The flesh. The soul. The memory.
Something missing. Not gone, for it was never lost. Missing.
An artwork for them, when meddling with such things profane are considered chores.
The world was as it was, yet different. Far to the south is a barren land, devoid of life. Perturbing cliffs formed interpretable walls while dusts whizzing about mocks the daring but ultimately straggling fools. The unforgiving heat from the sunless realm gave no excuses, even for the Damned; and in a small cave, out of all the places, it all began. Unfathomable, no?
“Ah,” The first thing she said to her, “You’re alive. How very fortunate.”
The mare on the ground groaned as she raised her head; the short pang of migraine refusing to cooperate of course.
“Now, now,” Oddly enough, the other’s voice was devoid of concern, “Do take it easy.”
Getting up, she slouched on her rear; purple fur tinged of dust and grime whilst the darker coloured mane that adorned her head weaved in disorder. The surrounding was dark, much too dark for many to see, and if it weren’t for a soft illumination coming from who knows what, she doubt she would be able to at all.
Her fore hooves supporting her pose, she tried to speak. And so speaking she tried, yet whatever guttural croak that came out of her throat, no one knew, perhaps to an extent, her herself. A dull, green flask floated itself next to her soon after.
Startled, she dragged herself away from it, albeit not very far, “Do not fret. It is only water.” The other’s voice still carrying the same tone.
She calmed her breathing before grabbing it with both of her hooves and taking a small sip. Said small sip turned to mindless chugging that echoed throughout the cave with small staccatos of silence far few in between. For what she felt as short as a blink, the flask was swiftly empty, empty of all but a single drop; a single drop that she hastily lapped up.
“Better?” The other asked. With a golden coat, the she stood on her hooves benevolently with equal height. A cyan coloured mane flowed down her head and around her horn, giving an impression of a free flowing river whilst her emerald-coloured eyes glistened of a breezy meadow. A beautiful mare for many, and for the few with the knowledge, a deadly unicorn.
Flabbergasted, the purple mare tried to talk. No words came out. She tried screaming. No shriek came out.
“Oh dear,” The yellow muttered, gazing at the panicked pony in front of her as her hooves clenched her throat. With her magic, she held her in place, “Please calm yourself. I will release you, and you will write to me your thoughts on a piece of paper. Can you do that?”
She stood still. Of course she did, for how could she not? “Oh, sorry.”
The mare’s magical hold faded away; she then stood on her hooves before the room was enveloped in a soft, yet bright light coming from what appears to be a crystal hanging from the ceiling. The other walked past her to the edge of the cave behind her, leaving her to gaze at the newly lit cave.
Now that she’d noticed, it was no ordinary cave. Not by a long shot. A large, circular antechamber with sacks, barrels, and wooden furnitures ranging from tables and chairs, to a desk that occupied the room -all clearly makeshift however- while a simple wooden door blocks sunlight from reaching the solitude. In the opposite side of the cave from the door is a hallway that lead deeper into the cave; far, far deep.
The walls were smooth. Strangely smooth. As if it was unnaturally formed…...perhaps it was.
The other took a seat next to her moments later, and as promised, paper and quill in hooves, “I don’t have much, sadly. So to make it easier, nod for yes, shake for no. Others, you may write,” The purple mare looked at the quill, fazed by the lack of ink to write with, “Don’t worry, magic.”
She took it in her hooves with a nod, the purple pony now calmer than the moments prior, “Now then, first off, what is your name?”
Her face brightened before swiftly pushing the quill to the paper, only to stop before the first stroke. She didn’t know….. No. She did. It was right there, on the tip of her tongue. It felt strange, for there was many things she remembered; yet for something of that importance, she didn’t. She took a moment to pause, maybe to collect her thoughts, before pointing a hoof at her newly found companion.
“Me?” The golden mare sighed, “Please, do not ask that. My name is...cursed, and speaking it would only do nothing but harm others.” She said gravely.
Her question still unanswered, she hesitantly wrote the answer before she gave her the paper.
I don’t know.
“If my lack of name offends you-” Each words raised the mare’s voice before she took a deep breath, “Wayward would suffice, if so that you wanted. Now, what is yours?”
Again, she gave Wayward the paper, “What are you implying?”
She nudged her head, as if to say ‘I don’t know’ if she wasn’t without a voice.
“Queer,” Wayward’s eyes slightly widened, “How very queer indeed.”
A moment’s silence, neither one of them breaking each other's’ thoughts, neither one having the thought to do so, neither one daring themselves the courage; but only one dwelling in an empty thought with only the other to help. With the silence stretching ever so longer, the muffled gusting of wind from the door whispered a song none shall understand.
