Challenging Fate

by DeshLune

Rating: mature
Tags: Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Alternate Universe, Original Character, Tragedy
Length: 10503

To challenge one's final fate is impossible. Right? En will do anything in her power to fight fate, and break a tradition that has been set upon her since before she was born. Follow En as she tries to fight against it; for better or worse.

(First Person)(Cancelled)
Fate is an illusive thing to those of the living. Fighting it can't be done, because how can you fight something you don't know? Well what if you did know?

For En it isn't illusive. She knows exactly what should happen to her. But she won't accept it, she wishes for just about anything else. She will journey all across Equestria if she must, and doing just about anything it takes to survive and fight. What is she fighting? Her death at the hooves of an ill-fated Tradition.

Note: Permanently cancelled. Ideas will be carried over to other works. If I fall under any changes of thought and start working on this... well, as unlikely as it will be, some elements will be in other works - given all things considered.

Published 2016-09-16 01:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2017-01-31 22:31:57 UTC

Prologue: The Village

Prologue: The Village

The Village, my village is located at the midpoint of a volcano, which houses a deity. The deity watches over us and keeps us safe, as long as we follow the rules. The rules are few, one is to follow a tradition that our mighty deity has set up.

Everypony here from birth has a duty to play based on who they were birthed by. A woodcutter gets the name Oaken Chop and their child would be named Child of Oaken Chop, or C. Oaken for short. It has been that way long before I was born, someone is born given the name Child of and then when that parent dies, they lose Child of and are then the parent not the child.

The repopulation for the next generation would have a mare adult and stallion have two kids. Each taking over the job’s and names of their parents. The only exception to the name takeover is for the sacrifices to the deity, which happens every eighteen years.

The sacrifice births one child and a short while after jumps into the crater at the top of the volcano. It is a wondrous tradition, so I am told, I've never seen it though. The ceremony last for the entire day and everyone gets the day off from work, the only day off in eighteen years.

There are exactly fifty-one ponies in the population, on the eighteenth year fifty-two, but it quickly drops back down. Parent births child, parent works, dies. Child takes over, repeat. It is predictable here, with everything following tradition and routine. One child for one job, a family is therefore made up of four until the parents die.

My fate was sealed the moment I was conceived, I would follow in my Mothers hoof-step's, and some reason it caused the other kids to ostracize me. I would watch from afar as they would play their games, subconsciously waiting for their turn to take over the job. I suppose it didn't help that I was several years their senior.

Jobs to me seem less desirable, I didn't want to take over any job but tradition set by our great deity dictated it to be. How could anypony truly believe that we had to follow some illusive deity, that for all we knew was long dead? Or never existed in the first place.

I've received special attention since birth from The Village leaders, because unlike the other kids, I was special. I knew that no matter what my or anyone else’s cutie mark was that we would take over the job of our parents. My job however I inherited from birth, I am after all the sacrifice. Next year would be my year. The year in which I follow tradition and jump, appeasing our mighty and illusive Deity.

A few months into the next year a spell would be cast on me, one given to us by our all-powerful Deity, which would impregnate me. Before being forced to birth a daughter, not long after that, I got the… honor of jumping being the sacred sacrifice and all. The Mareden, a holy pony, would accompany me up the mountain to perform the ritual. The Tailor and Jeweler will collaborate to make my sacrificial tenue, I was told the last one was lovely and to die for, I didn't like the joke.

I had gotten my cutie mark two years ago when I reported that I ‘felt’ wolves were slowly burrowing their way under the walls, and sure enough that was exactly what was happening. One of the Sentry Guards had doubted me, “just the damned sacrifice trying to hog attention, fucking outcast.” I truly was ostracized, and an outcast. After that incident a Black Swallowtail Butterfly in a mid-flap lay still on my flank. I thought it was beautiful, being the outcast I am though many called it ugly and that I shouldn't have a cutie mark unless it was about jumping.

It wasn't all that bad, I was on good relations with the Librarian, Pageturner, I would spend hours upon end reading all of the books. Sadly six years ago I finished all of the ones Pageturner had in the library, I mostly socialize with Pageturner now, mainly about the books. Her son was one of the few kids who didn't ostracize me. He mainly just reads books all day rather than socialize with the others, which might be why.

Pageturner has lived for thirty-seven years, she is nearing what is considered as an elder in The Village. Because nopony seems to live long after forty. It is almost a curse, even though curses are just superstition. No pony knows the real reason behind it, some have even said that it too is tradition.

I think that it should be time to fight the normalities of our tradition and give ponies the job that their cutie mark's say they are good at, or better yet let them pick. Like I read in a book by somepony known as 'Clover the Clever.'

I, a Unicorn, have tried my hoof at magic. I've only learned the basic Telekinesis and the advanced Teleportation, I thought that it was weird to have the basic spell every Unicorn knows and the advanced Teleportation. I, in no way have mastered either of them, I can only Teleport once every few weeks and can only travel several meters. I am left far to exhausted by it, and usually collapse. My Telekinesis isn't great either. I can’t lift heavy objects, and struggle to pick up another pony, though I haven't been able to actually try.

My Mother was named Vee. She was easily the best magic user in the whole history of The Village, but it was wasted on her sacrificial ceremony. I didn't inherit any of her magical prowess. She, like me, was allowed to do what I wanted through the day, it was usually spent learning. And unlike my Mother I am the smallest of all the sacrifices to date, Mother was one of the tallest. I looked just like a filly, even though I am the age of a nearly full grown mare.

I nearly forgot. My name is En, and I am the next sacrifice, but I don’t want to be the sacrifice. I want freedom, a freedom that wasn't going to be granted. Freedom to live past eighteen. My cutie mark should allow me to get that freedom, because I believe it represents a sixth sense. I will stand up, and fight to stop my fate.

Chapter One: Making Out; Part 1

Chapter One: Making Out; Part 1

“You can’t fight fate.”

