Diktat

When Pinkie followed the others through the door, the ground they walked upon was no longer solid. It shifted under every step, moulding to suit their feet. The room they found themselves was circular and large. Far too large to accommodate nothing, yet that’s exactly what they saw. The lights Celestia and Rarity offered nothing but more empty space.

Rarity was the first to speak, tutting in disapproval. “This is it?”

“I don’t get it either, sug,” Jack replied, contesting for the lead alongside Celestia. “But it ain’t got our grail.”

“Maybe it’s buried in this sand?” Pinkie said, twisting her foot in it.

“Looks too dark to be sand,” Spike said, looking down at the ground. “Ash, maybe?”

Celestia knelt down, gathering a handful of sand. She stared at it, letting the substance slip through the gaps between her fingers. There was a pause.

“I’m afraid this isn’t sand or ash, Diane,” she said.

“What? What else could it be?” Pinkie asked.

The all-folk stood, rubbing her hand free of the substance that clung to her skin. “It seems we’re far from the only ones who have tried to reach the grail.”

“That’s impossible,” Rarity was quick to retort. “The location of the grail was lost for centuries. How did anyone else manage to get here?”

“Perhaps they got lost,” Celestia offered. “I’m not at liberty to say for certain. I share your confusion but now isn’t the time to dwell on it. We must move on.”

Rarity and Jack shared a glance but nonetheless walked with Celestia, Spike trailing behind.

Pinkie was stuck in place, fixating on the very ground below her. Except it wasn’t a ‘ground’ at all. It was a mass grave. People had died here so long ago, that one way or another, their very bones had decayed into dust. They had lost their bodies long ago, their last mortal remains, and now what was left of them mixed with so many others, a pit of hopeless and confused despair.

Marvel upon the true face of death.

Pinkie jumped, spinning around and flinching as she felt some of the dead spray onto her legs.

It does not discriminate. It does not judge. It does not care. Whoever these people were, they were unable to stop their inevitable fate. But perhaps…

A thick fog began to envelop Pinkie, cutting off her view from the rest of the group. “Wait!!” she cried out, sprinting after them. The dust of the dead slowed her down with every step, threatening to suck her in, to become a part of their collective decayed mass.

Perhaps their fates could have been avoided.

“What do you mean?!” Pinkie asked, turning around. The mist held no answers. “Who are you?!”

My name is irrelevant. Knowing it would not change anything. Accept that you are in a situation you have no control over, just as those surrounding you were.

Pinkie kept silent, except for her shuddered breaths. Cold sweat ran down her face, shivers running up her spine.

Only death is certain. Life is unpredictable. One moment you’re breathing. The next, you’re as cold as stone. Would it not be a blessing to have a constant security watching over you?

“The grail,” Pinkie breathed. “You’re talking about that, aren’t you?”

Any threat that would dare threaten your home, it can abolish. Under Celestia’s guidance, it can guarantee the safety of your fellow kinsmen. Is that not something worth fighting for?

“Y-Yeah. But…”

The dust shifted. Besides her, some of it rose up to form a vaguely humanoid shape. On its head, the dust parted, revealing a face as fresh as any other. It was a man. Young, from the looks of it. His eyes reminded Pinkie of her own. Bright, blue and optimistic.

“The magma wouldn’t stop. It was as if Mother Nature herself had decided to smite us. But what had we done? What had I done? I was only learning the craft of my father. I wasn’t a bad person. Why? Why did I deserve this?”

Pinkie parted her lips to respond but before the words left them, the man’s form collapsed to the ground. She stared in horror as his face remained, giving her a blank stare as his features were swallowed up by the dust.

“The plague.”

Pinkie whipped around, seeing another vaguely human form. This time, it had a woman’s face. She looked haggard, old lines crossing her face. In her arms was a blob, which had a face of its own. A small baby, barely a few days old.

“It took her. It took my child from me,” the woman said, her voice cold. “There was nothing the doctors could do for her. She entered this world, only to be snatched away from me.” Her face consorted in anger. Now, she screamed. “She didn’t do anything wrong! She was just a baby! Why?!”

Just as the man had done, the two of them sunk into the ground. The dust consumed them both, and the baby started to cry, it’s wails echoing out long after its face disappeared.

Do you see? These people were innocent, yet death claimed them before their time. Is it not just to protect them, like any other?

Pinkie swallowed harshly, nodding. The voice chuckled, the laughs ringing in her ears. Even when she covered them, the laughing remained.

