Author's Note
Well thanks for checking this out. This is actually a reboot of a Fic I had posted here previously. Back then I had just started writing, but now I actually know what I'm doing so this reboot is many levels above the original. I don't always have time to commit to this, but I'll do my best to keep posting though updates may be few and far between. This is going to be a very long Fic with several acts. Hopefully I do a good enough job to keep you engaged and coming back for more. If you have any thoughts or feedback to share with me, I'd be delighted to find it in my inbox. (None of the art is mine btw, it's just for flair. Credit goes to original artists). But without further ado, here is Into Ashes.
Act I: Fields of Gray
Here I sit, alone on a cliff, my feet hanging over the edge. Flakes of soot, in place of snow, drift from the powdery sky. It used to be blue, and all that came down was water, not ash. But that was a different time. Now it's all as dead as the empty winds that brush over the hammered plains. A shuttle sits quietly far across the fields of gray. It readies for takeoff, engines glowing white, blurry in a haze that chokes the air. It's the last flight off this barren rock.
The shuttle thrusts from the ground, tipping up for the sky as its engines blast against the ash. With one enormous pulse it races away, blazing through the haze like a second sun. The engines weep as we grow distant, their tears of smoke trailing woefully behind. The more their whimpers dwindle, the harder they plead my heart to chase their dying light. With one arm holding back, the other reaching out, the longing call draws the cliff's edge nearer. Right on the brink, the only power I have left is to watch, to keep that last light of hope in view until it is gone. Gone from this world. Destined for our home fleet, with all aboard... Except me.
Now, I am all that remains.
The world wasn't always like this; just days ago, the ground was fertile and soft. Rain kept us soaked for months, it never stopped pouring on our heads. A rose that I picked still glows a pallid burgundy. This was supposed to be our new home, my new home. I waited my whole life to finally get off that blasted colony ship. All those years spent dreaming of waking up to singing birds, to a tender morning sun, in a bed of my own. It's all been wasted. All that hope burned away the second we turned this planet into a giant torch.
Everything was going so well - casualties were dropping everyday. Once we learned how to overcome their magic, we stomped across the continents faster than the enemy could fathom. I'll give them credit; the magical creatures that used to call this home put up a hell of a fight. They were centuries behind us in tech, not even possessing projectile weapons yet. But they used everything they had to perfection. The Unicorns, the Pegasi, even the unarmed and powerless fought us fiercely until their last breaths abandoned them. It was all over once the hordes of tanks, and swarms of aircraft were launched from the home fleet. But somehow both of us would lose in the end.
We left as swiftly as we conquered. As the genocide progressed, we began to notice everything was dying, not just the natives. Flowers wilted in perfect soil, trees shed their crumbling leaves - it was as if our very presence sucked the planet dry of living force. Our Stavka High Command was in the middle of solving the dilemma, trying reverse the phantom plague. With no warning, when we were on the last stretch to victory, they ordered a full retreat. There were 80 million of us on this continent alone. We were gone within hours, and none of us knew why. The most heinous act we humans could ever commit began shortly thereafter. We set the world on fire, and watched it burn as we hid safely in orbit. The embers of that image still flicker in my mind - a gorgeous blue pearl, wrapped in streaks of cotton over bounties of emerald green, hanging in a silent void. We slowly turned it dark, rays of amber gleaming under swirling, suffocating veils as black as space. The storm would rage until the jewel of our dreams became nothing but a pale husk beyond our windows. It was a mirror of the Earth we had abandoned.
But that wasn't the end. Several discreet shuttle landings would follow. Why our Stavka still had interest in the world was never brought to light. All I knew at the time was, I had to get on one of those shuttles.
And now here I am.
I'll never know what pushed me to follow through. What I do know is, I must endure. This was my choice, after all. I won't last long, but somehow I have better chances here than in the fleet. Hardship and suffering is all that's ahead to greet me. But that's what I was bred for.
What lies before me now? What relics of a once rich history lay buried in the ash? A history lost forever in a gale of fire. Every record gone, on nothing but a strangled world, with every last bit of it turned... Into Ashes.
The shuttle is gone. I'm on my own at last. But now what?
Still at the edge, my boots dangle over fog as bleak as the sky. I cradle my rose in my dusty, calloused palms as she trembles in the pitiless wind. She too after so much care has withered to a frail husk, barely a hint of the jade and ruby glows I could never look away from.