My eyes open slowly, and just as slowly, I pull my right foreleg out from under the soft light green blanket proceeding to rub my, heavy lidded, eyes with it. I was attempting to rub the morning drowsiness away. Today already feels like every other day here. Waking up, face planted tenderly in my makeshift pillow, a crimson blanket that matches my right eye. Lying on my stomach I shifted, and then, rolled to my left side, from this spot I could see the figures on my dresser. It was mainly used like a bedside table though, as I only had a cloak and two journals inside it; while the top had a cup, a screwdriver, a canteen and several books.

The canteen, my canteen, is filled with fresh spring water, which should have cooled by now. I had filled it up yesterday morning after all. The spring, a hot spring heated by the volcano, it isn’t used for bathing, but a source of fresh water. If anyone were to bath in it’s heated waters, then the guards will enact the rules by bringing the offender to Sheriff Law. Who will lock them in one of the two rustic jail cells, while waiting for the two village leaders to discuss the penalty.

Law told me once that in the entire history of The Village only one pony has been put to death, for any breach of the… well laws. It was mostly do to one of the leader’s Rulebringer, having a very bad day. Not to mention the other leader Wishnight was cowardly and shy, with Rulebringer easily convincing Wishnight to go along with any judgement.

Law is someone, who has to treat me nicely, but that doesn’t stop him from talking about me with his daughter. The next Sheriff is cruel and twisted, agony is all that awaits my daughter when she takes over the job. Law was a Unicorn of a large stature, compared to the other Stallions, he always wore a dark brown cowpony hat. It was given to him by his mother, I read that it belonged to the original Law and that it is now a symbol of authority.

A year ago I tried to get rid of one of the chairs only to get reprimanded by Wishnight. The chair was originally for the second sacrifice’s friend the original Shaker, the alchemist or potion maker. The second sacrifice, Rail, and Shaker are the only two to ever use both chairs, one chair has sat vacant ever since Rail’s… passing. The current Shaker is always in his hut, working I presume, his son brings him food on a daily basis.

I’ve layed in bed long enough. I pushed my blanket off of me, rolled over to my right side, that way I could drag myself out of bed. My house, well hut, was a one roomed mini house. It held my bed, dresser, table and two chairs. Along with a tall elegant pole known as a coat rack. I used it to hang my saddlebags and carrier bag. I also have a mirror, but it is mostly broken shattered fifty years ago or so. This house is for the sacrifice, which means it and everything in it will go to my daughter.

I don’t really know why but every sacrifice has been a girl. It might have something to do with the spell used, but I haven’t been able to look at it. Rulebringer and Wishnight are very strict and adamant about me being close to it, hence I don’t even know if it is a scroll or book.

The heavy brown cloth that hung from the door frame was blocking out most of the morning sun, light orange and yellows seeped out from the bottom of the cloth. I could already feel the morning air, without moving the cloth of a door. I hated morning’s, bet the air seems to always be the freshest and purest in the morning and that I did like. I had no reason to wake up this early, other than the pure air. But that couldn’t actually be the only reason, I believe the other is that I just have a hard time sleeping when the sun is out. I didn’t have a real door, just the cloth and it works far better than a door, at least that is what I think. As it is heavy enough, only a gust of wind can move it, breezes have no effect on it.

I wrapped my canteen in a magic field colored black, adding another field to the cap. I telekinetically twisted the cap, levitating the canteen over to my parched lips. I drank the cooled water, relishing in the familiar taste of hot spring water. It is strange to think that water would have a distinct taste but it just does. After I finished drinking a good amount, to feel hydrated, I levitated the cap back onto the canteen before twisting it closed. I pulled the strap of the canteen over my head, letting it rest loosely next to my side.

With the canteen suspended on my body, I made my way past the brown cloth door. I was greeted immediately by a blinding flash of morning sun, I waited for my vision to adjust to the new light level. After my vision had adjusted the sight of The Village filled my view, with a backdrop of the brilliant blue sky. There were huts, the wall and the guard tower scrambled almost randomly around my view of the morning blue sky.

A rumbling from my stomach told me, that I would need to go get my breakfast. I stepped onto the cold cobblestone path, which made its way all the way around and through The Village. The cobblestone was mysterious to me, no matter the time of day it was always cold. I thought it was a magic spell and tried to test the thought, only to realize that I didn’t have anyway of testing. I made my way to the right slowly traversing atop of the familiar cold stone.

As I walked I took in my surroundings, like I always would do on the way to The Village’s main hall. The air was filled with the faint smell of pumpkins, today’s special was something pumpkin related. The cherry trees around my hut were almost ready to bloom, I could already make out the small puds of the baby cherries. On my left was a steep hill that led to some other’s huts, but with my hut as far up and out of the way everypony knows to take the cobbled path. In less than two minutes, I had arrived at the first building that wasn’t my hut. It was a shop belonging to Rightlist, who currently is an Earth Pony stallion, he sells all sorts of wares, mainly clothes he buys from Finesse, the tailor.

Only a few buildings weren’t huts in The Village. Three shops for the three con artist… er… merchants. The next is a hospital, which is Kind Jab and Gentle Cut domain, Kind the Doctor and Gentle the Assistant. I have only seen Kind and Gentle four times by what I remember, they have this nice magic spell that I want to learn. The spell can heal minor injuries like nothing, and even some major injuries though with a lot of hard work. Right the buildings. The last four are the guard’s Barracks, Sheriff’s Stable, Kitchen and The Village’s Main Hall.

As I drew closer to the area between the hospital and the three shops front doors, I could already make out the groups of busy ponies darting from one location to the next. Unwilling to slow down as to not be late for their jobs. With the children running around and playing their games. The few ponies that had noticed my approach, picked up their paces as to avoid me. As I got into the clearing it would be easy to tell where I was, even if the place was crowded there would be a hole with me in the center.

I ignored the gap, like I do everyday. I was hungry, and pumpkin something was what awaited me. As I went past the hospital, the aroma of pumpkin was filling the air far more than before, it caused my stomach to grumble. I suppose that skipping dinner last night, in-order to watch the shooting star shower, was a bad idea.

