Alistair the Hierophant

by LoosePartyCannon

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Celestia, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Main 6, Princess Luna, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Queen Chrysalis, Adventure
Length: 35508

An ancient sage is resurrected through the use of dark magic, and once more he's being made to fix people's problems.

History is written by the victors and the Equestrians excel at winning. Far to the south of Equestria in the Badlands, the region that separates the Equestrian frontier and the unknown lands of the long forgotten Humans, lies an ancient citadel of knowledge. Generations of magic, both well versed and obscure, holy and ghastly. Its reinforced walls still stand though the tomes and coveted secrets were purged after years of warfare, degradation and abandonment. Despite the armies, bands and packs who tried to finish what the Equestrians started none were able to breach the gates of the Lost Archive. None aside from the few faithful to the old ruler and Lord Hierophant have ever entered. His reign was cut short because of the same people who gave it to him and his followers, though misguided and few in number, would see fit to restoring his former glory even if it's more myth then legend.

Current cover art by Echira Sorin.

Published 2016-07-08 19:30:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-12-27 06:14:30 UTC

From Quasi-dead to Worse - Edited/Updated

From quasi-dead to worse

You know what's great about gaining the ability to warp into a being of pure, raw magical energy? When you 'die', you literally become a part of reality in a sense. When I was walking and talking I was a force of nature, literally, and now that I'm dead I'm a part of nature in its entirety. Swirling masses of power ebbing and flowing, illuminating spirits travelling from one existence to another, granting my life force to the world and universe to help live flourish and seeing hope and a future blossom...I don't wanna sound narcissistic, but this must be how the Goddess and Gods felt when they made everything; at least until people starting fucking up. Along with the gift of existing in a state of bliss, I was able to grant the few people I could envision between dreams back in the world of the living with an inkling of my former power; I would most likely never know what they'd done with my powers but I'd always only given enough to do serious good and very little evil. I'm all powerful not stupid. The pain of dying was horrendous but being stuck in the mortal world was torture in of itself compared to the wonders of magical nirvana. Time has no meaning to me anymore, it feels like it's been days, weeks, years, eons and seconds since I arrived and I loved every moment of it. It's strange being conscious of your demise and eternal fate, I should be bored by now...But nope, being a needle and thread to the tears to the fabric of reality is immeasurably pleasurable in every sense of the word...Yup, death is pretty-

"Oh fabled and lost Conjurer..."

What? Who the hell?

"Hear me wise and ageless sage..."

Is...Someone else like me dead too?"

"Return from your primordial slumber, father of knowledge!"

Return from...Oh fuck no!

"Rise old lord of lore and powers yore! Return to the mortal realm, so that you might offer guidance and wisdom to your children!"

I don't have children and I don't want to go back there! W-Wait...What's happening to me?!

"vindicate the folly of the rulers!"

No! Stop! Don't rip me from this wonderland! Why the fuck am I powerless to stop this cunt?!

"Shepard the blind and faithful alike!"

Fuck the blind and faithful, I gave up on you lot long ago!

"Return to us, Lord Hierophant, anew!"

And, with an unheard 'pop', the long dead former Human was back in the world of the living.

To an onlooker, the moonlit coven of cloaked cultists standing amidst the crumbling stone of a long dormant citadel praying to a weathered and colourless coffin covered in forgotten script would seem...Suspect to say the least; and the melodic chanting, bowl of incense burning azure, scrolls of bloody writing and tattered book wrapped in a stained and torn robe made it all the more daunting. The room they'd turned into a shrine and altar no longer served a purpose. Rows of broken stone shelves housed burnt and torn tomes, the throne crouching behind the coffin obscured by centuries of weeds and wildflowers and the holes in the stone roof allowed the silver rays of moonlight to shine upon the hundreds of mages. Some were Equestrian, some weren't, but they all had one thing in common: They all worshiped the same fallen deity, the same deity they sought to bring back from the dead.

"Return to us, Lord Hierophant, anew!" Cried out an aging, thundering voice over the somber singing of his assembly. And, with a tap of his steel staff against the stone floor, they all ceased their singing. The obscured, hopeful crowd watched their crier as he hopped onto his hooves and turned to face his people, his glowing eyes being greeted by two hundred sets of similar ones. As he began to pull out a thick, timeless book of scripture the tomb behind him began to vibrate slightly. All watched as the empty coffin bearing the likeness of their god shined a soft, silver light between the crack of the lid and case; only to explode into a rainbow of magical hues that danced around the chamber. Along with the dazzling display, they all listened to a booming symphony of music and battle that seemed to be audible only in their minds. They gasped as the light swirled around them, embracing them quickly, only to return to the coffin and seep deep inside it and flash out of existence.

All were still and silent, as the lid slowly eased off of the stone effigy and onto the ground unassisted to show...Nothing but a swirling mess of colour. It was shapeless and held no true tone, colour or form for longer then a second and moved in a chaotic dance as it hovered above its instrument of rebirth.

"Okay, what year is it, where am I, why am I back and who'd you kill to bring me back? I know magic and dark, cultist magic requires a sacrifice."  The mass ordered in a calm, almost bored voice that was pleasant, deep and held a smooth accident after a long, strained sigh; despite the welcoming voice in their heads they couldn't help but feel unnerved and felt like they'd angered their idol.

"Lord Hierophant, it's been eons since you were last in the world of mortals...approximately 4 millenniums." The old, jovial yet restrained leader informed as he removed the golden cloak covering his silver body and blue mane. Although his eyes were milky and scarred, the sheer might of the incorporeal being projected an image into his mind and the sight of his only master, and the sound of his rejoicing followers thoughts, brought tears to his eyes.

"Damn...Feels like days since I got snuffed...Where am I?" The Hierophant asked after exclaiming to himself, surprising everyone gathered.

"We're gathered in what remains of the Arcane Throne, it's fallen into disrepair and ruin since your banishment...Many tried to ransack what was left of it and the Equestrian Army had tried to gain access long ago but many of your wards still remained and when we found our way past its walls we reinforced it with our own traps and spells." The old sage continued, lamenting the state of the old archive turned city.

"Thanks, it won't take long to get it back into shape when we're done so don't feel too bad; it's been four thousand years so you've all done a pretty bang up job considering it's still standing at all." The incorporeal being congratulated, observing its surroundings unseen.

"Y-You're praise is not necessary, Lord Conjurer, we simply continued the legacy of your old reign. We brought you back because we and the world at large needs your wisdom and guidance once more. The new kings and queens have forsaken their people, they seek to repeat the mistakes of the past and destroy the knowledge of former lords; as it is many of your teachings have been outlawed in Equestria and the few faithful to your reign are in hiding around the world. We beseech you, oh Great One, return to us so that you may unite your people!" The leader of the ragged mages begged passionately and with an unending sense of zeal. The rush of thoughts of hope, prosperity, magical powers and reunifying the lost flooded their incorporeal god along with some less desirable thoughts of warfare and 'punishing the wicked'; the leader felt these thoughts and emotions and shared the same opinion as his illustrious deity.

"That's a touching speech, if biased and kind of over the top, but two things: I'm not a king or a ruler per say, I was just a powerful mage with a massive piece of land given to me as a gift for not being evil and helping people. Also last time I checked most countries were run by immortals on my level; how exactly will I be able to not die this time misterrrrr?" The Hierophant asked, floating down in front of the nameless leader.

"Faded Scroll, my lord. Many of the former leaders have either died from war or infighting, passed on the torch to their heirs or vanished either due to exile, pilgrimages or unknown causes; truly only a handful of old world rulers remain. And as for the question of your reign, although it was never officially stated we and many others believe you to be the rightful ruler of these lands and those who still hold true to your old teachings; they were a nation unified through your magic." Faded Scroll informed, a faint smile on his scarred visage.

"So, I die when the party's starting and come back to fix the mess and kick start a country...Wonderful. So, how many died to bring me back? You left that out and I'm not one for trusting cultists; even my own." He demanded to know, looking over the still hooded cult.

"No one was sacrificed to bring you back, we gathered effigies, talismans, conduits and your chosen people to gather your residual life force and magical power in a point of the world where the divide between the magical and physical planes is weakest. Some of your belongings have been in our possession for years and others we only recently salvaged or liberated from around the world...Many have died over the years finding, retrieving and protecting these powerful artifacts but it was deemed safer than to risk summoning a malevolent demon or spirit instead of you. We've come far to save you..." Faded Scroll reassured him, the weight of his words and their losses reflective in his tone, yet his pride and confidence in his decision was clear.

"The use of magical artifacts, incenses and finding a weaker spot in the rift between planes of reality...You're all smarter than most cults, I'll give you that; most of them resort to blood magic within the first year and demon summoning the second. Sorry about your losses, I didn't want to come back but I might as well do something now that I'm back...Sadly. Do you have any clothes lying around? Being a cloud that communicates through telepathy can be fun for awhile but if I have a physical manifestation I might as well use it." Their god impatiently requested, itching to try walking again.

"Yes, of course my lord, we were lucky enough to salvage your old garb and accessories from the site of your battle with Princess Celestia...They're in a state of disrepair but-" As Faded Scroll carefully removed the lid of a large, gilded chest and pulled out the faded and heavily damaged black robe, crimson scarf  and the rusted pauldrons, gauntlets, chestplate and cuisse along with some unidentifiable scrap they were snatched from his hooves and held within the swirling cloud. In front of their eyes, they saw the robe and scarf return to their normal, vibrant colours and the armour's rust break apart and reveal the shinning armour beneath. Metal and fabric materialized out of nowhere and soon an ensemble worthy of a spell sword formed in the air bereft of a wearer.

"Not too bad given my extended nap...Now comes the tricky part..."  He announced with a sense of excitement and nervousness as the armour floated to the ground and stood up straight as if worn. The cultists leaped back when the extravagant armour and formless cloud shimmered intensely and turned pure white as the cloud moved into the unoccupied clothing. Expanding ever so slightly, the cloud gained mass and gradually became solid as the armour moved and flexed its limbs. After a full, bipedal body complete with hair was created the shine faded away to reveal the most common form of their master.

"So, how do I look? Pretty good for a corpse huh?" The Hierophant jested as he did a small twirl to his internally cheering followers. Where hollow armour once stood now resides a six foot three tall Human, long since thought wiped out, with flowing brown and silver hair and a short, stubbly beard. His angular, handsome face was sculpted by him though his burning, stunning yellow and sapphire eyes were a mystery as none of his old fables detail him having a yellow right iris. His head was cloaked by the hood of his black and silver robe, it covered almost all of his body but was left unbuttoned to show off the armour underneath. The silver runic symbols etched into the cuffs, hood and ends of the robe were the least impressive sign of its wearers mystic powers, as the inside of the jacket resembled something similar to the hypnotic, colourful haze of the Hierophant's true form. His left shoulder was decorated by a golden pauldron in the shape of a lion's head with a blue mane that seemed to contrast with the magical robe. It was connected by a custom built chain to his layered steel chestplate that bore the insignia of a golden lion and silver raven circling each other in front of a black, circular shield. His right hand was covered by a matching steel gauntlet while curiously his left was uncovered,  allowing people to once more see the indescribable mess hidden by the robe. His legs were covered in lean, black trousers protected by steel plating that hung off his thighs and simple chainmail underneath his clothing. Along with all the armour, underclothes and robe he also wore a massive, fuzzy and cozy orange scarf that he'd wrapped around his throat. The fiery fabric obscured parts of his lower face and the one long tail of it fluttered in the wind like a dancing flame. Always one to favor comfort over style, he wore clean, simple fur lined hide boots design to make walking and hiking leisurely. All in all, the coven thought he was as awe inspiring as their ancient illustrations of him sitting upon his old throne.

"You're simply exquisite, Hierophant, just as the legends described you..." Faded Scroll complimented, grinning despite his best attempts to remain stoic.

"Thanks, you're not too shabby for an old pony I guess. Oh and call me Alistair, it's my actual name...I noticed I don't have my weapons, you guys holding onto those too or?" Alistair joked before asking as he placed his unarmoured hand on his old throne, watching the plant life retreat and wrap around the base of the chair while the seat itself reformed and turned into the old, cushioned, stone throne that once sat proud; the immediate area surrounding the chiseled chair likewise returned to the way it was ages ago.

"Yes and no, Hier-Sir Alistair. We have your old notepad and your grimoire...But your sword is unobtainable." The old pony told Alistair, gobsmacked at the rapid and effective powers his ruler was displaying.

"Really? Who took it? Was it that cunt Celestia?" Barked Alistair, saying her name with venom, as he sat on his old study chair and rested deep into it.

"N-No actually, Queen Chrysalis took it from the Equestrians quite recently in fact." Faded corrected, taken aback by his harsh words. Alistair for his part seemed to smile fondly.

"Chryssie huh? The Queen always did have a soft spot for us...So, where is she now? I imagine she'll be ecstatic to see me loitering in the real world again." Alistair asked, a hint of nostalgic fondness in his voice as he smiled wistfully. Meanwhile, Faded Scroll approached him with two large books wrapped in sacred cloth in his left hoof.

"We believe she's established a hive in the badlands not far from here; after you died the region fell into disarray and warfare, due to a combination of your sustaining magic vanishing and the local struggles the territory became largely barren and unwelcoming. Lord Alistair the Hierophant...Your ageless grimoire and notebook." He informed as he kneeled before the study chair turned throne and used his magic to unwrap the books. Despite his inability to read his thoughts, he knew Alistair was overwhelmed at the sight of his old tomes.

"Huh, don't need my magic to keep you two in top notch shape...Thank you so much, all of you." He thanked as he grabbed the leather bound, arcane book. On its cover rested a white sigil of a soaring Alicorn rising from a rotating orb with a Human hand coming out of the bottom with a small, yet incandescent, flame. On the back of the book was the same symbol on his breastplate complete with the shield. The pages hummed softly as if alive and waiting for his touch. Hooking it to the belt obscured by his robe he examined the blank yet meaningful book of white paper. The book was dull and to the layman would seem completely devoid of magic. Despite this, he placed it on the armrest of his favorite chair and hovered his right hand over the paper. Within his pale palm an unseen rune appeared and hovered a few inches above the skin before blinking out of reality. The once blank page was now replaced by a small, detailed paper Alicorn figurine that moved on its accord and stared up at Alistair. In response, he careful picked it up and placed it in his right hand and held it up for all to see.

"Lord Alistair...What would you have us do?" Faded Scroll asked as his followers stared up at their god, hopeful and ensnared by faith.

"..Contact Chrysalis' hive if possible, use whatever magic you can to aid me rebuild these archives, try and contact your cells across the globe and order an exodus here..." Alistair stopped giving orders so he could look down at the figurine as he wordlessly casted a simple fire spell that covered his hand in purple, melting fire.

"...We're going to be very busy rebuilding." He finished after blowing the ashes of the figurine away. A small, bittersweet smile adorned his face as sighed and thought about how sickeningly funny fate is.

Fixer Upper

Far to the north of the Lost Archive, in a similarly ancient yet gleaming fortress overlooking a glittering jewel of a city, rested a tired and flustered Alicorn. It doesn't matter how much gold a person owns, how many people try to suck up to them or even how much coffee keeps them up because when you're sitting in front of a desk late at night reading  legislation after legislation and piles of borderline asinine proposals you grow annoyed all the same. With a huff, she finished the last of the chocolatey coffee and considered finally going to sleep. But, regardless of whether or not she wanted to rest for the night she thought the people who'd be affected by these laws would be appreciative if she went over them at least once.

"Last I checked dear sister I was the one who was meant to stay up all night and seem discontented." A mirthful, regal voice called out from the dark.

"We both have a rather large country to run and unfortunately the nobles are rather finicky about proposing bizarre laws...Honestly, did they really think I'd approve even half of these laws?" Celestia asked rhetorically without looking away from her desk as Luna approached her, her dark purple coat blending into the shadows.

"I've noticed the nobles seem to be a bit more...frivolous than I remember. Still, some of them do have their place in the royal circle even if the others are rather annoying." Luna reminded as she looked over Celestia's expansive and covered white desk and scoffed at some of the proposals.

"Do you ever miss the old days? Things were so much more...Exhilarating and less tedious; against all odds these last few years have been seemingly more problematic than the early days of Equestria." Celestia wondered with nostalgia in her magenta eyes as she looked around her cozy, elaborately decorated room. On the walls, in cases and on shelves were the relics of Celestia's real past; the flowery stories and myths tend to leave out the bloodshed, friendships and hard fought victories. Dented helmets, a few rusted swords or shields and some pictures of the now long since abandoned band of heroes she and her sister stood side by side with.

"You seem to be forgetting, dear sister, that each day was a fight for survival against regimes, monsters and anything else fate saw fit to hurl at us. It was fun no doubt but how much did our adventuring days cost us in the end?" Luna reprimanded as she too looked at the mere nick-nacks but not in wonderment.

"It was rather hectic, but I still pine over them." Celestia admitted with a small huff.

"If you truly wish to relive the olden days then go out on a hunt or a deployment with the royal guard, otherwise you could get drunk in the cellars or spend time with Twilight; blood, beer and friends were the cornerstones of our adventures after all." Luna suggested as she levitated one of her displayed swords and noticed the dulled yet freshly dusted and polished blades.

"Heh, I believe there was one more element that made our adventures so engaging." Celestia teased as she fondly remembered some of her old companions. In response Luna merely scoffed and blushed slightly.

"Speak for yourself, some of us didn't lust over every smooth talking rogue and bard that joined in our quest." Luna defended as she grimaced at her sister's less than exemplary dalliances.

"Oh, so I was the only one? I think I remember a certain young, starry eyed mage who caught your attention..." Celestia mocked as she looked over at her annoyed sister; Luna's scowl warned Celestia she might've taken to far so she stopped while she still could. They were silent for a short while as Luna stared at an old photo of the two of them.

"How many of them are still around? I'd been meaning to check but with all the chaos of reintegrating and managing crises across the country..." She asked, knowing what her answer would most likely be.

"Most of them were mortal...Only Azure Light, Mystic Mind and Golden Hammer weren't and they've been gone for a very long time." Celestia sadly informed as she began to remember the small band of heroes.

"...Shame, they were amazing people and greater warriors." Luna simply said, masking how deeply the news hurt despite the fears already existing prior.

After a short pause, Celestia stood up from her table and walked over to the balcony and looked over Canterlot and smiled to herself.

"...You know what they told me when I told them the next capital of Equestria was to be constructed on the side of a mountain?" Celestia asked with a small smirk.

"I imagine they thought you'd gone soft in the head." Luna quipped as she too walked out onto the chilling platform and breathed in the cool, sweet night air.

"That they did. They told me it was impossible and that there were was no crew willing to take such a foolhardy operation...I proved them wrong of course. If my years fighting the unbeatable and touring the world on a wild goose chase has taught me anything it's that nothing is truly impossible; granted I needed to pool in my resources, find a few geniuses and mad men from our old adventuring days and hope to the Goddess it didn't blow up in my face...But I did it." Celestia exclaimed proudly as she placed her alabaster hooves on the railing and smiled sadly.

"You did a wonderful job, I just wish I could've been there with you." Her sister praised with a soft voice.

After placing a wing on her shoulder, Celestia continued. "You can't keep dwelling on the past. We forgave each other for what we did, Equestria has embraced you once more and you're surrounded by close friends. It was difficult, I won't lie, to keep going without you...Without another immortal. But I wasn't alone and I have people who supported me and reassured me when I began to doubt my rule; I was the reason you were alone. can't compare my gilded cage to your banishment." Celestia tried to comfort.

"Tia..." Luna started, telling her sister she was about to say something important. "...I don't want you to keep comparing your losses with mine. Yes, I suffered for a millennia on the moon with nothing but my anger and yes I was alone. But in between the dark thoughts that took hold, I knew I'd done something worthy of my punishment. I'd divided our home, I'd torn down the fragile peace we'd strived for since we were old enough to want and worst of all I-...It took away the only friend you had left. I was alone but I grew to accept what I'd done and forgive myself for my actions. But despite my acknowledgement I could never accept what I'd done to you." Luna vented, staring down into the lonely streets far below and patrolled castle grounds.

"Luna..."

