Forever Flame

by HeWhoFollows

Rating: teen
Tags: Human, Dark
Length: 888

Your standard cosplayer is sent to Equestria story. But is even Equestria ready for the power of the Lords of Cinder?

When John invested in this suit, he fantasized about the sort of adventures he could have had in another time and place. But when an order online completes the ensemble, he finds himself in one such fantasy. The fire has been lit, but the flames have begun to fade. With a new face and a familiar set of gear, this normal human will become something beyond any reckoning anypony could have expected, for the Lord of Cinder is the culmination of every soul that made its way to the fire - even those that were held by the one who would kindle the flame. Equestria may have an age of prosperity. . . but what will happen when an Age of Fire comes to light?

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-09-24 06:54:01 UTC

Traverse the White Light

Rolling over the worked metal in my hands, I couldn't help but grin once again. The piece of metal was expertly crafted, its shined polish reflecting my face. A streak of orange tinted in the reflection, showing a special technique to achieve an even greater effect. I ran my hands slowly over the faceplate, feeling the grooves with awe. Quickly pulling up my reference model, I compared it to the item I now held. With each glance, my grin grew wider, giddier. The replica was perfect - the final piece of my suit, paid for with hard-earned cash, was an exact copy of the original.

Setting the helmet down, I rushed to my room, where the rest of the set awaited - a genuine suit of chain mail, a grooved chestplate with a decorated, tattered cloth hanging over it, a pair of worn yet beautiful gauntlets, and masterfully crafted steel greaves. Seeing the metal footwear, I laughed - remembering my first time trying them on, and the motivation that led to my current, fit frame. I quickly slipped into the chainmail, sliding the fitting suit on in a practiced motion before fitting on the chestplate, following with the greaves, and struggling slightly with the straps of his gauntlets.

Turning to leave my personal space, I paused at a mirror,  giving a grin that I couldn't help but laugh at. But I had every right - I had paid top dollar for each and every one of these pieces, and it was so painstakingly close to complete. Just one more piece, and I would be ready for Comicon. Jogging into my living room, I snatched up the helmet and caressed it, feeling the perfect form of the metal, my hands lingering on the flame-like "crown" atop the helm. Calmed, I released a content sigh and pulled it on. The fit, just like the detail, was perfect, and the giddiness returned with a vengeance. Walking back to his room, I looked myself over in the mirror once again. It took several moments to sink in. . . the armor was complete. Letting out a whoop, I pranced about the room, slashing and stabbing at imaginary foes. Nothing could ruin this feeling.

Then I punched my mirror. The sound of breaking glass shocked me out of my fantasy, and I stood transfixed as glass dropped to the carpet.

Almost nothing.

"God dammit!"

"God DAMMIT!"

Sweat beading my brow, I slashed furiously and aggressively, breaking my attack only to desperately roll to the side. Delivering a swing, I saw my enemy slip around the blow, circling. Always circling. I spun and threw a wild thrust - but my foe disappeared, and I let out a roar of frustration as a sword blasted through my chest.

Cursing violently, I hurled my controller aside as the expected death text appeared on-screen over my enemy's taunting character. Letting out a groan, I muttered "Stupid goddamn lag bullshit." Exhausted, I tapped the console's power button, resigned to retrieving my souls later. Sitting at my computer, I pulled up Youtube and laid back, fantasizing about glorious adventures in the Souls universe as I listened to a song based on the very same series, Forever Flame. With a calming sigh, I smiled, imagining, in my journey, encountering my last opponent and engaging in a dazzling display of swordplay before emerging the victor.

A chiming sound broke me from my fantasy, and I stood with a groan, stretching my cramping back before walking to my door. I pulled the portal open, regarding the postman as the he stared at the unusual attire I wore. Clearing my throat, I raised an eyebrow questioningly. With a start, the postman apologized.

...

Five minutes later, I was furiously ripping into a long package, eyes fevered with excitement. This was it - I knew it. This was the day I'd be complete. Once the cardboard was torn through, I paused, took a deep breath, and reverently unrolled the wrapping that encased my latest prize. When the item was revealed, I couldn't help but let out a moan of awe. The was no need for a model to tell. . . the Firelink Greatsword, encased in its sheath, was perfect. Hesitantly, my hands reached out and lifted the weapon. This thing. . . this couldn't really be mine. . . yet, it was. Letting out a light laugh of amazement, I strapped the scabbard to my hip and reached for the hilt. . . only to pause.

The moment needed to be perfect.

In my room, I carefully polished my helmet, clearing the admittedly cumbersome item of any residue that may so much as taint its surface. Solemnly, I lifted the steel armor piece, placing it onto my head like a badge of honor. Taking a deep breath, I walked to the center of the room. It was time, and I was ready. My right hand lifted, falling to my left hip in a slow, dramatic fashion. My hand slowly wrapped around the twisted handle before tensing and ripping it free with a powerful swing of my arm. Then, as my eyes followed the whistling blade, they widened in shock as it seemed to split the very fabric of reality!

Then. . . I fell from the world.

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