The place that I went to watch the meteor shower, was a place I tend to go often, because that there... there wasn’t anypony being mean. Sure it was outside the walls, and normally one would have to get permission to leave the walls, but I can walk outside in almost any situation. Yes I have a guard or two watching me from the walls, but that is because they don’t want me just leaving. My spot is nice and remote, nearly guaranteeing me peace from any heckling or chance for anypony to ostracize me.

Look at me ramble on about things, I don’t mean to, it tends to just happen especially when I start thinking about different things. It could be a part of my cutie mark, with it being a butterfly, part of it must mean that my thoughts soar. On some level or another. But my cutie mark is rather an insult to me, because while it is something that can fly and achieve freedom. I am stuck on the ground, waiting for whatever may happen to me, happen, without a greater sense of freedom brought on. I’ve only been able to perceive my cutie mark as an insult, and that rather frightens me, because while it expresses a sense of freedom to soar away, and possibly make my own path. I’m stuck here, unable to leave, because other than a few spots outside of the walls, I am forbidden to leave without an escort.

I can’t think of any other pony, who would want to have this fate cast onto them. How could I want this fate either? I don’t want this fate. I can’t have this fate. I wish that I had a different fate, or rather… I wish I didn’t have any fate at all. I don’t want for something like…

Pumpkin? The smell was overwhelming. I can hardly think straight any more. Though I suppose that has more to do with the gurgles coming from my empty tummy. Where am I anyway? Let’s see, two wooden pillars holding up a metal awning, like thing, which means that I’m now in front of the mess hall. Wierd, because I always thought that it was further away than this from my hut.

Pushing past the solid orange wood door, I stepped into the main room. It was connected to the kitchen via a large ordering window and a hole covered with a cleaned gray sheet. I practically floated up to the window as the smell drew me in with its fragrant and potent aroma. As I neared the window two things struck out. First, the menu hasn’t been changed since yesterday's breakfast sign of pancakes. Secondly, from what I can tell it is muffins and I could really go for muffins.

“Ew, I can’t believe she is here.” “Ugh, I know right. Why can’t she just stay at home, where we don’t have to see her?” Those were just some of the things I could hear from the others already eating. I pretended like I didn’t hear any of it. Like always, because every time I’m anywhere except my hut or mountain clearing it always happens.

It isn’t like I didn’t expect this to happen, and it’s not like it doesn’t hurt, but I’m just so used to it. I still remember the first time I heard them speaking like that, I was crying in my bed unable to sleep and unable to stop. I did get sleep but it was the next day that I did, it was late in the morning almost evening. I was curled up, folded into the smallest size I could get, and eventually I just fell asleep. I was still crying when I woke up, well barely, I had wept it all out after several long hours.

I was about ready to step up to the window. Allowing me to place my order for the number of, what I could only guess are, muffins, when a pony with a faded piss yellow coat and matching mane. Her Cutie Mark was that of a rolling pin and small purple stars flowing around it. I knew who she was I didn’t like her all that much, she is rude, arrogant and shows that she has a sort of… self grandiose. Her name Selfless, which is rather ironic... as she is anything but selfless.

I simply took a step back giving her space. As I learned quickly not to talk to her. As she makes huge scenes and makes me get put into even worse light than normal. Also she insults me everytime I try to talk to her. She works at the graveyard. One of the only places I actively work on avoiding. Why go to a place that has no one close to me in it?

Waiting patiently for Selfless to get her food, I was proven right she was given a small basket of muffins. They smelled delicious. I could hardly wait to be able to try it for myself. I have to wait for Selfless to clear the area first before making my move up to the window otherwise…

“Oh! The piece of shit little jumper,” she bellowed crassly. “I didn’t see you there.”

I muttered quietly, “of course you didn’t.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What was that little fucking shit?”

I smiled at her as wholeheartedly as I could muster. “Nothing Ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought,” she snapped. “A vegetable like yourself should not even talk to those of us, who are normal.” Her voice was loud enough that it drew the attention of all those inside, causing me to shrink down on the floor.

I was trying to hide, but I knew it wouldn’t work. Still it won’t stop me from trying. “I’m sorry. I will try not to anymore,” I apologized my voice barely being above a whisper. Shrinking down even further, when she started glaring at me. I made myself sound as sincere as possible, because when it comes to Selfless, if it doesn’t sound like I know that I am inferior then she will make a bigger scene.

It seems like I wasn’t convincing enough, based on the fact she’s raised her head higher and put her right hoof slightly forward. “Don’t give me that shit.” She hissed angrily, like a Garter Snake when you step on it. “That half-assed shit you always fucking give me.” She stepped forward, forcing me to shrink down further, as to make us not touch. “No.”

Slowly I started to back away. Only to find that a well place support beam was behind me. Escape now impossible, I had to ‘fight.’ “I-I’m sorry,” I squeaked softly, while shrinking down as much as possible. By now I was no different than a small lump on the ground, while the main difference being that my coat was strawberry red and lumps… aren’t?

“Shut the fuck up. You’re just some fucking bitch, who is a lower class than the rest of us. Your damned mother was… well damned. Good riddance!” She hollered aloud at a volume all could hear. She then muttered quietly to herself. “Shit, I thought I could make that better. Damn.”

At this point I couldn’t tell what she was doing. Normally after I apologized she goes away, something is different with her today.

“Hahahaaa. Lovely my dear.” A large gray stallion commended kindly, while he come out of nowhere. Well nowhere that I could see. “But I believe that this lovely filly here has had enough... she practically wet herself.” I started to glare at him. He began to chuckle softly. “Are you alright little filly?”

He offered me his hoof. I quickly tried to push away his hoof only to find I wasn’t able to make it budge. His "friendly" smile was beaming down at me. I somehow felt trapped and defeated. Why? What was he? His hoof didn’t feel right; almost right, but it was unnaturally cold. Not like the coldness I felt on the stone outside, but… I couldn’t place my hoof on it.

