"Hush, my child" her ladyship lulled, fixed on the naive gaze of her daughter. A soft embrace followed, conjointed by her loving husband in a brief juncture that managed to conceal the ambiance of inevitability. Below the mortices of the helms and reddened bandages, quiet weeps and sighs were heard, emanating both from self-pity, impotence and sorrow; ere fate took its daunting move.
The grip tightened, following the example of its constituents brows. Thereof such signs any sensible individual could peruse their inner perils with ease, the outrage against the unanticipated. 'Twas rapid, an onset with the apparition of obscure crystals, succeeded by migraine and derangement amongst the folk; dismal and light-leeching fog percolating through the metropolis, concealing from plain sight the havok that was currently running through the streets. From the staircase that led towards the entrance, the royal couple witnessed in sheer helplessness the Crystal Heart's pedestal lacking its centerpiece; the eerie mist continuing its ill procession thereafter, prompting those left unscathed by madness to escape into the deeps of the palace, the last bastion of the crumbling Crystal Empire. Ghastly minutes of redundant battle within the halls followed, protagonized by the corrupted guards and those who still stood beside their lieges, finally concluding once the royal chambers were secured. An instant was all it took for the proud nation to flip over, they were king and queen of naught, including their fate.
A bloodcurdling snigger rang through the halls; gelid mist from dark arts crawling as a furtive shadow, languidly erupting through gaps and slots within the room in augur of their master. The loyal remnants ceased their muffled mourning and stood guard, for that was the only way they knew, and directed their sight upon their liege, whose humid eyes yet radiated grudge and determination. His hooves unshackled mare and foal; aware that a final effort had to be undertaken. Both parents kissed their beloved treasure's forehead and hesitantly placing it inside a bag carried by their last resort, one of their lost serf's son, a colt named Mund selected due to his grandiose valour, in lieu of strenght, which was proven in the consecutive clashes that had transpired within the palace, scouting for the troop to avert the dangers that awaited ahead.
The youngling's eyes darted towards the only way to escape, an aperture belonging to the thermal system of the structure, through which hot air would be transported from the the royal forges located within the underground caverns. The Queen stepped towards him and took hold of his hoof with pleading purple eyes. "Thou shalt be our champion. We beg of thee, keepest her in safety. Please." the mare requested, her voice slightly breaking at the end. The solemn King asserted to her words in silence, lids clenched to contain the spark of watery eyes.
Puny...
To the group's dismay, another guffaw from the dry voice was heard, on this opportunity right behind the entrance. The raspy voice's murmur was barely audible, yet as ubiquitous wind it reached every pair of ears in the clearest manner possible. The remnants of the guard, as well as the king himself rushed towards the set of doors, blockading it with whatever their battered bodies could haul. Amidst the confussion, the weeping queen shoved the colt into the conduit, which fortunately did not show any signs of elevated temperatures, and concealed it with a nightstand. As he dragged the bag along the first meters, the scarring and slowly dimming cacophony of sobs, grunts and slams pursued him until there was nothing left but his and the infant's breathing. The crystalline walls that compressed them became opaque and obscure, forcing the duo to face their escape in utter, implacable darkness.
Several perilous minutes had passed. Neither the fact of the angles at which the ducts entwined nor the distressing shortage of air were foreseen by the young one, conducting to bruises, agitation and sluggish descents through what seemed to be bottomless pits. Every inch forward was a challenge against fortune, and another prayer to the stars for the filly to remain dormant in such harsh circumstances. He failed to notice another vertical gap, and as his he fell his hooves took hold of the princess. Fortuitously, his fall ended almost immediately in a cushion of consumed ember and soot. His back was sore, most certainly injured, but to his relief tolerable to continue. The infant, to his utter bewilderment, seemed to be enveloped in the deepest of slumbers, and his wretched soul couldn't be more elated about it. His felicity only magnified when he realized their current location. The forge had been reached.