I can't believe I made it back to the surface. Incredibly, no one ever questioned or looked at me funny while I made my escape. Even as I waltzed right out of the armory with my rifle, outside of training hours, not a single head turned my way. Our Military Caste had gone through generations of psycho-conditioning, which our Stavka High Command would describe as "A flawless template to be the model for every newborn mind in our new civilization." I guess that's what kept me hidden; if it's drilled into every head that all of us are brainwashed, how would they know when someone like me wasn't?
I stare deeply to my crumbling Rose. A fickle breeze strips her stem of its last shriveled leaf. "Rose," I say softly, "you've been with me through my darkest hours. I've kept you safe and held you close while I did more wrong than my entire people's history before me. But you're the last memory I need to get rid of. Now, it's time for you to die like the rest."
I turn my hands over and let my Rose fall. No longer in my tender care, she's shredded to flakes in the cold, uncaring wind. Once more my heart cries out, begging me to chase her down, screaming that getting her back will make things right again. But it's too late. Like the rest of my past she's gone. My Rose, and all her fluttering pieces, is eaten by the heartless maw of gray.
There's only one way for me to go. Forward. My quest to live and die a Human begins now.
Flickering through the haze overhead, the dismal sun hangs not far above the horizon. I barely have a handful of hours before nighttime casts its dreadful shroud. A with it begins the midnight prowl of our most insidious technological terrors - Scavenger Drones. But for now the sun is still shining. Drones can only hunt at night.I'm safe so long as I can find shelter soon.
I wish I could have gathered more gear. Aside from my rifle, all I could smuggle out were some daily personals and a few food rations. I should look it all over one more time, maybe I snuck something useful away and didn't notice.
I dump my backpack on the ground beside me. My knife plummets to the ash, a silvery glint of sun bounces off its lustery blade before being smothered. Six Zeta-Rations, a simple first aid kit, and eight plastic packs of water tumble down on top of it.
Only six rations? I could have swore I gathered more! It's only six day's worth of food, barely enough to sustain my bulk. Though, maybe I can stretch that out now that I'm not under the constant rigors of search and destroy errands. But how long can I go on such little water? It's a chore to even breathe; each gasp I force is stifled a sandy itch in my throat, an itch that can only be scratched by a helpful quench. My exposed hands and face are shriveling into crust as the thirsty air sucks the moisture right from my skin. On top of that I have nothing to keep me warm overnight. Winter is barely over, and though the days are lightly brisk, the nights are long and bitter. All I have to wear is a modular bodysuit stripped right down to the nanomesh weaving. With no hardware attachments, no headgear, and only basic protective padding, it's hardly meant for any work exceeding indoor activity let alone survival. But it'll all have to do. Besides, I know how to make this work. My lifetime of training has prepared me for months of isolation under any conditions. Still, I'll need to keep an eye out for any human or equine refuse that's still salvageable. Practically anything would be useful to me at this point.
At least I have a friend I can count on to keep me company. I've carried it for half my life, and its never let me down, not even once - My AKR-22 Heavy Rail Rifle.
The pinnacle of technology handed down from Earth's former armies, it is easily the finest weapon ever issued to any soldier. Its sleek, handsome profile turns the heads of those with weaker, less capable equipment. This baby is absolutely jam-packed with a suite of sophisticated features - An all weather scope with 80x variable zoom, capable of peering flawlessly into both Thermal and Infrared spectra. A laser range finder linked to a ballistics computer helps me reach out and touch the enemy as far as 6000 meters, before losing accuracy. "Heavy" is a misnomer; its composite and alloy framework makes it lighter than most assault rifles despite being almost as long as I am tall. The word comes from its sheer ability to destroy. Its quad-linked magnetic rails can propel a tungsten-steel slug to hyper-sonic speeds with enough kinetic energy to vaporize whatever it hits. The damage output is also widely adjustable, with the lowest power setting essentially being non lethal. Yes sir, it will certainly have its use against any of those nasty drones I come across.
I've been drilled on every last detail of its smallest functions since I was 12 years old. Since then I've cared for, lived with, and have grown alongside it through every trial in my life of servitude. Out here it's my only friend, and I'll need it now more than ever.
I remember seeing a town not far from here when the shuttle broke through the lower dustcloud layer. If I am to survive, my first objective should be to find some sort of shelter in its ruins. It shouldn't be too long of a hike from here. I've wasted enough time sitting here moping, it's time I got a move on.