"I know, we've gone over this all before but it's hard to simply move on from something like that. We both lost a thousand years to my anger and your ignorance...You said we're both to blame and I'm still trying to believe that. I'm sorry for bring this up, you've had a long day and the last thing you need is to hear what you most likely already knew. Goodnight Tia, try and catch some sleep." Luna apologised and turned back toward the large, ornate doors into her room. But before she could go, Celestia turned to her.

"It occurs to me we've had very little time to just talk recently; I've been in the court seemingly all year and you're constantly either in night court or helping with the Lunar Guard...Would you like to go out for tea later this week?" Celestia asked hopefully causing Luna to grin.

"I'd love to. I've still been unable to see the city properly for more than a few minutes between public appearances and defending the streets from the occasional Changeling attack or Centaur." She joked, trying to shrug off the soulful heart to heart.

"There's these little tea shop a few blocks from the train station with an amazing view, they make the best scones." Celestia recommended, pretending to fantasies about the quaint little eatery.

"It sounds spectacular sister. I'm free Friday afternoon, does that sound good for you?" Luna remarked truthfully. As the elder sister nodded Luna bid farewell and seemed to disappeared as stealthy as she appeared.

As Celestia prepared to drift off to sleep in her oversized and ludicrously comfortable bed, she could help but reflect on her recent years. Despite the strain of the arrogant nobles, the alarmingly representative threats of Queens, old rulers and demons and the struggle of diplomacy...Having Luna back in her live, seeing Twilight blossom into a promising ruler along with the newest addition to the royal family...She couldn't possibly ask for more in that moment.

"-And with your aid we'll be well on our way to establishing the wondrous nation of knowledge you once lead!" Cried out Faded Scroll with a magnificent light in his milky eyes as he followed his liege.

"uh huh, okay..." Alistair halfheartedly replied, barely listening to him ramble about his 'future kingdom'. "Say, how many men have we got here? I hope that small group that welcomed me back to live wasn't all I've got." Alistair asked, finally engaging Scroll as he looked back at him and thought to himself the best way to dispose of the overgrowth of weeds across the floor they were stepping over.

"Currently, our coven has eighty seven fighters including myself and thirty two healers and Mimickers; the rest are comprised of children, the elderly and the ill. Despite this many of us have some small skill in the art of Weight Manipulation." Faded Scroll reported to his master as he watched him strut around his old, cavernous study hall placing his hand on the weathered shelves and watching as the stone snapped in place and turned marble white while tomes, books and grimoires seemed to shape out of nothing or repair themselves.

"Wait, you fight?" Alistair questioned, half surprised and half impressed. The room was no longer bathed in moonlight but was now painted orange and black from the few candles placed on the restored tables in the center and on the railings on the nineteen floors overhead with the occasional silver beam wafting in from the gigantic coloured mosaic windows behind the Arcane Throne.

"Well...Yes and no. I can't see and my body is far from in its prime but I do know an exorbitant amount about strategy, warfare, siege tactics and magic; it's what has allowed us to hold the Lost Archive against the few threats that have breached our defenses." Faded Scroll confessed, his frail body being propped up by his polished, engraved steel staff resonated with magic power.

"I see, and where did an old timer like yourself learn siege tactics? I don't remember writing a whole lot on conventional warfare." Alistair inquired as he looked over the fifth towering shelf he'd restored and inspected the books.

"Oh, long ago when I was a member of the military." He elaborating with a kind smile, raising more questions then answers.

"Which one? Or did you fight for them all." The Hierophant continued his questionnaire as he prepped to rebuild another row of hundreds of books.

"The Royal Equestrian Army, Enchanter Division." Faded informed before once more marveling at how effortlessly he repaired the age old tomes.

"So how'd a skilled tactician go from the Equestrian army to joining a cult? You're giving me a lot of blank spaces here." He kept going, almost annoyed at how little Faded who say.

"Well, it's a long story but I'll summarize. I was a renowned leader in the army, it's true, and I had my soldier's respect despite my young age and gung ho attitude. After years of studying with the Enchanters and Tacticians I bared witness to conquest after conquest. Bandits, Diamond Dog dens, slavers and the occasional dragon...They all fell to my infantry's swords and my wit. I rapidly elevated in rank until...We were mobilizing to respond to reports of Griffon bandits near the border but we were ambushed on the trek over. We fought hard and resiliently but in the end our forces were routed and I was left behind with the other dead weight. They blinded me, I still don't know why to this day, and left me in a cell with other injured or tortured soldiers...I heard a lot my former friends die in that cage." Faded recounted with a deep frown as he relived his memories, all while Alistair sat down in a chair next to him and placed his grimoire on the table.

"Gods damn...That sounds beyond horrendous." He said sympathetically as he placed a hand on the blind stallion's shoulder to comfort him causing Faded Scroll to smile slightly.

"You don't need to offer sympathy, you were the one who saved me after all." He continued with a beaming smile.

"How? Wait, now I see why your thoughts were harder to read..." Alistair commented to himself as he smacked his head for being so stupid.

"Yes, I'm a Telepath, the only one in your order currently. A few weeks into our imprisonment and I saw something in my dreams. A shapeless haze unlike anything I'd see and within that miasma a voice called out to me; it told me it'd give me the power to change my fate and do good in this world and when I awoke...The experience of having my mind open up like that was daunting at first but by the end of the month. Well, it's much easier to escape when you can plant the idea that the guards are going to mutiny against the bandit chief and while they're fighting convince an imbecile to unlock our cells." He continued with a proud smirk and a small, hacking chuckle.

"I'm impressed, most Telepaths can't implant an idea in someone's mind until at least a year of practice and training." Alistair remarked, eyes wide open and smiling at his unofficial second in command.

"Thank you Sir Alistair, as I'd later find out I was indeed remarkably talented at controlling weaker minds...Though I swore once I escaped never to do so or to use my powers for evil; you gave them to me because you saw me and knew what I could do. I don't know if you were aware of what I'd done but I still believe you had a purpose for me. My men carried me back to Equestria to which we received a hero's welcome and a patch up. The morning after, me and a few men I'd told my tale to had disappeared to start what you saw tonight." Faded finished with a small bow of his head to which Alistair applauded lightly.

"I'm glad to see you didn't squander what I gave to you on something petty or villainous...I hope at least." He added at the end under his breath, reminding himself he'd have to ask others for events that transpired afterwards.

"You don't need to thank me, my lord. Truth be told I should be thanking you, were it not for your intervention I would've either died in that cell or be ransomed back to Equestria as a cripple. All of us are here because of you, we've all inherited one of your four gifts and we all are better for it." Faded informed with genuine happiness much to Alistair's confusion.

"Four? What about the art of achieving a magical form? It seems like it'd be the most desired gift since it leads to immortality...Not that I'm shitting on Telepathy or anything but most people would really not like to die." He inquired then defended as he realized he might've insulted the closest thing he's got to an ally.

"No need to apologise, I know you didn't mean to offend and yes it's true many have tried to mimic your own power. The outcomes have been...Horrifying." Faded said with a shudder in his voice as Alistair got up and began fixing more ruined furniture and shelves while stepping over the wild vines and flowers that he'd have to remove later.

"What happened to them? I wrote multiple studies on the art of Transcendence, how could anyone screw up?" Alistair asked, partially fearful as he hid his worried frown from Faded Scroll.

"Much of what you wrote and pioneered was lost with the Archive itself...Celestia feared what your knowledge could do for more powerful or unjust nations and thought it wiser to let sleeping dogs lie and to confiscate what shreds of your work existed outside your lands. Those who followed in your footsteps without the proper training, tools, or procedures were...I suppose an apt term would be lost...Yes, lost to the same realm you resided in." Faded Scroll told him as he remembered all the stupid fools who'd died through their lack of caution. Alistair for his part was silent for a short while, head bowed and features hidden, before he placed his right hand on another broken relic and continued restoring the room.

"Gods damn it Celestia...You should've know this would've happened...How many were lost?" Alistair implored as he refused to look away from his work.

"We personally lost ten people, six adults of varying races and four Equestrian foals, before we all agreed to stop our research though the number of people who've tried globally would be staggering." Faded confessed with a looks of sorrow.

"Ten?! You let ten people die before you stopped? And why the hell were children even allowed to study Transcendence? It took me twenty years before I even understood the concept of Transcendence and you allowed children to try?!" Alistair snapped, outraged and distraught over the foolishness of his followers, as he turned around and looked at him; if it weren't enough that his presence and power frightened Faded Scroll then his smoldering eyes did.

"W-We were in the early stages of banning research before they got a hold of the loose bits of information we'd gathered and tried for themselves. By the time we'd figured out what they were up to they had already..." He guiltily confessed, looking down in shame at what he considered one of his greatest blunders. Alistair for his part merely looked at him contemplatively before getting back to his work.

"You did the right thing by shutting down all research into a field you knew nothing about, shame it took the deaths of ten of your own for you all to wise up." The immortal snapped, scowling him while conceding that it wasn't directly anyone's fault. For a long time, they remained silent. Alistair worked tirelessly and meticulously to restore the aged library and Faded Scroll sat quietly in the center going over his thoughts and aiding workers around the crumbling ruins if they requested his thoughts. The silence was broken however when Alistair cried out in alarm when a loose chunk of marble fell off from atop the shelf and smashed into his right arm with an audible thud.

"L-Lord Alistair! Are-"

"Yes, yes, I'm alright Fade...It hurt a lot but I'm alright. It'll take more then that to dent this form...You know, I almost forgot I could feel pain that wasn't magical or emotional for a while, kind of a nice reminder before someone stabs me again with a mythical sword." Alistair calmly said as he interrupted his panicking assistant who was hobbling over to help mend the arm only to be amazed at the lack of damage.

"W-Well that's a relief, we went to Tartarus and back to save your soul and it'd be quite the shock if a piece of marble killed you so soon..." Scroll reminded as he pulled out a tattered cloth from his concealed saddle bag within his white and gold robe and began dabbing his forehead.

"Yes, it'd be rather unfortunate and hilarious in a morbid sense." His liege remarked as he laughed at the idea of a powerful mage dying from a bump on the head. After a brief bout of laughter he turned back to the work at hand, rolled his shoulder and fixed the final shelf on the bottom floor of the grand study hall.

"One down, nineteen to go...How long until the envoy mobilizes to contact the other hold outs in the region?" He inquired thoughtfully as he exhaled and looked up and watched the light fade towards the stone ceiling.

"They'll be ready to move out at dawn, my liege. They've been preparing for this day for years now and won't fail you." Faded Scroll told with pride and trust in his fellow members causing Alistair to smile.

"Excellent, and how many should I be expecting to return?" Alistair continued.

"Several hundred, my liege. We should have well over a thousand by the end of next month if we can spread the word to the whole south of Equestria." Faded optimistically announced, despite the news Alistair seemed less assured.

"No, no that won't do...The Bibliotheca alone could house several thousands in its prime and with my magic it'll be better than its prime...And we'll need a stronger fighting force to hold the gates if we're going to turn this back into a safe haven of knowledge..." Alistair mumbled as he tried to organize a plan in his head before snapping his fingers in triumph.

"You've formulated a plan, my lord?" Scroll asked hopefully, lapping at any chance to speed along the process of recovery.

Yes, why didn't I think of this sooner? We already have allies in waiting! prepare another smaller party to ride south to Val'kala and contact the royal houses. I suspect they're not as grandiose as they once were given the fact that the border has been turned into this Badland you call it but they'd never stop guarding the Human homeland. They won't find much in the way of supporters of my family, especially if you're sending Equestrians to their gates, but they've always trusted Minotaurs and Diamond Dogs; I saw a few of them during my homecoming party and they looked brawny to say the least...Now, if my memory is right Houses Wolfbane, Lort, Glin and Stoneshield swore a blood oath to us. Glin have always been dubious at paying debts but Stoneshield live for honour, doesn't matter if I've been dead for a few millennials they'll show up and we'll need their masons to fix up the rest of this and Wolfbane have some of the best archers I've ever seen..." Alistair ordered with a spark in his eye, envisioning the future scale of the Lost Archive. As he continued to structure the coming project in his mind, he couldn't help but notice the deafening silence. Somewhat irritated, he turned around and noticed how uncomfortable and disheartened Faded Scroll looked; even though he couldn't see he somehow was able to look away from his gaze.

"Fade, is something wrong? Don't tell me Val'kala fell!" Alistair pleaded, genuinely fearful about the idea that his home might've been lost in the eons old war. To his credit Faded was able to look back at him and answer, although he was reluctant to do so and was preparing himself.

"I-It's worse I'm afraid...My lord...The last known Human died over a thousand years ago..." Faded Scroll said with no small amount of despondency.

"What?...You...You're joking right?" Alistair hoped, begging the Goddess above that Faded was playing a cruel joke on him as he watched his expression darken as he prepared himself.

"No but I wish I was...After you died and the few who stood by you fell guarding the border, the King threw everything he had at the Equestrians and used every weapon he had at his disposal. Thousands died, lands were scorched as they retreated back into the capital and watched as town after town was razed or occupied. Val'kala held out for well over a year while citizens and houses evacuated to allies across the sea like the Minotaurs but many ships never made it or were captured at sea. The battle was officially lost when the King used his ultimate weapon only to see it backfire. Accounts vary from person to person but the most common tale is that the city was leveled along with the remaining forces and a large portion of the Equestrian army." Scroll recounted as he watch his leader wordlessly stumble over to the large, polished brown wood table in the center, collapse into a chair and wordlessly stare forward; despite his emotionless facade he was in agony.

"Over the years Humanity spread across the Minotaurian Isles, aligned themselves with dozens of different Diamond Dog packs even a few Zebra tribes...And, much to their own people's dismay, some people were able to live with the Equestrians in their capital; they were all but stripped of their Humanity in the eyes of their own family but they were some of the Humans whose lineages survived the longest. They all tried but no large gathering of Humans and other races were able to create the new capital for Humanity and their homeland was nothing but ash. Many cities, houses, bands and armies rose and fell over the years and many Minotaurs, Diamond Dogs, Zebras and a few Equestrians have Human ancestry but tragically there was never a grand resurgence in Humanity's power, reach, population or respect. Many of the once royal houses either died out from infighting, were assassinated one by one or lost too much of their power to be considered regal; the few that lasted devolved into raider bands, evil yet tiny nations that lasted less than a century or simply disappeared in the hundred years or so after what's now commonly referred to as 'The Fall of Humanity'...The last known Human died surrounded by her entire village in the Minotuarian Isles...I'm...I'm sorry you had to find out this way, I wanted to wait until you were ready to hear-"

"I was never going to be ready! How the fuck do you prepare yourself to hear you're the last living member of your species?! How did you even think I'd handle this? Did you think I'd be able to shrug it off? Act like a noble, regal ponce and soldier on?! Maybe you thought I'd find solace in the knowledge that some people still give a damn about whatever man sired me and if he had noble blood? Did you think I'd just find out? Stumble across a history book and figure it out on my own so you could avoid seeing all of this? What the hell did you think would happen?" Alistair shouted at the frail man, interrupting his sorry excuse for an explanation, as he turned to look at him; his eyes were bloodshot and his features showed equal measures of contempt, sadness and regret.

"I don't know...I guess...I was hoping you'd react as positively as anyone could when hearing such news...I know it isn't much consolation but you're surrounded by people who wish to support you, to see you rebuild what was lost and to give you the live you deserved." He tried to placate, watching his idol scoff at him and eyed him with anger.

"Fuck being positive. My species is gone, my family has all but been erased from history aside from whatever hogwash you've heard about me and I'm surrounded by misguided idiots in the ruins of everything I worked hard to achieve...Every war I fought in, every spell I conceived and every pupil I helped guide...All of it was to see a better future for my house and my country...Now all that's left is rubble and a few pages in a musty history book. I should've died with the rest of my family and stayed dead..." Alistair cried out in defeat, depressed, angry and tired. Faded Scroll was doing all he could to not panic at the sight of his ruler giving up on everything he'd tried to set in motion.

"B-But you're actions helped Humanity survive for a few more thousands of years...I know this is beyond agonizing to hear, but I know you can help rebuild what was lost, I know in my heart that you can lead a country greater than Val'kala and-"

"I'm not going to build a facade of a country on top of my homeland's ashes. I'm not going to build a wonderland for your followers and your little fanatics, I'm going to rebuild this archive alone if I have to and stay here till someone kills me or I die from entropy." Alistair announced, stunning Faded Scroll silent and rocking him to his core as Alistair merely placed his head in his hands and sighed as he tried to think of anything he could do.

"But...You're all that's left, you're our idol, our hope for a better future! You could rebuild a nation unto which all could live in harmony and you could rebuild the wonderland of magic Val'kala was." Faded tried, and failed, to raise his spirits by reminding him of what he envisioned for Alistair. All it got from him was a bitter chuckle.

"'Wonderland'...Do you know what Val'kala was when I died? A haven of dark magic, terrible inventions and a dictator who ruled with an iron fist. It wasn't a 'wonderland' and it never was. It was a country like any other, the only difference is this one's buried under its people's bones. I don't give a damn if I'm your idol...Your hope...Your messiah, because I don't want to be, nor will be, any of that. I didn't want to come back to the world of the living yet you dragged me back here and want me to lead your pitiful group? I'm only still here because it's become apparent there's nowhere on this world for me to go. Celestia is still alive, my homeland is gone, Chrysalis may still be out there so at least that's reassuring and if I wanted to talk to another Human I'd have to dig up what's left of that woman who died on 'The ass end of nowhere Island'. You woke me up and forced me to witness my nightmare, and you think I want to lead a foolhardy mission to build some kind of delusional cult's promised land? I'm rebuilding my library, you and your people can stay along with the other cultists because I might as well take in as many poor souls with talent as I can, and I'm going to study and occupy myself till I go mad or chaos takes its course. Sorry if it's not the future you wanted, but I don't care for the one you imagined." Alistair ranted, his deep voice muffled by his hands, to a discouraged and hurt Faded Scroll who merely looked down in defeat and shame. "How are your people's food stocks?" He asked, confusing Faded.

"...We have enough food to last a few years." He simply responded, his resolve too shattered to try and convince his liege.

"Good, prepare a feast and tell everyone their 'leader' wants them to all get a good night's rest...Tell them 'they did a good job' and that 'they've still got a long way to go before we're done' or something...Hell, tell them the truth if you want but 'our god has given up on everything' isn't nearly as encouraging for a crowd to hear; I don't care either way, they're your people." Alistair ordered halfheartedly as he looked up to the murals depiction the rise of Humanity and the Immortalis Bibliotheca, his young eyes cloudy with suppressed tears and his pale arms weak.

"Leave." He simply commanded. He listened to the click clack of the old man's cane as he guided himself towards the massive double doors of the study and waited for the loud slam of the doors closing before he got up.

The only sound that could be heard as he softly placed page after page of blank paper on the ground was his metal plates scraping against the  white stone and obsidian runes woven into his robe and his quiet ramblings as he prepared a powerful incantation. With no one left to watch him work, he removed his left hand's gauntlet, placed it on the table and brushed his hand against one of the pages at his foot. Simultaneously, an unknown and illegible sigil appeared on them all as he placed his dense, beautifully crafted grimoire on the table as well and filled through the pages until he came across the incantation for a 'Mass Restore'.

If one were to enter, they'd hear Alistair sing a soothing melody in a long dead yet morosely beautiful language as the circle glowed a soft blue and his grimoire a vibrant orange. Light filled the air as the song began to crescendo. The floor, walls, vines and flowers all glowed a multitude of gorgeous colours and they all had an intricate pattern of crossing lines of scripture and symbols woven onto their surfaces. The room shined as if it were day and as the song climaxed on the finishing note, all anyone could've heard was Alistair's body thud against the polished, seemingly new marble floor. As he laid down, his shining hair matted and messy, his hood acting as a small pillow and body exhausted from both the powerful spell and revelation he thought to himself that the floor was as good as anywhere to take a nap.

As he slept, he dreamed of a myriad of locations and faces all lost to time and he silently wept at the future that was stolen from him because of his people's stupidity, his ruler's arrogance and Celestia's actions.

Old Friends...

Old friends...