He pulled on my hoof, and before I could do anything I was suddenly standing. I mentally noted the coldness and strength of this unusual stallion. I didn’t stop glaring at him since I had started earlier. “I am not a filly.” He started to chuckle, again, I didn’t like him, and I didn’t know why. “Who are you?”

I’ve never seen him before. It wasn’t to unusual for a traveler to find our little village, but no one has been this… clean. There has always been some hint of dirt or mud rustled in their fur or feathers, but this pony… this strange Earth pony was cleaner than me. Last night I even bathed before I went to sleep, which means he is… like… super clean? I shook my head, when I looked at the husky stallion, he closed his mouth. I could tell he just finished talking, but I was spacing out.

With a sheepish grin I asked. “Could you... repeat that?”

The large husky stallion smiled for what had to be the third time since I first saw him. “No reason to fret. All I did was say that my name is Gurtlock.” He continued to smile with unnaturally clean teeth, and for whatever reason my nose felt like it was itchy.

I started to rub my nose to get the itching to stop, but no matter the rubbing the itching didn’t stop. Gurtlock started to trot over to an empty table, while using his tail to motion Selfless to follow… or I think it was Selfless he motioned to follow. Once I stopped watching Selfless prance over to the table, in a very out of character prance, I noticed my nose wasn’t itchy anymore. “Odd?” I muttered quietly.

I walked carefully up to the window in the wall used for ordering food. I could see Creamer working the ‘counter.’ He was working on mixing a batter of what might be the next batch of muffins. He glanced up at me before going back to mixing. “You can have six,” he grumbled sleepily.

I blinked at him in disbelief. Normally I would only be allowed four muffins. “Why the generosity?”

He shrugged casually. “There are extra,” and he replied casually as well. What wasn’t casual with him? He always acts like that, or maybe he is just stoic?

I let out another sigh. “Could I get six muffins then?” He looked up from his mixing with a face that said ‘and’ but his stoicism remained. “Please,” I added almost absent mindedly.

He went back to his mixing, magic engulfed his horn; as he lifted up a quill and parchment, which he swiftly wrote a number six on before moving it to a counter, it was almost out of my vision. After dropping the quill over a table, using his magic, he flicked a bell.

A broken 'Bund' filled the air. That bell was one of the most broken I’d ever heard, which wasn’t many... but still it was wrong. Several moments later a basket filled with exactly six muffins floated over to Creamer, I would only be able to assume that Roller was the one who floated the basket over.

Creamer grabbed the basket with his own magic, quickly levitating it over to the hole known as ‘the window.’ Without another word I enveloped the basket with my magic. It was glowing in my bizarre black magic field. I will admit nopony has called it bizarre before, but I’ve never seen another pony with a black magical field.

I was about to trot to a secluded area to eat the muffins when Creamer’s bored voice filled my ears, in his casual manner. “Bring the basket back.” It was hard to imagine that as a command with how casual it is; as if thinking about his own wording he quickly added, albeit still casually. “When you are done.”

All I could muster was a nod in return, but I wasn’t sure he even saw it. Since he was still mixing that batter. I levitated the basket beside me; as I made my way over to a table that is always empty whenever I visit the mess hall… dining hall? I wasn’t sure what it was called. Why is my nose itchy again?

“May I join you?”

I looked up and the husky gray stallion stood before me. Now for some reason he had on a long scarf wrapped multiple times around his thick neck. Near ironically it was as gray as his coat and eyes. I added another note about Gurtlock, rubbing my itching nose, he had a bad sense of fashion; as one would likely mistaken the scarf for extra fur to his, still surprisingly, clean coat.

“Why? Are you want to have my food too?” I asked under my hoof, which was still rubbing my itchy nose. I give up. I dropped my hoof to the basket picking up one of the muffins. I pulled it close.

He chuckled. “What? No I’m not after your food. I just want to talk,” I will give it to him… he really is weird.

I started to inspect the muffin closely. “Fine. Whatever sit,” I commanded huffily. My nose was killing me. The muffin had broken pumpkin seeds baked into it, and from the aroma it was giving off it also had some of that hard casing, but it must have been mashed up and mixed into the batter.

Gurtlock took the seat right across from me. “Do you believe in destiny?” He asked quietly, like he was telling me some secret.

The muffin was, appropriately, orange hue at first it seemed odd, but with the aroma I guess it wasn’t. “I live in a village where from birth everyone is given a job. That we must follow until death,” I answered coldly. “Do I believe in destiny… no. No I don’t.”

I must have surprised him; as he had backed away swiftly with a dumbfounded look across his gray muzzle. “Really?” he choked.

I took a bite of the orange muffin, and was surprised. The taste of chocolate filled my mouth. After gulping down that bite I sighed. “Why would I believe that anypony is meant to achieve something in their short, abrupt life, hmm?” I asked, before taking another bite of the muffin. To my surprise this bite tasted of… strawberries?

I finished off the muffin, and proceeded to pick up another one. Gurtlock smiled, something about what I said was enjoyable. I glared at him from behind my second muffin. He chuckled. “Sorry. It is just that you are really like someone I… know.” I took a bite of the new muffin.

The sweet strawberry flavor was with the first bite this time. “Do you not like them?” I asked.

He was taken aback by what I asked him. “You are quite perceptive,” he paused; as if thinking very carefully about what to say. “No. I do not like that pony.” I took another bite of my multi-flavor muffin.

“Now chocolate. What a weird muffin,” I muttered silently to myself. “You clearly have some sort of grudge against whoever ‘that’ pony,” I paused shortly to finish the muffin. “What is it your archrival, who is doing better to get to the goal then you?”

He stared at me with a mixture of disbelief and blankness. “How? How did y--”

“It wasn’t hard to figure out,” I reasoned, while picking up another muffin. I took the first bite of it, pumkin. “Weird,” I mumbled. “Anyway, I would like to eat the rest of my meal in peace.” He stared at me. “Alone.”

He winced. “Right. Right of course,” he got up from the seat, and took a few steps. He looked back at me. “I would love to have you on my side.” After that he walked out of the dining area, and out into the cold morning air.