Mund straightened up, scrutinizing his gloomy surroundings. Notwithstanding of the obscurity enclosing his sight, the presence of the unlit heart and depleted cooling tank were sufficient evidence to surmise that they had reached the intended location. Sparing of taking risks, he snuck with utmost care, recalling the vacant stare of those whose volition was perverted. Such visions made him aware of the absense of the blacksmith, whose preternatural faculty on the arts of steel, invention and confection of jewelry was demonstrated as he encountered dozens of artifacts of extraordinary quality scattered along the floor.
As he crawled in direction to the door, he stiffened at a sudden jab on the chest. After reaching for the offending object, he found a piece of cloth covering it entirely, possibly to avert damage. Occult within the wraps was an odd contraption simile to an elaborated bracer, albeit connected to a pair of exceedingly sharpened blades of whom the longest would be positioned on the upper front, surpassing the lenght of the foreleg guard itself as it ran down, and the other located on the side with a similar placement but showcasing a pronounced curve. Abruptly, what he could only surmise to be cracking thundered outside the room, withdrawing from his analysis on the process. Apprehending the dire aspect of the situation, and exerting warranted prudence, he took the weapon in case of necessity, ensured that the princess was secured on his back, and headed towards the exit.
At the proximity, the dazzling brilliance of daylight entinced his expectations and aggrieved his sore eyes. Its unveiling nature highlighted the scene's layout, revealing that the blacksmith's workshop lied conveniently within meters of the mine's entrance. "W-what?" His fur brizzled as he noticed the presence of sanguine splatters and teeth, over which he had to walk to reach the threshold. A gelid breeze brushed his furry frame, an unpleasant sensation that until that point on time was unbeknown to him. Raging before him, ravaging were the winds and snow of a blizzard whose unprecedented potency promised to entomb the very foundations of the former civilization. Any feasible chance of escape was callously thwarted, and naught but contemplating the end times and scheming how to endure them was a possibility.
He turned and once again took the precious burden into the structure. The pink creature finally awoke, exposing the purple orbs within, which to his astonishment exhibited a faint, waning glow. The source, which appeared to be linked to the imperturbable nature of its sleep appeared to be external to the child.
Mund, taciturn, let out a sigh upon his assumptions, fixing his gaze upon the naïve beam of Ravenna. Their fate was up to the unsullied stars' volition.
The clattering of rampant hooves disrupted the tyranny of silence within the stone hallways. Across innumerable and intricate corridors they traversed, whizzing by testimonies of the ever expanding nature of history; pristine marbled reliefs donning thick stone walls that raised above the height of a mighty golem, busts and scultures portraying glories long foregone whose breath had long since ceased, and the overwhelming frames of those ironclad champions sworn by life and beyond to maintain their masters unscathed.
A set of double doors emerged within his sight. Flanking the portal were a fearsome duo of knights, earth pony and unicorn respectively, whose massive panoplies - one golden as the dawn's sunrays, whereas the other silver and dark blue as the Moon's print on the night sky- augmented their presence 'til the point of being only dwarfed by the imposing entrance and its opulent symbolism. "Sires Prilictors!" Halting a few steps away from the stout guardians, he requested access to the royal chambers. The fixated visages oriented towards his own, their callous glare oppressing his lungs as if the very air escaped from its presence. A deep, metallic voice erupted from the depths of the aureate helm. "What interests holds thee, whereby thou seekest their appeal?"
The guard had yet to take a pause to alleviate the agitation, ergo he abstained from employing the verbose formalities of the castle's speech. Well aware of the famed Prilictors; unwavering pinaccle of the guard's elite, and their pertinent culture of fidelity, devotion and honor, he approached and spilt the grave news.
"The Crystal Empire is no more"
A moment of bleak silence followed, briefly punctuated by the clank of the plates colliding and overlapping as the chevaliers diverged to allow his entrance. He drew in towards the sumptuous portal, whose intricate etchings and reliefs amalgamated the finest strokes of gold along with magistral onyx carving. The gargantuan doors, pushed by the aethereal force of a golden aura, exposed the pristine interior of the chambers. Prompted by the guards, he stepped into the room.