Motivated by freedom of choice, I perk a confident smile that quickly morphs into an anxious twitch. The moment is finally here, the daunt of its reality slowly squeezing in around me. One by one I replace my gear into my backpack, each item building on dread and second guessing. I slide the knife into my hip sheath. My shoulders grow tense as I watch its gleaming blade sink into the foreboding fabric. It locks into place, and a shiver darts down my spine. I sense someone creeping up behind me, almost close enough to breathe down my neck. Despite knowing the truth, my hand instinctively tightens around the knife's abrasive hilt. But in time, I negotiate my hand away and slide my bag onto my shoulders. With a panicked jolt I clench my rifle to my chest, locked and loaded, safety switched off. I rise, and slowly turn to face the smog lurking behind me. But there's nothing there. I was almost sure some sort of phantom would be waiting, but all that stands to greet me is aftermath.
Day 0
Alright, deep breaths. You can do this, time to get moving. You're here, you're on your own, you've finally gotten what you wanted. At least... the ghost of what you wanted. This shouldn't be so bad, right? For once there are no Unicorns out to cast you to oblivion, and no swarms of Pegasi to swoop down and smash you out of nowhere. That's a big plus. Yep, just endless peace in all directions. Come on, the sun'll be going down soon.
The moment I take my first step, the sense of shadow slips away forgotten. Each step that follows is automatic, my legs piloted by some strange yet natural will. Worry melts back into confidence knowing my rifle's always in my arms. It'll keep me safe from any threat masked in the fog ahead. I hope it will at least.
The cliff slowly fades behind me as I press into the veil. Merely paces from that splendid view, the wilderness of fog swallows me whole. The westerly sun, resting on the distant shadows of grandly rolling hills is the only guide to help me guess my way to that town. My footsteps try to keep me company, each one with a bitter crunch that echoes sharply into the infinite nothing. They're the only solid sounds being made for hundred of miles. And I'm the only one around to hear them. They still have me on edge, feeling so loud they keep me from listening to what's important - what might be out there in the fog. I can't help but wish they were as silent as the hollow draft droning through this abyss.
After every few steps, that phantom sense from the cliff sneaks up behind me again and again. Each time it hunches closer over my shoulders. I feel the spirits of nature judging me as I trespass through their graves. I take slow, deliberate breathes to calm my nerves but memories of what this all used to look like haunt me wherever I my eyes shift. This place, this whole planet used to be the most beautiful thing anyone had seen in generations. It was so full of green, so lush and rich with natural wonder. I can still vividly remember my first moments here, before the first bullets flew and the bombers flattened the landscape. The second the landing ramp lowered from our craft, and I got first glimpse with my own eyes at the surface... Perfect. I was captivated, enraptured by the heaven that greeted my gaze. But it wasn't to last. All that splendor vanished at the crack of a rifle, when I was suddenly sucked back into the reality of what I was here to do. But until that day I had never known of creatures that flew, or seen the vibrancies of flowers in bloom. And the plains, the oceans, the teeming green hills that stretched farther than our eyes could see. It was something not even the most daring imagination or ambitious dream could capture in full extravagance. But we just destroyed it. We destroyed it all, everything. Blazed it out of existence in a storm of blood and fire. And now everything is burned, blackened, and coated in soot.
My dreams of what used to be are abruptly torn away from mind. Losing myself so deep in thought has dropped my innate sense of direction. Only now do I find the fog has grown unnervingly thick. I stop to reach out and can't even see my own hand at arm's length. Strangely the air has become smooth and thin, wisping through my nose like mist. The incessant, droning breezes have gone silent. I look to the ground behind me, hoping to back my way out but even my footprints have disappeared. Completely blind of any sense but concern, all I'm left with is the sound of my heart's anxious thumping.
Don't panic. It's just some dust storm. You'll find your way out eventually.
I remember my rifle, and raise the scope to my eye. I rub a sensor on the grip and switch the visual filter to Thermal. The view flicks from blinded gray to a blank, frozen blue. Unease once again finds its way to my heart. Even the scope's powerful optics can't pick out any details of my surroundings.
Impossible! What's going on with this place? This thing is more than advanced enough to see right through any haze!
My finger quivers as I rub the sensor again, changing the filter to Infrared. Still the only thing that fills my vision is a dead, green, flickering blankness.
I swap between filters, back and forth, again and again, as many times as it takes to get some sort of reading. But nothing ever shows itself, not even the ground.
