Jacked Up

-{Chapter 8: "A New Hive..."}-

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Thursday, May 1st, 1002 ANM

Canterlot, Equestria

Old Canterlot Sewers

“How do you know that name?”

Denise hissed the question, her suspicions reaching new heights.  Swap wasn’t making a good impression on her- playing the ‘I know you’ card wasn’t helping.

“Didn’t I just say I’ve been watching you?” Swap replied, annoyed, “And like I said, Elder Morpheus consulted the spirits.  I know what you and your friend are, Hartman, and where you come from.  The Elder refuses to tell me anything more- much to my frustration.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” Denise growled, “Maybe there’s things about me you don’t want to know.”

Swap averted his gaze, focusing on the path ahead.

“Even less reason for me to like this, then.”

Swap stopped in his tracks, turning to what appeared to be a blank wall in the tunnel.

“Why’d we stop?” Conrad called from the back, eyeing their escorts warily.  Swap simply rolled his eyes, while Picture seemed to wince at his glare.

A flash of green energy came from Swap’s horn, encompassing the patch of wall in front of him.  Slowly, the wall began to shimmer, revealing an entrance similar to the one underneath Fancypants’ mansion.  Wordlessly, Swap glanced at the others and motioned for them to follow, stepping into the passageway.

The four changelings ascended a flight of stairs, before entering what may have once been a sewer access station.  However, any obvious exits aside from the one they had just come from were caved in, likely a result of the same landslide that buried the one under the mansion.

“Welcome to the Sanctuary,” Swap stated, seemingly annoyed at Denise and Con’s presence.

The Sanctuary was large- very large.  It appeared to have been expanded recently, with the paved stone walls smashed open to reveal larger, rock-walled expanses.  The room was lined with crude magical torches, illuminating the room in a yellowish light.  There were several tables and chairs set up on one side of the room, with hanging cots along the walls.

Another changeling stood in the center of the room, pacing.  Around him, several crates and barrels were stacked, and maps of Canterlot and Equestria lay spread across a central table. he turned in surprise at the group’s arrival, lowering his head slightly and stepping back.

Swap turned to Picture, scowling as usual.

“You’re dismissed.”

With a frantic and thankful nod, Picture dashed to the center of the room, starting up a hushed conversation with the third changeling.

Swap lead Denise and Conrad further, coming to a stop at the far end of the chamber.  The rock face of this wall was smoothed out, with several small candles decorating it.  There were carvings and writings Denise couldn’t read or understand across it, and a curtain lay draped over what appeared to be another passageway- this one with a pale green light emanating from within.

“Spooky,” Denise deadpanned, staring at the candlelit wall, only to receive a glare from Swap.

“Elder Morpheus is through there.  I wouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Great,” she sighed, pushing aside the curtain as she ventured forth, Conrad in tow.

The pair crawled through the cramped passageway, emerging into a domed chamber.  The same images that decorated the wall outside were carved into the walls before them now, but in much larger numbers.  They were more detailed, glyph-like, and were arranged in swirling patterns that made Denise’s head spin.

In the center of the chamber, a bright green fire burned in a small pit, illuminating the room.  A changeling sat in front of it, legs tucked underneath his body.  The changeling was different from Swap and the others- his eyes were glassy and squinted, and his carapace was cracked and worn-looking, giving him the appearance of a wrinkled old man.

The old changeling looked up from the fire, looking in the direction of the duo.

“Ah,” he croaked, with a wheezing quality to his voice, “You’ve finally arrived.”

Denise took a few tentative steps forward, Conrad in tow.  The older changeling gave them a small smile, motioning to the fire.

“Come, sit.  You’ve nothing to fear,” he chuckled dryly, “Even if I wanted to harm you, I doubt I would be able to at this age.”

‘He sounds like an eighty year old Bane,’ Denise absentmindedly thought, warily coming closer.

“Sit, please,” the changeling repeated, “I trust my apprentice didn’t give you any trouble?”

“Define trouble,” Denise muttered, slowly taking a seat across from him.

The changeling murmured in agreement, smiling.

“Swap has always been a bit brash.  Most Shamans would despise that in an apprentice.  Personally, he reminds me of myself at his age,” he chuckled.

The changeling’s expression turned more serious.

“I trust you know who I am.”

“Elder Morpheus,” Con replied, speaking up, “Not that hard to figure out.”

“And?” asked the elder, “A name is worth nothing without an identity to go with it.  I asked you who I am.”

“You’re a leader,” Denise stated simply, glaring, “The High Shaman.  The changelings out there look up to you.”

“Hmph.  Swap looks up to me,” Morpheus harrumphed, “Picture Perfect and Pose think me mad.  Rightfully so, perhaps, considering what I’ve proposed.”

Morpheus looked to Denise, and a smile once again appeared on his face.

“Though I’m sure their tune will change now that you’re here.”

Denise continued to scowl, locking eyes with the elder and contemplating his motives.

