I fell victim to myself,” spoke the princess, before her body slowly faded into mist.
Moments later, the fallen queen began to feel strange; the gripping cold within her heart began to warm. Chrysalis watched as the hallway of her sins slowly began to shift and fade, as if the world itself was slowly decaying. And as the world decayed, the fallen queen could feel herself get stronger, as if she was absorbing its energy.
Soon, there was nothing left, the world she had just been was now gone, and Chrysalis could feel reality slowly begin to resume. The sounds of frost filled winds filled her ears, the gripping cold of the badlands once again touching her skin. Her body was still weak, but she could feel a new warmth keeping her body going, the grip of death slowly fading away. Her eyes were closed, darkness being the only thing she could see. The changeling slowly cracked open an eye, peering at the world she had thought she had said goodbye too.
A shadow of an outline filled the corner of her vision, an outline she didn't not need to see to know was there. It moved closer. Chrysalis felt gente magic grip her weak body, lifting her from the chilled ground. The touch of the magic was warm—she felt as if she was being cradled.
It was now that the once queen finally felt at peace, as she closed her eyes and welcome the embrace of another: sleep.
Up to here.