"If this damn rain keeps up we'll be sitting here till the last star goes out..." A sick, exhausted and exasperated adolescent  muttered under his breath as he bundled up to avoid the chill of the wild winds. He and his companions had taken shelter in a hidden cave in an out of the way riven to wait out the horrendous storm. His brown cloak and hood was ragged and caked in dried dirt, his black boots were drying next to the bonfire burning brightly in the cavern, his shirt and trousers were wrinkled and scratched and his disposition was bitter to say the least. His unkempt brown hair was matted, his baby blue eyes glazed over and his ragged beard was in desperate need for a shave, The pale, frail and weary traveler was never a hiker or even an explorer and his globe trotting mission was taking a heavy toll on him. As he continued to flip through the dark green tome he'd borrowed from his former master he couldn't help but sniffle from the cold.

"Don't worry, we'll be high and dry before another one of them blinks out, so quit your whining and take this." A loud, deep and obnoxious sounding woman reassured as she stopped sharpening her valatite sword and chucked a small grey sack of medicine at the smaller, weaker boy. Her heavy, reinforced silver armour glimmered in the light of the fire, proudly displaying the lion rampant on her breastplate. She was noticeably taller, beefier and gung-ho compared to the only other Human in their motley crew. Her legs and arms were as heavily armoured and by her legs rested her valatite kite shield; the light blue and white of the metal emphasizing the orange lion emblazoned on it. Her closed helmet was resting on the rock she was resting on allowing the teen to see her mocking grin. Her short, self cut brown hair and yellow eyes suited her arguably cute or arguably rugged face. She had a few small scars and cuts on her left cheek and a small burn above her right eye yet she was far from menacing; if anything her oft calming smile and heroic aura inspired confidence. Her thin lips had a small cut obscured by the tongue she was sticking out in response to the glower boy's expression.

"I wouldn't be 'whining' about being cold if you hadn't knocked me into that swamp!" He barked back as he opened the pouch and swallowed the dry, red powder within and downed it with a quick swig from his canteen.

"You're just mad I got to kill the troll while you were swimming with the fishes; 'sides, if I hadn't you would've been plastered on a dozen trees or did you not see it swing its massive club at you?" She mocked, causing the man to stand up and walk over to her. Despite being a foot shorter he was still determined to stare the knight down.

"I suppose you've never heard of a magical shield before you dolt, I would've been more than fine." He scoffed as he rolled his eyes at her.

"You're only able to even cast those little bubbles because you seem to think spending all day and night cooped up in a musty tower is fun, how exactly are you suppose to be the future heir of our house when I'm a bigger man than you?" She teased with a challenging grin, causing the little man to growl and drop his book.

"Tough talk coming from a girl who's still scared of the dark AND chickens! You know how many cockatrices I've killed thanks to my books? I guess we can't all get stuck on boulder gnome duty like some 'renowned knights' I know." He remarked at her, causing her to go red in the face with embarrassment as she dropped her shining sword on the ground after placing it in its decorative sheath.

"Oh ho ho, you're going to regret that..." She promised as she took off her gauntlets and cracked her knuckles as her smaller rival merely hopped from foot to foot and raised his noodle like arms in a boxer pose. Before they could take their mutual hate out on each other's faces, a pair of large, yellow and furry hands grabbed them and pushed them away from each other.

"Now, now you two, siblings shouldn't fight! Look at those two over there, how come they can get along but not you?" The gentle giant of the group lectured as he used his hands as a barrier between the brother and sister, with nothing else to do they looked at Golden Hammer for a second or two before looked back at each other with scowls and thoughts of how they could've won the brawl.

For his part, Golden was somehow able to stay happy go lucky despite the horrid weather and feuding friends. His large, bushy visage was almost stuck in a beaming smile and his black beard was the scruffiest looking thing on his head aside from his flowing obsidian hair with a few braids around his fringe. His lengthy ivory horns were most likely sharper than his wit yet his gentle brown eyes held a wisdom unlike any other. Perhaps it was the years of battle, the good times he'd had or simply that he's an optimistic fellow but the eight foot tall Minotaur was easily the most insightful person in the lot. Despite his calm nature, the arguing Humans were growing on his nerves after two weeks of near constant battle.

"Listen you two, I don't like being a mean person but if you don't get along..." He stopped his little warning to pull out his massive, bloodied stone hammer off his back and dropped it into the ground for emphasis. "...I might have to just knock you two out and carry you to wherever we're heading and none of us want that." He finished with an alarming grin as he placed it away. The hammer was probably as old as the veteran Paladin, the black wooden handle weathered though still as strong as the day he snapped it off along with the solid block of blessed stone. The square stone block was ripped off, by him, from an old Celestial monastery and he believes it helps give him strength in the face of overwhelming odds; most simply chalk it up to his bulging muscles and years of training but divine intervention works as well. His gold and stone armour was dented from maces, burnt black in patches from perturbed mages, riddled with fixed holes thanks to archers and was generally seen as a wreck before his first crusade was over yet the bull mended it himself and still wears it proudly sans helmet and shoes.

"Come on Goldy, you know I could've taken him!" The mage's sister announced as he picked up his master's favourite book.

"Most likely, but we need a healer and it's been years since I so much as looked at a piece of divine text not meant to be used to inflict pain on the unholy." The guardian bellowed, half jokingly, as the apprentice nodded at him and walked off. He didn't want to stick around for when she inevitably walks away from Golden because he knew she'd come at him running. So, instead he decided to check in on the lookout. Walking up the jagged slope to the obscured entrance to the cave, he was shocked to see her missing. Panicking, he looked all around, on the ceiling and behind rock piles, before giving up.

"Okay Chris, stop worrying me before I walk out into the sto-"

"Call me Chris again, let's see how long it'll take Golden to pry me off you." The two toned, sultry yet violent voice announced from behind the paranoid wizard, who in turn jumped in alarm.

"Goddess! Damn it Chrysalis, I can't have three people in the group threaten to kick the crap out of me in one evening." He shouted out in alarm as he turned to face the titular Changeling who simply giggled mockingly at his frightened dance.

"It's not a threat, though I imagine you have more to worry from me then with your blockhead sister; you have been practicing correct?" She questioned, wanting to make sure the only other spell caster she saw as competent wasn't going to die.

"Of course I have, I'm not going to get caught with my trousers down...Again." He said smugly before remembering that one time. To emphasis his point, he pulled aside the right side of his cloak to show his hidden scabbard and short sword.

"Changelings might have little in the way of metal but when they make a blade they make them well; keep it close and keep it sharp, just because you're casting spells doesn't mean they won't rush you like your moronic sister or that aging Minotaur." She cautioned with a surprisingly serious and not so condescending look. As lightning flashed outside, giving him a quick but well lit look at her, he couldn't help but wonder why she was always snarky and looked smug.

The Changeling, like almost all of them, had black and dark grey chitin that was almost as though as armour and shinier. Her seaweed green hair was held back in a small ponytail and her fringe was left to cover a small portion of the left side of her face. She had large green eyes with slitted pupils that always seemed to watch you no matter where you were. Her fangs dripped with verbal venom and her face was almost always smirking at someone or glaring. Her body was rather lithe and her green carapace was hidden by a thick, warm set of black leather armour that covered the bulk of her body while leaving her head, most of her hole riddled limbs and head exposed. She had a variety of small bags and pouches full of an assortment of items, mostly poisonous, along with a multitude of knifes and blades, also poisonous. Despite being a head smaller than the little man she never failed to spook him.

"I still remember the vital points to hit and how to pierce armour, though an incendiary spell at that range could melt the armour onto their skin...Still, stabbing them does have a more pleasant smell afterward. Your watch should be over by now, want to go grab something from the larder? I'm famished." He offered pointing in the direction of the campfire.

"You're always hungry, and although I don't need food to stave off hunger I might have a small bite if we're not in dire need of supplies." She conceded as she led the way back to the small group.

"You know, I still can't for the live of me figure out why you came with us. We all got some sort of motivation aside from the treasure, but well...You're royalty, what's it matter to you if you get more treasure?" He pondered aloud with a small air of suspicion causing Chrysalis to smile at him in a somewhat sweet somewhat patronizing way.

"You're a Hierophant's squire correct?" She countered with her own question, causing him to raise an eyebrow at her.

"Yes, though I don't-"

"And how would you describe your life up until a few months ago?" She interrupted, stopping to look at him as she felt his emotions shift inside until he came upon a mixture of sadness yet pride.

"I'd have to say it's been pretty uneventful and sheltered; the grandest thing I've seen was my first spell I invented and all it's good for is fireworks." He admitted with a huff of resignation as he flicked his wrist and formed a sigil in his hand using the strange wordless magic Humans were fond of to cause a small cluster of multicoloured explosions which impressed Chrysalis somewhat.

"A new spell, even a mundane one, is a remarkable skill for an apprentice such as yourself, but I digress. Now think for a moment, what kind of life do you think I've had as a Queen's daughter?" She asked him, looking him dead in the eyes. She felt him get uncomfortable as he looked away from her; she noted how he always loved to challenge people but never liked people trying to intimidate him or stare him down.

"Well...I guess it would've been pretty sheltered as well." He guessed, figuring out where she was going with this.

"Exactly. I've spent the majority of my life so far sitting in a gloomy castle being told what's to be expected of me and how to act and I'll tell you the same thing my 'etiquette instructor' told my mother. A royal can't expect to leave a grand legacy if she doesn't even know the world she's leaving a mark on. I didn't just leave for the treasure or to stick it to her, I did it so I could see the kind of dirt ball I'm going to rule over someday." She announced with no small air of arrogance and with a rather villainous cackle.

"You're, uh, dead set on being a conqueror?" He questioned, somewhat nervous he might be becoming allies with a future tyrant.

"Don't worry, I'll remember you when I'm sitting on the throne. Who knows, perhaps you could be the Royal Seer, ahahaha!" She joked with a flick of her deep green tail. He was peeved at her as it flicked him in the nose but he knew she'd most likely actually attack him if he tried something and unlike his sister he didn't know when she'd stop; sighing and shaking his head at his crazy group of friends, he went back to the campfire and stand down next to the last two members of the gang.

"Ah Alistair! Stopped whining about the cold have you?" The grey Earth Pony teased as she smiled at him, her soft and benevolent voice betraying her jerkish tendencies.

"No Tia, I've just got more things to worry about...Namely starving, pass the meat and veggies and I'll cook us some grub with magic." He offered with a smile back at her as he decided to let it go so he could eat sooner.

"Hey Aurora, pass the food." She ordered as she looked at his sister, causing her to roll her eyes and hold up the magically protected bag.

"You're a working type aren't ya? Then get off your fat rump and do it yourself." She responded as she shook it at her, the whole group sans Celestia laughed in varying degrees as they watched her get infuriated over her one weakness: people pointing out her slight pudginess.

"You are indeed gaining an alarming amount of weight on this life or death quest sister, are you secretly eating double the rations? What do you think Alistair?" Her sister chimed in with a small, barely noticeable grin as she remained staring down at the scroll held in her azure magical grasp.

The two of them were inseparable and insufferable to each other, like Alistair and Aurora but less physically hostile. Celestia was wearing a bulky, decorative yet powerful set of enchanted armour that covered her whole body without slowing the muscular pony down somehow. The platinum armour was a blazing emblem of her people's mages ancestry, power and to a lesser extent their vanity. Despite the Unicorn colours of platinum armour, purple fur lining around the neck and some dark blues it bore homage to all three races as all three contributed to its construction. The Pegasi gathered the raw resources from atop a treacherous mountain range, the Earth Ponies smelted them and constructed the armour and their weapons and the Unicorns enchanted the set. She wore a helm that protected the neck and sides of the head thanks to the wonders of chain mail and allowed her to see unimpaired. It might not be as protective or as dazzling as Aurora's helmet but for a keen fighter, even one as meager as Celestia, sight and clarity in battle is key. At her side rested an extensive, flashy halberd with a spear head at the top of the pole, ax head as the primary weapon and a small hammer head on the opposite side. Her other tool of survival was a large shield that seemed more like a wall of reinforced metal then a standard shield. Only the toughest of Earth Ponies could've lifted a pile of metal that sturdy yet somehow she made it look easy. On the crest of the shield rested the symbols of the three tribes: wind, earth and magic represented through a circle of emerald Earth Ponies, diamond Pegasi and Sapphire Unicorns galloping in a circle. It looked unnecessary and gaudy but that's Pony weaponry for you. Despite her helmet, her long and sparkly pink mane slipped through sometimes hiding her magenta eyes. Her smiling sun cutie mark was hammered into the flanks of the armour and decorated through the use of golden plates. She was almost as tall as Alistair and he found that particularly emasculating.

"Oh, I think from her size she'd be eating at least trip-GAH!" Alistair's jape shared with Luna was rudely interrupted by Celestia as she wrapped her hooves around his throat. As he was beginning to cast a fireball at her, they felt Luna's magic yank her off him.

"Sweet Sister, who'll be around to patch you up the next time you get broad sided by a Giant if you kill Alistair in this dank cave?" She rhetorically asked as he massaged his throat while Celestia glowered at him; Aurora gave her the stink eye and Chrysalis looked at Alistair disapprovingly.

"Do not make me knock you out cold as well! I may be older than all of you but I don't enjoy being a babysitter to a crowd of teenagers with weapons." Gold yelled, surprising the members of the group who couldn't read emotions.

"Yeah...Also, no one's allowed to hurt Alistair aside from me! It's in a contract he made me sign when we were kids and since a Hierophant authorized it it's technically a legal thing." Aurora cut in, causing me to chuckle at the memory of my 'sweets for punches' deal I chalked up.

"Worry not Alistair, your combative skills may be...Lacking, but while I'm around no harm shall come to you." Luna reassured as she looked up from her captivating scroll to smile at him. The mare was probably the nicest person Alistair knew aside from his own master and he thanked the Goddess for having one person in the team who's yet to hit him, accidentally or otherwise. She, much like him, wore a much more simple and bland cloak and light armour set common among travelling mages of all creeds. She wore a black cloak that hid her purple fur and silvery blue mane and horn. She wore a plain white button up shirt under a brown vest and her hooves were decorated with a series of charms and accessories; she also wore a silver circlet with a moonstone embedded in it that connected to her horn. Across her flanks were a pair of stitched on crescent moons like her cutie mark. Her cerulean eyes were always wide and curious despite her reserved and mellow voice. She always spoke politely as well so that's nice. Unlike him, she only kept scrolls, tomes and loose pages in her saddle bags that were applied as powerful conduits when she either can't remember an incantation or if a simpler spell won't cut it. Also, she had no healing or protective spells so the two of them standing side by side in the middle of the party during battles was a common occurrence.

"Here, you cook the food; you're such a hothead so it shouldn't take long to heat it up." Celestia tried to insult, only getting a laugh from him in response. He quickly dropped some meat, vegetables and some stock into a caste iron pot they lugged around and quickly began making a simple broth that had Golden and Aurora already drooling. As Alistair sat down between two good friends, watching Golden Hammer and his sister laugh over stories, listened to Luna go on about magical theories to him and saw Celestia train in the corner of the camp he couldn't help but grin with happiness. It didn't matter if they were sitting in a damp cave, it didn't mean anything to him that the stars were blinking out and the sun was going cold and the fact that they were being pursued by the Undead meant nothing...For the first time, he was seeing the world with a band of heroes he'd come to call friends...He was...Content and thrilled for the future...As he continued to cook the meal, he couldn't help but wonder where Chrysalis-

"You could've probably stabbed Celestia when she was choking you, you know, or is all my teaching for nothing?" Chrysalis scowled as she seemed to appear out of nowhere right next to Alistair, causing him to jump in fright once more and to cause Chrysalis to laugh derisively as well.

As light fluttered into the Lost Archive, illuminating both the newly restored and marvelous sights of the Archive and the rubble and ruin of lost glory, the Coven of the Last Hierophant began to stir from their slumber and rushed to perform their duties. The small alcove near the base of the colossal building had been refurbished into a base camp of sorts for the various groups who'd go on expeditions into both the cavernous depths of the Nox Magicae Archives and the precarious towers and wings of Celestial magic high above. The multiple holes in the ceiling had been covered by tarps and the ruined walls had been turned into guard posts as their alcove was the only viable way of entering on foot. The dusty, cracked floor was covered in sleeping bags, tents and even a few hovels that'd been torn down and set up multiple times; inside one of such shacks sat Faded Scroll. After what he'd heard last night sleep ended up eluding him and so he sat and meditated on what to do from this point onward. His small house of sorts was filled with artifacts of his life, the accumulation of his magically extended life and the heart of his beloved church. From his old tacticians armour, to the sword his mother gave to him, to his personal library of rare braille tomes to the most mundane and childish of toys from his youth...All of it felt hollow to him, like a sign that it was all in vain.

"Faded Scroll, are you-oh, you're awake." A large, husky Diamond Dog bitch with snow white, fluffy fur and a wild, shaggy mess of blonde hair. Her sleepy violet eyes watched her leader hobble out of his chair and walk over to her.

"Yes, I had an early rise and thought I'd meditate for a short while." He lied with a smile, trying to keep the group from panicking until he could formulate a sound way of breaking the news without also spreading mass hysteria and depression.

"Good, meditation is key to both physical and mental well being; even an old codger like yourself could use some of it." She lectured with a grin as she poked fun at her old teacher. The soft spoken Dog towered over most of the camp, even rivaling some of the tougher Minotaur guards, and slouched over so much that when she stops using her two, muscular arms to hold herself up and stands straight she's a beast of a Dog; though to most everyone's surprise the heavyset hound focused on her innate powers instead of her physical brawn. Her fur covered, cute visage was decorated with black lines facing upwards diagonally from her small eyes and red circles in a vertical pattern across her high cheeks. Despite her fur being warm enough to melt a snowman and their local, she still wore the thick, decorated and coveted garb of a Grandmaster, the highest position within the coven with only four living masters at any given time. Her body was wrapped in a dark blue robe with gold accenting and she also went the extra mile and wore a brown cloak and scarf that protected her from the environment but not much else. The only other items she wore were a pair of white, blessed scrolls she'd wrapped around her front paws. The pure white scrolls never seem to fade, get torn, burnt or damaged in any noticeable way. In her palm she'd painted on the black runic symbols of the earth, magical winds and inner strength. They seemed pretty to most people but were downright terrifying to one who adheres to the Last Hierophant's teachings; they were a marker of just how far she'd come as a master of her art.

"I know more about meditation then you do Snow, never forget who was your master after all." He reminded with a welcomed smirk as he was able to push the horrible night aside and simply enjoy a moment with his star pupil. Despite his tone and facade, Snowfall was able to see through his ruse and frowned worriedly as she followed the grey stallion outside.

"What's wrong Scroll?" She inquired as he limped onward towards the massive stairs that led all the way up to the Hierophant's study; it was a feat of athleticism that he was able to hike the twenty flights of stairs up into the increasingly unstable cathedral of knowledge.

"Nothing dear, just some hurdles involving our shared goal. Nothing to be worried over of course." He bluffed with a smile as he tried to climb his way back up. As she watched him wheeze and huff, his hunger, thirst and lack of sleep catching up on him, she smiled as she picked up the frail old man and walked up the stairs.

"You know I can see through your mask, the only real advantage to being trained by a Telepath is that I'm pretty good at reading people's minds myself." She jested as she smiled tenderly as Faded fidgeted in her grasp.

"Snow, you know how I feel about being carried around like a, like a baby." The wise old mentor muttered as he tried to carry the conversation while avoiding the subject and getting over the weird situation he was in. The beams of morning light falling in through the fractured stain glass windows of various hues high above them painted the sour man's face despite the hood he was fond of wearing.

"Oh, you're far, far, far from being a young babe, the wrinkles and crotchety attitude towards helpers gives it away; at your age you should be used to people looking after you." She said as she ignored her trainer's annoyed sigh.

"I'm used to it my dear, but I don't enjoy it." He clarified as he looked up and saw the long path ahead of them.

"Please, all you enjoy is a dusty book, rubble and boring kids to death with your lessons." She mocked, showing her deep and profound respect for the old geezer. "Come on, cheer up, this is a wondrous day! The first day with our true king among us!" She cheered triumphantly, unaware of the darker truths.