"Okay," I whisper, my chest so tense even my breath is shaking. "I get magic is weird, but I've never seen it do anything like this. Whatever spirit or aura is causing this... Let me go. I'm already suffering enough for what I did to you."
I sternly take a step forward, and kick something hollow. It rattles loudly like a gunshot in this silent void. In front of my boot, the tip of a thin, pale rod sticks out of the fog. "What the..." I slip out in a gasp, disturbed but allured to this ominous rod. I tremble down to a squat, unsure and abducted by horrified curiosity. The lower I get, the more rods I find stuck in the ground like rotten fangs. Once on me knees, a rod just out of my reach, I finally realize what they are.
Even my heart of stone goes cold at this sight. They're bones, the ribs of some ill-fated Equine damned to this hell by human doing. I try to look away but something forces my eyes to stay locked on the splintered bones. Every twitch they make reveals more gruesome details, and a whole Equine body progressively manifests itself around the ribs. Any inch of it not stripped to bare bone is charred and black, drenched in stripes of blood leaking out from what scraps of flesh still cling to the mangled skeleton. It's freshly putrid stench is shoved into my nose. As if possessed by some vengeful spirit, a sharp ache plunges deep into my eyes and drags them to to stair into the corpse's own blistered eyes. They've shriveled down from so much heat they don't even fit in their sockets. cracked and oozing a rotten yellow slime, they beam with whatever unimaginable horror was seared into them as the last thing they'd ever see.
Images flash through my mind, every one of me looking through a scope aimed for an unknowing Equine just before I pulled the trigger. Their colorful faces are instantly recognizable, so deep and personal it's as if I knew them by name. I'm forced to relive the long, hard looks I had at every pony unlucky enough to fall into my sights.
The corpse's eyes crack over to look right at me. "Why?" gurgles a choking gasp that sounds sounds alive. I fall back scared out of my own skin, stumbling to catch myself but crash to the ground. Now in my face, the same soul eating gaze from a different corpse. I throw myself back to my feet and take aim with my rifle, swinging it everywhere only to find the same thing in all directions. The fog has cleared, and each time I look away from one body I only find endless fields of more. A pungent, noxious stench has replaced the soup of ash I'm forced to suck into my lungs. Hundreds, no, thousands of bodies, all with the same blistered eyes litter the ground for miles. Some of them shredded to pieces, some with only their front half still intact and their other half grotesquely torn away. A hoof stomps on my boot. I look down to a pony crawling from under a boulder, its hind legs ripped away and still pinned underneath. It's jaw limp and hanging from only one hinge, eyes wide with a stare that sends my soul reeling in terror. Blindness in fog trades for blindness in fear, and I rush away as I can to get out of this horrible nightmare of a mass grave. But no matter how hard I run there seems to be no end. The images of Equine faces flash one after another other in an incessant rhythm. Every thud of my racing heart only brings another, and another and another - I can't stop running over bodies, I can't escape from the flashes! Go away! I've seen enough! I know what I did, just leave me alone!
Just like that the flashes are gone. I find myself back running amongst the same barren plains I'm used to seeing. All of the sudden not sure what I'm running from. Confused, I skid to a halt and look back to find the same sight of what is now ahead of me - Just an endlessly empty field of gray.
What... happened? I could have swore I saw -- Whatever it was, somehow it's all just gone. The more I think about it the it feels like I've just awoken from a dream, swiftly forgetting the entire ordeal. But it couldn't have been a dream, I'm here, I'm looking right back at where it all happened, I --
The world quickly returns to what it was; a hopeless, monochrome plain in every direction. The sooty flakes continue to fall, and the abrasively dry air once again fills my lungs. I sigh, taking the time to get back in touch with ponderous reality before continuing my journey.
What happened back there? Was I just hallucinating? Or -- It still feels so real, I know I really felt it, but, did it really even happen?
But I stop myself from getting lost in dwelling on regret again. I look up and see stout, shadowy figures on the horizon ahead. Leaving that perplexing horror behind me, relief thaws my fear-frozen heart and I gradually fill with comforting warmth. Finally, there it is. There's the town. It's barely a kilometer away.
I relax and let my head hang, closing my eyes, imagining the splendor of having the first full night of rest I've ever been allowed. But I don't dream for long, the sun is still counting down how little time I have left to find shelter.
Once again finding my drive, I press on with a stride right for the town, full of hope to fight against the perilous days ahead.