“No thanks,” I mumbled silently to myself. Hmm… my nose isn’t itchy anymore.

I quickly downed the muffin to have a dose of strawberry and chocolate fill my mouth. Absent mindedly I floated up another muffin using my magic. Chocolate, pumpkin then strawberry these were some of the best and strangest muffins I’ve ever had. I didn’t even know you could make a muffin have three distinct flavors, but I guess Roller’s culinary magic is responsible.

What makes a muffin? There is the flour, salt, sugar, milk, eggs, baking oil, and finally one of the most important, the baking powder. All of this makes the batter, but the order in which you add these basic ingredients make the muffin go from good to great, or from good to bad, and so on and so forth. That only covers the batters basic elements, ingredients, not what type of muffin it will be. For that you have to add in the last, few, ingredients, which would be the ingredient specifying what type of muffin it is. If it is a blueberry muffin, then you add blueberries, if it is a banana muffin you add banana and sometimes cinnamon.

Well that is just what I read inside of a book. I’ve never actually baked a muffin before, and I am fairly confident that I can make a decent batch of muffins; as long as you follow the instructions then you can’t really go wrong. Although Pageturner told me a few years back that, ‘the best things are the ones that don’t follow instructions.’ I wonder if she is right.

I picked up another muffin, which happened to be my last. I downed it in the regular three bites that it normally takes to finish a muffin here. I could see something across from the basket close to where Gurtlock had sat. By the looks it was placed in a spot I wouldn’t see until all my muffins were finished.

I carefully floated it up with my magic. I found out it wa actually two things, a note and a bar of what smelt like chocolate. The note read like this:

‘If you are reading this little… one,
then that means you answered my question about destiny.
Whether you believe it or not.
I do not care.
What I do care about is having somepony with your…
Intellect, running around.
Fear not I have the solution,
It is that little bar of chocolate.
Hope you like it, Gurtlock.’

What an unusual pony this Gurtlock is, he is cold to the touch. No sense of fashion, or practicality, and now he is offering me a bar of chocolate. Whatever, I guess I will give it a try.

The chocolate bar was in some sort of wrapper, which I quickly discarded. I dropped the wrapper into the basket, and floated the bar around inspecting it. I’d never seen a solid bar of chocolate before, I read that it wasn’t uncommon to find bars of chocolate in the shops, but that changed back one hundred-ish years ago.

For some reason my tongue itched the closer the bar got to my mouth. I tried to take a bite of the chocolate, but the itching increased to a level I thought my tongue would just fall off. Only when I set the chocolate in the basket far away from me did the itching die down.

What is going on with my body today? I absentmindedly scratched my left ear. Grabbed the basket in my magic and levitated it up. It floated alongside of me as I walked back to the window. Creamer was sitting on his stool casually mixing what I assume to be the same batter. I levitated the basket up to the window’s hole. “I brought back the basket, like you asked.”

“Alright,” he replied quickly, yet still casually. He grabbed onto the basket with his magic, and at the same time I released my magic relieving the basket to him. He floated out the chocolate bar. “You forgot something,” he called out casually.

I rubbed my left ear. “You can just... throw it away I don’t want it.” He looked at me then to the chocolate, shrugged, then lifted it out and dropped it into a box filled with burnt muffins. Before I got caught by somepony with a grudge against me I trotted for the door.

I was immediately greeted by the vile rays of the still morning sun. The air burned my throat, which made me think, I couldn’t understand how cold air burns. I tried thinking back to some of the books that I have read before, but was unable to recollect any that would solve my conundrum. I needed to do something.

What was it? After I ate, I was going to…

Right! I was going to go talk with Wishnight; as I need to get permission to go star watching. I returned the zooming device to Pageturner last night, I’ll have to borrow it again from her, I hope she won’t mind. What if she does? Well now isn’t the time to think about it, or else I may forget the most crucial thing. I still need to get there.

I breathed in deeply, and found that a long and deep breath of the still crisp morning air was refreshing and invigorating. Coupled together with my full tummy and this was easily a recipe for a good morning. While I stood there admiring the illustrious of the air, ponies of many colors and ages passed me on their way to eat their own breakfast. Like many other ponies of The Village all those who passed me would give me looks of either disgust or disdain. There was one look that I would get from outsiders when they noticed how the others looked at me, and that was with pity or very rarely they too would look in disgust or disdain.

The way to Town-hall was a simple one, simply being the tallest building helps too… I guess. It might also help that all of the pathways, roads whatever they are called, which lead into The Village head straight for Town-hall. The Village, which is the actual name of our little village, or town, has a rather basic and intricate set-up all together. From the eating hall, I’m never sure what this place is called, you make a left heading down the-- I will just call it a path --path until you happen upon a monument outside of the graveyard.

I should stop just talking about it, and start doing it… well that is what Wishnight says, and normally it’s to herself. I took of trotting down the path to the left looking at the idiosyncratic clouds, and the matching painted wooden huts here on the ground. One cloud looked like an Earth pony doing a flying paralyzing hoof kick, which reminded me of the flying paralyzing hoof kick from the fallen… something fighting style. Ah! The monument, a statue of a sickly winged pony I was told is called a Pegasus being stabbed through with a spear, from here it should be a right alongside of the graveyard.

--- --- ---

I lived here my whole life, and somehow I still can’t find my way around. I believe that this is called sad, but I’m not quite sure on it. I spent twenty minutes trying to get to Town-hall… it should be bad that I am getting lost in the place I grew up and traverse each day.

A huge, tall and yellow painted building told me that, I was indeed in front of the Town-hall. The metal doors were reflecting the light of the still morning sun; since unlike most buildings the Town-hall was one of the few buildings that looked out toward the horizon, other buildings are facing the mountain or run perpendicular with the mountain.

The Town-hall gets a paint job every time a new leader comes into leadership, or that’s what I’ve been told. The last color, before the current Wishnight took office, had been a green-ish hue, but I couldn’t remember it very well; since at the time I was only a small little filly, or perhaps still a foal.