"Yes, it truly is wonderful..." He replied as her enthusiasm was only worsening his mental state as he continued to fret over the status of everything. Snowfall grimaced at his bizarre flippancy and stoic behavior but chalked it up to the pressures of running the tight knit and scholarly band combined with integrating the Lord Hierophant into the new world. A lot had changed since he'd died, the advent of modern magic, the Equestrians and the reemergence of the Crystal Empire, the Griffon's increase in raiders coupled with their increasing reliance of technology and warfare, the Changeling's increased aggression and...The fall of Humanity. As she contemplated the ramifications of how he'd react, stepping past rows of ruined statues, long since broken and hastily constructed ramparts, the smashed windows giving way to the stone grey, yellow and blood red of the shifting sands outside and the dust of partially ruined skeletons still manning their defenses she considered the future of her home and how the world would react to their rise in power.

After a short period of carrying the perturbed Telepath and wondering what was wrong, they came across the massive double doors of the main study. Though cracked, lined in vines and almost impossible to move without the use of Weight Manipulation magic it was now pristine, covered in Ancient Human script, the wood and metal door a varnished and healthy light brown with the lion and raven emblem carved into the center high above them. The stone floor, walls and even plant life surrounding it gradually changed from pure and tame to wild and archaic so gradually it almost looked intentional.

"Woah...This is...This is beautiful." Snowfall exclaimed in awe as she delicately put her former mentor down who in turn couldn't help but be impressed at his idol's powers. With a small amount of effort, she was able to push open the door and walk into the shimmering hall.

"Goddess be praised..." Snow prayed as she bared witness to the greatest collection of lost text and scripture she'd ever seen. The marble floor covered in stakes of newly restored yet homeless books stacked neatly, the shelves of old world magic touching the floor and roof in perfect symmetry row after row and level after level. The valatite chandelier high above offered illumination to the top levels, its blue candles burning perfectly but never melting. The walls were lined with rich tapestries detailing the rise of Alistair and his sister accumulating in the gut wrenchingly beautiful murals depicting Humanity's rise, dominion over magic and the act of Alistair's ascension. The room was almost like a gift wrapped perfectly to the coven, a prize for the grueling and costly work they'd all put into bringing the lost world's true custodian of magic back from the brink. The same custodian who was lying on the floor, unconscious, next to an overturned table and chair and surrounded by unknown and burnt sigils. Alarmed, Faded Scroll ran forward unnaturally fast for a man his age.

"My lord!" He exclaimed in fear as he dropped down next to him and felt for a pulse, only to breath out a sigh of relieve when he heard Alistair groan in annoyance and being woken up.

"Damn it all, it wasn't a dream..." He muttered darkly, softly enough so Snow and Fade couldn't hear. Snow also took a knee beside her god and reached into her large white satchel full of general supplies and pulled out a huge, Diamond Dog sized skin of water.

"Lord Hierophant Alistair, are you alright?!" The overstrung Dog asked in a soft yet worried tone while offering the container. As he opened his two toned eyes, he laid them on the bottle, took it from her hands softly and took a long, deep gulp of the cool spring water.

"Physically yes, thanks for asking...You guys want any?" He reassured with a stoic expression before he offered the flask only to receive two polite nos. "More for me." He stated with a despondent expression as he downed half of it before looking back at them.

"If I might be so bold, my lord, why were you sleeping on the floor? We had a cottage constructed in anticipation of your revival while you waited for us to clear the rubble to your chambers." Faded Scroll queried as he cocked his head slightly while Alistair rose and popped his back into place with a grunt.

"Never liked walking down those stairs and I didn't want to use the magic necessary to lose this form to bother you people, besides I only just fixed the floor so I felt like breaking it in....Though historically that's always been a two person job." He lied before joking to himself to try and distract his brain from the crushing reality of his situation. "I'm sorry, have we been formally introduced? I think I would remember a Diamond Dog as lovely as you." Alistair complimented with a slight smile, trying to act like everything was normal, as he nodded at Snowfall while stretching his arms. His simple words still caused the looming Dog to blush slightly, not yet used to immortals flattering her.

" N-No Lord Alistair, we've not been formally introduced to each other. I'm Grandmaster Snowfall, a member of the council that guides your flock and former pupil to Faded Scroll. I-I'm honoured to finally meet you face to face." She said with a deep bow that looked somewhat awkward from a Diamond Dog. Not one for formality, Alistair placed a hand on her shoulder and offered a soft grin to calm her nerves.

"The pleasures all mine, I owe a lot to you and Faded and I'm glad to meet you finally. Also don't bow to me please, I never liked it when people treat me differently and last night was enough fan fair for me." He tried to lighten the mood by acting humble and it seemed to work on Snowfall who was genuinely ecstatic to talk to her idol, though Faded who was watching from the side was deeply conflicted. He never liked watching someone lie or being dishonest...But the truth, and Alistair's blunt words, would crush her...

"Ahem, Lord Alistair, the envoy's are soon to be under way; would you like to see them off?" Faded Scroll informed then offered, derailing their little meet and greet, as Alistair turned away to look at him and to a lesser extent rub the sleep out of his eyes and yawn.

"Yeah sure, why not. Lead the way old timer." He ordered as he watched the younger mage pass him and walked slightly behind him with Snowfall who was absolutely giddy despite her soft voice. As Alistair mentally fortified himself for several minutes of wearing a mask and acting cool, he couldn't help but wonder how fucked the rest of the archive was. Stepping out into the shattered grand hall, seeing the broken statues of Human mages of lore, the shattered ceiling high above, the collapsed stairs leading to nowhere, the shanty town below and the sight of the harrowing desert beyond the broken windows he had to suppress a wail of lament and resigned himself to a prolonged, painful sigh. The others said nothing in response, unsure how to console the Hierophant.

"Well, at least this problem I can fix with some magic and grit..." He calmly announced, as he nodded for Faded to lead him down the old and familiar yet crumbling stairs to his once splendid entrance way. Snow, ever excited, went to ask him all kinds of questions of his past life but as she went to say something, she heard a soft voice in her head.

"Don't, he seems agitated by something." Faded Scroll communicated, knowing damn well what was wrong. Alistair, unbeknownst to the two of them, heard his little message and scoffed slightly figuring that he hadn't broken the bad news yet. The long walk down was quiet, tense and unpleasant but only Alistair fully knew why. As he cleared the last flight of stairs, holding onto the railing for a semblance of emotional support and a connection to his dead world, he couldn't help but notice the hundreds of eyes staring at him. Hundreds upon hundreds of thoughts ran through their minds...Hope, prosperity, divinity, wonderment, youthful spirit and a sense of fulfillment and belonging...He could break it all with a single, painful message...He was tempted, so tempted, to simply kick them all out and start from scratch, isolated in his small pocket of existence, but figured it was kinder to let them loiter until he constructed a proper residence for them and a school for the young, starry eyed colts, fillies, pups and so on...Perhaps, he thought, he could finally go through with his age old project of constructing a proto-city around the Immortalis Bibliotheca. Of course he'd need more followers to populate said town which he hated the thought of but if he honestly wanted his cherished archive to be the beacon it once was he'd need to raise it above its former stature...Which meant spreading the news of its and his revival...Which meant attracting former enemies, new ones and possibly more fanatics or possible greedy, malicious leeches who'd use his magic for evil...But also meant saving the only thing he had left to fret over aside from the handful of cultists gawking at him. Putting a peg in the inevitable conundrum, he decided to strike up an important conversation with Faded Scroll.

"How many in your coven suffer from a loss of limb, sight, hearing, a disease, etcetera?" He asked, snapping the two leaders to attention.

"fifty three, myself included. Why?" Faded Scroll stated without a hint of confusion before questioning him.

"You people brought me back to life, I didn't want to come back and this world is somehow more bothersome and terrifying than the one I died in, but you people still did a lot in my name...I owe it to you people to fix any immediate problems and I'd say a debilitating illness or disability would be a good start." He clarified, his face was expressionless but his voice conveyed a sliver of gratitude.

"Lord Alistair, that's beyond generous..." Snow exclaimed in surprise, her often calm expression shifting to immense shock and relief. Faded Scroll was unable to connect a sentence, dumbfounded at his sudden act of kindness combined with visions of his prior meltdown and total abandonment of his organization; he was able to shake of the sudden, yet growingly common sense of confusion and beamed at him joyously.

"You humble us with your promise, my lord. I'll notify the injured, elderly and ill." Faded Scroll praised with a deep, respectful bow.

"Think nothing of it...Oh, and halt the envoy going to contact Chrysalis' hive." He ordered with a blank expression.

"That'd be mine, why?" Snow inquired, cocking an eyebrow at the sudden cancellation of her hand picked teams deployment.

"Well, she's Chrysalis and if I remember her right she hates most people and would probably either turn you away or attack you since you're a rogue element in the vicinity of her 'land'. Also, I feel like if anyone should tell her I'm alive it should be me..." He informed before going silent for awhile, letting his true emotions show for a short while as a concoction of pain and nostalgia flashed before being muddied by a blank canvas.

"You know her?" She pressed, finding it queer that he'd know a supposed tyrant.

"I hope so. I need an updated map of the area and nothing more." He ordered straight forwardly and was pleased when Snow merely opened her cloak, revealing the solid stone breastplate underneath with runic etchings, and pulled out a large cloth map. As he nodded his head in appreciation, he mentally prepared himself for a blunt update on his treasured lands. He breathed in, opened the map, and held his breath in a somber lack of surprise. Nothing. The map was littered with nothing. There were small landmarks like the Archive, a few ruined towns and farm houses that marked the sandy, ash stained plain. Among the incoherent cluster of debris were markers and constructs from his former home that still stood strong, like Martik's Spear, the great, valatite mesa jutting from the center of the barren wastes. As he glimpsed at the depictions of his former home, he noted the rough location of his old friend's hideaway a few hours north of Martik's Spear and closed it. He knew where to go.

"Thank you, that'll be all." He announced with a solemn, yet quivering voice, that broke Faded’s heart and caused Snow's confidence in his iron will to weaver.

"L-Lord Hierophant, are you-" She started as she reached out to grasp his shoulder with her soft, yet muscular hand to try and sooth the shaking figure only to see him brush it off.

"I said, that'll be all. I'll be back before nightfall." He barked at her as he turned and glared at her. She wasn't afraid of him, she wasn't afraid of anything that could be killed with enough grit, but something in his eyes...Something primal caused her determination to falter.

"Faded, see the envoy's off for me. I would've liked to myself but if I'm going to make it there before night sets I'm going to have to set off early." He commanded with an even voice as he walked forward and sat on the sot covered ground as cultists watched him in anticipation of something.

"But, this trip would take a single person with no transport at least a week...How are-" His logical question was brushed off as his revered leader burst into a light violet flame and dissolved into nothing once more, before morphing into a giant, armoured and robed silver raven. His feathers changed colours like his mystic form, his unblinking eyes shone azure and infernal and his silver body was covered in a blank robe and plated metal.

"Simple, I'll fly. Keep the place clean while I'm gone and don't trash it more than it already is." He interrupted telepathically with a cocky tone, almost excited to use his favourite form. With a flag of his cosmic wings, he soared into the air and flew through a ruined, circular window and out into the free world; he left behind a trail of dissolving feathers and stardust as she flew. As Faded Scroll watched him soar of, unsure whether to take solace in his ability to keep moving on or to hover on his words of despair, Snowfall watched the god like being fade out of view and began to wonder what would have transpired in the events prior. She wanted to warn him of the outside world, but from his tone, his body language and the malice in his every move...She knew he already knew long before she saw him.

As she watched him fade away, she pitied whoever would test his patience.

The chilling, desert air that brushed against his feathered form would've been a welcomed respite from the turmoil within were it not for the missing scent of pine and screeching Wyverns to remind him this was Valatorian air he glided on. The barren, blood stained and ashen land below him was like a bitter, hateful reminder of the ultimate injustice; a painting solely in place to mock him. Every ransacked and broken building scattered to the wild, so haplessly placed and nondescript you'd be forgiven for thinking it was one giant ruined unit, a message that all his efforts were in vain. From the fact that his haven was now merely a speck on the horizon he wagered he was now over Teriq lands. The Teriqs always complained at the sight of his castle turned archive, ragging on his experiments and always coming around should a creature escape or test go awry, and now he'd give anything to have their spiteful lineage back. The last shred of proof of their being he could spot was a collapsed rampart bearing a white and torn banner that would have once been theirs. He tried not to think, not to painfully envision, the few members of House Teriq he respected in their final hours. Did the Equestrian's kill them in combat? Did they rot away in a cell somewhere? Did they swallow poison or feel the air rush past them as they refused to be taken prisoner? Or did the final insult inflicted by the crown wipe them out? All the same, the blank banner said enough to him.

Seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to hours and the hours whispered madness into his mind. Miles of sand. Miles of rubble. Miles of beasts and miles of dead beasts wearing the skin of people. The land was death incarnate. The sky was empty sans the cruel sun, the ground was barren and salted and the horizon showed nothing but a solid structure of corroded valatite. Mistake upon mistake. Massacre upon massacre. House upon forgotten house. Eight, he'd passed eight different markers of former castles and all of them were indicated through memory alone and all of them chastised him for his failed efforts to save them all. They were all proud, all pious and all noble in their own right. They were Human and now he was the last living thing who knew of their glory. He didn't know if it was the cold wind of the dunes or the ghosts of former lords, but either way they told him everything he didn't want to hear.

They told them how his land was razed.

They told him how his people burned alive.

How they suffered as he slept peacefully.

How they all perished because he was too slow.

Because he wasn't willing to act.

He struggled not to tell himself their deaths were his fault.

Their protests told him otherwise.

The mental assault and voices halted as he physically impacted against the deteriorated and crumbling Spear of Martik with a soft thud. The once radiant metal long since lost its luster. The tip showed signs of erosion and the base, which was rapidly approaching, held feeble marks of insects trying to mine the last great symbol of Mankind. As he smashed into the ground, losing form either from incoherence or pain, he shaped himself back into his Human body and simply stared. He got up and stared. He despised the clump of metal that defiantly jutted from the ground. He always told them how it wasn't an act of gods, how it was most likely caused by magic long ago, but they still saw it as a sign of Martik the warrior god's favor. They worshiped it, they prayed to it and eventually the fools built a city around it. They built churches with pillars that touched the sky and connected them to the monolithic mound through the use of multi coloured rope. They taught naive children and the idiots of Mart that Martik fought against the Demons of Chaos and plunged his spear into the leader's heart where their city was constructed. They boasted about how their metals and weapons were blessed by their god. They forced recruits of the local militia to scale the Spear in a haze to sort out the weak from the strong, so many weak bodies were squashed against the ground like his should've. The vanity of Mart, the stupidity of Mart, the zeal of Mart and the hubris of Man was all symbolized in this one, benign piece of metal. out of all the idols of the Goddess and Gods, all the cities, all the lost institutes of knowledge, all the houses, all the lands...This useless, obscene and vile structure still stood. It was broken, hacked at, crumbling and forgotten yet it still stood. All of his trials and tribulations, his dead friends and slain enemies, his fallen countrymen and lost childhood amounted to a crumbling Archive, a field of nothing and whispers and a pillar of everything wrong in the country he fought for.

He laughed in spite of himself. He guffawed loudly for all the nothing to hear. He cheered with the wind and collapsed into the ash as he yelled out at nothing but the Spear. He laughed, and laughed until it turned into a cold, malicious roar of mirth and as he approached it he kept laughing. As he placed his hands on it and watched it turn a pale blue and turn back to the normal rusted shade of metal he pounded his pale fists into it with all his might. Chunks of metal went flying and the pillar threatened to collapse as he kept pummeling one of the last landmarks of Humanity. His laugh was louder then the sound of the crumbling shine as blow after blow on the useless structure took foot after foot off it. He kept laughing in spite.

"Ha...Ha...Hahaha..." He bellowed out. His throat raspy and his fists bloody. In front of and around him laid piles of broken, rusted valatite. His matted hair was filled with shavings, his teary face twisted into a maddening grin. The mud below him was stained red from the blood that dripped onto it and the tears that fell as well. His robes were disheveled, the armour sizzled against his skin and his runes softly hummed. His eyes burned with loathing and his breaths were ragged. The pain, the pillar and the nothing...It was so damn funny to him. His frustrations dented yet still whole, he shook unevenly as he stood up tall and casted a simple spell onto his body to mend the torn open knuckles. As he turned to walk away from the destroyed metal, he sighed and placed his hand against the base and muttered a simple incantation. His runes almost burned themselves out granting him the extra power necessary to reconstruct the symbol of hubris yet he was capable of it. The metal reformed itself, the rust burned away and the valatite shined with never before seen luster. It was once more complete and looked like an actual spear of valatite. He abhorred it yet saw it as one of the last, mythical symbol of Humanity's existence and that was enough for him to allow it to exist. With his energy spent on his mindless yet calming rage, he decided to walk the rest of the way and hoped the afternoon sun would be kind to him for once.

As the dwindling light of the afternoon kissed the horizon and the hills, he came across the supposed entrance to Chrysalis' new home. The outside looked like a normal cave entrance though through years of learning and studying alongside a few of them he'd come to spot the subtle signs of a Changeling lying in wait. A slight distortion of colour or light, a shape seemingly out of place or an object you couldn't quite make out in the shadows; all of them a Changeling merely hoping you'll be stupid enough to approach them. They couldn't hurt him, at least not as an incorporeal being, without serious magical reserves though he also didn't want to offend their Queen by murdering them so he simply assumed his incorporeal form behind an outcrop of orange rocks and slipped by then by using a simple spell he'd devised to temporarily assume the colour of the world around him. The purple sky, yellow sands and orange rocks gave way to darkness and a soft, sickly green radiating from small clusters of crystals commonly found in Changeling hives. He pressed onward, relieved to be out of the sweltering sun and giddy at the encroaching events. Slipping past patrol, ambushes and the occasional sleeping soldier he soon found his way into the heart of the hive after a few embarrassing wrong turns into dead ends or resting points. The ceiling was covered in illuminating crystals, the air was alive with the sound of wings buzzing and below the concert of busy workers and soldiers patrolling and in the center stood a massive, black, spiky and heavily fortified citadel.

The green glass windows were fortified, the grounds were littered with drones lollygagging or working and the black, pike covered walls seemed impenetrable to one incapable of flight and turning invisible. As he flew over droves of drones and workers, he couldn't help but notice the abundance of heavily armed and armoured ones; it almost caused him to be shocked if it weren't for the times Chrysalis bragged about her people's smiting abilities so it was expected she'd want the best arms for her loyal forces. After sneaking onto the castle grounds and admiring some of the black bush decorations, he used his magic to assume his rarely used and tricky to pull off Changeling form. Like all races, there were subtle things that could tip people off and for Changelings it was the connection to a hive mind. The visual disguise would work flawlessly but if they stopped him they'd figure him out. With a brief flash of colours, a somewhat tall, black chitin covered, green haired changeling covered in an obscuring robe walked out of the shadows and walked into the castle with no problems. The guards seemed fooled by his 'look over there' firework spell.

"Where is she, where is she..." He muttered to himself as he walked down rows after rows of corridors only to come across a pair of heavily guarded doors that touched the chandelier adorned ceiling. Figuring there was nothing left to do but say fuck it, he walked over to the dozen or so guards and smiled.

"Is her majesty inside?" He asked calmly, confusing the mask wearing guard captain notable by his green and black armour that hugged his form.

"Of course she...Wait you're-"

"Thank you, that'll be all." He interrupted as he pushed open the doors with his magic, snapping the guards to attention and notifying everyone inside to his disguised arrival.

The throne room was everything she told him it'd be, carpeted with emerald cloth, adorned with black and green tapestries of her lineage, lined with loyal and scarily massive elite guards, rows of workers at her beck and call, stain glass windows displaying a biased account of her past featuring him and his sister at points he noted. All of these splendid features, including the obsidian statues and trophies she'd hoarded, led up to the 'crowning jewel', meaning her. She sat lazily upon an padded and comfy looking obsidian, emerald and chitin throne that was lavishly padded to make resting on it a luxury. As he approached, uncaring of the guards barking at him, the elite's snapping at attention and Chrysalis herself looking irritated at his arrival.

"I don't recall sending for a scrappy looking worker drone, so why are you?" She loudly addressed, sounding more bored and tired than angry at her disguised friends arrival, her two toned voice stunning him slightly as memories flashed through his mind.

"Just wanted to catch up with an old friend." He answered, his two toned changeling voice disguising his voice somewhat yet still caused her to question herself.