Princess Luna's sector was what first caught his attention, for atop a crescent moon shaped somier and mattress laid with dignity, albeit with a nuance of trepidation that punctuated her otherwise consistent and suave breath, the maiden of the dream world, enveloped by a sphere tinted by her very own magic. His gaze perused the rest of the area, from the night themed portion and its invaluable arcane and historical volumes and artifacts, towards its paralel counterpart's impeccable galvanized marble and crafts of exquisite artistry. Standing on its respective side's balcony; distinctive polychromatic shimmer swayed on its own wind, the regent mare rose her life-giving orb onto its heavenly pedestal, permiting its warm rays to pour through every window, chink and opening they could find.
Before he could make a step, the door opened, a gush of morning wind immediately gliding over his fur. Shielding his dilated pupiles, he approached the tall figure, indubitably already aware of his presence.
"We expect for thine intelligence to result becoming of such intrusion" She starkly sentenced, a draconian tone that rendered her ambrosial, almost infatuating voice noneffective, or even further, for the contrast was even more striking.
"Majesty, daunting news I bear from the north, beyond the gelid peaks of the Crystal Mountains." No response emerged from the stoic mare, for her gaze was only swayed by her precious orb's parade through fiery sky of dawn. The shimmering of its rays inundated her frame, its reverberations caressing her and somehow finding her way onto her fur at every feasible chance, even trascending to the plane of the physically improbable, and cladding her with a fantastical veil of warm and light. Her pink irises were shackled to the magnificent spectacle, feasting on its igneous beauty, disclosing on their pulsating beam of a reflection the bond between the damsel and that which pierced her existence with the luxury of meaning.
Understanding the drought of response as anticipation, for the Princess was not one to spit blather espontaneously, and for a long time such was her way. Unbeknownst was wether its primal cause was the lady privileging meditation over spontaneity, or simple, conceited disregard of the attendant's word; none with the possibility of protest, nevertheless. He pondered on his words, and continued. "A cluster of refugees arrived yesterday evening to the outskirts of the town. Emaciated, most afflicted by illness, wounds and migraines, yet the elemental features under their deplorable state coincide with those of the kin they claimed to pertain to, crystal ponies. Their-"
"We advice thou shorten thine narration, for our interest is finite when treating measly prattle, more so our time." Celestia interjected, her attention still being hoarded by the benevolent sunshine.
The stallion hesitated, staggered by the severe demeanour of the princess. He gulped and dismissed expendable details. "The Crystal Empire has been conquered by an unknown force."
For once, the detached mare was ostensibly fazed. Yet her collected stance resurfaced, and consequently retorted "Articulate for us, menial, why is the indomitable facet of foreign conflagration cause of such dismay? All nations have I seen tower to heaven and razed to dust; nary dared oppose us. Why would yonder threat be a plausible one?"
"My dread lies, milady, in the fact that all which was given by the wretched survivors regarding the attackers consisted on, well..." Visions of vacant eyes and gritting teeth inundated his mind for a moment "shrieks... and blackened tears. Within their cacophony of grief and terror I could only discern the words 'blind' and 'he'. And as soon as they erupted the migraines would augment and the wails would redouble as if it was firewood for a greedy flame."
He tapped his hoof against the lustrous floor hooding his eyes as he stared onto its pristine reflection of the brazing clouds, rummaging into the scarring concert of horror his memory would never be capable to forfeit. "No plurality, naught. Treated as a force of nature; omitted as a curse. 'He' appears to be the singular cause to such a immeasurable catastrophe. Were such ominous conjectures to result in sooth, we can only expect quite possibly the utmost fateful foe in malignity and might. A baleful spawn of Tartarus whose fatuous impulses I dare say are not swooned by the mundane twinkle of gold or the mortal preponderance of a throne, for the newcomers are yet to end their grief and they exert it with the hollowness of whom has lost everything and everyone." His frail speech began to muster potency towards the end "Solis Domina, we must ta-" the zeal-thrusted words waned as the polychromy of the famed mare began to simmer, subsequently convulsing into a flowing display of searing flame that obfuscated his eyes with a light that vied against the sun as the brightest of them all.