“What do you want with us?” she growled, “Why bring us here?”

“All in due time, Ms. Hartman,” croaked Morpheus, still grinning at the duo, “All in due time.”

Con snapped to attention at that comment, ears perking up.

“Hartman?!” he yelped, “Wha- How do you-”

“Yes, I know who you are, Davidson,” Morpheus interrupted, “As well as what you are.”

Slowly, Morpheus rose to stand, seemingly struggling with the act.

“Humans.  The emissaries of the Gods- or so the legends claim.  Blasphemous as it may be for me to say, when you live as long as I have, you quickly learn that such legends are often exaggerated.”

Now fully upright, Morpheus’s horn began to glow with a pale green light.  His posture seemed sickly, with his head hunched and legs bent slightly.  Slowly, a bag floated towards him, slipping open to reveal a golden powder.

“I foresaw your arrival,” he stated, blowing a small amount of the powder into the fire before him.

Suddenly, the fire flared up, sending Conrad and Denise scrambling away.  Just as quickly, though, the green fires grew calm.  Slowly, they began to twist around, taking on some kind of shape.

“The spirits spoke of it.  Showed me visions of the one who would bring you into this world.”

The flames’ colors shifted, turning white as they finally settled into a familiar shape.

A humanoid figure in a white suit and hat.

“The White One.”

Denise stared in surprise, hundreds of questions forming in her mind.

“Who is he?” she asked, turning to face the elder.

“I know not.  His true name is lost to the ravages of time, leaving behind a thousand pseudonyms in its place.  The White One, The Pale Thing, The Albino...  One particularly strange account simply refers to him as Tim.  Regardless, he is responsible.  And I believe he has a plan for you- one that involves us.”

Morpheus’s frail horn glowed once more, and the flames shifted again.  This time, they took the form of a tall, regal changeling female.  Its hair was longer than that of Denise’s, stretching down to its wings, which looked to be many times larger than hers.  Denise recognized it as the Queen of the Changelings, recalling what little knowledge she had of My Little Pony lore.

“For generations, Queen Chrysalis has ruled over our people.  A harsh, but just regime, that few objected to.  Her mother ruled before her, and her mother before them.”

Morpheus turned to the two former humans, a conspicuous look in her eyes.

“But it has not always been this way.”

Once again, the flames shifted at the Elder’s command, taking the form of several stylized changeling silhouettes- each with a different eye color.  Red, purple, green, yellow- all ends of the spectrum.

“There was a time, lost even to history, when changelings lived under many Queens, in many Hives.  Strife was frequent, but quickly resolved.  Changelings chose who they would serve, and every few generations, a new Hive rose up under a powerful Queen.”

Elder Morpheus sighed, and his expression became the slightest bit somber.  The flames danced around again, with the stylized image of Chrysalis- or perhaps a close relative- appeared among the changelings, with each changeling’s eyes slowly turning a uniform blue-green.

“But long ago, Queen Chrysalis’s dynasty set forth to conquer the other Hives.  Slowly, each rival Queen was vanquished, leaving her family in total control of our people.  This was a good thing, in many ways- wars were uncommon, and the leadership of the dynasty brought order to our society.  But the cost...”

“Let me guess,” Con interrupted, while Denise stared in awe of the magical display of flames, “potential Queens don’t live long anymore, do they?”

Morpheus nodded, his horn glowing, and the fires dying down once more.

“That, and more.  With peace and order came a good deal of new problems.  Overpopulation, for one.  Our expansion outpaced our ability to feed on the love of the outside world.  By the time Queen Chrysalis took the throne, our people were close to starving.  That’s why we invaded this nation... for the most part.”

“For the most part?” Con repeated, speaking up once again.

Morpheus harrumphed, averting his gaze and scowling.

“Many agree that the quality of our leadership has... fallen over the course of time.  Chrysalis is a prime example.  When the Dynasty began, it was a golden age for our people.  Now, our leader has single-hoofededly caused the death or abandonment of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of our best soldiers.”

Morpheus, stood shakily, his scowl intensifying.

“And for what?  How would this war have brought us the food we need?  How are we to feed on the love of a conquered people?!”

The old changeling began to cough violently.  Denise rose to her hooves, prepared to reach out to him.  Morpheus, however, simply raised a hoof in her direction, shaking his head.  Slowly, his wheezing died down, and his breathing returned to normal.

“Do not be fooled,” he sighed, taking deep breaths, “This was no just war.  No people’s cause.  This was the work of a glory hound with dreams of greatness.  A gambit to restore the Dynasty’s good name.  And it failed.”

Morpheus turned to face the duo, his visage growing calm once again.

“That is why I’m here in this sewer, instead of escaping the city.  The spirits foretold the arrival of a great Queen, who would bring forth what has not been seen since times long forgotten.  A new Hive.  They showed me visions of this Queen.”

He looked up, staring into Denise’s eyes.

“Visions of you.”