“….Do….Do you remember anything else?” She did, but not the things she should have known. Her name, her family…….and so realization struck the nameless pony square in the head, fear having took over moments later, “Calm yourself. Panic shall not fix the matters at hooves….”
Nameless, the mare was. What should Wayward call her then? Maybe she shouldn’t call her anything at all lest she wants to go by something. She took Wayward’s advice, slowed down her breathing and kept her heartbeat in check. It worked.
“May I pose a question?” Wayward started, “What would you like to be called? I for one, would love to have a name to call upon.” Again, silence, before the paper, that oh so similar paper, was given to her once again.
I don’t remember.
“This is problematic. A nameless, and a markless,” The little tilt on the mare’s head gave Wayward another answer, “The mark of the Transcendent? One that appears on pony’s flank?”
She shook her head, not understanding the weight of such mark. A sigh escaped Wayward’s lips. A disappointed sigh? No. A defeated on? Maybe. Only she knows.
“Well, welcome to my humble abode,” Wayward said while opening her fore hooves, “Not much, but enough.”
Wayward got up, and took a seat on a wooden chair besides a wooden, rectangular table, where flasks of varying height and sizes lay upon it. Some having a cork on the tip, while the rest was knocked to its side, some empty, some wasn’t. From the unnamed pony’s sight, glimpses of dining utensils was sighted, yet clearly abandoned from arrangement.
Wayward kept staring at the flasks before sighing again, “Are you hungry by any chance?”
Still confused out of her mind, she slowly and hesitantly nod.
“Right, right,” Wayward motioned her to take a seat, “Give me a moment.”
She sat on the chair next to Wayward with her fore hooves nested between her hind, eyeing her yellow coloured associate who headed to a barrel near the edge of the room. She pushed aside the lid with her magic, the short wave of illumination from Wayward’s horn and the lid gave a small amazement to her eyes. Again, she tilted her head in confusion. From the barrel, a sphere made out of crystal levitated next to Wayward, around the size of her head. She knew that wasn’t what pony should eat, or was it?
Heading back, Wayward grabbed yet another flask from a worn-down cabinet, took her previous seat beside the purple pony, she lay the sphere on the desk in front of her. Now that she took closer look, a small silhouette, like a shadow, having an irregular figure could be seen under the seamlessly smooth sphere right at the center. It was a container, and whatever it stored was considered as ‘food’ for Wayward. Said mare coughed slightly, gaining her attention; though not what Wayward was aiming for.
“Akuz.” Wayward whispered, just enough to be heard by the pony and to an extent, the crystal.
The sphere soon began to hum. A soft one at that, with a vibration at a tempo accompanying it. The top half of the orb began to lightly gleam, giving a shine to the eyes of the pony closest to it with a gentle heat radiating from it. It felt….nice. She couldn’t describe it, for she never felt anything like it. It was light, and only lasted momentarily. She could’ve sworn she was familiar with it. What on the world is this feeling?
“Are you alright?” Wayward’s voice broke her from her pondering.
The humming, the lights, the warmth, once raising with gradual crescendo had all by then reached its peak. The top half began to fade into dust, taken by the wind into the air, and from what was once a sphere, were then two apples and a loaf of bread sitting on the now bowl shaped crystal remnant. She gazed at it with wide eyes and a slack jaw; shock, amazement and wonder, evident through and through.
“Well, you won’t get nourishments from simply staring at your food, won’t you?” Wayward commented.
Heeding Wayward’s words, she grabbed one of the apples, ruby in colour with little to none blemish for the eye to see. A bite, and her mouth was flooded by the sweetness of the juicy apple. She never had tasted such heavenly food, if she could remember such thing that is. Her face brightened, eyes sparkling with joy whilst grinning ear to ear, she took another bite; and another, and another, and another.
Though one was enjoying herself, the other was conflicted in her own thoughts. One may miss it for she hid such state of emotions well. Her gaze kept moving from object to object throughout the cave, thoughts running rampant with doubts, uncertainty, but the most important thing of all; hope.
Wayward did this, over and over, for such a long time that she didn’t notice the now satisfied mare huffing a breath of delight. Though by then, the pony was now staring at Wayward’s going eyes, again, confusion settling once again in her head. She stayed where she was, uncertain on how to approach the situation. As if on cue, Wayward’s gaze fell on her. She took a long look at her before shifting her own sight to the entrance of the antechamber; before returning to the pony with a slight glint in her eyes. With a sigh, she let her hooves down on the table.
“I think it may be the wiser to relocate you, Nameless,” Wayward finally took the initiative to name her. Again, items levitated from across the cave, “There is a city, a few days travel from here. One that can suite your….. conditions better.”