"I'm no friend to an unknown worker drone...Especially one who isn't a member of my own hive! Who are you?" She demanded once more, becoming irritated now at the insult of having a mindless drone in her hall, as she stepped down from her throne and stepped in front of the row of silver, obsidian and emerald armoured Changelings who stood at attention with great, haunting masks with wild green plumes atop them.

"Well, I'm not really a drone Chris. Come on, you remember me right?" He teased with a smarmy voice, eliciting a rise out of her as he was surrounded by the guards as he finally got too close to her for their liking.

"...What did you just call me you whelp?!" She snapped in anger as she thought of the only other person who used the age old insult and walked away. At such a close proximity, Alistair marveled at how similar she was to his memories. She was much taller and more slender, befitting a Queen, yet her seaweed green hair was mostly the same, albeit more elegant and lengthier, her fangs seemed longer and her chitin seemed thinner yet stronger as well. Her hateful, malicious look and jagged horn glowing a neon green didn't detract from the natural and somewhat unnatural beauty given to a Changeling royal. The tall, noble, violent, deceitful Changeling was almost exactly how he remembered her. For the first time since waking up, he had a genuinely warm smile.

"Oh come on Chris..." He started, segmenting his sentence as he removed his cunning facade with a blast of ethereal light to reveal the pale, handsome, immortal Human she'd thought dead. "...Can't you tell an old friend when you see one?" He finished, tearing up as he tried to stay confident in front of his last living friend.

She was paralyzed. Her magical dissipated all together, her hateful look gave way to one of surprise and long dormant sorrow. Her body language shifted so dramatically it was odd and her Changelings saw it.

"A-al?...Leave us, immediately." She commanded sternly, her subordinates flooding out of the room in a wave, leaving them alone. Her emotions gave way and for the first time in a long, long time, she wept openly.

"You...You're..." She muttered, dumbfounded at the sight of her long since buried and mourned friend. She felt a mixture of pain, distrust, fear, sorrow yet an overwhelming amount of joy. She tried to hold back the river as she watched Alistair give into his own emotions.

"I'm alive Chryssie...I'm alive again..." He reassured with a sad, discouraged smile as he approached his confidant and all but collapsed into her. "Out of everything that's warped in this world...I'm glad to see you're still the same conqueror I knew..." He joked with a choked up voice as he felt the waves of barely suppressed emotions pour out into his tired hug. The same broken and confused feelings Chrysalis was able to feel and all of them mirrored the confusion and pain that was being rediscovered deep within her.

They stood there for a long while, Alistair broken and Chrysalis wondering if this was all a long desired dream.

...Older Habits

...Older habits

After a prolonged embrace the two old friends broke apart, still emotional but far from speechless.

"How are you alive? Celestia isn't known for...Actually, it seems most of the people she's killed have started coming back." Chrysalis started before realizing the recent trend of reappearing villains from the past and chuckled in spite of the situation.

"It's a long story, is there somewhere more private than a throne room?" Alistair inquired while wiping the tears out of his eyes.

"Of course, follow me." She instructed with a gentle smile before reforming the common scowl her minion's have become acquainted with as they trekked out of the colossal room and into the heavily guarded hallway. The guards stepped aside in a wave of motion to let their Queen pass and, despite their best efforts to hide their interest, marveled at the sight of a Human. The short voyage was tense and both of them were already listing the questions they needed answered. Although he was a Telepath and she a Changeling, they'd both sworn long ago to never break the mutual, if arguably misplaced, trust that they'd never overstep that line of privacy and in that seemingly drawn out walk, the two straight faced immortals struggled to keep their promise. As they almost jogged past ornate rows of doors, guards, servants and two toned teal and green windows illuminating the winding walkways with crystalline light they finally came upon a massive set of obsidian and valatite doors bearing the Chrysalis' emblem: The two headed Wyvern roaring into the sky made of chitin, Valatite and emeralds.

"Hey, you took her suggestion after all..." Alistair said aloud wistfully with a mournful grin.

"I could've called her a lot of things back then, but she always was a creative one." Chrysalis remarked as she opened the doors with her magic and regarded her empowering mark with pride. Together they walked into her private quarters bathed in a thick haze of darkness. Almost as if it sensed their presence, the room lit up thanks to the aid of several crystal growths in the black walls which offered atmospheric lighting for the dimly lit room. It was furnished with unorthodox taste as it was lavished with finely designed lounges, a marble fireplace with a soft purple fire burning in the hearth, a twinkling chandelier of glass that seemed to reflect the light, a massive, pillow covered dark green bed that looked soft enough to melt into and, to Al's surprise, a ornate balcony; the idea of a balcony to Changelings and Humans was largely unheard of a few thousand years or so a go given the possibility of an assassin entering through it.

"I never fancied you to be one for Human decor." Alistair commented, not sure whether or not this was some kind of practical joke or a cosmic coincidence.

"After Celestia's army burned through the land, many nobles seeking refuge offered the most bizarre things as tokens of gratitude...I'm not used to these, but I'm sorry-" She began, watching as his expression shattered at the mention of the forgotten war.

"Don't be, you tried to help me, help all of us...I just wish you could've been there sooner." He interrupted her, not wanting to hear her apologise for someone else's sins.

"As do I...Also, don't make it a habit of interrupting me." She reminded with a soft smirk of authority, causing him to smile and huff in amusement as he collapsed into one of her plush, azure and silver couches as she gracefully rested on the parallel one.

"Noted...So...You go first." He conceded, not sure where to start himself so he allowed someone else for once.

"As I asked earlier, how're you alive? We scoured the ruins of the Immortalis Bibliotheca but all we found was stardust and mortal corpses...You should've told us you were still alive." She reiterated with equal confusion, vexation and elation.

"I'm alive now but for a few thousand years I wasn't...Just a ethereal shade giving bits and pieces of my live force to any drifter I found worthy of my former gifts...We fought hard Chryssie, we fought damn hard to stop her. We held out for a lot longer than Aurora thought we would...We held out long enough to evacuate the whole of Northern Val. We fought on long enough and with such vigor that I was able to fool myself into think we could win...The mere second Celestia joined the fray it was a total shift. For every cataclysmic event I caused, she was there to halt me long enough for her men to fall back, for every ambush I orchestrated her elite guard was two steps ahead of us...With her solar magic at their disposal and her immortality capable of clashing my own gifts head on it didn't take them long to break through the first set of gates and for the first to fourth regiments to break apart like rubble. We fell back to the Archive and I told my men that those who didn't want to hold the line could use the last functional ley line left to get back to the capital and from there rally some reinforcements or something...I knew they wouldn't make it in time but it was the false hope that made most of my battalion fall back." He recounted with a damping sense of failure hanging over him like a shroud. She could sense the woe and hopelessness radiating off him like a rancid, muted stench.

"Your men spoke highly of you, even when they were senile and on their death beds they still thanked you for the fact they lived to see another day." She reminisced with pride in her supposedly fallen comrade, her melodic voice surprisingly clement as she watched him struggle with his emotions.

"Thank you, knowing you kept your promise helps a small bit...Still, in the end it was me and a handful of soldiers with an immortal at our gates with her army..." He praised with a mellow voice as he turned away from her and stared into the hearth, the flame burned as bright as the memories of razed barracks and citadel walls...

"It was...It was a massacre...I promised victory, glory and honour to those loyal few who stood by me till the end...And all that marks their collective grave is a crumbling library and a sea of sand..." Alistair lamented with a heavy heart and palpable sorrow. "In the end...Our fighting really was all for nothing." He wailed, trying to compose himself in an orderly sense but the eons old scars still felt new and bloody.

"At least I tore into her, heh, she didn't walk away from our duel looking pretty...One might even have called her scars and burns hideous..." He laughed with a cruel smile, savoring the only wounds he was able to inflict on her.

"I'm...We all knew you'd died with your loyalists, but to hear it was a slaughter...Golden was right in the end." She thought back to his parting words with spite.

"Gold always was a sage prick, at least he knew how to pick the right side when it came to war. So, in the end I was bleeding out on the floor and she was limping away like a kicked puppy. I was terrified, dumbstruck and every other word to match; how could I have fallen so easily to a corporeal weapon? And what kind of sadist would've used my own family blade against me?" He rhetorically asked, finding a strange irony in his fate.

"Poetic murder and banishment are her specialties it seems." She huffed, angered more so by the added details to his demise.

"As I laid there, feeling my spirit and body tear asunder, I remembered the last thing my mentor taught me before he ascended. It was ludicrously stupid and if it backfired...Well, I had to try...And it backfired." He recounted, a sad grin adorning his features as he thought how bittersweet the mistake was. "I was trapped on the other side, neither dead nor alive and only barely existing; were it not for my eternal sense of peace and my glimpses into the mortal world I would've gone as mad as a Draconequus. In the end, I came to love my prison and relished in my untimely death...Until a pack of cultists woke me up and told me everything and almost everyone I knew is dead and forgotten while also expecting some kind of miraculous reconstruction of what I've lost." He finished, fulfilling her request as he sank into her cushy sofa and sighed.

"I can't imagine what it must have been like...If you so desire, you can remain here with me and my people; many of them have only heard of Humans in legends and glimpses from the hivemind and if you were to stay I'm sure it'd help get this sorry lot motivated to at least attempt to function; you make a decent morality boost." She offered, trying to display her usual mean sense of demeaning humour.

"I appreciate the offer, but no thanks. The Archive is my home, always will be, I can't simply walk away from it in such a state and if I live here then those cultists will no doubt come over and I doubt they'll all make the trip; they're unwanted but I don't want them to die for my sake. Too many already have." He refused with a resigned look.

"Shame, I could use a competent adviser. So, what shall you do now? Your only powerful ally is despised by many, your followers are blind and your land is either claimed by the Equestrians, Griffins or Dragons or simply uninhabitable." The Queen reiterated with a questioning gaze, in response he sat there in silent contemplation, the only audible sounds the ruffling of his magical robes and the smoldering flame, before shrugging and grinning faintly.

"Well, you've always been despised by many-"

"You wound me, truly."

"-So I'm not too worried about that, I'll educate the cultists and see to it that if they choose to stay in my lands that they don't see me as an infallible god and I'll make sure they're trained and focus their magical talents on what the Archivists have always been interested on...And as for those backstabbing braggarts..." He paused with a small, familiar and sinister grin as his eyes glimmered with a dulled intensity.

"I'll rebuild what was taken from me, I'll exhaust all my reserves and supplies and lay the foundations of my Archive brick by brick if I have to. I won't let all my sister's work be squandered. It's been eons, so any claim to my stolen land is all but washed away...I can part with it, most of it didn't belong to my family to begin with...But if they come back, if they swagger in with zeal and dare to try and pilfer what I have left then I'll scorch their armies and raze their lands like I should've long ago." He announced with suppressed ire and desire, his very being radiating might. "I want nothing more than to be left alone and research till I die again but if they come back, if she comes back, I won't hold back once more." Alistair once more pressed, almost galvanizing the malicious Queen.

"Your remark is deserved, to say the least, but do you even possess the ability or numbers to contend with a modern army? Although she's losing her edge in my opinion, dear sweet Tia commands an army, has several iron clad alliances and there's two more Alicorn peons wandering Equestria now. She's still a global contender and you're a freshly revived amalgamation with a merry band of fools and the support of an exiled Changeling Queen...Although I loathed to say it, the Equestrians seem the clear victors once more." She rebutted, her emerald eyes scanning her companion for any hidden agendas or emotions but came up disappointed; once more she wished she could break their pact and see what he truly felt. She arose and walked over to her prim and regal dresser and levitated the large wooden tray supporting a valatite and sapphire set of tea cups and a kettle.

"So Celestia is at an advantage despite solely relying on others like a leech, I'm a fish out of ethereal water and people hate Changelings...Does none of this ring a bell? At least this time I'm actively trying not to cause problems and mind my own business; unless the world is ending or Celestia comes knocking I don't plan to get involved with anymore global scale bullshit; let her sort it out if she's still hard on about policing the world. I just want my home back so I can research in peace and tidy up my corner of the desert." He clarified with an unusually calm facade as he watched her actions and looked around the room for his desired relic.

"Strong words, but actions solidify reigns. Regardless of whether or not you want to avoid the world and isolate yourself, you're an immortal being with sway over unnatural forces like the Sisters or myself, people will seek you out when they  discover you're alive...Would you like some emerald tea? Pardon my lack of common courtesy, I'm not used to entertaining friends or anyone for that matter, three sugars correct?" She cautioned before offering a cup of vibrant green boiling tea.

"Yes please...I know someone will sooner or later cause trouble or try and kill me, it's the nature of things regrettably, but the longer I can simply exist while picking up the pieces of my glorious library the better. This goes without-thanks-without saying, but don't breath a word of my reappearance to anyone, especially the other Hives." He stated with a straight expression on his drained visage as she sashayed back to her couch with a few cups in magical tow. He took a long, slow and savoring slurp of the sweet, glowing beverage as she idly watched him and pondered several things.

"Of course, those blind fools wouldn't even sell you out to the worthy opponents and they've never been hospitable to me. The world's changed so much since we parted, If you so desired you don't even have to stay here or ally yourself with me. So many lands have been lost, founded or discovered and the world seems endless with Equestria merely being a speck on the map...The world's changed drastically, don't resign yourself to this lonely stretch of sand and ruins just yet." She stated, instilling a sense of dread and hope in equal parts into Alistair, who merely grinned at her dramatic comment.

"I'm not doing anything for the monarchs, for my family or even for my lost followers...I don't even know what I should be doing, so far I'm just trying to do something with my time...I'll rebuild the Bibliotheca and see to it that my new fans don't burn it down or start wars in my name, from there onward it's anyone's guess where I'll be and what I'm doing...But if I find something worth doing, I won't be doing it because they would've wanted me to...Not like doing anything for them would bring any of them back anyway." He announced, more to himself then Chrysalis, with a questioning gaze staring up into the semi reflective ceiling while his companion smiled to herself.

"As indecisive as ever. Alistair...I've missed you, we all did. Welcome back." She welcomed with a genuine, warm voice and gentle smile. The infectious nature of the two displays won over Alistair as he found himself grinning back at her with a charming expression adorning his pale face.

"As much as I love seeing your shuffling corpse of a physical form again, I'm sure you came for something aside from a heartfelt reunion." She questioned, still keeping her disarming glow as she pressed the conversation onward.

"Yes in fact, though I'm ecstatic that I've finally been able to talk to someone who can fathom how I'm feeling. I came for my family's sword." Alistair informed, his smile wilting slightly as he almost dreaded retrieving it. Chrysalis merely nodded in understanding as she used her extensive magic to retrieve the priceless blade.

"And how, pray tell, do you know I have it? I do of course, but I don't entertain spies in my court." She interrogated light heartedly, half jested and half serious, as she placed a lengthy rectangular box of white elder wood onto the sparsely decorated table between them. The box had a small, yet intricate, topaz and sapphire etching of a lion and raven respectively, marking it as property of House Leonas.

"My guess would be converts from your hive or one of my little cultists was snooping, if I knew how they knew I'd tell you...Damn, haven't seen this box since...Well, the ceremony...Goddess, elder wood really never ages huh." Alistair stated with a nostalgic inflection as he ran his hand over the insignia and grasped the sides of the box so as to ease the cover off.

"I've kept the blade in top condition over the past few years or so, whetting it was a chore given the enchanted properties of valatite steel but to be honest it's kept itself together well enough without me since I doubt Celestia was personally repairing it in her musty vault." The Queen said with admiration in her voice, as he removed the hardened cover of the case to reveal the priceless and ageless blade resting on a velvety bed of golden fabric. He faltered for a moment as he removed the prized weapon.

"Chimera's Talon once more in the hands of a Leonas, as it should be." Alistair remarked with pride as he maneuvered the longsword and examined it for damage or decay to its enchantments. The silver and blue blade shimmered as if it was only just polished after being forged, the rune inscription running along the obsidian guard and within the fuller radiated hidden power while the dyed white leather grip was still as vibrant and sturdy as always. As Alistair shifted it around in his hand, causing the crackling green light from the fireplace to reflect spectacularly off its surface, he noticed the cracked, dull topaz in the pommel and sighed morosely.

"Intact, but incomplete...Still, merely possessing Talon is putting me at ease. Chrysalis, I can never thank you enough for saving her." He congratulated with a shared smile as she simply nodded with smug satisfaction.

"Please, all I did was salvage it from the bowels of Celestia's vault; if you want to thank anyone for saving it I'd wager little Luna would be the one to shower with praise." She clarified, brushing off the impressive feat as she directed his praise towards someone he'd rather forget.

"No thanks, as far as I'm concerned she can go hang with her sister...Wait...You broke into Celestia's vault? How?" He muttered darkly before remembering what she started with and spun around to face her with amazement.

"Well first I had to take control of the city..." She started, watching his wonderment and feeling the positive emotions oozing out of him like a starry eyed child.

"Tell me everything." He demanded with awe as he rested the sword in its case as he sat down with Chrysalis as she grinned ear to ear as they began to drink their now cooling tea while she regaled him with the story of her almost total victory.

"Three years ago my hive was in dire need of love so I devised a brilliant plan..."

"'Ey Captain, Lancer's got the shakes again." Brass Boulder, the sweat and armour clad giant of a Earth Pony, exclaimed with a chuckle as he slapped the jittering pegasus private on the back. His thick Manehatten accent made him all the more insufferable and the sweltering conditions of the inside of the armoured carriage along with the drone of the engine, stench of sickness and the overabundance of greenhorns only made the routine patrol all the more horrible.

"as I said earlier, get 'im a bucket and let him ride it out. Sorry partner, but we ain't got the supplies to deal with whatever ya got; when we get back home I'll rush ya to the clinic. Sit tight." I ordered strictly, scowling at the moron, before trying to reassure the sickly soldier. The grey pegasus was shaking something fierce, sweating more than the other grunts and look about ready to hit the hay. All in all, it was bad. Heatstroke was one thing on desert deployments, this was something else.

"T-T-Thanks Captain..." Lancer stammered out as he held onto his seat while the carriage rolled over another dune, the thin rays of sunlight going wild as the ride got bumpier and tossed the soldiers around slightly. The new Griffin made carriages were built well enough for the snow, forest and almost everything in between; in the desert it was like a sauna and it doesn't help when the plates make you wear full armour. Exhausted and irritated, I took off my dusty stetson, rubbed my glove covered hoof over my forehead and moved the copper and sandy yellow hair out of my eyes before putting the old thing back on. Besides Pa's old ax my hat was the only thing out of the ordinary they let me keep in the field.

"Ey Sir, what the buck are we doing out here again? There's nothing but sand and rocks out here." Boulder asked once more, causing me to rub my eyes and groan as the stress and heat started getting to me. Looking at the golden plated stallion who was busy polishing his sword, I huffed and addressed my platoon.

"As I'm sure those of ya who got a good education or grew up in these parts like I did, you'll know these parts aren't just full of sand and rocks like Private Boulder here thinks. These lands are full of ruins and cities from long dead people that I don't quite frankly know a whole lot about. It's our job to make sure raiders and such ain't using said ruins to set up camp as they tend to do; though we're not expected to bump into anything. That, Private Boulder, is why we're out here and I won't repeat myself for the fourth time." I shouted out, informing the bored platoon while calling out Boulder for being a jackass. As I stand, squashed between Boulder and Tango, I become all the more aware of the confines of the tin can. Besides the lighting and smell being generally atrocious, there's not much wiggle room and having a full platoon complete with weapons and armour don't help none. The roof is only tall enough for myself to stand and for a lone cannoneer to operate the bulky but compact piece of artillery on top from the small hatch a few steps behind me near the drivers. The troops held onto their junk, had their weapons sheathed and helmets on the floor ready to be put back on after having some of Lancer's puke wiped off. Like all trips in what we all affectionately called the hot box we were damn tired and sweating like a pig wrapped in burning metal.

As I sat back down, I decided it'd be best to try and get some rest and ignore the hellish conditions and annoying troops. collapsing into my seat, buckling in and placing my hat over my eyes I tried real hard to get some rest...If it weren't for the smell of sweat, rations and metal and heat it would've probably been easier. Still, so long as the soldiers thought I was napping they'd ignore me and keep themselves occupied.