Her heart leapt within her chest when she felt the dust shifting again. Peering down, she saw her body slowly getting sucked down. Yelling out for help, she used every ounce of muscle in her body to try and break free. Every part of her body, even her mind, was focused on just willing herself free of the trap.

Like death, the dust only had to wait to claim its prize. Pinkie kept trying, no matter how long it took, even when the dust had come up her neck. Eventually she had to hold her breath, as it covered her lips, her nose and her eyes.

Then, she was falling. Complete blackness all around her. She flailed her limbs about, some half-hearted attempt to get her to slow down. Above and below, there was simply nothing that awaited her.

She landed and to her own delight, the impact was far from rough. The worst of it was her knees bending so she wouldn’t stumble over. The ground was completely invisible—if it was even a ground at all. Nearby, a single solid candle burnt, providing just enough light for Pinkie to see some forms huddled around it.

Like those from the dust above, these were humanoid. They had skin but it was fleshy, lacking any sort of color or warmth to it. There wasn’t much fat to them, so they appeared almost skeletal, their bones poking out. All of them were bare yet Pinkie couldn’t see any evidence of gender among them. In fact, they all appeared identical, with the same bloodshot eyes, dried lips and bald heads. The most disturbing feature to Pinkie, however, was the iron chains around their necks, tying them to the floor.

But is it right for one person to possess all that power?

From the darkness, a figure unlike any other strode forward, standing tall amongst the fleshy beings below.

“C-Celestia?”

The all-folk approached the candle, cupping her hands around the dying flame. “Bathe in the warmth of my light, my children,” she cooed softly, the fire between her fingers growing bigger and brighter.

The beings responded instantly, shambling and groaning towards the source of the flame, desperately reaching up to grab it but just falling short, their shackles weighing them back down.

“I don’t understand!” Pinkie said, taking a step back. “Y-You’re just trying to freak me out, that’s it!”

Am I? Perhaps I’m merely painting a picture of the future.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Celestia would never be like this.”

Maybe not now. Or the next month. Or the next year. But power corrupts. Even the all-folk aren’t immune to its charms. Look at them.

Pinkie’s eyes drifted to the chained forms gathered around the flame, even if she didn’t want to.

Completely dependent on her guiding hand, her power. They were stripped of their individuality long ago. Should we all become complacent and rely on a grail to solve our problems for us?

“It wouldn’t be like that.”

Your lips say yes. Your heart otherwise.

Pinkie shivered, almost hearing the grin in the voice.

The flames then suddenly erupted, devouring the beings and even Celestia in its flare. The upstart was enough to send Pinkie falling onto her rear and even from her distance, her face felt hot.

Who are you?

She bit her lip. “My name isn’t important. Knowing it wouldn’t change anything.”

Your demeanor hides a cunning intelligence, I’ll give you that. But you do not possess the spirit of a beast,

The flames twisted, becoming the form of a dragon.

Nor magic,

They consorted again, becoming a trio of diamonds.

Nor the passion of a mighty warrior,

This time, a hulking greatsword.

Nor the power to rule a nation,

A bright, burning sun.

Which leads me to wonder… what are you doing here?

“H-Helping my friends. They need m-me.”

The voice laughed in her head, pounding against her skull.

So very naive. No, it’s not like that. Far from it. You’re here to make a choice.

The fire split into two, the parts trailing away from each other. On the left, the flames took the form of Celestia, donned in mighty royal armor, a sword in her hand. To the right was Jack, who was holding her greatsword in both hands, ready to commit to a fight. Pinkie stood up, reading the expressions on the pair. Both were locked into a glare with the other, not flinching even for a moment.

Whoever you’ll side with shall be victorious. You hold the power to change the destiny of a nation forever. So…

A single knife, one of Pinkie’s own, floated down before her.

What shall it be? The power to save a nation? Or the choice of freedom, everlasting?

The knife suddenly shot down, placing itself in Pinkie’s palm.

Make the throw. Change the course of history. The power is yours.

Pinkie’s eyes darted between the two, both of them her dear friends, both of them with valid points to make. Nobody was in the wrong, they were just different shades. But how could she choose one friend over another? Who was she to decide the fate of the future?

She had no idea where she was, no idea of how long she stood there, glancing between the sides. The fires still burned as brightly as ever. A choice had to be made.

So with a deep breath, Pinkie closed her eyes and gripped the knife.

Then she threw.