Another thing the Town-hall has in common with my little hut is the door, though while mine is a shade of brown. Theirs was a shade of muddy brown; as in it wasn’t brown, but after years in the elements it changed to reflect the color of mud. Below the doorway rested two stone steps leading up to the door; as a child, and occasionally nowadays, I would fall, since I would forget about the immediate step down.

I shook my head a couple of times, clearing it of distraction, because I knew it was useless for me to just dilly-dally outside. When my business is inside, otherwise I have no problems just standing around thinking about architecture and other fun things. I took the first few step, and then the next few more. Before I knew it I was standing with my forehooves on the top step, or the second step upward, and one hindhoof on the bottom step while my remaining hoof remained on the ground.

I reached out with my left hoof brushing the, surprisingly, light clothe off to the left side; allowing just enough room to allow me to pass. I slowly pushed my way past, letting it slip back to its resting place once I was fully through. Inside the Town-hall it was exactly what one would expect. A warm wooden floor, soft colored stone walls, and--

“Uuf,” my face suddenly hurt.

With my right hoof I rubbed my throbbing muzzle. I slowly look up, past my hoof, I could see a pony. This pony was unusual. It… she? he had stripes. I wasn’t sure if this is truly a monster in disguise, or if it is many, many scars.

This is something that I have never seen before. A pony with stripes. The “pony” had a dirty white coat and dark, very dark, matching dirty gray stripes… or scars.

My suspicion of him being a monster, quickly, became debunked, when he spoke. “Sorry ‘bout that,” his voice and accent are strange. It wasn’t the first accent that I have heard The Village has many accents throughout, but his was by far the strangest one. “See I was not lookin’ where I was goin’, I hope you can forgive me.”

I blinked a few times in confusion. Even though he spoke Pony, he might as well be speaking a different language. That is until I can get that accent of his down, and it fades away like it was never there. I guess I forget to say anything, because I heard his strange accent again.

“--will not you?” he asked. No, what a good way to meet someone… stupid, stupid.

“Sorry, I missed that… could… you please... repeat it?” I asked with the nicest smile I could muster. It might not be a true smile, but it should make it so he won’t be mad.

He started to… chuckle? I looked on in utter confusion. After what felt like an eternity he was breathing heavily. “Sor… sorry… it is… just too… funny. Yes. I can repeat what it is I said,” he paused to breath a little more. “You will forgive me, will not you?”

True to his word he repeated himself, strange as it was, I was glad he wasn’t mad. “Thanks,” I mumbled quietly, a small smile etched across my muzzle. This time the smile is a true smile. I’m happy? “Yes, I forgive you!” I happily answered. Happy that is something rather new, a feeling that I seem to climb after. But whenever I get close, I fall, I fall back to the ground. Sometimes. Sometimes I feel that I miss the ground and just keep dropping.

This was, easily, the happiest I have ever been in many… many years. I have this strange striped pony to thank for it. “My name’s En! It was nice bumping into you,” I chimed.

He was taken aback, confused, and amused, yet for whatever reason happy. “The name is Zen, and I suppose it was nice bumpin’ into you.” He said with a kind and soft smile. Zen blinked a few times in rapid succession before following up with a hoof to his face. It seemed like he bounced in place a couple of times; directly after he finished bouncing he raced to the clothe doorway. I’ve never seen a pony fly, but this was the closest thing to flying I’ve ever seen.

“Oh! I see you meet the nice Zebra,” a mare’s soft voice called out, nervously, behind me. I could only think of one pony with that tone with a definitive undertone of nervousness.

Spinning around. “Hey Wishnight!” I greeted. “I wanted to talk with you… or Rulebringer… preferably you.” I told her still smiling, that is until something clicked. “What’s a… Zebra?”

WIshnight looked at me dumbfounded, as if I didn’t know knowledge that a foal would know. “A Zebra is the species Zen belongs… they have stripes,” she answered me. Her tone, as usual, was full, or more accurately lack, of nerve.

“Okay… then. Why was Zen here?” I took a few steps toward Wishnight. Wishnight like all other ponies is taller than me.

Wishnight shied away from me. “Well three hours ago one of the guards, Iron Gult, ran in here yelling something about a visitor...” While she continued to tell me everything I twisted the cap off of my canteen. Dropping the cap, to pull the opening up to my waiting lips, taking continues sips. “...and that was when Zen asked if we had any knowledge about something called Psoture. Naturally we didn’t have anything to tell him.”

“That was when he apologized for taking up our time, and made his way to the main room, though, before he left I apologized for not being able to help him.” To be honest I wasn’t sure if she was finished. “After talking with Rulebringer, I left to this main room. Where I asked you ‘Oh! I see you meet the nice Zebra’ and you spun around and chipped ‘Hey Wishnight!’ after that--”

“Thanks Wishnight, but you could have just said something like, ‘Zen came here for information on something called Psoture,’ instead of telling me three hours of information in the course of twenty minutes.” I had to interrupt her, because if I didn’t she would end up repeating the entire explanation verbatim. Her memory is scary if she sees, or hears, something she will remember it.

“Yeah alright… you’re welcome,” she shied away further. I have a hard time believing someone taller than me can be shy, that is if she is truly shy.

I suppose I should head to the library to find out if I somehow glossed over something about Zebras. Pivoting around I trotted toward the door. Something struck me, not physically but mentally, and I stopped moving. “Ugh… I almost forgot why I came here in the first place,” I mumbled quietly to myself.

“Hey Wishnight, would it be fine if I head up the mountain for some star gazing?” I turned my head toward her, only to find that she didn’t hear me, so I repeated myself.

She heard me this time. “Oh… yeah it’s fine by me… just ask Rule.”

I grinned sheepishly. “Could… you ask him?” I had to ask. Please do it, please do it.

She looked at me slightly confused. “Okay,” her tone being that of reluctance.

I rushed over to her and hugged her, before either of us knew what was going on. “Thanks Wishnight,” I whispered just loud enough for her to hear. She stood frozen until I thanked her, after that she embraced the hug and embraced me back.