The pressure of sincere dread compressed his chest as he prostrated before the limpidly unamused mare. Eyes fixated on the floor, dilated pupils aiming directly towards the distorted form composed by the floor's reflection and the seething air. This, coupled by the pervasive odor of charred fur, which he quickly identified as his own, forced him to step back, unconsciously hoping to bump against the entrance to the castle, and therefore a path of escape were the impassible wrath of Celestia to befall him.
Just then, the wriggling streams of incandescent flame concluded their dance of war, and as drained clouds of a lightstorm they abdicated their place in favor of a crown of colors whose formidable nature couldn't yet compare to their possessor. The insufferable heat betrothed the winds, being taken away by them and leaving a sensation that could only be judged as petty compared to what had just transpired. A set of golden-clad hooves set before him.
"Ere thine artless and impetuous demeanour coaxes us into thy dismissal, we shall remind thee that the peddle of advice pertains to advisors, not messengers."
"Y-yes thine m-majesty" the tremulous serf replied, failing to even hover its eyes over the ruler's feet.
"'Tis commendeth upon thee to inform the beleaguered newcomers that, by behest of ours, they shalt endure the sojourn under the aegis of our folk's hospitality until the construction of a proper refuge hast been concluded." She turned around and moved towards the section from which the smoke of a pompous abode's chimney . "Subsequently, thou shalt communicate our intentions to the craftsmen guild for the structure to be properly erected." The demeanour of draconian authority weaved by her enthralling voice practically branded each word into his memories, a trait that whomever had received orders from the marbled princess couldn't be oblivious of.
"Yes majesty" His head lowered even further.
"Begone."
And so, the messenger vacated the chambers. Not without bowing before Princess Luna, whose slumber had been truncated by the brief scandal.
"Salutations, menial" her rough acknowledgement was infused with a tint of perplexity.
"Ave, Luna Domina. Excuse our inconvenience." And with hurried, scrambled steps he left the room. And through his daily tasks he would ponder about those stories he once was dazzled with, about the immaculate, almighty matron whose powers were only rivaled by the unwavering love towards her subjects.
Celestia entered the room from the balcony, greeting her sibling as she approached a tall mirror. "Hast thine ill dreams ceased, sister mine?"
An orchestra of vague, amorphous wails and figures sprung forth within her mind, just for such dreadful thoughts to vanish as swiftly as theyc ame. "I fear not. Albeit thine scene out there pulled me out of that lugubrious prison." her expression turned wry for a moment "Thank you, I suppose?" despite the remark, Celestia stood unamused, a stare that could almost be seen as defiant casted upon her own imposing reflection.
Mystified with her blood's stern visage and overall demeanour, the nightly princess approached crawling on her mattress. "Celestia, what is it that troublest thee?"
The marbled mare turned towards her befuddled sister, the regular radiance of her irises failing to conceal the somber expression.
To her side, a lavishly decorated chest began to emanate a distinct golden gleam; ethereal strands of pure brilliance caressing its surface as if rummaging for the utmost precious of objects. The reliefs of gold and silver echoed a thousand lights, their beauty thriving on their master's vital force. Alas the dazzling spectacle held a inherently dismal meaning for the divine princesses; wrath, desolation, triumph, molten and shaped on the form of a blistering Sun, fiercely devouring entire hosts of horrorized foes; vicious rays tearing paths of charred meat and molten armor amidst their ranks and converging onto their puny liege, whose image was obfuscated within a blazing, writhing juncture of flame.
"Celestia, thou hast not even accorded such matter with me! Shall I remindeth thee that 'tis us both whom reign?" said Luna as she rose defiantly, encouraged by every flash of past transgressions and belittlement of her authority.
Solis Domina, as refered by her enthralled subjects retorted rapidly "Cull thine arrogance, Luna, for its suppression is the only subject we shall accord now." A crimson red garment rose from within the chest, soaring by the grasp of her aura, as she patronized her sister, whom stood sullen atop her bed, perusing the cloth apprehensively.