The last few months had been rough for the southern frontier what with the raiders and dragons, but now that we had some of those toys the tin cans in Canterlot had we should be able to give the gutters a proper buck to the bits. Sure, Appaloosa had seen better days and some of the locals moved on north but it was still home; even if more and more of the city types were getting deployed and placed under my command. The raiders had never really been a problem before, heck they never even tried to kill or kidnap ponies in the past, but in the last year or so things got rough and now here I am baking in a hot box with a team of city colts who knew nothing of the south; at least they can use more than pies as weapons so that counts for something. Minutes turned into hours and before we knew it, the ride got cooler and quieter as the sun began to set, letting soft, pale orange and purple light into the bleak, grey war machine.

"Un-bucking-believable...We wasted a whole day on patrol and the only hazard we found is Lancer's puke..." Boulder exclaimed loudly in frustration, his voice raspy from the dry air and lack of water due to rationing. His annoying accent broke my daze and with sleep alluding me still I put my hat back on my matted mane and looked over to him with a look that screamed for him to be quiet or he'd be running laps when we got back.

"Look Boulder, I know today's been rough on everyone but could ya..." I paused, smelling sulfur and a strange, enticing and sweet gas of some kind...

"Captain?" He questioned, confused at my sudden pause as he looked around before sniffing the air as well.

"What is that...Oh buck! Move, move, move! Get out of this bucking-" I tried to hastily order, managing to get some of the few around me to push towards the massive, reinforced doors but it was in vain as seconds after I stood up and gave the command our landship was rocked hard by a thunderous explosion. The front of the armoured carriage burst into azure flames, melting the mechanical controls and operators alike, while the sides of the hold were dented as an unknown adversary began firing on us. Picking myself off the ground and drawing my ax, I watched as Lancer and another guardsman pushed open the doors and charge out into the light.

"Sir! I'll man the cannon, I'll cover ya!" Boulder announced as he shakily got back onto his burly hooves and adjusted his helmet before placing a pair of goggles over his crimson eyes and smirking.

"Give 'im hell private!" I shouted in response as I ran outside, ax drawn and head down.

The dunes were already burning a plethora of colours as our enemies rained magical and explosive fire down on us. The hornheads in the platoon had formed a solid shield and were slowly pushing forward and upwards to the top of the golden, rock covered dune the bandits had set up on. The battle had just begun, but I was already down two soldiers as a pair got hit by a hail of arrows and magical bolts when they pushed a bit too far too fast out the door; stepping over their smoldering bodies, I ran up to the unicorns and began barking orders.

"Divine, get over to Boulder and keep a shield on him! Cobalt and Fray, keep those shields up and move up this damn hill! Everyone else, keep an eye out for flankers and chargers, we're exposed out here and we've already lost too many in my books!" I commanded with a stern, cracking voice as the hours of travel in heat with minimal water began weighing me down. As I surveyed the field I saw we were up shit creek.

Our armoured carriage had taken a beating, the sturdy and plate covered front was bathed in magical flames and the golden sheen was rapidly degrading into a rusted pile of scrap because of the magical effects, the treads were torn to shreds as the opposition knew exactly where to hit to cripple the vehicle, leaving the left side of it riddled with holes and a torn strip of tread. The rectangular, silver body of the carriage was still largely intact and made decent cover but it was a death trap to stay inside with equipment powerful enough to melt the drivers together. Similarly, we were all melting under the sun with a lack of resources and some of us stumbling over themselves from fatigue or sickness. Their gold and silver plates were tough and well suited for melee fighting, but out here in the blistering sun with mages and cannoneers? They might as well be naked. My dragon scale mail and padded leather was light enough to keep me mobile and not drenched in my own sweat but unlike them I don't have the advantage of several layers of metal protecting my vitals. As Boulder threw open the roof hatch of the ruined ship, only to be greeted by a hail of arrows, pellets and bolts that were halted by a pale white aura, and maned the small, black mounted canon I grabbed my iron ax and raised it above my head with valour.

"For the Princesses and for Equestria!" I cried out with bravado, remembering some of the standard rallying cries they taught me, as I pointed towards the still unknown enemies and gave the order to advance. The group cheered with deafening fury, as the unicorns struggled up the hill as whatever those bastards used on the ship was being repeatedly slammed against the multicoloured shield repeatedly, their intense, dark blue flames washed off like acid rain. As we pushed upward towards their entrenched position, the echo of cannon fire and clap of magic muffling the surrounding grunts of effort and shuffling of armour, I became acutely aware of the language spoken by the unknown enemies. It was difficult to make out over the sounds of battle, but I could tell it wasn't Equestrian, Griffin or even Buffalo. These people weren't from around these parts, weren't the typical raiders and weren't big enough to be adolescent dragons from further south. Something was off about these bastards.

"Sir! Get down!" I heard Lancer cry out before I felt something massive tackle me into the sand. Somehow, something broke through our magical defenses without shattering the shield. Looking up into the bandit on top of me as I reached for my ax, I felt a mixture of revulsion and horror at the monstrous thing.

It had parts of an Equestrian face, a muzzle, mane and even a normal ear but so much of its face was warped and just plain wrong. In between patches of molting and dead grey fur was splotches of red, raw skin that looked cracked and pustular. Its eyes were sunken in, tiny and held an insanity I'd never seen in a creature before; the most disturbing thing about the eyes were that they didn't match, one was much larger and more normal but the other...It looked like it'd forcibly sewed it to its face somehow. Its mane was balding and dead, as was its fur and feathers. Its wings were crippled and broken but still twitched in agony, its body was pony but there was no cutie mark and was far too skinny to be healthy for a pegasus. As I grabbed my ax to help pry it off me and remove its putrid hooves off my throat, I noticed one of its hooves was mutated like the rest of its body. Out of the bottom of the left hoof were little, bony talons not unlike a Griffins; they grasped my throat weakly but felt so alive and disturbingly fleshy. Grabbing the old iron ax, I silenced its insane screaming by hacking it in its right hoof, causing it to weaken its grasp. As it struggled to hold onto me with the ax jutting from its hoof, I bolted up, headbutted the monster and while it was lying on the ground dazed I tore the ax out and slammed it into its face. Killing was never easy, but something about this creature...Something told me I was doing it a favour.

"What the buck are these things?! Are they even Ponies?!" Lancer questioned hysterically, impaling a similar creature on his lance as it ran straight for him with a rusted sword swung wildly.

"Don't know, don't care! Keep moving!" I ordered, trying not to linger for too long on the freaks more than I had to, as we slowly pushed onward. The further we got to the top of the dune, more and more of these monsters rushed us from all angles; they seemed to pop out of nowhere, like they could walk on thin air or something. The guards were standing their ground and the monsters weren't on par with a well coordinated advance, but the cracks in our defenses and our exhaustion was growing rapidly. Our miniature cannon manned by Boulder was raining fire on anything that tried to get around us, the scatter shots turned infantry into mush and worked pretty well against armoured junk but with the little amount of ammo we had, the waning shields and never ending forces the cannon didn't seem that useful in the long run. Still, we pushed upward and onward. The sand was painted a sickly red along with our armour and weapons as the monstrous perversions of Ponies kept swarming us from seemingly all angles; were it not for their lack of self preservation I imagined we would've been easily overwhelmed.

"C-Captain, Radiant's dead! Our shield's falling fast!" Lancer shouted out in disgust and fear as he failed to stop the gaping wound in the silver unicorn's neck after another private successfully forced the beast responsible to the ground and smashed it's grotesque face repeatedly with a steel mace. As the entire unit pressed together, allowing the shield to fully cover us but gave us less room to move, we pushed over the tip of the dune and came face to face with the brunt of the horde.

While our armour was battered, weapons dulling and bodies exhausted we were able to push on and dispatch the mindless creatures with ease, but as we came face to face with the black, crackling portal encircled by stone runes, and their nest of cannons we realized our advantage in close quarters meant jack. They were able to sacrifice units because they had no need to wait for backup for supplies, every second one or two fully clothed and armed, albeit with low quality equipment, Pony monsters charged out and fell in line quickly ready to run head first at us. Along with the endless stream, the cannons were heavily guarded and far enough behind the portal to be impossible to hit without dealing with the flowing masses of monsters.

"Celestia's mane..." I mumbled with dread, gripping my old axe with newfound grit, before turning back to my dwindling platoon; whatever the hell we'd stumbled into, we can't walk away now and we'd come too far to retreat with enemies all around us and a decommissioned transport. Axe held high, I cried out with righteous fury and false bravado.

"For the Princesses and their lands!" I bellowed, my accent and charm giving way to sterling ferociousness as I pointed at them and commanded a full frontal assault. Our hooves were a thunderous stampede and our barrier a respite against their hailstorm of cannon fire and arrows; yet for each thunderclap and blocked attack they met us with numerous reinforcements and layers of suppressive fire that threatened to break our thinning shield. The snarling, maddened beasts charged through the phantasmagorical shields somehow, their bodies burned and torn in spots yet somehow still moving through the magical wall like their seared flesh barely fazed them.

Onward we pushed, gutting and pushing back any of the wretched beasts that advanced through our barrier and tried to kill our spell casters thus leaving us vulnerable to their ceaseless cannon fire and arrows. The shoddily armoured and armed marauders were dispatched with ease, being little more than grunts and fodder for our spears, but the hordes were weighing us down and slowly but surely killing us with bug bites; every scrap, cut and smashed plate of armour left us more and more exposed and weakened for when they decided to throw something bigger at us.

After several waves of freaks, each greater in number and skill, we were down a few soldiers and one mage; although they'd suffered greater losses it was a small comfort given the importance of each member of the thinning platoon. But, through grit and bloody will, we were at the portal and seemed to have bought some time as they had to set up their cannons to fire almost directly forward as all that stood between us was a handful of yards and an ominous, swirling portal.

The portal radiated an intense aura of dread, like it was a hole straight to hell. The ground was decorated with several stone runes with intricate and alien symbols carved into the surface, the green sigils glowing with power. The rift was spawned from what looked like a shapeless, colourful explosion of light that gradually spiraled out into a black and dark green maelstrom of magic; the edges of the portal crackled with small arcs of energy that either connected to the runes or fizzled out when it touched the auburn sand.

Catching my breath, I turned to face Lancer. He was caked in blood and looked shaken, like the rest of us. This had rapidly turned into an unprecedented shitshow and with so little of our forces left they were panicking; Lancer was doing his best but was on the verge of breaking down.

"Lancer! Help me-Get down!" I began ordering, only to tackle him to the ground as our shields fell in a sudden burst of light that was quickly overwhelmed from the sudden and blinding explosions all around. After the bombing stopped abruptly, I rose with axe in hoof and surveyed the damage. Sand, dust, ash and gore was sprayed about and ever present, our mages were nothing but chunks of burnt metal and meat and what was left of our dwindling forces was reduced to four burned, tired, deafened and dazed soldiers bathed in dust, sand and blood. wiping the same mixture off my face, I grabbed Lancer's outstretched hoof, picked up his spear and gave it to him.

"Bucking hell, keep them off me I'm going to break their portal!" I ordered with a breaking, wheezing voice. Our ears ringed louder then the explosions and sounds of battle but he knew what I'd said and prepared to defend himself at the tidal wave of soldiers charging out of their nest of cannons and cover.

As I knelled before one of the six dull green and black runes crackling with energy, I hoped my axe was sturdy enough to get the job done but was surprised when it tore into the stone-like object. The axe cleaved it into two jagged pieces and it sporadically shot energy into the air. With a sickening cry out in pain, a loud roar was echoed on the other side of the portal as something massive stomped towards the gateway. Readying myself, I prayed it'd be a swift victory. I knew no such respite was coming, however, when the towering goliath burst through weapon in hands.

The only word someone could use to describe the new monstrosity would be perverse. It was roughly the same height as a Minotaur, the lower half of its body was covered in stained and matted black fur but the rest of its body was disturbingly muscular and devoid of hair. The pale, scarred skin was adorned with veins that risked bursting through its flesh and strange symbols painted on his arms glowed with power. A large, rusted collar with a snapped off chain rested on its thick neck and its head seemed like a cross of a Minotaur's and something else entirely. It still had the sharpened ivory horns and protruding nose common among the bull like people but its eyes and other features were either way too small, damaged and torn or simply missing; It looked like the majority of its body was either falling apart or ridiculously brawny.

In its meaty, chaffing hands it clutched a giant stone hammer that looked older than the Princesses themselves yet as he raised it with an echoing roar it became clear it was as hefty as a paperweight to the monster. Despite the aching in my bones, I jumped to the side as it smashed its oversized weapon into the ground I'd stood upon. As it looked at me with madness and contempt I rushed towards him and swung my axe deep into his chest. Despite the tremendous force I put into the swing, all it accomplished was a grunt of pain as it sunk into its body. The wound was deep, almost swallowing the blade entirely, yet despite the profuse bleeding it let go of its hammer and before I could run away picked me up in both hands.

As I trashed and squirmed in his grasp he raised me up to his sweat covered face, sneered at me with pure hatred, and began slowly squeezing with growing might. I struggled vainly, hacking at his hands in an attempt to escape, but as I felt my ribs crack and snap audibly, I screamed out in pain; the beast chuckled at this, only to howl in surprise and pain as he loosened his grip on my body to face whatever had annoyed him.

"Let him go..." Lancer ordered with a wavering frown as he removed his blooded spear from the monsters right elbow and stood strong before the titan. It growled intensely and per his request let go of me by throwing me through the air back over the crest of the dune.

As I tumbled down the sandy slope, only aggravating the internal wounds, I saw what remained of the carrier. It'd been gutted, almost all of its armour plating had been destroyed, the treads were torn to shreds, the mage who'd remained behind had seemingly been torn apart by the monsters and Boulder, having run out of ammunition, was fighting off the freaks with a standard issue dagger. He stood atop the vehicle, knife in hoof, as three of them rushed him from three sides. As I crashed into the ground at the bottom hard, coughing up a bit of blood, I watched as he stabbed the one in front repeatedly in the face, tearing apart its ghoulish visage, while holding onto its sword hoof. As the monster from behind approached, he bucked it in the chest violently causing it to fall off the transport and impale itself on a jagged piece of scrap metal on the ground; as he pushed the dead ghoul warrior away, the third one grappled with him and began shouting some at him loudly and repeatedly before throwing both of them off the other side of the carrier. As I stood up and hobbled over, I saw and heard a great flash of light, but as I neared the entrance of the carrier all I saw on the other side were corpses.

"S...Shit...Damn it all..." I cursed in between painful hacks of blood as I sank down slightly. I slowly crawled inside the torn apart transport and collapsed against the wall at the back of it. The sounds of battle where dying slowly while the cries of suffering and malicious joy rang out. The smell of copper and gunpowder wafted through the air like a bloodied furnace. As my vision grew blurry, I spied a flare gun to my left. It'd fallen out of a damaged emergency supply box along with some painkillers and medical supplies. After swallowing some pills and bandaging my surface wounds, I leveled the small gun in my shaking hoof; I wouldn't let them take me, I wasn't going out without a few more of them...

As I heard the sound of shouts of alarm and battle once more, my vision grew blurry and I slowly began falling over before finally letting the darkness embrace me...

As I soared through the orange and purple sky, the sun setting on the horizon, I pondered many things. In between bragging about her successful, and quite bloody, regime Chrysalis told me all that I needed to know in my absence. Discord reappearing and being defeated, Starswirl, Sombra, that bastard Tirek and his lout of a brother, the Crystal Empire disappearing and reappearing, the Minotuarian Isles unifying, the Griffonia industrial boom, the Zebric Planes breaking down and so much more...It truly was a different world I now lived in...She mentioned that although minute compared to the rise and fall of heroes and villains, my 'followers' had existed for as long as I'd been dead; despite the ruination, revival, cooperation or fracturing of countries and religions they never died out. Like a faint, enchanted light that refused to fade; they might've always been unknown entities with a handful of members and allies but they've refused to fail in their mission and now that they've succeed I wonder if they'll be accepting of me choosing to remain hidden.

My thoughts were broken as I felt something I hadn't felt for a long time, something primal and corrupted in nature, something that warped and contorted the world around it. Dark magic. Halting in mid air, I looked down below the clouds and focused on wherever this ill feeling was resonating from and rapidly descended. As I shifted form in air, I slowly began to make out a scene of battle far below; though the closer I got it looked more and more like a massacre.

As I softly landed, completing my shift in forms, I surveyed the battleground. The sand was painted with blood and the corpses of heavily armoured ponies littered the ground, their weapons discarded; I was used to the sight of death and war, but what horrified me where the abominations shuffling about scavenging the decaying pony corpses. They looked like ponies from a distance, almost normal even, but the closer you got to them the clearer the inhumane flaws in their bodies, movements and souls. It looked like a witch doctor, necromancer or a shitty doctor hacked apart a Human and a Pony and tried to stitch them together; they stumbled on uneven, hoofed feet, clutched broken weapons in vestigial hands and their faces were warped beyond recognition. In spite of myself, I stumbled backwards in horror as I pulled out Talon with my right, armoured hand and my black grimoire with my left. As I walked towards the mass of mutants, I scowled intensely. These...Freaks were a mockery of my own people, they resembled nothing of their former races and seemed crazed and rapid. I'd be doing themselves a favour by killing them all. As I neared, they finally acknowledged my presence and began shouting at me in fractured, broken valtic.

"H-Human...Human caster!?" One of the monsters cried out, raising his rusted club at me. His face was twisted into a visage of confusion and anger. As I neared, they began crying out for me to surrender or to come with them somewhere. I ignored them as I wordlessly willed my notebook to hover alongside my grimoire and approached them; when they realised I wasn't going to surrender or leave, they cried out in some godless language and either charged at me or got into flanking positions to try and suppress me. As the first wave neared, my grimoire flipped through pages in a blur until it stopped at a faded page from my earlier years in the study of enchantment. Raising Talon above the open pages, the bluish silver blade began to violently hum and glow azure; the glow continued to grow in intensity as I ran to meet the first beast head on.

It lunged at me with full force, stepping back I riposted its strike and followed it up with a clean vertical strike that tore through its armour and flesh with ease. Next, I sidestepped another monsters wild axe flails only to smack it with my grimoire and impale him on my blade while it was dazed. Seeing three more rapidly approach from the front, I tossed my grimoire into the air, allowing it to hover alongside my pad, and pressed my hand into the sand; my palm, along with the dozen or so feet of sand in front of me, glowed intensely and suddenly the monsters found themselves sinking quickly below the surface as the weight of the sand could no longer support them. As I restored it back to its proper weight, trapping them underneath several feet of crushing sand, I grabbed my notepad from the air and turned to the multiple freaks trying to sneak up on me. I casted a simple hex and before my eyes several pages turned into paper blades, seemingly worthless. As I clutched them and waited for more of them to approach, I put them up to my mouth, casted a lesser enchantment, and waited for them to close the distance.

Once they were adequately close, I threw the paper knives and grinned as they struck true; the facades of weapons sinked into their exposed flesh, causing them to  bleed profusely from the neck and joints as many of them crumpled down. Two of them refuse to die however, as the knives only grazed them. They attacked simultaneously, both swinging down at me, and I blocked them both with ease. As they continued to assault me fruitlessly, the failed to see they'd left themselves open for exploitation; with my off hand I tore out several pages of my notepad, crunched the pages into my fist and felt magic course through them. The two monsters were shocked as they felt a second, pure white replica of Talon slice open their stomachs; their entrails fell out like a pile of useless, pale and sickly meat. As the collapsed I decapitated the two of them with my duel swords.

Hearing a second, off key war cry from behind, I raised my weapons but was stunned as I watched the massive horde get decimated by a volley of sudden explosions that rained down from the sky. As the explosions neared, I cried out a lyrical spell and a powerful, if minute, barrier encased me as the surprising and deafening hell fire attacked from all around. When the dust settled, I lowered my barrier and saw that although they hadn't even landed a scratch on me, they minced their own soldiers. As I spotted where they'd come from, I also turned to the dark vortex a few feet away from me; the foot soldiers were trying to protect their portal, and from the looks of the runes on the ground it was a powerful, sustained portal to boot.