I felt my eyes water forming in my eyes. I close my eyes, hoping that the wetness would leave. Wishnight broke off the hug after twenty long seconds, I felt my chest tighten up, I wanted more. But I took a step back, opening my eyes, looked up to Wishnight. She was flustered, her hide almost matched my pillow.

“You… should get going,” she whispered, only audible enough for me to hear.

I rub my eyes with one of my hooves, nod, pivot and trot toward the doorway. I push away the clothe covering the doorway taking a few steps into the frigid air. Warmer, but still frigid. I look up the sun looks as if it is dancing toward a large cloud. Seconds passed, while I continued to stare up at the sky, I could feel the temperature drop. Strange I didn’t think the weather, namely sunlight, would cause this much of a difference in temperature in a matter of seconds.

It occurred to me that I was only standing around staring. This happens to me far too often, standing spaced out with hardly a care in what is going on around me. I sit down and with my forehooves smack my cheeks. Some stinging, and what must be red marks, snapped me out of spacing for the time being. I knew i should get moving, it wasn’t noon yet, but it is better to be ready by the time it is noon.

I walked off in the direction, which I thought the library was; to the right.

--- --- ---

I take a corner with a slightly eroded wooden post, it had blackened due to nature and time, I brush past it. To my disdain I noticed a specific building, a building that is on the other side of this place. I never go near that building, it houses all of the guards and they kinda-sorta hate me.

If I could only find my way around. Then I would be like a super-pony… or an average-pony, who doesn’t get lost in a place they have spent everyday for the last seventeen years. I drooped my ears down and hung my head.

“What’re ya up’ta?” I jumped frightened at the low voice. A chuckle resounded behind me. Something along the lines of ‘Vuhahuhah,’ I knew that laugh.

I start to turn around, at the same time as speaking. “Law. You frightened me,” I proclaim softly. The stallion’s facial features changed from giddy to something that said ‘that wasn’t what I meant to do.’

He opened his mouth, before slowly closing it. He bit his bottom lip and looked up at some of the passing clouds. “Pardun, di’nt mean ta scare ya or nothin’ it jus’ kinda… happened.” He looked back at me, emotions visible across his muzzle. He gave off a ‘please accept’ look.

I smack my muzzle, slightly harder than I meant, with my left forehoof. “It’s fine.” I lied through my teeth. It wasn’t fine, he should know better than to sneak up on ponies, but that wasn’t worth saying. I would rather tell a small lie, than guilt somepony.

What I said must have been a little too plaintive, but with his lack of calling out. He either didn’t notice, or simply didn’t wish to say. I didn’t, couldn’t, tell which it is.

“Where ya off’ta?” His face contorted reflect his curiosity. “Ya’re lost ‘gain.” That last part wasn’t a question.

I sighed. “The library, and yes I got lost… again,” I admitted, defeatedly.

He laughed once again at my expense, my face flush a slightly darker colored red. He silently took a few steps back, turning around, motioning for me to follow. I could now see him starting to make some distance, and reluctantly followed after him.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want his help. Just that I will never learn if I don’t do it myself, and to me that is important. “Learning. One of the only things nopony can take away from you.” I mumble quietly, in a volume only I could hear.

--- --- ---

Law, I guess, is adept at finding his way around, which makes sense because he isn’t me. No pony is like me. Okay they could be like me, but they won’t be me… I hope. It took Law the amount of time to walk straight to the library, but for me, as you know, it took far longer; with many “detours” to get to a specific location. It’s no wonder why I get an escort when I get called somewhere, though, only when I have to be there by a certain time.

The multi-chromatic library came swiftly into my unfiltered view. Like always it sat looking dull, with it’s gray, greens, rustic yellows, oranges and reds. It looked the same as it always did, unpopulated. Since why would anyone spend time at the library, when they could be… um, engaging in, less than, educational activities.

I am not be that type of pony, though, even if I was I wouldn’t have anypony to… practice with. And by what I understand, from books, is that it takes two. Two being one more than I.

The larger stallion, with his up turned cowpony hat, turned to me resting behind stoicism. “Well, we’re ear.” I raised an eyebrow. He looked back, a little, sheepishly.

“Yes, it would seem that way.” I could find many ways to reply to Law, but going with a simple agreement seemed easiest.

Being the sod that I am, I waved a hoof goodbye to him, then making my way up to the, light, wooden door. The door being a shade of, awkward, red could have been a possible deterrent to others. Or maybe it was the fact there weren’t any windows. I just couldn’t believe that no pony would come here, save for me of course.

A familiar ring of a bell rang, softly, above as I open the door. Sitting at a, familiar, table the person, who is the closest pony to a friend I have ever had. Pageturner. A green colored Unicorn. Her mane gray with a small amount of orange, matching her eyes, persisting through. A book in front of her, flipping at a rate it seemed more like skimming than reading.

I trotted past her. I knew where I would find any books that could pertain to Zebras. I had to know more about them, curiosity can get the best of me at times. A few second search, and I floated the book out of its place. Flipping through the pages, I found myself disappointed. I spent the next few minutes searching other books, finding myself disappointed after each and everyone of them.

I head over to the table. I almost open my mouth, but Pageturner already interrupted. “Why don’t we go get some lunch.” It was easy to overlook, but she wasn’t asking, or commanding for that matter. She closes the book, sets it down on top of a stack of other books, looks up at me. I, taken aback, simply nod in reply.

She rises up slowly, crookedly, from her chair. Heads to the door, I follow her silently to the door. She opens the door with her magic, carefully stepping through. I hesitantly step out after her. Should I really be going with her?

Pageturner, silently, made her way down the stone path, while I continued to silently followed behind her. Pageturner’s grayed tail swayed slowly back and forth behind her. I was able to watch it perfectly with my downcast eyes.

After a few minutes we, or at least I know I could, hear several possibly angry kids. I take a quick glance in the direction, I saw that indeed several little colts and fillies were yelling snide remarks. At Pageturner of all ponies.