"A newborn plight has focused its perfidy upon our lands. Ere its putrid grasp reachest our ramparts, we shalt expunge it from our realm with the utmost extent of our wrath and might" The garment sat atop her, cascading through her flank in all its awestrucking textile mastery as if there was marble in lieu of fur. As its creases unfolded prompted by their own weight, a fateful emblem made its acquaintance with her gaze.
An intricate orb, composed by thousands of minuscule threads of golden silk and enveloped by its typical flashes of flame, soared on the center. By its side the head of an axe, below an extended handle. "Prepareth thineself, dear sister." Celestia's eyes directing towards a simile chest ornated by contrasting silver and onyx stone, shifting afterwards towards her precious sun and feasting on its blessings and cones of omnipresent light.
"We shalt commence planning along with our legates. In the upcoming weeks, we set off to war." cloak flayed, and the imposing figure had left the room.
Luna stared towards the entrance as if Celestia still stood there, inconspicuously scrutinizing her with an elevated glare and discreet lips. The smoldering animosity within her was smothered for an instant, its vacated space being replaced by a slight bewilderment. Their propinquity had driven the starred mare into a state of unperceptive indulgence towards her beloved sister. Forsooth, the Warden of the Sun had turned callous throught the course of the centuries. Within her a distinct light from her own had emerged, bore through the steady and unwavering hammer of the -often stark- circumstances.
The enveloping moisture restrained him from giving in. Ears ringing and fur drenched, rendering his attempts to rise again cumbersome and laborious, albeit he was conceded the time to do so. As his limbs were secured upon the ground, tense, prepared for the upcoming retaliation, the bruises that would inevitably blemish his body began to maliciously puncture his senses. The unsavoury taste of iron within his maw clearly indicated more than merely mud. He spouted the aggravating concoction, which shone under the noon's dim sunlight, and gave out a raspy chuckle "This has gotten a tad out of hand, hasn't it?"
The opposing stallion, once concluded the pseudo-triumphal ovation from his comrades, joined in the chortle. "You tell me, brother. I'm feeling goodly" His swaying movements denoted quite a bit of intoxication, yet his brawn and discipline in matters of the like was still immaculate. "How are those tender bones holding up?"
Crestileus smirked. Sooth it was that the stallion had facts to bolster his pride, for Gallorus was indeed the mightiest of his blood in sheer, physical force. The remnants of filth were promptly shook off, along with the haziness consequential to the fall.
His posterior hooves traced a mark along the mud as they shifted, adopting once again their poise. Gallorus followed suit, and following a mighty mutual pounce both stallions were standing on their back legs interlocked, exerting as much force as their blooming bodies could muster. Crestileus soon enough was once again struggling, body being compressed by both bulk and sheer potency of his young brother. His wit made presence as he directly kicked the rival's leg, clutching to his side as the jolting stallion artlessly attempted to regain balance. Gallorus' back clashed against the sludge, and amidst the cacophony of cheers and jabs the victor immediately offered a hoof. "Feeling sober?"
Gallorus' grimace of pain quickly gave its throne to a marked smirk "Quite. The tie won't last though, I promise", and their fellow recruits lauded their comrades with an applause for their quaint display.
Once he assisted his brother, a draconian voice gashed the moist air. "Hark, equirones!" the crimson crest's threads swayed clumsily on the heavy atmosphere as the group'ss second official stomped the soil. "Orders hath been issued by Bis Domini, our captain claims. Set foot towards the baths rapidly, for tonight we shall know what transpires and what will ensue from it."
Silence reigned for a moment, as the recruits exchanged brief glances. They snapped out of their quiet musing and saluted vacating the field with haste. Eagerness and anxiety ruled supreme among the marching souls.
Author's Note
Regarding the exceedingly pompous language:
I have decided to take this fanfiction on a route that could be described as a hybrid of showcasing a story I've been considering to create for a long time, as well as a practice to attain a somewhat full-fledged knowledge of the english lexicon. Apologies if that results unpleasant.