Smiling to myself with a devilish grin I strutted over to the mostly intact runic circle, someone had broken one of the sigils, and reached out to them. They tried to resist, but eventually they gave in and I began to tear the magical reserves out of the runes. The power crackled and threatened to go wild, yet the ball of chaotic green and black magic I held in my right hand soon began to settle and fall under my control. The power I could feel, the fierce nature of the corrupting magic, it felt so...intoxicating. As I felt the energy course through me, I pointed my outstretched arm in the direction of the beasts who'd propped up a wall of metal to guard themselves, thinking it could protect them from raw magic. Belting out a powerful curse, I watched a massive, transparent sigil appear in the air in front of the ball of energy that began to vanish and make the outlined sigil whole; as the magic left my body I waited until the magical construct was whole before casting it.

"Feuer." I ordered, and in an instant I watched a great beam of sinister magic form and lash out at anything before me. Sand turned to glass, their barrier was scorched and the abominations vaporized along with their strange weapons. As the multicoloured laser slowly died out, the harsh screeching and flashes of light dying down with it, I grinned as I saw what was left of their nest had been turned to ash. Dark magic may be powerful, but when used by the right people it becomes devastating.

As I began to look for surviving ponies or monsters, I heard a final, guttural war cry sound out from the fading portal and out charged a hybrid of a Human and a Minotaur clutching an oversized weapon. This brute was greater in stature, strength and possibly intelligence and was thrice as hideous to gaze upon. as I readied my weapons, I sidestepped its hammer but was too slow to dodge a swift punch it threw at me while it was closer to my level. As I received the full brunt of its strike, causing me to reel back in surprise, I felt the unnatural strength twitching inside it; someone or something had embedded enchanted runes within its body. Such a monstrously cruel and painful procedure had only ever been practiced by desperate Humans...

Ignoring the implications, I grasped my two swords and charged back at it while it recovered from it attacks and began slashing at its legs and arms. Despite the enchanted nature of my weapons I was baffled to see I'd only give it surface wounds. Grimacing while dodging its next volley of punches, kicks and strikes I figured I'd have to remove its enchantments to fall the giant without expending unnecessary amounts of my own magic.

"Come on you brute, show me what you've got!" I mocked while continuing to side step and jump back from its rapid attacks, in response it sped up its assault and screamed out in mad rage. Refusing to fight or engage the monster proved fruitful as after its continuous assault only garnered up kicked sand and smashed corpses I saw it was breathing raggedly and grimacing in pain; it was at this moment I noticed the mystical, golden glow near its heart. Taking advantage of its staggered state, I ran straight at it, shoved my paper sword into its chest and began carving open its putrid skin and eventually tore into its muscle and jagged rib cage. It cried out in shock and agony but it couldn't stop me after expending so much power in such short time. Despite the bloody, vicious work I grinned and laid eyes on the tiny, yet significant, golden metal rune in its chest. Letting go of my paper sword, I began adding more and more weight to my arm till it was as strong as a Minotaur's kick and slammed my fist into his chest. The sound of shattered bones and metal ringed out joyously as I pulled up bloodied, gore covered hand from the hole in its chest; I was almost disappointed when the monster refused to die, merely crying out in anger at the hole in his chest and the fake sword that replaced its rune.

"Tartarus, what'd they do to you?" I rhetorically asked as it got back up, albeit slowly with much pain in its steps, and raised its hammer once more. Tiring of the fight, I sidestepped its strike, and while it was to the ground I wordlessly sent a large chunk of my magic to my arms and grabbed ahold of its hammer head and tore it from its grasp. Wielding the mighty, primitive hammer, I struck its left leg and shattered the bones before smashing it against his arms and ramming it into his gutted chest; as it collapsed into the ground, I grew irritated at its refusal to die. As it stared at me with confusion, hate and fear I approached its head and with ease I began tearing it off its body. The skin tore asunder, letting blood and sinew flow freely, and held it in my hands. As its eyes stared at me, I admired how truly vile and disgusting this creation was. There was nothing Human about it, there was no clarity or wisdom in its eyes and whatever proud features the Minotaur it once was had were stripped bare in this rapid, misshapen form. Nauseated and spiteful, I threw its head to the ground like litter and looked around for anymore unexpected opponents.

"Anyone else? No? Good..." I asked the howling, cold wind. As I rolled my arms and checked for visual damage to my form I noticed the smoke rising on the other side of the dune crest and expected more anomalies to slay. Instead, at the bottom of the slope, rested some metal contraption surrounded by even more ghoulish hybrids. The closer I got to it, the more acutely aware I became to the stench of blood and rot; whatever these abominations were, they didn't take long to decompose. Stepping over rotten meat and rusting metal, I approached the mechanical contraption cautiously. Sword and tome in hand, I peered inside yet all I saw was another body. As I prepared to leave, I noticed the bodies chest rising and falling. I decided to see if there was anything I could do for the lone survivor.

He was a stallion, quite young it seemed, and an Earth pony to boot. His sandy yellow fur was stained with his own blood and his light gold and leather armour was torn to shreds. His ragged orange and yellow hair was covered by a tan hat of some sorts. His chest looked heavily wounded and his breathing was ragged...His forehooves were bleeding and he was concussed...He fought hard and was going to die in his sleep soon it seemed...As I contemplated how much magic I'd need to restore his body, I noticed the gold and silver royal emblem of Equestria on his hat...

On one hand, it was my moral obligation to help him...On the other, he works for the Sisters...Helping others had proved deadly in the past and given his allegiance to the people who betrayed me, I felt it was wise to leave him to die...Yet as I stood up and prepared to leave, I couldn't help but feel guilty about leaving him to die...Sighing, and praying I wasn't wrong to trust in the kindness of strangers once more, I picked him up delicately and stepped outside. He had an hour tops and I'd need a lot of magic and concentration to save the sorry bastard.

"Old habits die hard I guess..."

The atmosphere of the shanty town within the antechamber of the Grand Library was thick enough to cut with a knife. Faded and his followers had expected their leader to return by now, but as the golden sun set on the bleached ruins they began to fret; it was unlikely Alistair would've died or gotten lost out there, there were so few threats or obstacles...But the desert did look almost the same everywhere you turned...

"Scroll, look! He's back!" Snowfall cried out in relief as she snapped upright from the small table the two had been sitting at discussing the repairs of the castle. She pointed towards the large, circular window he had flown out of and Faded was ecstatic to see his master only to be befuddled at the sight of another body.

"Move, I need to work on this Pony!" Alistair barked as he walked through the parted crowd. In his hands he clutched the blood soaked form of an Equestrian Captain...

"L-Lord Alistair, why are you-" Faded began as he approached the sprinting Human only to be interrupted.

"No time to talk, is the castle's hospital ward usable?" He questioned as he looked around for somewhere to work in peace.

"No sir, it's burying under a pile of rubble. What pray tell-"

"Is there anywhere to operate in this village?!" He once more interrupted, growing agitated.

"N-no, the makeshift clinic is full and most of these tents are preoccupied or indisposed-"

"Fuck! Guess I'll just have to use my old bedroom..." Alistair remarked as he moved towards a flight of ruined stairs that led nowhere.

"Milord, almost all of the castle is inaccessible!" Snowfall reminded Alistair, who merely frowned at her.

"I can see that, but thankfully for all of us I pioneered the School of Restoration. Back away, this is going to be a rush job." He ordered as he held onto the wounded stallion with one arm awkwardly as his left began to rapidly shine white and turn ethereal as he touched the ruined stairway and pile of rubble blocking his path. As Snow stepped away, she noticed something that had been missing in his lord's steadily shining eyes. He looked around with purpose in his vision, he was angry, irritated and still looked drained and depressed but it seemed he had a motive to his movements and actions, unlike how he left seemingly unsure and distressed...In spite of the current situation, Snowfall grinned softly. Her grin suddenly faded however as she felt the ground shake with tremendous force.

The castle shock violently and Alistair suppressed a cry of pain as the castle began to reshape itself at an alarming rate.

The First Steps

The First Steps - (finally edited, hopefully)

The snow cascaded upon the once vibrant garden, the stone statues and once functioning ornate fountain blanketed in thick sleet. The covered walkways surrounding the spacious grove housed fur and armour clad knights bearing witness to the young lords of the estate who were in the midst of an intense ‘duel to the death’ with uncharacteristic smiles etched onto their grizzled features.

“Die you wretched warrior!” Jeered the ‘evil, malicious liche as he threw snowballs and balls of slushy ice at the brown haired, childish and nimble ‘warrior’ who laughed valiantly.

“No, you stupid butt!” She cried back as she jumped behind a dying bush. Her fake, wooden armour clack and clanked loudly while her long, orangish brown ponytail threatened to snag on a loose branch as she tried to sneak around the vicious spell caster, who struggled to keep his brown scarf and hood on in the roaring winter winds.

“Your silver tongue only serves to anger me! You can't hide from-hey, where’d you go?” He began to belt out with dramatic flair as he jumped around the side of the bush and found nothing but disturbed piles of snow.

“Eat shield evil doer!” His worthy adversary demanded as she jumped out of the bushes, painted green and shoddily built shield first. She charged down her opponent, smashing him down into the snow and dead leaves beneath them and trapped him under her shield and mock armour.

“Hey, no fair! That’s against the rules!” Alistair cried out in protest as he struggled under his sister’s shield and smacked off her homemade helmet.

“And so are snow covered rocks but who threw them? Now then, eat fireballs!” Aurora demanded with a cruel laugh as she began shoveling pristine and dirtied snow in equal measures onto her squirming brother’s pale face. A few of the guards laughed in spite of their training but ceased as a young, beautiful, silver haired woman adorned in a fine, fur lined garnet dress appeared from the shadows. She hid her snickers behind a slender hand.

“Now, now, is that anyway for a brave knight to treat their fallen foes?” The older woman mused as she approached them, her footsteps silent atop the snow covered cobbled path.

“When your foe is a giant bully, yes.” Aurora defended as she got off her twin brother, who threw a heap of dirtied snow at her fake armour.

“I would’ve won if you hadn't cheated…” He grumbled as he wiped off the excess snow on his sodden trousers.

“And she wouldn't have charged you had you not tried to pelt her with rocks; be thankful you did not harm her.” She cautioned, stunning the two of them as she somehow knew.

“Oh don't give me that look, we could hear you two arguing on the other side of the castle...Aurora darling, the cook had some rather choice words regarding your ‘borrowing’ of some of his ingredients for tonight's feast…” She chastised with a raised brow and displeased look. Aurora shuffled from foot to foot, her fake shield and armour doing nothing to protect her from her mother’s scorn.

“W-well...You see…”

“I think it’d be kind to march yourself back into the kitchens, apologise to him, and help out in return.” She stated, none too subtly punishing her. Aurora began to protest, but from the stern look in her emerald eyes she knew it was fruitless.

“Fine...We’ll finish this later.” Aurora said dejectedly before directing a threat towards her brother.

“March young lady, or you’re not getting any cake tonight.” Their mother warned with a small frown, causing her to run off in a huff.

“Sorry for throwing stones...She said her shield was strong enough for anything though.” Alistair tried to justify his actions while avoiding her judgmental gaze.

“Every head strong warrior thinks they’re unbreakable, does that mean you should strike Rodric the Bold?” She countered, unamused by his sorry excuses. Despite this, she couldn't help but smile softly and hug him tenderly as he began to shiver uncontrollably from the freezing cold and his shame.

“I won't tell your Father, but if you do something that foolish again you’ll be in much bigger trouble.” She calmed him, though also reminded him he wasn't off the hook just yet. As he began to talk, he felt a overwhelmingly soothing warmth radiate from her core, burning away the frost and creating visions of a bright Spring day. When they parted, Alistair opened his eyes and returned to the frozen stone and steel of his home’s ramparts and thick walls that held back the northern winds. She clasped his hand gently and guided him away from the icy garden and into the hallowed, torch lit halls of the Lion’s Den.

“Come along Alistair, you Father and I want you to meet someone very special.” She requested with a tranquil, velvety voice which reverberated off the massive, reinforced walls.

“Who are they? Are they the King or Queen? Or a Unicorn?! Please tell me it's a Unicorn!” Alistair feverishly asked, starry eyed and curious, to which the towering, pale woman could only chuckle with mirth.

“No, but close; he’s a Wizard!” She answered with dramatic flare, causing the young heir to gasp; a million questions raced through his mind and a million more spewed from his mouth as a series of half valtic, half frantic noise and nonsense.

“Ha ha, instead of asking me, you can ask him in person; your dolt of a Father is entertaining him in the dining hall.” She stated with a grin, pleased at the child’s enthusiasm. Before she could get a word in edgewise, he bolted off like a crazed manticore.

As he rushed down the halls, stepping past the amused and annoyed Human servants and Griffin prisoners who either smiled at the young sire’s antics or grimaced with annoyance; Aside from the sounds of the studious princeling's footsteps, their shoes and chains respectively echoed out as they toiled about. Approaching the hall rapidly, leaving his mother far behind, the number of beautifully dressed servants, fur and plate armoured warriors and aides steadily grew until he had to try to avoid getting stuck into a boring talk with his half cousin twice removed on his father’s side or something. Skidding to a halt in front of the massive wooden doors of the grand hall, the crest of House Leonas peering down upon all like a golden lion eyeing it's prey, he approached the two guards before him.

“Look out, the Mad liche Alistair approaches!” One of the two of them exclaimed with faux terror, causing the imposing, mud stained infant to giggle.

“I order you two to open the gates, or face my wrath!” The scruffy prince ordered, elated that the knights were playing along.

“Whatever you request, milord.” The other guard chimed in, her voice filled with muffled laughter as her helmet hid her rolling eyes and smirk. As he stood triumphantly before his two minions, the door gave way and bathed him in the sights and smells of a banquet in preparation.

The long rows of rustic wooden tables were topped with empty silver plates and trays and pilfered candelabras. Servants and wards scrambled to fulfill their orders while the lord’s honour guard stood at the ready, their gold and steel armour made of fine Eastern Val metals and their helmets built to resemble a roaring lion. In the centre of the chaos, illuminated by the fire in the great hearth behind them and the light flowing through the multicoloured panel windows stood Lord Peter, Lord of the Lion’s Den and the King’s Hunter, garbed in the hide of a legendary white lion that covered his back, shoulders and neck with its fur and his bald head with its own head and wore thick, padded leather armour; his thick orange beard, lines of red war paint and wild purple eyes made him look like a crazed animal himself. Next to him stood a strange, shorter and leaner man clad in the finest golden robes the little boy had ever seen. As he approached, he began to hear their conversation.

“-What’s a few more weeks to your order anyways? We’re still not entirely sure-”

“No, we both examined Aurora and she bared no signs, if it is not Alistair then we may have to formulate a new plan…” The obscured man insisted, his calm, young and soft voice betraying his wisdom and experience while his Father seemed torn though his gruff, deep and boisterous voice hid it well. As his heir approached, unaware of their prior conversation, Peter turned to him and knelt down with open arms and massive grin; the seven foot tall mountain of a man embraced his charging son with all his love and picked him up.

“Ah, there you are Little Lion! Playing make believe with your sister again I hear? Your guards told me how she overcame your ‘spells’ by pummeling you with her shield.” He stated, howling with belly shaking laughter only to be greeted to his son’s scorn.

“If it was real life I would’ve won…” He defended with an embarrassed blush.

“And what makes you say that?” The stranger asked, his milky orange eyes examining the squirming prince who tried to break from his father’s burly hands.

“Well, liches are immortal mages who’re super old and wise! How could a knight with only a shield beat one of them?” Alistair asked as Peter finally let him down softly.

“Well, if the shield was enchanted with powerful divine magic or solar magic it’d burn through the foul creature’s barriers; though I doubt splinters and snow would cut it.” He explained with a lecturing tone and faint smile as he paraphrased one of his own research papers to the awestruck child.

“Are you that Wizard mother told me about?” He asked as he sized up the tanned, lean and young Wizard clan in elaborately detailed cloth robes.

“How astute of you young one. I'm Ludex the Ignis, Lord Hierophant of the Immortalis Bibliotheca; you probably don't remember me, but I was the priest who carried out your blessings when you were but a babe.” He announced with a rehearsed bow, earning him a suppressed snort of laughter from the two in front of him, and nostalgic smile.

“My mother told me stories about your adventures and studies; But I thought your title was Ludex the Lout, or was it Lazy?” Alistair questioned innocently, causing Peter to burst out in laughter and the Hierophant to take a step back in surprise before composing himself.

“Those are my informal titles given to me by my former master; I see your Mother told you about my early years as well…” He concluded as Lord Peter calmed down. He went to go on yet was interrupted by the lady of the castle.

“No, I covered your more thrilling adventures, but you'll always be Ludex the Lazy to us.” Alistair’s mother stated as she entered the conversation, causing both her child and partner to snicker.

“Ah, Lady Ruby, thank you for your impeccable timing. Now then, Sir Alistair, do you know why I'm here today?” He greeting the noble with a respectful nod and agitated sigh before returning to his tranquil state and addressed the young lord.

“Because of Dad’s feast?” He guessed with a confused look.

“Although it promises to be delicious, no. Follow up question, do you know what you, your mother and myself have in common?” He mused once more, further confusing him.

“...We all have nice robes?” He asked, not really sure where he was going. Despite the severity of what was to be said, he couldn't help but be amused, and irked, by his ignorance.

“I see he hasn't been made aware. Alistair, you have magical potential.” Ludex informed him, excitement in his quiet voice. The reaction was instant.

“REALLY?! Gods, why didn't anyone tell me? Mom, is it true?!” He cried out, surprising many of the guards and servants in the room as he began jumping about, visions of him as an all powerful Mage flashing through his yearning mind.

“We weren't sure if either you or your sister had the potential within yourselves; magic is an extremely rare and volatile trait among most people and we didn't want you to get your hopes up only to be disappointed.” Ruby explained calmly, grasping the shaking child.

“Why’d you never tell me you were magic?” Alistair continued, calming down somewhat but still overstimulated.

“Yes, I'm curious to know why as well.” The senior Mage added, his tone and expression hiding his suspicion.

“You never once thought it was odd how I was capable of knowing if you'd done something foolish when no one was looking? I hid my magic from the two of you because we didn't want either of you to get overly hopeful; magic may be hereditary but it’s also known to lie dormant in some bloodlines as well.” She justified with an understanding grin and sorry expression. Ludex merely sighed and shook his head.

“Ignorance will help no one, but your logic is sound. Now Alistair, I'm sure you’re aware of the Bibliotheca and the Trials of Spring.” He hoped, not knowing just how little or much he knew about the Archive.

“Of course, it's the time where new mages...Wait, are you saying you want me to be a part of the Archives?!” He screamed, realisation dawning as Ludex worn a massive, reassuring grin down at the hopping child.

“I don't just want you to be an acolyte, I believe you have the potential to possibly be my apprentice; it's a challenging position and I know this is a lot to-”

“Gods, this must be a dream! This, this is all so sudden I-I can’t believe it! Dad, is this another joke?” Alistair interrupted, his brain running overtime to process everything while trying to blot out the fear that this was all a cruel joke.

“I assure ya cub, this ain’t a joke; Ludex here truly believes you’ve got all that magic muck in ya.” His father clarified, arms crossed and smirk sincere.

“I understand if you’re shocked by this sudden revelation, most children who’re told this late about their powers are usually confronted.” Ludex commented, fearing the child may hyperventilate or faint.

“No, t-this is amazing...I got to tell someone, I got to tell everyone! Mom, where’s Aury?! Don't worry, I'll find her myself!” Alistair stammered out before running away, his light footsteps suddenly thunderous against the red carpet covered stone floor, his mother in toe as she tried to calm the crazed boy.

“He’s certainly a lot more thrilled by the news then most noble kids; has he always been fascinated by the supernatural?” Ludex asked, genuinely curious, though his pleased tone and line of questions died when he saw Peter’s chilling, suppressed expression.

“Ludex, I'll tell ye now to save myself some time. If you harm my boy, if you cause him or my house suffering to fulfill this ‘plan’ of yours...There’s no potion you can concoct, spell you can mumble or demon you can commune with that will stop me from turning you into Ludex the Lame.” Peter promised, ire and malice plastered on his face. As he walked away, leaving Ludex to his own devices, he was reminded why they called Peter Leonas the Butcher of Royal Peak…

With a jolt, I awoke. After trying to wipe away the drool hanging from my thin lips, I remembered I was temporarily disabled. My left hand was missing, in its place was a cloud of gaseous, multicoloured magic hanging out of my flopping robe sleeve. The price of rapidly repairing an entire Archive wing, bringing a full grown stallion back from the verge of death while maintaining a physical form would kill most Humans and Ponies from Acute Magical Exhaustion, thankfully I was already dead and only gave up a limb.