She got up from her chair and walked towards a large rectangular table of stone, where papers and scrolls of all different sizes containing knowledge rested in stacks. Nameless followed suit, curious in what could possibly mean by ‘relocating’ her. No seats was there for either of them. Wayward cleared a region with her one of her hooves in front of her, before she levitated a parchment from a stack near the corner.
A map. A map of the land? The sea? The stars perhaps?
“The map of the Badlands,” As it was written in the title. Using one of her hoof, Wayward pointed out each marker as she went along, “We’re here, just close the mountain range surrounding the Badlands. We’re to head south, towards another mountain range and through it.”
Her voice however…...was quivering. Not the most evident, but enough for the pony to notice.
Two items began to levitate towards Nameless. A satchel, brown in colour and aged to despondency, and a cloak, identical in quality, distinct that it was part of a set. Nameless hummed in curiosity.
“Interesting,” Wayward shook her head as her voice returned. She handed Nameless the item, “You can’t speak, yet your vocal cord seems fine.” Wayward glared daggers at Nameless, suspicions growing in her thought.
Frantically Nameless shook her head, clearly signing that she has no ulterior motives rather than the need for help. Wayward kept her look, soon chuckling darkly with a grin; a chuckle Nameless seems familiar with but at the same time, did not.
“Forgive me, I have poor taste in humour,” A similar set of items levitated to Wayward, “Follow.”
Nameless stood, walked towards the door, opening it to reveal a path that leads the outside world. The roaring wind told her that, “Give me a minute.”
Wayward exited, leaving Nameless to her own devices. Fear was the last thing she had in mind. Not for much longer however, as confusion always leads to fear. Just where was she? What is her name? How- “Everything is set. Cloak please.” Wayward interrupted as she returned. She too wore her cloak after Nameless.
Motioned by Wayward to follow, Nameless took one last good look of the cave, seemingly not wanting to leave the safe haven belonging to her companion. She left, and so she followed.
In a corner of the cave, resting on a rack was a circlet black in colour with orbs of emeralds attached vertically onto it -a crown in common tongue-. Decayed is a light term to describe it. Cracks, dust and grime covered it entirely, yet not from age, no, but from something else, something…..important. It pulsated a soft, green radiance; a radiance she missed, yet she knew. She knew. They knew.
“Quite a sight, is it not?” Dust. Dust, dust, and dust, “You’ll get used to it.”
The mouth of the cave. An obvious vantage point if it weren’t for the endless array of dust whizzing about in the air beyond it. A barrier formed from magical energy stopped the particles from entering the cave, only…. their objective lies beyond the barrier, beyond the dust, beyond the horizon. From there, a soft hum of the crystal empowering the barrier can be heard, if you listen closely that is, for the volatile roar of the wind keeps the ears’ interest at heart.
“Right. Beyond the mountains is Stoneshard, a small colony acting as a forward command center for the Changeling Empire,” She began, and like last time, a tilt of Nameless’ head was the reply she received. She groaned exasperatedly, “Explaining this shall only hinder us. The plan will be told on the way. For now, follow.”
Levitating to her, was a lantern. From afar, a normal lantern, but if one’s eye took a closer look, it does not illuminate light; for there was no light to emit it from. In the centre of the lantern was a crystal, and like so many things she owned, it was powered by crystals. To Nameless’ unknowing eyes, it was just a crystal, but to Wayward’s ingenious eyes, it was an innovation that shouldn’t have fell on deaf ears; nor muted tongue.
“This lantern will procure a dome that shall protect us,” She said with a momentary gusto, only to falter in her next statement, “Only….. it was meant only for one to be sheltered.”
‘Does she have a spare?’ Nameless asked herself, ‘Wait…..hang on…..'
She had spoken. Merely spoken in thought, but spoken nonetheless. Her eyes widened in the newly found epiphany. Her heart fluttered, and she was giddy as-
‘Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!’
…..giddy might be too much of a light term isn’t it?
“Right. We’ve little time to lose. The storm shall only deteriorate, and when it fades, the creatures…..” Her voice wandered into the zipping wall of particles, “No matter, if we can…...what are you….doing?”
Exactly.
‘I can talk!’
…..
The pony was by then a madman. Pumping her fore hooves into the air while prancing about on the rest. Grinning ear to ear, she pulled Wayward into an embrace while the golden mare stood there flabbergasted. What Nameless didn’t expect however, was a sudden yet powerful telekinetic pull that sent her out of the entrance and into the merciless storm, unconscious on the ground below.
“Fool.” Wayward cursed under her breath before she started to head towards the poor, knocked out pony.
~And so it began, a tale untold, a journey forsaken. A story of a pony without her name, without her memories, without her friends.
Perhaps you shall accompany her in her quest?