I knew Pageturner well enough that she wouldn’t do anything about them, and if I tried it would only cause problems. I resigned myself to just walking along and following Pageturner’s slowly swaying tail.

I found that I was seething in some sort of dark feeling that I really didn’t want to be feeling. I can easily say that: I don’t like this feeling, it was dark and felt horrible. It was as if some part of me was saying: ‘go and rip those naughty, naughty ponies to pieces’ and it was horrifying that; somewhere deep down inside of me would wish such… hatred.

It wasn’t until one of the brilliant children yelled, “Why doesn’t the mongrel just die? Doesn’t it know that you shouldn’t associate with the sacrifice?” At that point the some part of me was saying: ‘It would be easy. They are just foals compared to you’ no, I can’t… I won’t.

I let my eyes wander back to Pageturner’s tail gently swaying back and forth. Was she happy? I don’t think she could actually be happy. Yet, it was as if what the brats were saying didn’t have any effect on her. Just… happy, though I had no way of telling.

It made me sad thinking about anypony treating kind, old Pageturner badly. What surprised me more, though would be her complete lack of reaction to it. It was almost painful to see and hear those bad things being tossed at her.

A sudden cold breeze wisped past causing me to shudder. It had been warmer, when I started to follow Pageturner. I looked high into the sky to find: the sun resting, high above the clouds, at about the half point. It cast a warm glow, especially compared to this morning.

“The bastard is getting away. Should we chase it?” I heard a mare yell out.

Something told me that those kids weren’t the least bit aware what the words they used meant, other than that they were bad. I suppose I should just forgive them then. The ignorant and naive should be allowed forgiveness.

I let my eyes start to follow the gently swaying tail in front of me. I could get used to watching that tail just swaying. A faint smile crossed my face. It was… nice to watch her tail? That can’t be right. Why would it be nice? I suppose that it doesn’t matter.

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth; it has to be weird to watch a swaying tail for an unspecified amount of time.

Turns out Pageturner, like Law and every other pony; Pageturner doesn’t get lost. Or if she did I did not notice, since I was staring at her tail the entire time; just watching it sway gently with each delicate step.

I watched Pageturner taking her delicate, careful steps as she drew near the solid orange door. She reached up, and like her walking taking care not to harm anything, slowly pushed open the wooden door. She looked at me with a small smile and talked for the first time since the library. “Shall we go in?” She looked inside, as if pondering something. “I’m going in. You can come with me if you want.” She told me in her steady and kind voice.

I gave her a wane smile, nodding in agreeance. “Oh… ‘kay.” I muttered.

She just smiled kindly and patiently back. She took a few steps into the Mess Hall, looked to me waved her head. I closed my eyes, inhaled deeply and then sighing. With waning steps I closed the distance, slowly though; I was remembering earlier this morning, and felt my ears and back burning. More accurately would be they were tingling.

Inside a different group of ponies, than this morning, are eating their lunch. Some type of grape juice, potato strips and a slice of bread with some type of flower, were being munch on at different tables. I guess they ran out of pumpkin stuff, or simply decided that it would be better to have in a few days.

By the time my focus returned to the real world I spotted Pageturner at the order window. She was given a small basket and cup. The cup had the purple liquid, but it doesn’t look like grape juice anymore. The basket had the slice of bread with some type of flower, and the potato strips.

I started to the window, when I saw a mysterious pony in some weird suit-like-thing. The pony had a swept back blue mane, with streaks of mahogany. Her coat was a mucky white, I think a better description would be impure white. Her suit thing has some type of dark blue overcoat with a white undershirt. She was also easily taller than me.

I arrived at the window, and Suit pony looked at me. I could easily saw I didn’t like it. She started to make her way across the room, slowly and carefully. A moment later a basket and cup floated through the window. I grabbed them turning in the direction Pageturner had gone off.

“Ahh,” I slightly shrieked. Dropping my food in the process.

The Suit pony’s horn lit up catching my poor food. She gently set the food down on the floor. In a rough, uncaring voice. “Hmm, I thought you were somepony else.” She brought her face closer, while I shrank back, examining me. “You look…”

She, for whatever reason, decided not to finish what she was saying. Instead, turning around, trotting away toward the door. Lazily pulling it open and trotted out into the outside.

I, hesitantly, returned to my normal standing position. I felt like I could jump out of my skin. I impatiently grabbed my basket in my mouth and levitated the cup. It didn’t take long to get over to the table Pageturner decided to sit at.

Author's Note

Until further notice this story is cancelled, and part one and two will be put together if part two is ever finished. It will also be put on hiatus when I get to writing again.

Introduction

Introduction

Tradition is sacred to some ponies, while others find it ridiculous. Fate is the same way, some flow with it and others try to fight, but fate from tradition is something that many find sacred and few dare to question. Fighting fate rarely results in victory or personal gain, but when it does; it is very much worth the effort... is it worth the pain though?

How is it that anypony can fight fate? When it doesn't even have an appearance. It isn't something that can be sensed by any of the five senses. It shouldn't be possible to fight something that "isn't real." How is it then that anyone can fight it then?

Knowledge. Knowledge of what people's fate will and has been, but what about what their fate is or could be? Knowledge can only give so much, besides that kind of knowledge is forbidden. And for good reasons. It too "isn't real." Fighting truly can't happen against anything that isn't real. Right?

In this world many opposing Factions will battle for knowledge and control. There are many factions and groups, each fighting for their own reasons. Reasons ranging from; fame, power, respect, money and the sheer sake of violence or peace. Some are considered good, while others are considered bad. But really, how can anyone label good and bad? Since both are perspectives from one unto another.

-En a small framed Unicorn mare, who has a sort of sixth sense which allows her to know fate on a more personal level. She doesn't wish for the fate set upon her, which causes her to fight. Well at least wishing to fight. She is willing to risk life and limb to stop it and put an end to the all controlling deity. She may fight yet.-

Do you have what it takes to be Challenging Fate?