Speaking of the stallion, I looked up from my plush, cushioned blue study chair and examined the man from where he rested. He seemed stable, his physical injuries were healing faster than expected so as long as he wasn't mentally broken from the battle he should be fine in a few days. While he was asleep, I mended his hat and clothes; the small amount of damage I received was nothing to fret about. Sighing, I began to wonder many things.

I knew not why things were as they were, but complaining and drinking myself into a stupor would solve nothing. Bored, I looked around the room for structural damage I might've missed in my rush to build the room.

The ceiling was unseeable, hidden behind a flurry of golden stars, constellations and planets that danced hypnotically; they looked lovely and always helped when I needed to finally get some sleep. The colossal, lavish bed the unknown Equestrian was occupying was custom made a long time ago, it hovered above the ground softly and was designed for more than one person preferably. The gold and sapphire sheets were made of the finest, and possibly last, Southern Val threads.

The walls were lined with wooden bookshelves and nooks and crannies filled with everything from in depth studies into the field of Noxromancy and the beneficial uses of soul power to trashy romance novels and adventure stories; not all of them were mine but they were still fun to flip through with a glass of wine or whiskey. Piles of handwritten books and mementos lined the floor, absent of home but still cherished. Moonlight and starlight shined through the open balcony doors to my right, allowing the cold nighttime desert wind to blow in and keeping the damn sand out. My study occupied the other side of the room. Along with the massive black stone desk behind me, its surface was scratched and stained with failed experiments and lined with scrolls and scribbled notes, the floor was decorated with boxes, jars, pots and experimental equipment. They were all labeled, though I doubted anyone aside from myself could decipher the old language. The large, reinforced stone doors to my left had no handles, instead they relied on my own magic to let myself or guests through. All in all, the recently decrepit and dusty room looked like it hadn't been lying under a pile of rubble, exposed to the elements for eons.

“What I wouldn't give for Crystal to walk in here and berate me for sleeping in again...” I lamented with an exhausted sigh. The calmness and silence of night brought pleasant dreams and somber thoughts in equal measure to most, but to me the silence was unnerving. As I began to get up and stretch, maybe find something edible cooking down in the shanty town, I heard a strained groan escape the chaffed lips of the figure resting in my bed. I realised I couldn't let the Pony see me, it'd raise too many questions. Rushing to beat the awakening stranger’s gaze, I assumed a form I hadn't even thought about in well over two thousand years.

“Woah nelly…” I muttered, my voice raspy and cracking but lest I wasn't coughing blood no more. I figured I'd died out in the desert heat, and I was dumbfounded when I opened my eyes only to see a room full of books, a massive blue and gold bed fit for the Princess and a Unicorn standing near the foot of the bed with my clothes and hat in his vibrant blue magical grasp.

“I'm glad to see you’re awake, most don't react so well to drastic restoration magic; though it's better than the alternative.” The strange stallion proclaimed with a soft smile. His soft fur was snow white, his long, flowing mane a dual colour of brown and silver, eyes like a sapphire and topaz and despite his young features his eyes held wisdom few old folks had. He wore a massive, flashy robe that hid his body and despite his hood casting shadows on his face it let his horn stick out freely. With every step the sound of armour clinking softly could be heard. All in all, the strange stallion looked like a Mage out of some fairytale.

“Where am I? I, I remember...Monsters and explosions everywhere, then nothin’.” I asked, vivid memories weighing on my mind.

“You’re in the ruins of the Grand Archive, far to the west of Valetoria, the country that used to exist here. I was travelling the desert when I happened upon a destroyed machine and dead soldiers. I killed the monsters that attacked you and teleported us here. You've been asleep for hours while I casted powerful healing spells on your wounds; a lesser healer would’ve merely staunched the bleeding and fix the visible, I fixed all existing injuries and ailments; though still tender your physical flawless. I don't wish to brag, but in a few days you should be feeling like an new stallion.” He boasted, his attitude and statements calming me somewhat as I felt my recently torn open chest. Despite still feeling stiff and sore, I was awestruck to find nothin' wrong with me.

“This...This can't be real...Who are ya?” I inquired, amazement and confusion taking hold. As I tried to get up, he rushed to my side and gently held me down.

“I wouldn't advise walking around just yet, you don't want to test the extent of your injuries. My name is Wonderlust and this is my temporary workshop and room; sorry if the decor is not to your tastes.” The stranger answered, his voice warm and smile welcoming. He seemed like a good kinda fella.

“I'm just happy to be breathing partner. Name’s Braeburn, unofficial captain of the Appaloosa Royal Guard and farmer; sorry to trouble ya, I can't begin to tell ya how grateful I am.” I stated, nodding at the healer with a beaming smile on my weary, woozy head. He merely grinned back at me as he stepped away.

“I couldn't rightly leave you dying out there, that wouldn't exactly make me a good doctor now would it?” He joked, getting a rise outta me despite my hacking lungs.

“Hey, were there any other survivors or...Just me?” I asked, desperately needing to know if there was anyone else left.

“I'm sorry, the other soldiers were either too far gone or dead already when I arrived; you’re the only survivor…” He announced with sorrow, avoiding my gaze.

“...Damn it all…” I cursed, not really sure what to say. Staring up at the ceiling, getting lost in the mess of stars and nothing, I let out a massive, built up sigh and simply wondered what the hay I was going to do now… “Could ya leave me alone for a bit? I really just want to think for awhile.” I continued, not looking at the guy.

“Of course, if you need anything merely press the red symbol on that panel atop the bedside table. I'll be back soon.” Wonderlust informed with a small, bittersweet smile as he moved towards the massive stone doors and casted a spell that caused them to swing open freely. As he stepped outside, the doors sealing behind him, I placed my head in my hooves and thought on all the people back home who’d be hurting when I told them their son, daughter, husband, wife or friend died under my command and I gave the order to fight when we should’ve retreated…

“At least he seems nicer than most Equestrian Guards…” I stated as I trotted down the newly rebuilt hallway, the curtains hanging off the windows to my right blowing freely in the desert wind. As I walked past followers who marvelled at my Pony body, I couldn't help but feel wrong; the unnatural body combined with the gnarling pain of sustained magical withdrawal left me feeling incomplete and I'd never enjoyed being disguised as a Pony. Preparing to agitate myself further, I began transforming into a Human once more; yet as I turned pure white and began forming the body, I felt an acute, substantial pain radiate from my core. Crying out in pain, I collapsed into a heap. My body, sans my left arm, was reformed but it felt like my organs were tearing apart.

“Lord Alistair, what’s wrong?!” Faded questioned as he hobbled down the marbled hall along with Snowfall who began helping me back onto my feet.

“I’m fine, it just takes a lot of power to fly back here in under an hour, fix a whole wing of a castle alone with nothing but magic, fix lethal wounds and sustain a body; when you're made of magic, withdrawals can be...Agony.” I answered through grit teeth, as Snow picked me up only to gasp out when she noticed the haze of magical nothing where my hand should've been.

“Don't worry about that, too much concentration to keep it all together.” I justified, my head dazed and body in pain. “Is the war room usable?” I asked Scroll, trying to get back to business.

“Y-Yes, my lord, but I'd highly recommend we-”

“No time, we need to talk in private real quick.” I insisted, blowing off his concern while Snowfall, despite her worrying, helped me walk to the desired room with a frazzled Faded Scroll in toe. The Hierophant’s Wing was filling up rapidly with ‘guards’ who’d become adept in the field of weight and paper manipulation, elders who’d mastered their field of studies and families temporarily claiming the various lavish rooms befitting royalty. The crowds parted for their leaders, voicing their worries at the sight of my state, until we stood in front of a gargantuan valatite door that doubled as a wall. In place of myself, Snow placed a furry palm on the gates and, following the rules of the salvaged notes from the Archive’s golden age, repeated the incantation to open the way. As the gates groaned and parted, we walked in.

“Still like I remember it, minus the advisers and Sages.” I exclaimed nostalgically, gazing at the huge, white elderwood and black steel round table with the numerous, lavish and ornate chairs assigned to the various appointed Sages. The room was devoid of windows, instead being illuminated by multiple magical torches that still burned brightly. Behind each throne sat a banner of corresponding colour and meaning. At the opposite side of the room rested my seat at the table; polished and cut sapphires lined the infused valatite throne with ravens carved into the armrests, a lot more stylish and overly detailed than I prefer but it was comfy and fitting for the vibe of the room. After being placed into my throne, I insisted that they sit wherever they felt as the people who used to sit in the chairs are all dead.

“Now then, what the fuck are those monsters in the desert?” I asked after sinking into the familiar chair, surprising the two of them at my sudden and crass question.

“Monsters? What do you mean?” Snow inquired, unsure of what I was referring to; I didn't need to read her mind to know she was telling the truth, the confusion in her hazel eyes evident.

“I found the Equestrian bleeding out in a ruined mechanical construct surrounded by these...Perversions of Humanity. They wore Human skin and spoke valtic but were so bestial that they would've been labelled demons in the Dark Age...And the black magic that radiated off them...I need to know if you two know anything.” Alistair filled them in, his chilling description disturbing Snow and filled Faded Scroll with a sense of dread.

“My lord...There were murmurs long ago, further back then when I joined your cause, of some of your original pupils who were devising some way to strike back at Celestia. They were powerful, fiercely loyal dark mages and black Paladins united in their cause to hunt her and her people down for the ruination of the Archivists. No one really knew what became of them but it is known they went to ground within what’s left of Valetoria...Perhaps they built these abominations...Tis a disturbing thought indeed.” Faded Scroll informed, remembering what the elders from ages past told him in hushed whispers, though he was horrified at the thought that someone could’ve done something so drastic he still wanted to doubt the existence of such an organisation.

“Why is it the more I learn about my followers the more I hate myself? Regardless, we have to kill this movement before it grows; I despise the Princesses but killing random patrols will only harm innocents and incur her wrath.” Alistair ordered, laying the groundwork for the small council's first assault.

“You have a plan, my lord?” Snow inquired, cocking an eyebrow up at his statement.

“Yes, though it's risky. We’ll need a powerful telepath, like yourself Scroll, or someone else skilled in seer related magic, some supplies and muscle. If we can trace the essence those beasts gave off we could locate a larger group of them and possibly point us in the direction of their headquarters; black magic is rather pungent and these monsters reeked of it. Who’re our most powerful combatants? They'll be my escort.” Alistair requested after filling them in on the basis of his plan.

“That'd be us, my lord.” Faded Scroll announced with a proud grin while Snow cracked her knuckles, causing the scrolls wrapped around her hands to fizzle red energy.

“You? No offense, but even the most powerful mages are hindered by age and blindness in combat, and you're pretty ancient as far as mages go. I could use your mental abilities, but I don't want you dying for me if we get stuck in a brawl.” Alistair denied, disbelieving his usefulness in a battle, somewhat offending the old stallion.

“I know I'm far from a young Colt anymore, and yes my magic has blinded me, but it has also given me a much greater sight. I can see the ebb and flow of magic, the presence of life forms and even souls themselves including the absence of them. Nothing can sneak up on me and my age, much like your own, brings with it experience as well as wisdom; I was more than just a tactician in Celestia’s army as well. Also, isn't calling me ancient like the pot calling the kettle black? Please Sir Alistair, don't discredit my abilities.” Faded insisted, understanding in his master's doubts but also hesitant to sit out anything that could endanger him.

“You can truly see souls? Such an art was rare even in my age...Prove it, what does my soul look like.” Alistair requested, curious to see his skills put to the test.

“Your soul is...Bizarre. It’s fractured, split apart and torn to shreds and hastily put together, yet it burns brighter and with colour and power I've never seen before. Your soul is damaged beyond simple magic, almost like parts are missing, yet still intact and strong.” He summarized as he stared at Alistair with an intense expression on his usually calm and aged face.

“Impressive…” The Hierophant stated, genuinely impressed that someone else could perceive his soul. Few beings aside from immortals and those who feed on souls and emotions can see a being's soul, fewer an immortals.

“Yeah, my lord, the old bastard’s also tough. He taught me everything and aside from you I’d want no one else in a foxhole with me. Plus, you're pretty banged up right now so I don't think you should be fighting any hordes of monsters anytime soon.” Snow defended her teacher, remembering the times they fought alongside one another.

“...I suppose you’re right, if I'm to ensure the safety of the Archive I’d best to do it in good shape and live to see the Archive back in action; plus I still have to aid in healing the injured around here like I promised...We’ll wait three days, I'll be fixed by then and in the meantime you two can gather the supplies and soldiers we’ll require.” Alistair instructed, giving in to logic instead of immediate action, causing his two new advisers to grin, before standing back up on shaking legs.

“I'll inform the people, they'll wish to know why their leaders are all going out into the desert so suddenly.” Faded told them, assuming his role as the people’s guide, while Snow helped Alistair to the door.

“I'll evaluate our fighters, we’re small in numbers but overwhelming in skill.” Snowfall boasted proudly, and loudly, as they exited the spacious, shadowy room back into the well lit and crowded halls.

“Excellent…Now then, before we leave I have one thing to say.” Alistair stated, causing the two to halt.

“Until now we’ve been getting by with little and although the Archive can be built back up, I'll kill myself via depletion at this rate with how much work it's going to be. Which is why I've decided that when we get back from this hunt I'm going to need all the skilled Restorers we’ve got for one hell of a job.” Alistair demanded with a stern voice and determination.

“You seek to build it all back up with one massive burst of restoration magic?” Snow guessed, her teachings telling her it could be plausible but lethal with the scale at which they would be working.

“No, but close. You’ve felt it, haven't you Scroll? The pull of ancient magic, the strengthening allure of old power? The Archive was built upon something discovered by the first mountain dwelling Humans long ago, something rooted in legends and myth that few beings, not even the Princesses, Dragons or Chrysalis know of, something few nations even have. We’re not going to rebuild the Archive, we’re going to be jump starting its heart.” Alistair exclaimed, excited at the idea of taking the first, substantial step to reclaiming what was lost so long ago.

The Lion’s Den was bathed in the early morning spring light, the sun blessing the growing gardens and venues within and around the walled off, mountainous castle. A skeleton crew of slaves and workers were busy cleaning out their young master’s quarters while many others, guards included, gathered in the courtyard to see him off.

Before the young child stood his family, all teary eyed but undeniably proud. The many guards and servants who had the pleasure of working with the curious, energetic and bright child had said their goodbyes and wished him a safe journey, leaving him alone with his family and Ludex who stood aside a weeping Alistair.

“A-Are you sure you have to go? Can't he stay just a little bit longer? We were gonna go to the Hunter’s Festival, we’ve always gone together.” Aurora begged, hugging onto Alistair for dear life while Ruby cried softly and Peter hid his tears.

“I'm sorry Lady Aurora, we’re to leave immediately or we’ll miss the first few tests of the Trials of Spring.” Ludex explained, dismayed that he had to tear the family apart.

“D-D-Don’t worry Aury, I'm gonna learn how to become a real strong mage, and, and then me and you can go beat up some real liches and Dragons! Plus, Ludex said you and Mom and Dad can come and visit me after the Trials!” Alistair said in between sobs and gasps of air with a small smile as he tried to make Aurora happy.

“Listen to ya, speaking like a real hero already! Gods, you’re a Leonas through and through Little Lion; oh Gods these mountains won't be the same without you!” Peter exclaimed loudly with sorrow and pride as he lifted up his boy for the last time before he had to leave.

“You’ve always been destined for greatness, I always knew it...I promise you darling, we’ll write a letter every week, we’ll pry you away from your studies every once in awhile, we’ll come to see you in person when we can...Oh Alistair, I’m so happy for you...Please, be a good boy won’t you?” Ruby pleaded, fawning over her little son and holding back her tears behind a smile, while kissing him on the cheek and hugging him along with his father.

“I promise I’ll be good! I’ll be better than good! I-I’ll be the best acolyte ever!” Alistair declared, boasting with exaggerated enthusiasm to mask his fear and rapidly growing doubt.

“I know ya will be boy, do us proud and show those Southern, snotty kids that the North grows ‘im stronger and smarter!” Peter requested with a massive smirk as he placed his son on the ground and wiped away his tears.

“If you ever feel lonely or want to come home, all you need to do is simply ask and I’ll come to get you. We’re all so proud of you…” His mother guaranteed, her refined voice cracking despite her best attempts and posh makeup running.

“Show those other kids that the Leonas’ are the best at everything! ‘Cause if you’re not the best mage Aliy, who’ll be my sidekick when I become the best knight in all the Empire?” The princess rhetorically asked, punching her twin on the shoulder and causing him to laugh.

“You’re such a dunghead, you’re obviously the sidekick!” Her brother countered, causing the two of them to giggle. As the family finally parted ways, the prince stepping into the enchanted carriage of the Lord Hierophant, the Wizard’s envoy of Spellswords, Pyromancers and Paladins set off down the crooked, jagged mountain path descending the Great Northern Divide. Gold and wood gates shut behind the carriages, his family’s faces hidden behind reinforced stone walls, and the Prince and Lord began their lengthy, arduous journey to the Grand Archives in the West.

Within the carriage, enchantments turned it from a small yet lovely holding area into a massive, three room hideaway complete with carpets, drapes, bookshelves and windows. Despite the beautiful decor, Alistair sat by the entrance and watched the rolling mountains draped in snow and awakening trees and lined with towers and ramparts slowly fade away and refused to look away from the rapidly shrinking stronghold he’d lived his whole life within. Despite this, Ludex was distracted informing him with what was to come.

“Now, I know you’re family has neglected to educate you on the basics of magic and I can’t blame them, but that does mean we have much to discuss and read before we arrive if we want you to be on par with the other students. Now, the first known practitioners of magic were the Dragons and Ponies, the former brought these powers to the attention of Humans while the latter hid it; this resulted…” Ludex began, but halted his droning lecture when he saw the small boy was absently staring out the windows, lost in his own thoughts.

“Oh dear…” He said aloud, failing to remember that unlike most magically gifted children from royal families, Alistair was loved and would most likely be suffering from homesickness and bouts of sorrow; thinking quickly, he approached the Prince, tapped him on his shoulder and waited for him to turn around with his hands behind his back.

“Did you want something Ludex the Ignis?” The boy asked, clearly disheartened.

“Please, there’s no need for formalities. Now, want to see something amazing?” Ludex asked with a whimsical tone and overly joyful expression. Alistair merely shrugged and watched him.

Ludex revealed he had three plain white juggling balls in his hands, which only bored Alistair.

“Juggling? Really? I always hated dad’s jesters and they always juggled…” Alistair moaned in disinterest, suddenly remembering the fun days in court with his dad.

“Just wait and watch!” Ludex insisted as he began juggling. Alistair watched, still bored when he added a fourth and fifth ball, and was about to go back to the window when the Wizard snapped his fingers and the balls ignited, bathed in fire. Alistair shot back in shock, but was quickly enamored by the multicoloured, magical flames that danced in the air. He kept adding more and more balls until he snapped his fingers once more and whenever a ball touched his hands they turned into flaming knives! The boy gasped in horror when he dropped all of the knives, only to see them vanish.

“Where could they be?” The older man asked no one as he looked around the room with faux confusion, his silly expression causing Alistair to laugh, before reaching behind the boy’s chipped left ear and removed them all, now strung together and spelling ‘Alistair’ with flames; said person began clapping wildly and cheering.

“How’d you do that?! Pyromancy is amazing!” He questioned with wild eyes and a massive grin, causing the Hierophant to burst out laughing.

“Yes it is, but it wasn’t all Pyromancy...You see, I started by using a simple duplication spell, watch my hands instead of the balls this time…” He started with a grin and lecturing tone as he took him through the whole act, step by step, pointing out the wonders of magic; suddenly Alistair wasn’t so afraid of being alone and was soon invested in Ludex’s silly acts disguising his lessons. The weeks long journey was almost devoid of dread and sadness, at the cost of some of Ludex’s self respect.

Exsequor

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The Precipice

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Beyond Comprehension

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Dreamwalking

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Getting off on the Wrong Hoof

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Biding Time

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Family Reunion

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Resurrection

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